I sigh. Today is going to be one of those days. Still, it appears that I have a date with a professional foot-toucher and who knows where that might lead? Nothing about my life is boringly normal anymore.
Thirty burgers, sixteen paninis, twelve nachos, twenty-seven coffees, four Cokes and one Caesar salad later, I’m exhausted and also painfully aware that this Martin guy will be here soon. I haven’t even had time to fix my makeup and I smell like fried onions. Why is nothing simple?
As I start clearing empty tables, the door opens and Jean breezes in. Even though we’re attracting a much younger crowd these days, I’m glad she’s still a regular. It’s unusual to see her here alone, however. I hope her usual crowd are still alive and kicking.
‘Got a hot date, Jean?’ I ask as she walks towards me. She looks lovely. Hair set, nails done, and a faint whiff of Youth Dew perfume follows her to her table. My mum used to wear it and it gave Faith migraines.
‘I’ve been at the spa on Lothian Road all afternoon, with Veronica. You know Veronica. One with the mole on her chin?’
‘I do,’ I reply. Veronica’s mole is impossible to miss. ‘Is she not joining you?
‘Well,’ she says, as she takes a seat at the window, ‘normally she would, but my son is meeting me here.Les Misérablesis on at the Playhouse.’
‘Oh, how lovely. Is he visiting?’
I’ve heard so much about Wilbur over the years, I’m actually excited to meet him.
‘In a sense,’ she replies. ‘He got divorced last year unfortunately. Been staying with me for a couple of weeks – back down south tomorrow.’
‘Ah, sorry to hear that,’ I reply. ‘It’s never an easy time.’
‘Well, Dora,’ she begins, cautiously looking around in case anyone is listening, ‘I’m quite glad to be honest with you. She was a lovely girl, but never quite right for him. I’m hoping he might move closer to home, find someone more suitable. I keep telling him, he’s not getting any younger.’
I love the way the older generation just bombard you with facts about their family. I’m pretty sure if I keep her talking, I’ll find out Wilbur’s shoe size and national insurance number. Why on earth did she name him Wilbur though? And I thought Eleanora was bad.
‘Well, I hope you have a lovely time tonight,’ I tell her. ‘What can I get you while you wait?’
‘Tea, love,’ she replies, ‘and one of those “Rocking Road” cakes.’
I chuckle quietly. ‘Coming right up.’
I prepare Jean’s tea and smile as I have visions of Wilbur in a bow tie, escorting his elderly mother into box seats.
At quarter to six, I bring Jean her second cup of tea. She’s been sitting alone for half an hour.
‘Been stood up?’ I ask, picking up her plate. I get the feeling I have too unless Mr Foot Clinic took one look at my sweaty face and promptly about-turned.
‘I hope not,’ she replies, handing me her empty cup. ‘My son has never been on time for anything in his life. He’d be late for his own funeral.’
‘What time’s the show?’
‘Seven,’ she informs me. ‘I haven’t been to the theatre since my Harry died but I’m looking forward to it.’
‘How long were you married?’ I ask.
‘Forty-three years.’ She pauses to clean her glasses on a napkin. My heart aches a little when I hear this. I can’t imagine loving someone for that long and then losing them.
‘Helovedthe theatre,’ she continues. ‘I remember he took me to seeGuys and Dollson our third date… He played around, my Tony, but the theatre was always just for us.’
Her phone beeps and she stops to look. ‘Oh, it’s Wilbur. He got held up, but he’ll be here in five minutes. You’d best get me the bill, love.’
‘It’s on the house, Jean,’ I say, ‘and I hope tonight is just as memorable asGuys and Dolls.’
She beams and thanks me as I take her dishes away. At least one of us will have a fun evening.
I load Jean’s plates into the dishwasher while Victoria mouths the words to a BTS song, using a wooden spoon as a microphone. She’s been playing it repeatedly on the jukebox for days now.
‘It looks like Faith’s guy’s not coming,’ I tell her, watching in amusement. ‘I’m kind of relieved if I’m honest, I’d rather do anything else tonight. I’m just not feeling it.’
