Lord Renbrook chuckles and glances at his watch. “I can’t stay much longer tonight. I’m due for a dinner with my mother.”
“Good luck, Paddy. Hopefully, she’ll back down on pushing you to set a date for the wedding.”
He pulls uncomfortably at his tie. “You and me both.” Turning to me, he waves. “It was nice meeting you, Minerva. I’ll return your art to Louie on Monday.”
“That sounds good. Thank you.”
“Come on, Min, let’s get you sorted so we can go home. I’m sure you’re just as ready as I am to have a pint at the pub.”
Mr. G starts to enter the code into the safe, and I temporarily avert my gaze. “Not so much a pint, but I wouldn’t mind some sangria and a hot bath.”
I’ve been in the UK for just over three years, and I still haven’t been able to get myself to see what the big deal about pubs is. They’re loud, always crowded, and the food is mediocre at best. I’d much rather be at home.
“Oh, Minerva, you just need the right bloke or friends to accompany you. It’s all about the company. Why, when I was your age...”
I let Mr. G prattle on about pubs, but something that he’s said has made me wonder what Sam is up to tonight. What do the guards do during their watch when there are no tourists around? I can’t imagine them going out to a pub when they’re on duty. Maybe I’ll be able to ask him tomorrow.
Five
My phone surprises me when it rings as I arrive at the Green Park Tube station. The tech guys at work didn’t think it would turn on, much less be in a semi-functional state. It reminds me of one of those Nokia phones from the ’90s I used to play with as a kid. You could drop it a hundred times and it would still work as if it were new. They were indestructible.
I swipe to unlock the screen and see it’s Liz. Mentally, I face-palm. I’ve forgotten we’re supposed to meet for dinner. Hoping I can play it off without her knowing, I say, “Hiya, I’m on my way now. Mr. G kept me a little longer than I’d anticipated.” I make a U-Turn, jog up the steps for the street level, and power walk along Piccadilly toward Covent Garden.
She huffs on the other end. “Should I go ahead and order for you?”
“Please and thank you.”
“What are you in the mood for? Your usual?”
“Um... no. I’m feeling more adventurous today. Let’s do the unagi bento box.”
“Do you want a side of edamame to go with all that?”
I grin. “Yes, please.”
“All right. It’ll be here when you arrive. I’m in the back corner near the dragon statue.”
“Got it. I’m just passing Fortnum and Mason now, so give me twelve minutes.”
Liz tells me to take my time, but I still feel a twinge of guilt. Disconnecting from the call, I slip the phone into my pocket and soak in the scenery around me. Piccadilly is usually an area Londoners tend to avoid since it’s always brimming with visitors, but that’s something that draws me to it. I enjoy seeing the high-end shops, window displays, and architecture, and knowing that history has happened here.
Take the Princes Arcade, for instance. I pause and glance into the window of a shop with an oversized vintage travel case, several pairs of men’s dress shoes, bowler hats, and ties. This is one of the places where men’s fashion literally took off.
Back in the eighteenth century, dandies—men who liked to dress flamboyantly—used to flock to this area to purchase the latest silk jackets, breeches, gloves, and other accessories. I can just picture a trio of gentlemen, stopping to chat with friends en route to their clubs. This is just one of the many reasons I’ve fallen in love with the city and can’t ever imagine myself moving back to Canada.
Continuing my walk, I pass the bright illuminated screens of Piccadilly Circus, a few theatres, and finally end up on Monmouth Street, about a block from Leicester Square. Mame’s is a mom-and-pop Asian fusion restaurant that’s tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Liz and I discovered it by accident our second year when we were looking for a place to escape the rain.
Lin, one of the restaurant’s owners, is chatting with a couple at the outside podium. “Annyeong,” I say, walking past her. It’s one of the few words I’ve picked up from my dad. She manages a brief wave.
Dad tried to teach me Korean as a kid, but unlike Cam, I was never able to retain anything. It drove him mad, especially when my grandparents came to visit. The best I could manage was a couple words like “hello” and “goodbye.” I hated it when my brother would show off and enjoy watching me struggle.
At least with mom’s relatives, I fared a little better. When you grow up in Canada, where French is a required subject and you hear it spoken all around you, there’s no excusesnotto know it. Not to mention there is a lot of French used in ballet. Maybe it’s not that I couldn’t learn Korean, but that I wasn’t as motivated.
Entering the restaurant, I’m hit with the scent of fresh veggies, spices, and meat. The music is soft, but just loud enough to block out the buzz of conversations happening around us. I weave around the eight circular tables in the center of the room and slide into the back booth where Liz is waiting for me.
“It’s busier than I’ve seen it in a long time.”
“Lin said they were featured on a popular foodie blog. She’s been fielding calls left and right ever since, asking for reservations. They’re booked up for the next two months.”
