Читать книгу How to Get Hitched in Ten Days: A Novella - Samantha Tonge - Страница 12
Оглавление‘I’m Not The Marrying Kind’ came onto the jukebox, a song from one of my fave Elvis films, Follow That Dream. He sings it to Anne Helm, a gorgeous actress with long brunette hair. Yep. I admit it. Thanks to my parents, I’m a complete Presley Geek. Their retirement trip was to Memphis first, to visit The King’s home, Graceland. What a pity Jazz wasn’t planning to move there. I looked up as the door swung open. Awkward. This song had to be playing just as Dave walked in, hair curled tight due to the rain. I glanced at the clock. Ten to eight.
The last customer finished buttoning up his mac and waved goodbye before heading outside into the black February night. My chest squeezed. Jim had eaten here every weekday evening for the past two weeks, since his wife died. I’d patted his back when he’d told me and, to my amazement, old-school, tweed-cap wearing Jim had leant in for a hug. As for his visits here, whilst I’m a huge fan of fast food, that’s on the understanding that it’s part of a balanced diet. Therefore I’d instructed John to surreptitiously start including a free portion of vegetables alongside his fries and a dollop of fruit on top of his favourite cheesecake.
Sheila, Jim’s late wife, always used to order the same thing when they ate in the diner on a Saturday lunchtime – veggie burger with sweet potato wedges and a strawberry milkshake. She reckoned that meal made up most of her five-a-day. Jazz took full credit for my increasing number of vegetarian customers.
‘You’re late.’
Dave shrugged, raindrops flecked across his cheeks. ‘Tuesdays mean team meetings – always a long day in the office. Then I had to pick up the ingredients.’
No apology from those deep tones but his eyes darted towards the floor. That would do me. I could forgive a lack of manners, due to his current turmoil. Plus I was simply flabbergasted that detached Dave had agreed to meet me alone – that was a first. In the past he’d seemed to avoid my sole company at all costs. Me paranoid? Sometimes, perhaps. But not over this. And… and it hurt.
Finally Elvis’ voice petered out but then aarghh! The next song was ‘America’ from West Side Story – hardly a song to cheer up Dave. He put down a full plastic supermarket bag, took off his coat and sat down at one of the tables. I poured two coffees and joined him.
‘Got nothing stronger than that?’ Dave met my gaze for a brief moment, one eyebrow raised. Then he sighed and looked away. ‘She’s still not replied to my texts or phone calls. Perhaps this plan is stupid. Now it’s nine days and counting until Jazz leaves – that’s not much time.’
‘It’s more than enough,’ I said in a bright voice and shifted in my seat. Loyalty was a right bugger sometimes. It meant I couldn’t tell Jazz that Dave was going to try his very best to win her back; I couldn’t reveal to Dave that Jazz had definite plans now, to move to the States.
‘Stop with the negativity.’ I reached into my apron pocket and took out a notepad and pen. ‘Right, let’s see what we wrote down yesterday, before you dashed off… Jazz’s main interests are dancing and cooking. That’s what we’ve decided to work with, to make her feel special over the next week.’ I cleared my throat. ‘So, what are you going to cook me, as a trial run for dinner with her tomorrow night? And we need to crack on with those dance lessons you agreed to take, so that you can take her out to her favourite salsa bar with a degree of confidence. In fact I’ve–’
