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As soon as we enter the brightly lit foyer, a mustachioed waiter sidles up and asks for our names to check whose party we’ve come with.
“Nick Craven plus two, seven-thirty.”
The waiter scans his list of bookings and ticks our names off. “Great, I’ve got you down here.” Tucking two menus under his arm, the man then leads us through the crowded restaurant to a table for three at the back.
“Oh, Dad’s not here yet,” I groan, placing my handbag on the table. “I hope he hasn’t stood us up.”
“Don’t panic, it’s only seven-thirty five,” Nick says, glancing at his watch. “Give him some more time. Perhaps the trains were delayed.”
Glumly, I sit down and nibble on a breadstick. Nick orders us some wine and I scan the menu to get an idea of what I might like to eat. To be honest, I don’t feel particularly hungry. There are too many questions playing on my mind, and I’m sure I can feel Veda’s dark presence in the air. Or perhaps I’m just being paranoid.
Nick reaches across the table and strokes my hand. “Are you okay, baby?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I want you to be happy.Always.”
He smiles warmly and my heart flutters with love. Despite all the evil around us, when he looks at me like that, I know this relationship is worth fighting for.
“So sorry I’m late. There were delays to the Northern Line again.” We both look up and see my father standing over us. His face is red and puffy, like he’s just run a marathon to get here.
“Hi, Dad,” I smile, getting up and pecking him on the cheek. Nick shakes his hand.
“Did you bring the paperwork?” he asks.
“Yes,” my father replies, patting his big fat briefcase. He’s about to open it when Nick stops him.
“No rush, there’s plenty of time to talk business. Why don’t we relax for a bit and enjoy a bite to eat? I’ve ordered wine. I hope you like red?”
“Yes, red’s great.” Dad sits down and smoothes back his lank, grey hair.
“So, how was Christmas at Mum’s?” I ask tentatively.
He rolls his eyes theatrically. “Quiet.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Pull the other one, Dad. I bet she was bitching about me no end.”
“Actually, she wasn’t.”
“Don’t try to cover for her. I know what mum’s like.”
“No seriously, your mother was actually quite subdued after you left. I think she’s slowly coming to terms with it.”
“Well, I don’t give a toss if she hasn’t. I’m marrying Nick with or without her consent. I refuse to let her control my life.”
Nick clears his throat. “Perhaps we should drop the subject. I thought we agreed to keep the mood light tonight?”
I smile thinly. “Okay, just this once, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Dad chuckles. “Hey, can I take a look at that menu?”
The rest of the evening passes quickly. The food is nice, the company great, and a few times I even manage to crack a genuine smile. My father is like a ray of sunshine and it’s so good to have something to take my mind off all the darkness. Towards the end of the evening, Nick goes through Dad’s mortgage papers and after much toing and froing, they reach an agreement that Dad is comfortable with. I’m astounded by Nick’s generosity and can’t help feeling guilty about it; that he would go to such lengths to keep me happy makes me feel awfully indebted to him.
Finally, Nick swallows the last of his wine and glances at his watch. “Well, Steve, it’s just gone ten to ten. I think I’ll ask for the bill.”
