Chapter 20
‘OK, so we got all excited when you told us about this new man of yours, and that was four weeks ago now.’ Bridget leaned across the restaurant table and gave Flo a you-can-tell-us eyebrow raise. ‘So why haven’t you seen him since?’
‘You know what I think?’ said Annie. ‘I reckon he doesn’t exist. He’s Flo’s fantasy boyfriend, she just made him up.’
Flo was used to being single and teased about it by her workmates. Bridget had a husband, five children and many grandchildren. Annie, divorced, was having the time of her life internet dating, and Mavis had just married for the third time. The four of them had come out tonight to this restaurant in Redland to celebrate Bridget’s upcoming sixtieth birthday.
When Bridget had first invited all her colleagues at Nairn House, the younger contingent had hastily made their excuses, preferring to spend their precious Friday night out clubbing and drinking themselves senseless with people their own age. Flo, who had actually been invited to a party in Bath, had felt sorry for poor Bridget when she’d seen how many of the others were dropping out.
Which was how she’d come to find herself here this evening instead. With three women all old enough to have given birth to her.
Oh well, maybe not a wild party night, but still quite fun and nice in its own way. And at least the food was good.
‘He had to go to Toronto,’ she explained patiently. ‘On business. He thought it would only be for a couple of weeks, but it’s taken longer than they expected.’ She’d told them this before, but her workmates liked to make fun of her.
‘He’s found himself another girlfriend over there,’ Annie gleefully announced. ‘That’s what happened, I reckon.’
‘Maybe he has. And I’m not his girlfriend anyway,’ said Flo. ‘We just spent one evening together. I liked him. And he seemed to like me. But that’s all it is.’
Inside her brain, a little voice whispered hopefully, So far . . .
‘Did you sleep with him?’ Bridget, who was nothing if not blunt, wagged an admonishing finger. ‘You should never sleep with ’em on a first date. That’s just giving it away.’
‘I didn’t sleep with him! And it wasn’t a date.’ Honestly, these women.
‘Was there kissing?’
‘I’m not going to say.’ Flo felt her cheeks heat up.
‘There was kissing,’ Mavis cackled. ‘Tongues?’
‘Mavis!’
‘Ah, look at her, she’s gone all red. Bless!’ Predictably they found this hilarious.
Ever the optimist, Annie said, ‘Perhaps he came back from Toronto two weeks ago and just hasn’t told you.’
‘That could be it.’ Flo smiled. Zander had texted her yesterday to say he would definitely be coming home on Wednesday, and they’d already arranged to meet up that evening. Although she wouldn’t share this bit of news with them, seeing as their nosiness and capacity for asking intimate questions would only go into overdrive.
‘I’ve forgotten his name now.’ Bridget frowned. ‘Ooh, what was it? I know it’s something posh . . .’
‘Percival. Quentin. Boris! Ooh, I love a posh name, I do,’ Mavis said with relish. ‘Peregrine! Tarquin!’
‘Zander.’ Annie had remembered it. Triumphantly, she put on a posh voice. ‘Oh Zaaaarnder, what are you doing hiding away in Toronto? Do you have any idea how long Flo’s been waiting for a boyfriend? She’s desperate for you!’
A Bristolian born and bred, Annie had a strong local accent but a gift for mimicry, and her voices always made them laugh. Bridget was spluttering wine and Mavis was whacking her on the back when the door to the restaurant swung open, bringing in a gust of cold air and two more diners.
Flo stopped laughing abruptly when she saw who had just come in.
Oh God, Lena.
‘What’s up?’ Annie was following the line of her horrified gaze. ‘Who are you looking at? Don’t tell me that’s Zaaarnder?’
‘Sshhh.’ Flo shook her head and pulled an anguished face at the three women. ‘Don’t say anything. It’s his sister.’
Like Wimbledon spectators, three heads turned to look at Lena, who was removing her black coat and handing it to the waiter. She was wearing a slim-fitting emerald-green dress and black suede stilettos; with her make-up perfectly applied and her hair pulled back in a sleek ballerina bun, she looked amazing.
‘Wow.’ Evidently thinking the same, Annie murmured under her breath, ‘Does Zander look like that?’
‘Well, he doesn’t wear high heels and make-up,’ Flo murmured back. ‘But otherwise, yes.’