In youth, she would have lingered, confided in the barman and probably allowed him to get her drunk. But the sophisticated older woman, looking every inch the confident European, calmly sipped her tea.
His mobile number was keyed in, yet pride and considerable experience in the art of being stood up prevented her from making the call. Incredible as it may seem to a younger generation, she had not given him her own mobile number. She had lived in this country long enough to know that its inhabitants were rarely punctual so after what she judged a reasonable 20 minutes she paid the bill and left.
“Fool, fool!” she chided herself on the way home: “It serves you right for agreeing to a blind date at your age.” Then the self-doubt kicked in: What if he had peeked through the café window [she had been the only customer at that time of day] and not liked what he had seen? “Stop it!” she told herself sternly. “You’re not that bad for your years, you know - unless, of course, he wants a young trophy, in which case it’s a different ball-game.” She quite forgot that she had been watching the street like a hawk whilst pretending to read her magazine.
And yet.. and yet… When they had had their one telephone conversation he had not seemed the kind of man who was looking for an airheaded bimbo. But then, he had not seemed the kind of man who would not turn up, either.
Originally, they had agreed to meet the day before. However, the afternoon had brought torrential rain and she had called him to postpone their “date”. As she had expected, he had offered to come and pick her up but she had declined, not because she felt that there was any danger – he was, after all, known to her friends – but because she had wanted to go to the hairdresser’s first and hadn’t liked to say so. She had thought she could hear the near-relief in his voice as they rearranged their encounter: it is a type of relief common among those whose lives are built around theatre, cinema, art gallery and café visits – all activities which can be satisfactorily enjoyed alone – a sort of self-protective mechanism that enables you to keep the familiar barrier around you, even when companionship is what you tell yourself you want.
Later, she deleted his landline message without listening to it. Thus are chances lost among the timid.
To be continued [maybe]....
His mobile number was keyed in, yet pride and considerable experience in the art of being stood up prevented her from making the call. Incredible as it may seem to a younger generation, she had not given him her own mobile number. She had lived in this country long enough to know that its inhabitants were rarely punctual so after what she judged a reasonable 20 minutes she paid the bill and left.
“Fool, fool!” she chided herself on the way home: “It serves you right for agreeing to a blind date at your age.” Then the self-doubt kicked in: What if he had peeked through the café window [she had been the only customer at that time of day] and not liked what he had seen? “Stop it!” she told herself sternly. “You’re not that bad for your years, you know - unless, of course, he wants a young trophy, in which case it’s a different ball-game.” She quite forgot that she had been watching the street like a hawk whilst pretending to read her magazine.
And yet.. and yet… When they had had their one telephone conversation he had not seemed the kind of man who was looking for an airheaded bimbo. But then, he had not seemed the kind of man who would not turn up, either.
Originally, they had agreed to meet the day before. However, the afternoon had brought torrential rain and she had called him to postpone their “date”. As she had expected, he had offered to come and pick her up but she had declined, not because she felt that there was any danger – he was, after all, known to her friends – but because she had wanted to go to the hairdresser’s first and hadn’t liked to say so. She had thought she could hear the near-relief in his voice as they rearranged their encounter: it is a type of relief common among those whose lives are built around theatre, cinema, art gallery and café visits – all activities which can be satisfactorily enjoyed alone – a sort of self-protective mechanism that enables you to keep the familiar barrier around you, even when companionship is what you tell yourself you want.
Later, she deleted his landline message without listening to it. Thus are chances lost among the timid.
To be continued [maybe]....
12 comments:
We must have more! :-)
I've never stood anyone up, I don't think. Not intentionally.
She should have waited a bit longer. and certainly listened to his landline message.
Mills & Boon, make way for the new kid on the block!
Just a little laboured breathing and bodice ripping and the contract is yours!!
Don't leave us hanging!
And? Certainly you have whet the appetite of your readers Welshcakes and you must satisfy it.
I will be back for the rest of this story. Love to you and Ms Simi x
Was he ill? Did he have problems with his car? I hope he didn't have an accident. He didn't have her mobile number;leaving a message on her land line was the only alternative. She didn't listen to the message. Now she will have to wait for another phone call. I do hope she answers.
.. a "chic-lit" $$$$ in the cooking pot ...
Oh she should of listened to his message, now we will never know..!!
I can't wait for the second installment!
Maybe, Gary, maybe! Hi, Crushed. She was trying to protect herself from hurt. Thank you, O&A. It might be a while before I get the bodice-ripping in! I'll try, Betty and jmb! Thanks, nunyaa. Love to you from us x. So do I, marymary, so do I! Thank you, Dr CW. Never say "never", Anne!
Thanks, Cherrypie.
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