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CHAPTERTWO
The Patel family, owners of the best Indian restaurant in the area, knew the Halcyon name well. But apparently they didn’t hold that against George. He’d gone to school with their eldest son who was now at medical college and from whom he’d learned that the Patels thought he was a good boy and his mother a proper, refined lady. As for his father, the Patels seemed to think it was safest to keep their opinion of him to themselves. Which George thought was wise.
‘Choose whatever you want,’ he said, noticing Millie was flicking uncertainly through the menu.
‘It’s expensive,’ she whispered, leaning across the table.
‘It’s fine. I’ve got money. Probably more than those idiots in the bar earlier,’ he said and then regretted the boast as Millie’s eyes widened at him.
‘Mr George, so very good to see you tonight. Are you ready to order yet?’ Old man Patel asked, arriving at their table with notebook clutched to his chest and casting uneasy glances at the street door.
‘Not yet, thank you, Mr Patel. There’s no rush, it’s just me. Dad won’t be coming in tonight.’
‘Oh, good, good. Thank you, Mr George, that is very fine to know.’ Old man Patel visibly relaxed and hurried off to the kitchen, muttering he would fetch some poppadoms.
George turned to Millie, smiling at her. He still couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d asked her to supper, and she’d actually said yes.
‘What would you like to eat?’ he asked. ‘Choose whatever you like.’
Millie said, ‘I don’t know… it’s difficult to decide. You choose for me.’
‘What do you like to eat? What about something hot and spicy?’ He felt himself blushing. He’d meant no innuendo, but that’s what it had sounded like to him. Especially after one of the city types had referred to Millie earlier as a hot totty. What must she think of him?
Apparently unperturbed, she answered. ‘Spicy, yes, but not too hot.’
‘You’ve eaten curry before?’
‘Oh yes, of course.’
‘Sorry, was that a stupid question? I’ve never been to Scotland, you see.’
She laughed. ‘Oh, George, you are funny … what do you think Scotland is like?’
‘I don’t know … that’s the point,’ he said, staring at the menu, wishing he’d not spoken. He looked up again at Millie, she was smiling at him, and shewashot. So was he–but not in the same way. ‘You eat meat?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Do you like lamb?’
‘Love it.’
‘How about Rogan Josh with rice? It’s not hot.’
‘I know.’
‘Right.’ Certain he was at the mouth of another bear trap, he asked nervously, ‘And you like it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good, then that’s what we’ll have. And a side order of naan bread to mop up the juice. Will that be okay?’
‘Sounds delicious.’
Mr Patel returned with a pile of poppadoms, and George ordered their curry, adding some Indian beer. ‘Got to have a drink to wash down the food,’ he said, smiling again at Millie, and thinking, this is great. A date with the hottest girl he’d seen in a long time–perhaps ever.
Millie snapped an edge off one poppadom, nibbled at it before looking around the restaurant and saying, ‘They know you well in here?’
‘Sort of. My family is well known in the area.’ A cold finger of dread ran down George’s spine; what if Millie asked why?Me and my big mouth.Why did I mention my family?
