‘I thought we could have a drink at this little wine bar I know,’ said Alex. ‘It’s got a fantastic roof terrace with an amazing view of the city.’
‘Sounds great!’ said Lucy, falling into step with him as they made their way down the busy road. Alex chivalrously ensured that he was on the side of the pavement facing the oncoming traffic. Lucy appreciated his good manners, one of the most attractive qualities in a man as far as she was concerned. They turned down a narrow, cobbled side street and came to the entrance of the bar.
A porter at the door tilted his hat and said, ‘Good evening, Mr Hayes, good evening madam.’ Lucy was impressed by the personal greeting.
‘I come here a lot with work,’ Alex said by way of explanation as they entered the lift, pressing the button for the top floor. ‘It’s a great place to try and impress clients… I’m hoping it’s going to have the same effect on you!’
As the doors slid open, they stepped into the room. A huge glass bar lay in a ‘U’ shape in front of them, surrounded by tables; a jazz pianist tinkled the keys of a grand piano over to the right. The opposite wall of the room was made entirely from glass, revealing an open-air terrace with spectacular, panoramic views of London. Lucy exclaimed in delight and headed straight through the open door to the railing to peer out over the city. The emerging stars twinkled above her, little pulses of light, and the street lights illuminated the surrounding buildings with a rosy glow.
She spun around to face Alex, saying ‘What a stunning view! I’m definitely suitably impressed.’ She saw a fleeting glance of relief flash over his face.He’s nervous too, thought Lucy, thrilled that she was capable of having that effect on him.
He asked her what she would like to drink and they made their way back inside to the bar. She ordered a gin and tonic and they took their drinks to a table near enough to hear the relaxing music from the piano, but still close enough to the window to admire the view. They toasted the end of the working week and laughed at stories from the wedding. Alex informed her that Claudia’s Uncle Alan had been found wandering through the town in the early hours of the morning singing ‘Lady in Red’ whilst dancing with an imaginary partner. Lucy burst out laughing at the thought.
‘I’ve been dying of jealousy all week at the thought of Claudia and Dan in the Maldives,’ moaned Lucy. ‘If she would stop sending me photos of her painted toenails with nothing but white sand and turquoise sea stretching beyond I would be extremely grateful! I mean, what is it with honeymooners, and in fact holidaymakers in general, about rubbing salt into the wounds of those of us stuck at work?!’
Alex laughed and asked her to show him the photos she had received. Lucy happily obliged, relishing the opportunity to lean closer to him, allowing his delectable smell to work its hypnotic magic on her. He snorted with mirth as he found a picture of Dan looking as red as a freshly cooked lobster and proceeded to tell Lucy about their post-finals trip to Malaga. One night, in the early hours of the morning, Dan had infamously passed out drunk on a pool-side lounger wearing nothing but his underwear, failing to rouse himself until midday. Unfortunately by this point he had managed to acquire third-degree burns all over his body and had been unable to wear clothes for the rest of the week. Lucy chuckled as Alex asked the waitress for another round of drinks. They regaled each other with stories about Claudia and Dan’s misspent youth, a surprisingly easy source of entertainment, it turned out. Lucy was sure that, given the cause, Claudia would forgive her for any indiscretions.
As they finished their G and Ts, Alex glanced at his watch. ‘I have booked a table at a great little place around the corner, but if you’d rather stay here, or if you have other dinner plans…?’ he trailed off, leaving the ball firmly in her court. Lucy was touched at his lack of assumption and appreciated his foresight in planning their evening so thoughtfully.
‘I’m starving,’ she said, ‘that sounds like a great idea!’
Alex paid for their drinks and escorted her down the stairs and across the road, guiding her through the backstreets of the West End to a small red-brick building. As she crossed the threshold of the restaurant, Lucy was immediately struck by the enticing smell of garlic. She loved the red and white chequered table cloths, the buzzing atmosphere of happy diners, the fairy lights strung haphazardly across the walls. They followed the waiter to their table and sat down as he gave them their menus and explained the day’s specials, catching each other’s eyes and sniggering at his absurdly fake French accent.
‘Poor thing,’ Lucy said. ‘You obviously have to be “French” to work here!’
Alex burst into a stream of stereotypical Frenglish, in an extremely over-the-top accent, culminating in ‘Would-a you like-a ze ketch-up wiz-a your steak and cheeps? What do you think?’ he asked. ‘Would I get the job?’
‘Definitely,’ Lucy chuckled, ‘I’d give you a job any day!’ The two gin and tonics had had a wonderful effect on her, she felt full of sparkling conversation and bags of energy. Actually, perhaps it was Alex’s impact, not the G and Ts, she thought.
A few minutes later, Gaspard, their waiter, came over and took their order. Alex chose a bottle of Côtes du Rhône, and they both ordered Coquilles St. Jacques followed by the steak and chips. As Gaspard poured their wine, Alex told her about his father, a wine expert who had taught him everything there was to know on the subject. Alex showed her how to swirl it properly in her glass to release the vapour, and told her to look out for the smell of spice. She inhaled and instantly identified it, surprised at herself.
‘Wow, you’re very good at this!’ she complimented him, relaxing into her chair. They chinked glasses and she took a sip, savouring the deep, peppery flavour as she rolled the wine around her mouth. She was really starting to enjoy herself.
A short while later, their starter arrived. The impeccably cooked scallops melted in her mouth, perfectly accompanied by the smooth and salty Gruyère cheese. She soaked up the remaining sauce from the shells with a piece of bread.
‘God, I love food,’ sighed Alex. ‘Especially French food.’
‘Mmm,’ agreed Lucy, ‘this is unbelievable. It’s been years since I have eaten scallops. Imagine life without food… it wouldn’t bear living!’
‘It’s so refreshing to meet a girl who enjoys eating proper food. I can’t tell you the number of dates that I’ve been on where the girl has just ordered a mixed salad with the dressing on the side. There is nothing more unattractive,’ Alex said firmly.
‘Well you certainly don’t have to worry about that with me… clearly!’ grinned Lucy, gesturing towards her empty plate.
‘Good!’ said Alex. ‘Is there anything about you that I’m not going to love?’
Lucy blushed at his compliment and shrugged, ‘I hope not!’ as Gaspard approached the table, asking ‘Ow were zee starters? You like?’ which prompted another set of conspiratorial winks and barely suppressed giggles.
As their juicy steaks arrived with baskets of stick-thin French fries, Alex asked Lucy to tell him about her family.
‘Siblings wise it’s just me and my younger brother Ollie, then there’s my mum Ginny and my dad Gus!’ Lucy told him. ‘They live down in Cornwall in a little village on the north coast, where I grew up.’
‘It’s so beautiful in that part of the world,’ Alex said. ‘We used to go on holidays to Devon when I was young, which I imagine is quite similar.’
‘Yes it is, very.’ Lucy nodded in agreement. ‘The rugged coastline full of wonderful little paths that almost propel you into the sea on a windy day!’
‘Pasties, clotted cream, fudge…’ said Alex.
‘Clotted cream ice-cream!’ said Lucy, dreamily.
