Thank God for Fran, who chose that moment to materialise beside their table. She threw Johnny a quick glance, eyebrows arched in anticipation, but now was absolutely not the time to talk cats. Instead, he nodded as surreptitiously as he could, hoping she would somehow understand he meant he would catch her to explain at some point in the evening, but away from the table, away from this group. Her face lit up with an enormous smile, and Johnny had a horrible feeling she thought he’d found Red’s hiding place.
‘With a smile like that, you can betcha I’m ready to order,’ Noel said.
Once Fran had headed back into the kitchen with their orders, and Johnny had watched Noel track her every step, it didn’t come as a massive surprise when Noel turned back to the table and suggested he wanted to change his order.
‘How about one order of waitress, to go.’ Noel sniggered, belting Ed across the back of the shoulder. ‘Am I right? Bet you would too, given half a chance.’
‘What’s up with you tonight?’ Johnny said, the question aimed directly at Noel.
‘What’s up with me?’ Noel pasted a look of confusion on his face. ‘There’s nothingup with me, Johnny-go-lightly.’ Noel mimed inverted commas around the words, lacing them with an unexpected back note of venom. ‘Just saying the waitress is hot, that’s all. Wouldn’t mind buying her a drink later. I’m young, free and single – I’m guessing she is too. What’s wrong with that?’
While Ricky kept his counsel and his hand on top of his glass, Ed lifted the bottle of Sancerre and topped up his own and Noel’s glasses.
‘Nothing wrong with that, mate,’ Ed said, sliding the bottle back into its cooler and lifting his glass. ‘Nothing at all. What happens on tour stays on tour, and all that.’
Noel chinked and made a series of toasts, to the business, to fine wines and beautiful women, to the Dordogne. That one garnered a guffaw from Ed, to whom Noel must have explained his tarmac joke, and Noel built the momentum by making a final toast to ‘the single life’.
When the table quietened, Ricky leant across, tilting his empty glass towards the Picpoul. ‘Could I try it?’ he asked.
Johnny poured, glad of the solidarity.
‘Meant to ask you, mate, how’s it going with Natalie, and the whole …’ Ricky shifted in his chair, his cheeks notching with colour. ‘Belinda and Natalie have a coffee every now and again, and she said Nat seems to be a bit all over the place.’
Johnny raised his eyebrows as he sipped from his glass. It wasn’t only Natalie who was feeling the strain. But he recognised Ricky was showing genuine concern.
‘It’s a shit situation,’ he said, with a wry smile. ‘No question. But we’re working through it, you know?’
‘Are you going to get a divorce? Belinda said it sounded like it might be on the cards.’
Johnny tugged in a tight breath. ‘I don’t really see any other option.’
‘No. Not having it, boys. We’re here to celebrate, not talk about our lives back home.’
The words came from across the table. Noel admonished them for taking the mood down and swung the conversation thread away from Johnny’s personal life. Returned the chat to saferterritory, the upcoming transfer of a footballer from Noel’s favourite team and the implications for their league standings. Johnny had to hand it to Noel, he was a smooth operator, and Johnny was grateful for the interjection, for the deflection.
The banter continued as Fran reappeared with their starters, Noel doing his best to get Fran’s attention and earning himself a hard-won smile from her while making a second trip to the table when Ed asked her for a fresh basket of bread. Johnny did his best to brush aside the flare of jealousy at her positive reaction to Noel, and although she caught his eye a couple of times, Johnny knew that however much he wanted to, striking up a conversation with her in front of the others was bound to backfire, would bring them all the wrong kind of attention.
While Noel was entertaining Ricky and Ed with an old story of the time he’d mistaken someone for his favourite football player, had asked for his autograph and couldn’t understand why the man was so confused, Johnny noticed Fran discreetly moving away from their table and dumped his napkin beside his plate, pushing back his chair.
‘Where are you going?’
Johnny didn’t answer Noel’s question, his focus was on how to intercept Fran and explain. How to suggest they meet up after she’d finished her shift in the dining room so he could tell her what he’d found out. How to do all that in plain sight of a brother who would be quick to rip the shit out of him if he could get a laugh out of it.
The moment was lost as Fran was called to an adjacent table, so Johnny headed out towards the restrooms to regroup. As luck would have it, Fran saw him on his way back in and veered across.
‘Sorry to be a pain, but I’ve been itching to ask you how the search went.’ Fran wiped her hands on the front of her uniform,her eyes bright and glowing with a richness of colour impossible to ignore in the subdued anteroom lighting, especially with her full attention on him. It was hypnotic, and Johnny wondered how he hadn’t noticed before. ‘I should have just asked straight out at the table, I suppose, but I wasn’t sure …’
Fran’s brow furrowed, her gaze darting away from his and towards the room full of diners. As the realisation that she might be as perceptive as she was attractive hit Johnny’s conscious thought, the back of his throat dried. The last time he’d appraised a woman in these terms was when he met his now almost-ex, Natalie. And look how that had worked out.
Overthinking was probably something that should be added to Johnny’s list of dubious attributes, alongside pessimism and a love of the worst and most ridiculous of the apocalyptic films Netflix had to offer. And snoring. Right now, though, he needed to concentrate on sorting out the mess he had already made of his relationships. With his life currently in tatters, he was in no position to be an attractive proposition to anyone, and anyway, Fran wanted to find a cat, not fall in love with him.
‘Perhaps we could catch up after you’ve finished your shift?’ he asked. And then, as if his internal debate had never happened, he added, ‘Grab a drink or something. What do you think?’
‘I won’t be done until around ten,’ Fran said. ‘Is that OK?’
Johnny nodded. ‘Of course. I can wait in the bar if you like?’
Fran grimaced. As a member of staff couldn’t hang around in the guest areas, even if she was off duty. Not that guests invading staff areas was the done thing, either. Outside. That would be easier.
