tables were laid with pink cloths and silver cutlery. Stephen ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon.
‘I hope you like champagne?’ he asked, after the waiter had left. She was tempted to say no just to see his reaction, but thought better of it. ‘I love champagne,’ she said, and added, ‘When I can get it.’
Her experience actually amounted to a lukewarm glass which had been served with great pomp and ceremony at a cousin’s wedding, but there was no need to make herself appear gauche, was there?
Christina had never heard of half of the dishes on the big menu she was given, and decided to play safe and have whatever Stephen had to start and Sole Bonne Femme as a main course, a dish she had had at the same wedding. It seemed more sophisticated than ordering a plain steak.
The waiter arrived to take their order.
‘Christina, what would you like to start,’ Stephen asked.
‘I’m not quite sure yet; you choose,’ she answered from behind the large menu card.
‘I would like avocado and prawns to start, please,’ Stephen said, and paused. ‘And to follow, Steak Diane.’
‘How would you like it cooked, sir?’ the waiter asked.
‘Medium.’
‘And madam?’ The man waited, pen poised.
‘I think I will take avocado and prawns as well, please, and Sole Bonne Femme to follow.’
The champagne arrived and Christina drank two glasses in quick succession. She had eaten very little that day, so by the time the avocado arrived she was feeling lightheaded. She stared at the dark-green fruit on her plate, covered with prawns and a Marie Rose sauce.
‘Bon appétit,’ Stephen said, and pushed his spoon into the centre of his pear.
Christina did the same, and scooped up a big piece of avocado which she placed in her mouth. It tasted bitter and waxy and she was tempted to spit it out. But Stephen was watching her, a slightly bemused expression on his face. She swallowed without chewing and almost choked. A spluttering sound came out of her throat, followed by a violent fit of coughing.
‘You’ll have to excuse me.’ She stood up. ‘I’m sorry. Something must have gone down the wrong way.’
Stephen stood up, concerned. ‘Are you okay?’ Her face was scarlet and two spots of Marie Rose sauce stained the collar of her dress.
‘I’m fine, really. I’ll be back in a few minutes.’
She rushed into the ladies’ room and began rubbing the unsightly stains off her dress, talking to herself in the mirror. ‘You idiot! Why did you order something you didn’t know? You’ve made a fool of yourself now.’
She returned a few minutes later, quite composed, and noticed the way Stephen rose from his seat as she sat down. Christina had never before been out with anyone who had such impeccable manners.
‘Okay now.’
He looked concerned. Her avocado had disappeared and in its place was a tiny crystal glass containing something white and frozen.
‘What’s this?’
‘It’s lemon sorbet to refresh your palate. I can get the avocado back if you like?’
‘No thanks,’ she said quickly, and took a mouthful of the cool, refreshing sorbet. ‘Mmm, delicious.’ She paused and then looked across the table at Stephen. She could read nothing in his expression.
‘I have a confession to make,’ Christina said, and took another scoop of her sorbet.
Stephen took a sip of champagne and looked at her over the rim of his glass.
‘You hate avocado?’ he said, and chuckled as she blushed.
‘How did you guess?’
‘Not difficult if you’d seen the expression on your face when you took the first mouthful!’
‘To tell the truth I’ve never heard of it until tonight, and I don’t think I’ll be having it again in a hurry.’
‘It’s an acquired taste,’ Stephen said, and lifted his champagne glass. ‘Like good wine.’
‘I’ll drink to that.’ Christina raised her own glass and touched his.
‘To acquired taste,’ she said.
‘And to the money to acquire it,’ he replied.
The Steak Diane and Sole Bonne Femme were perfection, as were the Chablis Grand Cru and the Belgian truffles and liqueurs served after dinner, Christina having declared herself too full for anything else.
‘I think they’d like us to go, don’t you?’ she whispered to Stephen after her second Cointreau.
They were the only people remaining in the restaurant apart from two waiters hovering conspicuously behind their table. It was after twelve when Stephen paid the bill and they left.
‘Be careful.’ He grabbed her arm and saved her from falling as she tripped on a deep step at the front door.
She giggled. ‘I’m afraid I’ve had a little too much to drink.’
‘I think we both have, but my capacity is probably larger than yours, that’s all.’
He opened the passenger door for her and she slipped into the seat. Her skirt rode up to her knees and he stared at her long, slim legs for a moment before slamming the door. He walked round the car and eased himself into the driving-seat.
‘So tell me about yourself? I know so little about you. We seem to have spent the entire evening talking about me and my business.’
‘There isn’t much to tell, really. I was born in County Cork in Ireland and came to live in England at eighteen months old. We lived in several different parts of the country. My father was, as my mother put it, a dreamer, always chasing rainbows.’ Christina stopped speaking and Stephen glanced at her.
‘What is it?’
‘I lost my father two years ago – I was only seventeen. It was a bitter blow. I adored him, you see. I know now he was a hopeless romantic who found his dreams in the bottom of too many whisky bottles, but he was everything to me. After he died I was unable to concentrate. I flunked my exams. My mother went back to Ireland to be close to her sister and her three squabbling offspring, and I stayed on in Manchester and started work for Kate Mason. I accepted a job a week ago to open the Westside Shopping Mall, and now here we are.’
Christina’s voice was light, but with a sidelong glance he saw how sad she looked. He had a strong urge to stop the car and take her in his arms. They travelled on in silence for a few minutes before she said, ‘And what about you? You’ve talked about your office blocks and the shopping centres and car parks you build, the interesting places you go to and people you meet, but what about your real life? Age, where you live …’ She paused. ‘And who with.’
Christina looked at Stephen, but his face was a mask of concentration. It had begun to rain, and he was driving carefully on the narrow country lanes.
‘I’m thirty-four, born in the north-east, left in my early twenties to seek fame and fortune in the south. My father’s dead. My mother and half-brother still live in South Shields. I work too hard, don’t play hard enough. I have a country house in Sussex and a central-London flat. No steady girlfriends. That’s about it, really; not a lot to tell.’
She sensed he did not want to open up any further to her.
‘Just answer one question – are you married?’
‘I was, but she died.’
Christina looked straight ahead. ‘I’m sorry.’ Trust her to open her big mouth and put her foot in it!
‘I have had a wonderful evening; I can’t thank you enough,’