I’d like a talk with you. It’s short notice, I know, but would you have dinner with me tonight?’
Eleri stared at him in astonishment, and only managed to control instant, rapturous consent by turning. away to deal with a customer waiting to pay for lunch. She made the transaction, exchanging a few pleasantries, glad of the respite to gather her wits together, very conscious of the tall man studying the family photographs on the wall in the little foyer between the coffee-shop and the restaurant. When she was free he turned back to her.
‘I suppose it was too much to hope for on a Saturday night.’
That wasn’t the point, she thought, knowing perfectly well she ought to refuse. She was doing her utmost to get over James Kincaid. A dinner date was hardly the way to go about it. ‘It’s very kind of you—’ she began.
‘Not in the least,’ he interrupted. ‘You’d be doing me a kindness if you would.’
Why? she wondered. Perhaps he was at a loose end because Camilla Tennent was skiing in Gstaad or sunning in the Bahamas or wherever. ‘I’m afraid—’
‘Don’t say no,’ he said swiftly. ‘Look on it as a business appointment.’
Aware that Luisa and Gianni were in a frenzy, trying to cope with the lunchtime rush, Eleri gave in. To James and herself. ‘Oh, very well—’ She broke off to smile at a customer. ‘Just one moment, sir, I’ll be with you directly.’
‘What time shall I pick you up?’ asked James, and handed her a banknote. ‘Give this to your staff.’
‘How kind, thank you. But don’t come for me. I’ll meet you somewhere.’
‘The Mitre about eight?’
‘Yes. Right. Now I really must go.’ She turned away and plunged back into the business of heating pizzas and pouring coffees, and anything else necessary to relieve the beleaguered young pair who worked so willingly for her.
‘You’re going out?’ said her mother in surprise when a very weary Eleri went home later that evening.
‘Yes. Not that I feel like it. I’m done in.’
‘They why go?’
‘Curiosity, I suppose.’
Catrin Conti eyed her daughter warily. ‘It’s not with that Toby, I hope.’
‘What would you do if I said yes?’
‘Worry my head off.’
Eleri relented, giving her mother a hug. ‘Don’t, it’s not Toby. Though you’ll never guess who. I can’t believe it myself. The person asking for me last night was James Kincaid.’
‘Your boss at Northwold?’ said her mother, astonished. ‘Never!’
‘He came to the coffee-shop lunchtime, but I was too busy to talk to him much, so he asked me out for a meal tonight. Said it was business.’ Eleri thrust her hands through her hair, then looked at her watch. ‘Heavens, it’s later than I thought—better get my skates on.’
‘Business, is it! Where’s he taking you?’
‘The Mitre.’
Catrin sniffed. ‘You’d eat better here.’
‘Very possibly. But not with the same privacy, Mamma mia,’ said her daughter mockingly. ‘Where’s Nico?’
‘Gone to the pictures with the usual gang.’ Catrin smiled. ‘He’s helping out with the wedding party tomorrow night, by the way, to earn extra pocket money.’
‘New football boots, I suppose.’ Eleri laughed and went upstairs for a bath, more excited than she cared to admit, even to herself, about the forthcoming evening with James Kincaid.
She took enormous care with her hair and face, then went downstairs to find her father still at home.
‘Pops, my car sounds a bit funny. I think I’d better take a taxi.’
Her father’s eagle eye took in her wool tunic and long, clinging skirt, the soft kid boots and heavy gold earrings.
‘Lady in black—bellissima,’ he said, eyes narrowed. ‘All this for the man who fired you from Northwold?’
Ouch, thought Eleri. ‘He didn’t fire me. I resigned. I’m curious to know what he wants, that’s all. He said it was business.’
‘A man takes out a woman who looks like you, he does not think only of business,’ declared her father wryly. ‘Not if he has blood in his veins.’
‘Don’t judge all men by yourself, Pa!’ she said.
He laughed, and kissed her. ‘I’ll ask Luigi to look at the car in the morning.’
‘Come on, Mario,’ said Catrin. ‘We’re needed in the restaurant. Enjoy yourself, Eleri!’ She kissed her daughter’s smooth olive cheek. ‘You look gorgeous, love.’
Eleri waved them off, knowing she looked her best. The tiredness of the day had vanished after her leisurely bath. She’d left her hair loose to skim her shoulders, added a touch more emphasis to her eyes than usual and, best tonic of all, she was spending the evening with James Kincaid. She grinned at her reflection in the hall mirror. ‘You’ll do, Conti. Ring for a taxi.’
When Eleri arrived at the Mitre James was waiting for her in the courtyard, and had paid off her driver before she had time to ask the fare.
‘Eleri, hello,’ he said, smiling, as they went inside the inn. ‘Thank you for coming.’
‘I said I would.’
‘I thought you might have had second thoughts.’
‘If I had I’d have rung to let you know,’ she assured him.
James managed to secure a small table in a corner of the crowded bar for a lengthy perusal of the menu over the drinks he ordered.
‘I’m told the restaurant here is rather good, but with you it’s a bit like taking coals to Newcastle. I hope it comes up to your standards,’ he said, raising an eyebrow at her.
‘As long as it’s not pasta in any shape or form I don’t mind,’ she assured him, smiling. ‘No one does pasta dishes like our chefs. Though my father’s the master,’ she added, ‘when he’s in the mood to cook.’
‘Does your mother cook, too?’
‘Brilliantly. But only at home. She cooks dinner about four times a week, and the other nights we fend for ourselves, or they send something over from the restaurant. Nico eats like a horse.’
‘Nico?’
Eleri smiled, her eyes soft. ‘He’s fifteen, clever, and pretty gorgeous, actually.’
‘And his big sister obviously dotes on him!’
