Had angry, anti-romance Angus simply evaporated, in her memory as well as real life?
Angus chose to start the meal with a glass of the chilled Veuve Clicquot he ordered for Tilly. They both opened their menus and, within moments, had looked up to share a secret smile.
This was a restaurant so close to the sea you could smell the salt in the air and the menus reflected that.
‘A whole grilled fish for two?’ Tilly tried to make it sound like a delectable option.
‘I’m thinking a seafood platter for two,’ Angus countered. ‘With oysters and prawns and’ – he paused for effect – ‘sea urchins.’
‘Oh,mon Dieu… They’re like littlehérissons. I can’t remember the word.’
‘Hedgehogs?’
‘Oui. C’est ça.’
They couldn’t look at each other when the waiter came back to take their orders, in case they started laughing again.
Neither of them was hungry enough to start with entrées, so Angus ordered one of the only main dishes that wasn’t seafood for both of them. ‘We’d like the medallions of beef with truffle jus,s’il vous plait, monsieur. And frites.’
They watched the sun edging across the horizon, the golden tinge of the sky beginning to tip into apricot as they sipped their champagne, their conversation simply articulating how lovely this setting was.
Perfectly cooked medium-rare beef fillets were brought to their table, served on a bed of mushrooms that had been roasted until they were flat black buttons in a puddle of jus. One waiter shaved wafer-thin slices of truffle over the top of the steaks and another added the cone of hot frites and put a glass of red wine in front of Angus.
He closed his eyes for a long time as he savoured his first mouthful of the meal and then he paused for almost as long, staring at his plate and then raising his gaze to Tilly.
‘I cannot believe that steak and chips could bethisgood,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘I’m in heaven.’
So was Tilly, but on a very different level to simply enjoying great food. This was a dream that only needed one more thing to make it perfection – that Angus would be feeling what she was feeling right now. A love that was as infinite as the stretch of the Mediterranean in front of them and as light-filled and rich as the deepening sunset that was gilding the sea. When she had swallowed her last bite, she sat back in her chair and let her gaze drift onto the pebbled beach below.
A young couple was walking right on the edge of the waves, holding hands and, as she watched, the man lifted his hand and the woman twirled beneath it and then stepped close enough to put her arms around him. They stepped sideways, forward and back and sideways again and then she did another twirl and they went back to walking – as if a break for dancing was a perfectlynatural thing to do on a beach. Even from this distance, it was clear that they were laughing as they carried on with their walk and it made Tilly smile, albeit with a poignancy that she could feel right down to her bones.
That was what would really make this dream perfect. That kind of romance.
Her smile faded as she realised Angus had followed her line of sight. He was turning in his chair to keep watching them, in fact. This was worse than the rose petals on the table, wasn’t it? Not only a couple walking hand in hand on a beach but the glow of a spectacular sunset that was flaming into shades of red and orange now.
She needed to distract him.
‘Doyoudance?’ she asked.
‘Not by choice,’ he said, firmly. But there was a gleam in his eyes. ‘Only when I find myself trapped in a lavender festival and get dragged into a crowd of people.’
He turned swiftly back to face her.
‘That’sit,’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ve just remembered.’
‘Remembered what?’ Tilly was bewildered.
‘What’s been hovering at the back of my head ever since I saw you trying on that dress. Wait… I’ll find it.’
He took his phone from the pocket of his jacket and began scrolling.
‘Do you remember Chris de Burgh?’
‘I don’t think so. Is he a singer?’
‘Yes. Irish, I think. And this was his biggest hit…’
The percussion and then smooth notes of the song, playing quietly enough that no one else in the restaurant could be disturbed, were nothing more than listening to a man with a lovely voice who was telling a woman how beautiful she was – until the words of the first chorus.
