‘And risk. It’s not for the faint-hearted.’ He touches his chest, as if feeling faint at the thought of all those risks he takes. ‘But I love it, it makes me feelalive. Wow, you knock it back, Holly,’ he says, impressed. As he refills my glass my eyes are drawn to his expensive watch. There is no doubt Giles is a catch for someone. But he’s not for me. I can hear Angus saying there should be a TV programme called, ‘I’m on a Date, Get Me Out of Here!’
‘So, what do you like doing in your spare time?’ I say, feeling light-headed from the wine already.
Let me guess. Driving his fast car and going to the gym.
‘Not that I have much spare time,’ he chuckles.
He’s far too important to have spare time, Holly!
‘No, I’m sure not,’ I say, wondering if I should go to the loo and ask Milla to call me? Urgently.
‘I’m an exercise junkie,’ he says, returning to my question. ‘Cycling’s my passion. In fact, I’ve invested in a racing bike.’ He shows me an image of his recent purchase on his mobile. ‘Set me back eight thousand seven hundred quid. Are you into sport?’
‘Um, I run three times a week with a friend, and I have a personal trainer too.’ I try not to laugh as I say it. If Giles could see Angus, Laurie and me in the park, our motley little team of three, along with our Smiling Assassin, doing burpees and pop squats and seeing who can hula-hula the longest with our pink hoops. Hah!
Giles tells me he has an apartment in Canary Wharf with its own private gym and indoor swimming pool. ‘You should come, there’s a jacuzzi. And how about you, Holly, what do you like doing when you’re not schmoozing clients?’
I find myself telling him about Nina and Soul Food and how much I’m loving cooking again, even if baking is bad for my waistline.
‘Doesn’t look too bad to me,’ he says, raising an eyebrow flirtatiously. ‘I might have to swing by, try out one of your puddings.’
Angus whispers into my ear, ‘I think he wants to swing by and try you out.’
‘Every Christmas my mother used to invite the waifs and strays to our house,’ he reflects. ‘Got to be honest, I hated having to share my Chrimbo lunch with them, and you could tell some of them hadn’t had a shower in weeks. But that’s typical Mum. Open house. Caring.’
I wonder if he’s adopted.
‘Anyway, enough of that. Tell me, Holly, what do you look for in a man?’
As if someone has heard my prayer, my mobile rings. ‘Sorry, I’d better take this,’ I tell him. On my screen is a number I don’t recognise. It’s probably Scottish Power. It’s a scam, someone trying to sell me broadband. ‘Hi Mum,’ I pretend. ‘What’s wrong? Oh no, is he OK? I’ll be right there.’ I hang up. ‘Giles, it’s my father, he’s fallen down the stairs, I’m so sorry, I must fly.’
‘Yes,’ he says. There’s a pause, as if he’s assessing if I’m telling the truth or not. ‘Of course. Yes, you must go,’ he insists, emphatically patting the front of his jacket and searching the pockets, before apologising profusely for forgetting his wallet.
24
I ring Angus. ‘Where are you?’ I ask, heading briskly for the Tube station.
‘Home,’ he replies, before adjusting it to ‘At Sophie’s.’
My heart sinks.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?’
‘Disastrous.’
‘That bad?’
‘Worse.’
‘I’m heading back to Scottie’s in twenty. Want to come over?’
I stop when I see the homeless man, slumped outside the station. ‘Happy birthday,’ I say, emptying all the change in my wallet and handing it to him with a fiver. It’s Christmas and his birthday.
Scottie and his family are out for dinner with friends, they took the children with them, leaving Angus and me alone. Scottie’s kitchen could have been designed and made by Jamie. It’s how you’d imagine a professional chef’s kitchen to be: open-plan with a white quartz countertop island in the middle, a hanging pots rack above. It’s a far cry from Soul Food, though that does have a certain charm now, maybe because I’ve grown to love the people who work in it.
‘Fallen down the stairs?’ Angus bursts out laughing.
‘I know!’ I laugh with him.
