‘Not at all. What’s up?’
‘I amlovelorn, my dear, simply sick with it, but I fear she couldnevercare for me.’
‘I’m quite sure that couldn’t be true – if she’s good enough for you, that is. Why do you think that?’
‘Because, my dear Penny, simplebecausethat – other than my glorious late wife Celeste, Lando and Ben’s mother, of course – she is the most divine creature I haveeverset eyes on. How could she possibly love me?’
‘I’m absolutely sure she could. Why don’t you sit down and tell me about her?’
‘Oh, can I? Thank you. But do let’s have a little something while we chat; it makes it cosier, don’t you think?’
I knew that a second drink would leave me fuzzy-headed in the morning, but I couldn’t resist William’s limpid, imploring gaze, and besides, it would be lovely to think about someone else’s love life for a change.
‘All right then, but a small one please.’
A minute later, I was handed a generous measure of oily, amber liquid, which I sniffed suspiciously. To my surprise, it had a delicious herbal, slightly spicy, scent.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘It’s called Benedictine, it’s the most wonderful liqueur,’ said William, swishing his around the glass and then taking a sip and rolling his eyes heavenwards in appreciation. ‘Twenty-seven different herbs and spices and positively medicinal. It’s made in a wonderful old palace in France – I visited once, many years ago, with darling Celeste…’
He trailed off, looking tragic, so I gave him some encouragement.
‘What was it like, the palace?’
‘Oh, absolutelysumptuous. Paintings and gilding and brocade everywhere, we had a wonderful time. I wonder what poor darling Celeste would think if she could see me now,moping.’
‘Would she want you to meet somebody new?’
‘Oh yes, she was a great lover of life. She would be telling me: “William!”’ I jumped slightly. ‘“William! You have tocarpe diem, seize the day, and, what’s more, seize this lovely woman! Be brave, be confident!”’
He was warming to his theme, and I took a sip of the liqueur. It had a very unusual, but delicious, flavour, mellow and honeyed.
‘She wouldn’t recognise me, drooping around, convinced of my failure before I had even tried.’
‘So why are you? What is it that’s stopping you? I’m sure that…what’s her name?’
‘Daphne,’ he breathed reverently.
‘I’m sure that Daphne is as wonderful as you say, but so are you. I don’t know you well, of course, but I would have thought she would be thrilled that you like her. And you can’t possibly know until you try. How do you know her?’
‘She is an elf to my Father Christmas and suits the costume better than I can possibly say. As well as that, she is so kind with the children and keeps us all going with her stories of the theatre…I must be one of a long line of suitors.’
‘She sounds great.’
‘Penny, it is five years since Celeste died, and there has been no one since her. We grew up together, grew old together, we knew each other so well. I’m seventy-three now and wooing someone…it’s not like it was fifty years ago. I’m an old man, I have less to offer.’
I decided to ask the question that had been nagging at the back of my mind.
‘Er…how old is Daphne?’
‘Oh well, I don’t know exactly, of course, and wouldn’t dream of asking, but she talks about her theatrical exploits in the 1970s, so she must be of a similar vintage to me.’
I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I thought William was incredibly handsome and eligible, but I might have offered different advice had this Daphne been twenty-five.
‘You have everything to offer, William. You’re kind and funny and handsome, not to mention fully mobile – what more could she want?’
He laughed, as I had meant him to.
