‘Let me say my piece,’ Laurence insisted, ‘and then, if you never want to hear from me again … I suppose that’s fine. Please.’
Rachel dug the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, not caring if they smudged her mascara.Fucking hell, Laurence!It was bad enough that he felt the need to harass her with this ‘Ghost of Relationships Past’ routine … But to wheel it out today ofalldays … She sighed.
‘One drink,’ she said. Her brain asked her mouth what on earth it was doing.
You’re saying yes because you don’t want to be cruel, Rachel told herself. Also, she figured that once she’d heard Laurence’s speech and still didn’t want to be his girlfriend, he’d have to accept they were over.
This would be like ripping off a particularly sticky plaster, Rachel reasoned: unpleasant for a moment, then done with.
They walked together towards Angel, Laurence always slightly ahead of Rachel and occasionally looking back, as if to make sure she hadn’t absconded. They turned off the main road and, a few minutes later, stopped outside a wine bar.
‘Is here okay?’ Laurence asked.
‘Fine,’ Rachel said.
‘What’ll you have?’
‘Er – red wine, please. Just a small glass. I’ll get a table.’
Rachel looked around. The bar was small and stylish, with wood-panelled walls painted a dark shade of some Farrow & Ball blue. There were candles and hurricane lanterns flickering from every shelf, alcove and tabletop. Old black-and-white movie posters and theatre bills adorned the walls, and an enormous vase of yellow roses stood at the end of the marble-topped bar.
Rachel’s heart sank. This wasn’t the kind of place you just happened upon, nor somewhere you’d bring a woman if your intention was merely to seek closure on the recent demise of your relationship with her. Rachel felt her sympathy for Laurence diminishing in inverse proportion to her rising annoyance.
She took her coat off and sat down at a small square table, deliberately shunning the far fancier booth a short distance away. There was a row of them against the back wall of the room, and they were all small – designed for intimacy. The one Rachel could see into had a fabric canopy and plush velvet-covered benches topped with squishy-looking jewel-bright cushions. She would gladly have sat there with someone she actually liked – but under the current circumstances she thought it best to avoid putting herself anywhere that might remind Laurence of a bed.
Rachel pulled her handbag from underneath the table and dug for her mobile. Laurence was at the bar now, already being served. She opened WhatsApp and wrote a message to Anna:
Rachel:Do you think I’m being punished for committing some cardinal sin I’ve forgotten about?
Two blue ticks. Thank God, Anna had her phone on her.
Anna:NO. That’s your Irish Catholic guilt talking. What’s happened now??
Rachel:It would seem I’m on an accidental date with Laurence. I’m Withnail: I’ve come on a date by mistake.
Anna:Erm. WHAT??
Rachel:He waited for me outside work and convinced me to go for a drink. I felt sorry for him … But he’s brought me to a romantic wine barI need you to phone me and get me out of here … Give me an excuse to leave. Don’t wait any longer than 20 mins
Anna:Oh my God, he is SUCH a desperado! Got it.
Anna is typing …
Anna:Make sure you switch your phone ringer on btw. No good if you can’t hear me calling.
Anna is typing …
Anna:I love you, Rach, but honestly … We need to have a serious conversation about your taste in boyfriends. TTFN x
Rachel dropped her phone back into her bag just as Laurence sauntered over as if this were his wine bar, clutching what was obviously not a small glass of wine. Why could this manneverlisten?
‘So …’ he said, then tipped a bottle of some European lager to his lips.
‘Yes?’ Rachel asked, taking a sip from the massive glass he’d put in front of her. Whatever this was, it was delicious – no doubt purposely so, which took the edge off her enjoyment of it.
‘So,’ Laurence said, ‘I guess I just wanted to understand why you think it’s the right move for us to finish. I can’t get my head around it, even now I’ve had a while to mull it over. It doesn’t make any sense to me.’
Rachel felt her eyebrows pull together. ‘What do you mean, it doesn’t make sense?’
