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The waiter brings our drinks and takes orders from Meggy, who asks for whatever we are drinking, and Ian, who plumps for whisky.
I stand and push my chair out of the way so I can lean over and brush my lips against Cress’ ear. “Be right back.” She ignores me, deep in conversation with Meggy about what they want to eat.
As I move toward the toilets, I notice Allan and a small blonde at a small corner table. A plate of smoked salmon and a bottle of Cristal sit between them. On my way back, I stop. Their glasses are still full and the salmon remains untouched. I stand unnoticed, scuffing a toe against the floor. When I touch his shoulder, Allan starts.
“Hail, hail, the gang’s all here. Is this a special occasion?” I wave my hand over their comestibles.
“Something like that.” Allan leans back and crosses his arms, making no attempt to introduce me to his dinner guest. He’s dressed in an off-the-peg black suit and white shirt and the red-and-gray tie from Fitzwilliam College, Cambridge.
The woman shifts in her chair and doesn’t lift her eyes. Her straight, dishwater blonde hair is in a bob with a blue band that matches her plain blue dress in imitation ofAlice in Wonderland. She fingers the short single strand of pearls at her neck, rubbing them against her teeth while she gives me quick sidelong glances.
“”I see Arslan has joined you again this evening.”
“He was at a loose end. What’s one more body when you have a group as big as ours.”
I take one more peek at the woman. She gulps her drink and turns away, but a sparkle from the wedding band catches my eye. A colleague, or is she married to Allan? Or someone else? Not my business but I’m congenitally nosy.
A slight movement at our table catches my attention, and I notice Yavuz staring at Allan. An uneasy expression flits across his face before he pastes on a smile and gives a small wave.
I rub my the back of my neck. If walking out of the restaurant was an option, I’d grab Cress and be out of here in two seconds. Instead I take two deep breaths and square up my shoulders, getting back to our group just as Ian tells some off-color story. Three empty chairs make me quickly scan the room. Cress, Liz, and Meggy have disappeared.
My heart races. “Where the fuck are they?”
“Take it easy, Max.” Ian lazes back in his chair. “Liz needed the toilet and Cress and Meggy offered to go with her.”
A sigh of relief escapes me as the starters and our missing females arrive.
* * *
Yavuz makes his excuses as we are finishing our mains. He’s been taking covert peeps at Allan throughout the meal. Now he pushes his chair back. “My brother texted.” He flourishes his mobile. “Sorry to eat and run, but he needs me to meet him at Victoria Station.”
He shrugs on JL’s jacket and, with a backward wave, disappears into the night.
From behind her hand, Cress whispers, “Why do you think he’s been watching Allan?”
“A Turk in London when we have high terrorist alerts. He probably knows who Allan is. So he may worry he’s under surveillance, even if he has done nothing.” I try for a reassuring tone.
“He makes me uncomfortable.” She takes a small bite of pudding.
“You seemed okay with him the other night. Any particular reason why you’re more uncomfortable now?”
She screws up her face. So cute when she’s thinking. “He’s too ingratiating and his teeth are too white.”
“Excuse me? Did you say…”
She nods vigorously. “His clothes are poor and he looks as if he doesn’t eat well. But his teeth are, well, perfect. As if they’re fake.”
“Interesting. I guess I didn’t notice. But maybe he had to have them pulled. Bad diet and all. Used to be a commonplace in Britain.”
“Implants?” Her voice betrays her disbelief.
“More likely full dentures. Dentistry isn’t covered under the Turkish health care system.” I study her face, seeing the traces of worry in the set of her mouth. “I know you’re uncomfortable, but we’re leaving for Scotland, so you’re unlikely to see him again..”
My dad natters about the new Scottish Premiership, and conversation becomes heated over the merits of Hibernian and Celtic. We finish our pudding. We’ve pushed the remains of cheese, almond tart, and steamed marmalade pudding to the middle of the table. Dad has waved over the waiter to ask about coffee and after-dinner drinks when the noise starts.
A series of explosions cause cutlery to rattle against china. Flashes of light pulsate in from the large windows at the entrance. The building seems to rock on its foundations. Phone clicks disappear. Some diners dive for cover while the rest of us cast furtive looks, checking out everyone else’s reactions. White-clad waiters come around to offer reassurance, even though the platitudes do nothing to calm down the patrons.
“Oh my God!” someone shouts. Silence becomes a cacophony as people try to find out what happened, sort out feelings, or join in the general moan. When the explosions stop and the light goes back to normal, people who had been crouching under tables or lying flat on the floor, sheepishly return to their seats.
