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He wanted to see the sunrise tomorrow, and he was working out where the best place from which to view it would be. He’d get up early and say he was going for a run. He liked to be alone for the first sunrise of the year.
A waiter approached from the hotel. He was short and dressed in an impeccable white shirt, black trousers and a purple waistcoat imprinted with the hotel’s insignia. He placed a basket of naan bread wrapped in linen and a delicate pot of yoghurt dip onto the table, then he presented Quinn with a wine list. Jaya asked the man if he would take a photo of them together. The waiter nodded politely and took the phone from Jaya’s hand. He took one photo and made to hand it back. Quinn quickly shook his head, trying to warn the man, but he just grinned at Quinn and soon Jaya was lecturing him about composition and lighting positions. She wouldn’t let him leave until she had checked the photos and then directed him to try again at a higher, more flattering angle.
‘Too short,’ Jaya whispered to Quinn once she’d finally dismissed the poor man. ‘You never get a good photo when you ask a short person. Maybe the wine waiter will be taller?’
Quinn wondered how many hours of his life he’d have to spend posing for photographs if he and Jaya stayed together.
‘So, will I finally get to meet your mother when we get back to England?’ Jaya asked, stroking one of her hands with the other, drawing attention to her new manicure. ‘Mothers love me, you know, I’m great with moms.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, I doubt there’ll be time, especially if you want to go shopping on Oxford Street – the sales will be on, remember,’ Quinn said.
Jaya paused, her eyes drifting off into space. He’d thrown her by mentioning the sales, but she gave her head a brisk shake, exorcising the distraction.
‘Isn’t she curious about me?’ she asked, tilting her head and smoothing a hand through her hair. ‘I’d want to meet the girl monopolising my son’s time and attention.’ When Quinn didn’t respond, Jaya pouted, ‘Don’t you want her to meet me? All those times you scurry up to London at a moment’s notice, and you never take me with you.’
Quinn hadn’t mentioned Jaya to his mother. He’d told her he was going to India with a group of friends. Quinn buried his head in the wine list and the wine waiter appeared at just the right moment.
‘Oh, much better,’ said Jaya, raising her eyebrows at Quinn and looking the waiter up and down to convey how happy she was with his height. She leant in and touched Quinn’s wrist. ‘You will give them plenty of notice, won’t you?’ He looked up to see she was staring intently at him. ‘If there is any particular moment we’d like him to come back and capture. It’s just too perfect a setting not to have it recorded.’
She narrowed her eyes as though trying to convey some secret code. Quinn’s dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion, then he went ahead and ordered an eye-wateringly expensive bottle of Meursault. The import prices here were criminal, but it was their last meal out. As Quinn closed the wine list,he glanced down and saw Jaya stroking her clove and orange scented hands and it hit him.
No.
Why would she think that? Surely she couldn’t think that? They’d been dating a matter of months,why the hell would she think that?Maybe he was wrong. He had to be wrong. Of course he was wrong. As he looked back into her smiling eyes, he knew it – he wasn’t wrong. She thought he was about to propose.
The wine waiter nodded and left. Quinn started to feel hot and pulled at his collar uncomfortably. He should have ended things earlier; this was never supposed to be long-term. How had he let it get to this point? His usual relationship cap was six months; no one got hurt if you kept it below six months. Now he had to endure a treacly romance-by-numbers evening, with a pink polyester bow attached to his chair, knowing she was waiting for a small box that was definitely not on the menu.
His eyes darted down the beach and he saw a scrawny-looking dog trotting up the shoreline towards them. It was a scruffy white and grey mutt with a stump for a tail and a slight limp in its hind leg.
‘Oh, look at that cute dog,’ he said, his voice coming out higher than he’d ever heard it before. Jaya turned to look.
‘Quinn, no! It’s a filthy stray. Don’t pay it any attention or it won’t leave us alone,’ she scowled.
‘Poor thing looks hungry,’ said Quinn, clicking his fingers to get the dog’s attention.
‘Quinn,’ Jaya was kicking his shin under the table. ‘Don’t!’
Quinn held out some naan bread for the dog. It bounded towards them, gently taking the bread, then licking Quinn’s palm with gratitude.
‘Poor little fella,’ said Quinn, giving the dog an affectionate rub behind the ear. ‘When did you last have a meal, buddy?’
‘The hotel won’t be able to get rid of it now,’ Jaya said sharply. ‘You aren’t helping it in the long run.’
Spurred on by Jaya’s anger and grateful to the dog for appearing, Quinn fed him another piece of bread. Though the dog was scruffy and underfed, he had a friendly face and he nuzzled affectionately into Quinn’s arm.
‘He must belong to someone – he’s so tame,’ said Quinn.
‘He just knows a sucker when he sees one. Honestly, Quinn I’m serious, I don’t want that dog anywhere near our dinner or me. Call the waiter to get rid of it,’ Jaya pouted, folding her arms in front of her gold-dusted cleavage.
‘OK, I’ll take him back the way he came,’ said Quinn, jumping up and tossing his napkin onto the chair. ‘He probably lives down by those beach shacks beyond the palm trees. You relax, take in the view, I’ll be back soon.’
Before Jaya could respond, Quinn scooped the dog up into his arms and strode off down the beach with him. He took a deep breath of sea air – the smell of freedom. A pang of guilt told him that the dog only offered a temporary reprieve. He’d have to go back, set the jilted record in its place and face whatever music was coming his way. But not now, not this minute. Once he was far enough away, he nuzzled his face into the dog’s head and whispered,
‘I owe you one buddy. Come on, let’s find you a proper meal.’
2 January 2020
Quinn had said he would be in Dalston in thirty minutes. He hadn’t given Minnie a chance to object, and before she knew it, she was desperately trying to get all the pies finished whilst surreptitiously making herself look less like a dowdy dinner lady in a hairnet.
