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THE ASTROMATES... Part Six. THE ASTROMATES... Part Six. To my relief the restaurant lay some way from the more livelier places frequented by tourists who had come to see the Cutty Sark and other places of interest. At least, this little Bistro would not have the inflated prices, the atmosphere more quiet and homely. I had arrived early and took a seat by the window, instructing the hovering waiter I would be ordering when my guest arrived. It was some fifteen minutes later when I saw a large pair of brown eyes staring through the window and guessed this must be my date. "Carol?" I enquired, going out to meet her. She smiled and nodded. Introducing myself, we shook hands briefly before I led her inside. Hanging up her coat next to mine, I led her to a more discreet alcove where we sat and took stock of each other. The hovering waiter was back, wine and food menus in hand. "Are you on commission?" I asked, annoyed at his rush to be of service. He moved away with a waiter’s air of superiority. He would wait till I tried to order something in French; that would be his time for revenge. Studying the menu, I was aware of her gaze. She appeared forthright and direct. Sensing my awareness, she averted her gaze to the menu, which allowed me, in turn, to take her measure. If she had been a man, I would have called her stocky, but I guessed there would be some soft curves under that ample swelling. She was comely more than pretty, the large brown eyes matching the dark, curling, hair. I liked her, determined to become her lover in the very near future. "These prices seem quite reasonable." she said, her voice low and throaty. "You can have what you like." I said, my eyes ranging down the list of fancy-sounding foreign dishes, hoping like mad she didn’t want a starter. "Would you like a starter?" I asked. Why the bloody hell my tongue runs ahead of my brain, I’ll never know! Now I waited with bated breath for her answer. She shook her head so the curls danced and a delicate scent drifted towards me. "No thank you." she said. "I always think it spoils a meal. I’m not really into fancy dishes, more of a ‘Home-Bod’, plain and wholesome cooking. A good roast is more my cup of tea." I began to like her more and more. "You can have what you like." I said, nonchalantly, not wanting to appear mean. I caught the eye of the waiter. He dismissed me with a look of disdain, attending to others as the place started to fill. Smug little git! His gait and mannerism reminded me of Uriah Heep and I thought I’d call him that as soon as I got the chance. Finally… "A bottle of Chianti, Uriah." I said, having been assured by Carol the choice was fine. Uriah returned with our order and we sat, savouring the wine. I suppose wine is an acquired taste. I sipped slowly, trying to acquire it. We ordered our meal. "This is quite tasty." said Carol, tucking into the mixed grill. I had ordered the mushroom tart with side salad, the cheapest on the menu, which brought a smirk from Uriah as I ordered. "I don’t know about these prices being reasonable," I joked, "I could buy a three-piece suit, shoes and overcoat for the price of this meal." This brought out a peal of laughter from my date and we relaxed into mutual conversation as we ate. "You know I’m divorced with a little boy?" she said. "No." I lied, sadly. "It must be hard for you." "Well, I won’t go into all the ins-and-outs of it but it got quite messy, what with having to sell the property and find another home. It’s a horror story." "I can imagine." I sympathised. In reality, I couldn’t imagine it at all, never having been in that situation. I let her carry on, best let her get it off her chest. "The thing is, there’s still some love there. He’s still awfully jealous of anyone I go out with and, I suppose, it’s the same with me in a way. It’s a love-hate relationship, you understand?" Now me, the only relationship I’m interested in is a sexual relationship, as, I’m sure, you’re aware. I must admit, there was something spooky about the way she talked, a bit worrying to think she still had a little fancy for the ex. Carol continued to talk as she ate; something I never did. Put a plate of egg and chips in front of me and I’ll wolf it down, wiping the grease up with a slice of bread, without a word passing my lips. Carol, on the other hand, savoured each mouthful, tasting the flavour, eyes closed, with slow deliberation. Talk about getting value for money! I slowed down, eating irons uplifted as, between sips of wine, I listened. "I feel I could never trust another man." she said, after another deliberate swallow of food. It was during such deliberations, she began to acquaint me with all the furniture and fixings which went when the house was sold. It seemed she could remember where and when each item of the household was purchased and the cost. She enjoyed talking about money, from the price of carpets to ’s shoes. I just kept nodding, possessions and value meant little to me, seeing as what I did possess was of little value. "Why did you break up with your husband?" I asked, trying to bring the conversation round to things I could understand. "I caught him with another woman!" I ‘tutted’ my disapproval, this was more like it! "I wouldn’t mind," she went on, "It’s as if she’s put a ring through his nose and is leading him on.” That made me smile inwardly. Trust a Taurean to talk about someone with a ring through the nose. That was the way a farmer led his bull to the market. I must remind myself to tell Alex about it when I next saw him. "I really didn’t care about him seeing the other woman." Carol was working herself up. "But when I found out he was taking her on flaming holiday-weekends to France, spending my money on that slut! Well how dare he! … And do you know…?" Well I didn’t but I was sure I was going to find out. "He only wanted me to move out so the other slut could get her feet under my kitchen table. To think, we had just had a new fitted kitchen put in, that cost a small fortune!" At last, she had run out of steam and now rested her arms on the table as she gazed moodily around the restaurant. Uriah Heep, clearing the table with deft hands, inquired about dessert. "In a moment, Uriah." I said, dismissing. Giving me a puzzled look, he moved away to pester others. Obviously, he had never read any Dickens! Carol was off again. "I’m sorry if I sound such a cow." she said, (‘Cow’ being the operative word.) "But it galls me to think how I scrimped and scraped to make a home for us and it’s all gone because of that slut!" Maybe I’m wrong; but I reasoned that perhaps her ex-husband had something to do with it. I held my tongue and kept nodding my understanding head. To be honest, I wondered why she had ever joined a dating agency after the hell she had been through. I asked her. "So you’re not really interested in finding another partner. What I don’t understand is why you joined Astromates?" Carol shrugged, seeking the answer within herself. "I suppose it was one way of getting my own back, my revenge, letting him know I was still attractive to another man and be asked out on a date." She smiled a secret smile before going on. "I didn’t even tell my mother I’d joined an agency. I just asked her if she would baby-sit my little boy, because I’d been asked out on a date." My hopes of a shag began to weaken, she seemed far too practical and down-to-earth to be caught up in some whirlwind romance. Suddenly she reached for my hand and giggled, like a schoolgirl who shares a secret. My hopes soared, rising like the eagle who spirals upwards on thermal currents. "I can’t wait to see his face when he finds out!" she exclaimed. "Who?” "Him, of course, my ex." This conversation was getting beyond me. "Do you know?" she said, leaning towards me in exaggerated whisper. "Even though he’s going out with that scraggy old cow, I know he still spies on me, watches me." She leaned back with a satisfied smirk. "You watch." she continued. "He’ll be on the ‘phone to me. ‘Phone’s every night, making out he wants to talk to our , Tommy, but I know he’s only ‘phoning to check on me, making sure I’m not having a night out on the town." It pains a man to have to listen to a woman scorned. If only, I thought, he would have let her keep her possessions, she would have spent the rest of her life just sitting amongst them. "So you’re not really into Astrology either?" It was a stupid question but it gave her breathing space. "No, not really. Well, I sometimes read my Stars in the papers and stuff like that, although nothing ever seems to work out like it’s supposed to. I mean, if I received a surprise every time the Stars predicted it, I’d be a very surprised woman." "So there was no prediction of a surprise tonight then?" I asked. "No." "Shame." I said. It was a shame, I thought. I really expected, at least, a little surprise this evening but, instead, I’m playing some kind of game, a ‘Patsy’, a pawn in a game between Mrs. and Ex-Mr. "So how is your ex going to find out about your date tonight?" Carol winked mischievously before studying the menu, eyes roving down the desserts. Uriah hovered, ever so humble. "I’ll have the Chocolate-Puddle-Pudding." Carol ordered. "And Monsieur?" Christ! I’d learnt enough French during my schooldays to spot his phony accent a mile away. I cast my eyes down the menu. Bloody hell! Look at the prices, dearer than the dinners! "Not for me, thank you… Too full." I said, patting my stomach. Carol leaned, elbows on the table, eyes roving round the room, slowly, taking in the other diners. I watched her, thinking about what Alex had said, about the cow chewing the cud and her movements which were, indeed, like that of a ruminating cow, lazily taking things in. Suddenly she laughed, her eyes turning back to me as a thought struck her. |
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Richard's not having much luck so far is he -
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Oh God, I wonder is the horrible ex husband going to walk into the restaurant and beat the crap out of poor old Richard. He seems like the type that would do just that. I hate those stuffy waiters too, especially ones with put on accents. 
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