The Place is a very smart restaurant in Kensington. I have only been there once before, for a meal with my mother, who took me there to inform me that she was getting married. I didn?t know about her break up from husband number three, and apparently nor did he (yet), but this didn?t worry her unduly. My mother is the most unlikely man-eater. I mean, she looks her age (fifty-six), reads theDaily Mail , and thinks bikinis are vulgar. But she certainly knows how to make men fall at her feet. She left Dad when I was just five, and the two of us moved in with Brett, an American businessman who had a huge apartment in Grosvenor Square in London. That lasted about three years; she then decided she wanted a house and Brett preferred apartments, so that was the end of that. She met, and married, Stan, who was sweet but a bit old for my liking. (Brett and I used to go roller-skating in Hyde Park, but Stan?s idea of an active day was walking over to a bench and sitting down on it. When you are eight and full of energy, sitting on a bench is not exactly a good day out.) Stan had a big house in Dulwich Village and we lived there for a good five years, until my mother met William, who owned an antiques shop in Kensington and kept giving her antiques until she agreed to move in with him. We lived above the shop in Kensington Church Street, which was great because it was the perfect place to meet boys and that?s all I really cared about then. Candy lived round the corner and we soon started hanging out together (whenever she was home from her smart boarding school, which seemed to be a lot; I?ve never understood why the more expensive the school, the shorter the amount of time you have to stay there) with the sole intention of attracting attention from the opposite sex. My mother never married William, and the day I went off to university she told me about a new love, Stephen. Stephen became husband number three?he was in mergers and acquisitions and my mother got heavily into throwing dinner parties and being a corporate wife. Not for long, though. She came to stay with me my final year and complained that she never saw Stephen?mergers and acquisitions were too time consuming for her liking and she missed having someone around in the evenings. I think in the end she sent Stephen a fax when he was on some business trip or other telling him it was over. And then she met me for lunch, at The Place.
Mike is waiting for me at the bar, champagne bottle in hand.
?So, Mr. Business Executive,? I say, accepting a glass from him and brushing his hand with mine. Accidentally? On purpose? I?m not sure. ?You seem to be doing very well for yourself. Are you going to tell me where all this money is coming from, or are you going to do your usual trick of ordering everything on the menu and then asking at the end if I can put it on my credit card until your money comes through??
?Ah, now there?s a gamble for you!? Mike winks.
I let him lead me to our table, and study the menu.
?The sole is very good,? Mike murmurs, picking up the wine list.
?Does this business meeting have an agenda??
Mike looks at me quizzically, raising one eyebrow.
?I want to know why you want to see me now when you?ve made no effort to contact me for two years.?
?Has it really been that long??
He?s doing that soppy-eyed look at me. I hate that. It always works and I end up smiling stupidly and letting him get away with whatever he?s done this time.
?Yes, it bloody well has been that long.?
I catch the eye of a girl a few tables away. She looks away immediately. This sort of thing happens a lot when you?re out with Mike. People just stare at him. Once we were in the pub and there was this gorgeous guy in there who kept catching my eye. I was feeling pretty good about it and after a while mentioned it to Mike in an offhand sort of way. (You should always make sure your date understands how desirable you are, according to Candy. She does things like sending flowers to herself, which is probably taking things a bit far, but I understand the sentiment.) Anyway, rather than looking impressed and challenging my admirer to a dual, Mike laughed, spluttering into his drink, and told me that actually the guy had been checkinghim out all evening. I mean the audacity of it! Except that when I studied the guy more closely I realized that Mike was right. It was hopeless. Not only did he get loads of female attention, but he even got more male attention than I did.
?I see,? says Mike, putting his hand through his hair. He suddenly grins at me. ?Okay, well, when I saw you on Saturday, I just realized how long it?s been, and I thought it would be nice to see you properly, that?s all. I?m sure I must owe you lunch anyway.?
?You owe me food for a year actually.?
Mike raises an eyebrow. He has good eyebrows. No straggly bits, good shape. His eyes are good, too?they?re soft and dark and surrounded by thick luscious eyelashes. I would kill for eyelashes like that.
?You?re looking gorgeous,? he says softly. You see what I mean? It?s impossible to stay angry. I feel myself go red. I realize I?ve got to change the subject if I?m going to keep from making a fool of myself.
?Okay, so tell me about your great business deals then. What are you, an investment banker??
Mike rolls his eyes and sits back in his chair. ?An entrepreneur, my dear. I am the owner of London?s coolest new record label and club promotions company.?
Bastard. Only Mike could make serious money and be doing something really cool. I better not tell David.
?And you?re actually staying solvent??
?What do you think??
The waiter comes over and refills our glasses. We order some food?I choose octopus salad to start, followed by the chicken. I?d actually prefer the sole, but I don?t want to look like I?m listening to Mike?s advice. When the waiter leaves we?re silent for a while.
?So how are things with David??
Does he really want to know or is he teasing me? I decide to play it straight.
?Actually, things couldn?t be better. He?s gorgeous. We?re really happy.? All of which is true, but for some reason I?m turning red again and my face is twisting into a stupid smile. Mike sits back in his chair.
?Never really saw the two of you together. Thought you could do better than an accountant. But if it works for you . . .?
How does he do that? Make an insult sound like a compliment, so that when you get angry it looks like you?re overreacting. The thing is, he?s got a point. I never saw myself ending up with an accountant either. It doesn?t really
