Robin was more than pleased with Jasmine’s reaction to his invitation. She’d appeared pretty keen to come to his. Now he just had to decide what to cook. Hell, he wasn’t much of a chef, but even he could stick a casserole in the oven and not burn it. He’d thought twice about buying anything from the local shop though, wishing to avoid Trish’s questions and speculation. No, he’d have to go further afield to buy everything.
First things first, he’d better get his flat clean and tidy. It had been a while since he’d entertained. Correction, he’d never entertained since moving into the place. Not that he didn’t value his home, he did. Being in the property business, Robin appreciated the high ceilings and cornices, loving the Gothic influences and intricately designed woodwork the large Victorian house had, before being made into separate flats. Fortunately, the developers who had renovated it had been sympathetic to its origins. The outside appearance was equally aesthetically pleasing, with patterned brick and decorative barge boards on the gable ends. The name of the building was rather grand too, Augusta House, in keeping with the era it was built.
Robin had been one of the first to view the flats once they’d been converted. He had managed to secure one of the larger ones, containing two bedrooms and a balcony at the rear which overlooked the bay. This, like it was for Jasmine, had been the deal breaker.
Although Robin had loved his new home, he’d never had the time to truly put his stamp on it. The walls were plain, clean white and the kitchen still looked brand new, not having been used that much. At least his bedroom had a more lived-in look, with the plush king-sized bed covered with paisley patterned linen, a few tasteful pictures and an old rocking chair he’d inherited from his grandmother, which stood by the balcony doors. There was a small bistro set outside on the balcony. Robin had contemplated eating there with Jasmine but felt uncomfortable with them having to access it through his bedroom. Instead, they’d use the dining table under the window in the lounge and make the most of the view that gave.
Robin was a mixture of nerves and excitement to be having a visitor – and not just any visitor, but Jasmine. It really mattered to him what she thought of his place, wanting to set the best impression. He was pleased to have tomorrow off to give himself plenty of time to prepare.
There was something else bothering him; he had to give Jasmine the invoice for his work. Left to him, he probably would have done it for free, under the circumstances. But he had a business and knew he had to run it as such, especially having Jack as his partner. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel a touch uneasy.
By the next evening, Robin had accomplished everything he’d set out to. The flat was immaculate, the casserole was cooking nicely and smelling delicious, and the lemon cheesecake was chilling in the fridge, along with a bottle of champagne (he’d decided to push the boat out) and the prawn cocktail for starters he’d bought ready-made but put them in large wine glasses and added sliced lemon on the rims to look homemade. Not bad for a single bloke who didn’t cook, he thought. Now all he had to do was go and pick up his guest.
Jasmine was looking forward to the evening ahead. Not just to have a nice meal made for her, but she rather fancied having a look around Robin’s home. She assumed he’d have good taste, being in the property development line of business.
Putting on the finishing touches to her make-up in front of the bathroom mirror, a sudden wave of guilt gushed through her. She stopped midway applying her lipstick.What was she doing?She stared at the reflection in the glass. Her blonde hair was highlighted by the sun and a rosy complexion glowed from her face. Big brown eyes stared back at her, no longer surrounded by dark shadows. She had a radiance about her. The sunshine, fresh sea air and exercise had had an effect on her. That, and having her mind occupied with the jobs on her new house.
‘It’s not a date,’ she told herself. Of course it wasn’t. It was just two neighbours enjoying a meal together, that’s all. Placing all manner of doubt behind her, Jasmine finished applying her make-up. There, it was time she made an effort on her appearance anyway. She was making an effort forherself, that’s all.
Robin arrived on time and took it to be a good sign that Jasmine answered the door without delay. She was obviously ready and waiting. Standing on the doorstep, Robin gulped at the image before him. Jasmine looked striking in a chocolate brown, fitted halter-neck dress. It totally complemented her slim figure, sun-kissed skin and brown eyes.
‘H–hi,’ he almost squeaked.
‘Hi, thanks for picking me up.’ She offered him a soft smile.
‘No problem.’
He’d actually spent an hour cleaning his Range Rover inside and out. It’d been littered with all kinds of snack wrappers, tools and muck. He hardly recognised it once finished, and neither had Jack when he’d called round that afternoon. When Robin had explained why he’d made an effort to clean his car, Jack had looked up rapidly from his scrutiny of the clean paintwork.
‘You’re finally going on a date?’ he’d asked in amazement.
‘Yeah, well not a date as such, just—’
‘Good on you, mate,’ Jack interrupted, so pleased his best friend had at last ventured back onto the dating scene. Seeing Robin appear a touch self-conscious, Jack quickly changed the subject and hadn’t stayed long, leaving Robin to ‘spruce up’.
Robin was surprised at how nervous tonight’s not-date was making him. It’s not as if he wasn’t used to female company, far from it. Before his previous relationship, Robin had had plenty of girlfriends. He and Jack had never been short of admirers and, like most young men, they had made the most of it.
Despite feeling tense, another part of Robin felt buoyant. He genuinely enjoyed Jasmine’s company. She was easy to be around, calm and placid, all the things Ellie was not, or certainly not with him at least. Horrendous memories flared into his mind; the venomous rows they’d had, her pretty face contorted with fury and spite; the cruel, hurtful things she had screamed, leaving him wounded and crushed.
Now, standing on Jasmine’s doorstep, he had to remind himself those days were gone. It was time to move on. And whilst he had told Jack this wasn’t exactly a date, he dearly wished it was, in every sense.
‘It smells nice in here,’ Jasmine commented as she strapped her seatbelt on.
‘That’ll be the new air freshener. It’s not always this clean and tidy,’ Robin replied dryly, making her laugh out loud. This is exactly what he liked about Jasmine, there was no need to stand on ceremony. When they arrived, Jasmine took in the Augusta House sign on the cast iron gate by the entrance. The grand Victorian building looked imposing, standing proudly flanked by tall fir trees. Jasmine glanced sideways to see Robin wind his window down and scan a fob to gain entry. It all looked very sleek and classy, she thought.
Entering his flat, her impression didn’t change. That too was elegant and stylish, however more minimal than she was expecting, lacking a homely touch, in her opinion.
‘So, I’ve made a casserole,’ said Robin, reaching in the fridge for the chilled champagne, ‘but first let’s open this.’ He popped the cork and poured into two flutes.
‘Lovely, what’s the celebration?’ Jasmine asked, surprised to see the champagne.
Robin shrugged. ‘No occasion, just thought it’d be nice.’
Taking her glass, she clinked it with his.
‘Cheers, Robin, and thanks, again.’ She gave a half laugh, conscious of all that he’d done, which then reminded her. ‘By the way, how much do I owe you?’
Robin paused, not wanting to ruin the moment, he waved her question away.
