Croissants and Jam (22 page)

Simon shakes my father’s hand and propels me inside. The smell of food makes my stomach churn and I grab of glass of water as soon as I sit down. Alex who is sitting with both hands protectively on her stomach looks at me over her menu and nods appreciatively at my dress. I smile at Simon’s parents and get a broad grin from his dad. His mother gives me a disapproving stare. Jesus, this is going to be some dinner and I find myself wondering if it is possible to escape out of the ladies loo window. I let out a heavy sigh and lean across to kiss my mother.

    ‘Oh God,’ says Simon loudly and I look up to see Christian enter with Claudine clinging to his arm. I fall back into my seat and feel my heart pound. For a second or two there is a heavy silence which he quickly breaks by kissing his mother and slapping his father on the back. I try hard not to look at him.

    ‘Evening everyone, are we sitting here?’ he asks with a half-smile while cocking his head at Simon. Then, before Simon can reply, he pulls back the chair next to Alex and waits for Claudine to sit down. I attempt to avoid eye contact with him and fail miserably. He catches my eye and winks before sitting opposite me.

    ‘Well, we are glad you are finally here Annabel, especially considering the wedding is tomorrow,’ my future mother-in-law pipes up.

I tuck my hair behind my ears self-consciously as I feel Christian’s eyes on me.

    ‘It is a great shame we did not have the rehearsal though,’ she continues, removing glasses from her handbag, which I note is not the one I had bought for her.

    ‘I wouldn’t have minded if you had gone ahead without me…’ I say boldly and stop abruptly when Simon gives me a piercing look.

    ‘I imagine Simon has got everything well under control, haven’t you Simon? What was the string quartet like, Bels?’ Christian grins at Simon and then at me.

    Oh fuck. Simon moves uncomfortably in his seat.

    ‘We’re getting a jazz band, try and keep up,’ he bristles.

    ‘Is that a La Dolce Vita handbag? I prefer Anya Hindmarch myself, much less pretentious don’t you think? Did Simon give you my gift?’ I say pointedly to his mother. Oh God could there possibly be a more beam-me-up-Scottie moment, than this one? She opens her mouth and closes it again. Simon’s father smiles widely and offers his hand to me.

    ‘My son tells us, you have a top job in fashion. He is very bad at introducing people. I’m Edward, Simon’s old codger of a father, and this is my wife Rosa who just loved your handbag, didn’t you darling?’

And you look exceptionally like your son, Christian and act like him, I think with a sinking stomach. Rosa nods and I take Edward’s hand gratefully. He squeezes it and whispers,

    ‘The whisky was superb, thank you.’

    ‘You’re welcome.’

    ‘I’ve asked Tom to be in charge of the presents. The whole thing was getting out of hand. Some will need to be returned. That’s what happens when people don’t follow the guidelines Annabel. A lot of them didn’t even buy from John Lewis, which makes it awkward,’ tuts Simon.

    ‘Oh no,’ I gasp. ‘God forbid people actually bought us presents that were not from John Lewis. I ask you, how selfish is that?’ I don’t even attempt to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I mean, for Christ’s sake, isn’t it just nice that people bothered at all?

    ‘Bels,’ reprimands my mother, while looking at Christian. ‘What is the matter with you?’

    ‘Christian’s influence undoubtedly,’ murmurs Simon under his breath, slapping Deep Heat onto his neck.

    ‘Talking of moi. Very guilty I’m afraid. We actually had something sent over from Harrods, didn’t we Claudine? Of course, we could change it for something cheaper at John Lewis. After all, we would hate to step over the guidelines,’ chips in Christian.

    ‘So sorry,’ drawls Claudine as she lays a hand on Christian’s knee. I find myself staring enviously at it.

    ‘Annabel is a bit overwhelmed, aren’t you darling?’ says Dad with a smile on his face.

    ‘What’s that smell?’ asks Tom, wrinkling his nose.

We all look at Simon’s very red neck but no one actually mentions the Deep Heat. Alex quickly changes the subject.

    ‘Lovely restaurant, Simon, thank you so much.’

I glance at the wine list and to my surprise I see the name of the vineyard that Christian and I visited this morning. Memories of Luciano saying ‘it is good yes’ and Christian loading two crates into the boot of the Lemon seem a million miles away. How I wish I could be back at that vineyard right now. My daydream comes to an abrupt end as Simon barks to the waiter,

    ‘We will have two bottles of Grattamacco, and I think two bottles of Pomino, and Alex, you won’t want wine will you? Would you prefer water, or a soft drink?’

I stare horror-stricken at my fiancé. Jesus has he always been this bloody bossy?

    ‘Water would be great,’ gushes Alex.

    ‘You won’t want wine either will you Annabel?’

I widen my eyes.

    ‘You have had more than enough,’ he hisses into my ear and I feel my face redden. ‘I’ll order you water, shall I?’

    ‘Actually, I would like the
Chianti Velaruse
please. It is a delicate wine with a hint of vanilla and raspberry and a touch of black pepper. It goes well with pasta, I think,’ I say, recalling Luciano’s exuberant description from the vineyard this morning.

    ‘Here, here,’ echoes Christian.

Simon turns to me, his eyes blazing.

    ‘Bravo Annabel, Chianti Velaruse is an excellent choice. Your fiancé knows her wine Simon,’ applauds his father.

I nod in gratitude.

    ‘Don’t you think you have had enough to drink already,’ snaps my mother.

    ‘Quite,’ acknowledges Simon.

Oh honestly. Am I sixteen years old or something?

    ‘Oh no, nowhere near enough,’ I retort to her look of horror.

    ‘Bels,’ gasps Alex, clutching her stomach. My God this pregnancy is taking its strain on everyone. I for one will be dead grateful when she finally gives birth.

    ‘You should visit the vineyard, ‘Château Velaruse’, while you are here,’ suggests Edward, seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere. ‘They do wonderful tours.’

I smile and relax. He smiles back knowingly and winks. I realise I am famished, and am grateful when the waiter comes with a basket of rolls. The waiter has a shifty look about him, and I ignore the odd look he gives me as I take two, a girl’s got to eat after all. Out of the corner of my eye I see Simon move the butter out of my reach and feel myself fume. How the hell can I recapture my feelings for this guy when he keeps bloody aggravating me?

    ‘Simon?’ I say stretching over him to reach it.

    ‘You know it’s fattening.’

I feel myself fume even more.

    ‘So, what if it is?’

He raises his eyebrows.

    ‘Well, you don’t want to get fat do you?’

    ‘Maybe I do,’ I retort.

    ‘Oh don’t be so ridiculous,’ he patronises me.

    ‘Don’t you dare call me ridiculous,’ I reply through gritted teeth.

    ‘Keep your voice down,’ he hisses.

    ‘Oh for goodness sake,’ I hear his mother mumble.

    ‘Come on Simon, let her have some fun before she is tied down. Here you go Bels,’ grins Christian, passing the butter. I fight an overwhelming urge to slap him.

    ‘Honey, come on, don’t interfere,’ whispers Claudine.

    Simon slaps it out of his hand and sends it flying straight into Alex’s lap. Oh God.

    ‘Don’t you fucking call her Bels,’ he snarls.

    ‘Simon, for goodness sake,’ snaps his mother.

I reach over and pull the butter from Alex’s lap.

    ‘Yes, honey, don’t bloody interfere,’ I say through gritted teeth, looking into Christian’s eyes and feeling my knees go all weak.

    ‘Everyone else calls her Bels, why are you penalising me?’ Christian challenges while innocently biting into his roll. Meanwhile, Mother is frantically rubbing away at Alex’s skirt with a serviette.

    ‘Do you want to go and change?’ asks Tom, lovingly. I mean, I ask you, there is barely a mark on the skirt.

    ‘I don’t know,’ she replies anxiously. ‘What do you think, Mother?’

Oh for goodness sake.

    ‘No one is penalising anyone dear,’ smiles Rosa, handing round the basket of bread.

I sigh heavily and flop into my chair.

    ‘Her name is Annabel, and that’s all there is to it,’ snarls Simon.

    ‘Bels, what do you prefer to be called?’ asks Christian innocently.

    ‘I asked you not to call her Bels,’ yells Simon, jumping up.

Oh no not again. I’m beginning to feel like some femme fatale. Maybe I am letting out an unusual amount of pheromones. Yes, even Tom is looking at me oddly. My God, are all men going to turn into crazy tom cats around me? Do I dare intervene or will I just release more of the fatal chemical? I am just about to lay a hand on Simon’s arm when Rosa bangs on the table and we all jump. Two breadsticks leap from the basket and land on my plate like manna from heaven.

    ‘That is enough, both of you. For goodness sake what is wrong with you? If you have to argue, for goodness sake argue over something worthwhile.’

Excuse me? What exactly is she trying to say? I see Mother open her mouth and then quickly close it after Alex nudges her. Christian looks at Simon, his face thunderous and challenging. Thankfully the wine arrives, and as Simon waits to taste it, I take the opportunity to meet Christian’s eyes and silently mouth,

    ‘Please leave.’

He seems to nod and then leans over to Claudine who quickly rises.

    ‘I hope you will excuse us. As lovely as the company is, we are both a little tired and I think it is beginning to show. Enjoy your dinner.’

Before anyone has a chance to comment, they are gone.   

    ‘Good riddance,’ mumbles Simon.

    I sip my wine in an effort to calm my nerves. The waiter with the shifty look is staring at me again, and I fight the impulse to poke out my tongue. Simon orders our starters and I sit obediently silent until they arrive. Halfway through my tomato, basil and mozzarella salad there is a commotion at the restaurant entrance. I see the shifty waiter pointing in our direction but think nothing of it until two burley policemen appear at our table. My mother looks horrified, and Alex immediately protects her stomach. I continue eating my salad until I realise that their eyes are on me and me only.

    ‘Are you Annabel Lewis?’ one of them asks in broken English.

The restaurant goes deathly quiet. I swear you could hear a pin drop. I feel my neck tense. Oh God, what now? Simon takes my hand and I grasp his gratefully.

    ‘Can we help you officer? Miss Lewis is my fiancée, and we are to be married tomorrow,’ he says pleasantly while calmly taking a sip of his wine. I gulp mine in one hit. I feel very safe being the fiancée of a top lawyer and for some silly reason I imagine I may even be invincible. I am no longer Bels but Simon’s fiancée. Surely they can do nothing to me now. Oh how wrong can you be? The minute Simon confirmed that I was Miss Lewis more police appear, and the restaurant looks like a scene from
Die Hard
. I am half expecting Bruce Willis to slide across the floor and scoop me away. I wait with bated breath for someone to say ‘We have you surrounded,’ but of course they don’t. Before I know what I am doing, I am holding my hands up in surrender.

    ‘What the devil…’ Rosa stammers.

My mother attempts to give her an explanation of sorts in Italian, but fails miserably.

    ‘What is going on?’ demands Edward.

    ‘This is madness, my daughter is having a baby,’ cries my mother and promptly crosses herself. I swear my mother has never crossed herself in her life and I figure it must be the Italian air or something. Alex gives me a murderous glare.

    ‘If I have my baby in Italy I will never forgive you,’ she gasps, grabbing Tom’s sleeve.

    ‘Miss Lewis, we are taking you to the station for questioning in connection with a series of robberies both here and in France,’ the police officer announces.

I shake my head in denial.

    ‘No,’ I object. ‘I haven’t robbed a garage here I only
helped
rob one in France.’

Oh shit, what am I saying?

    ‘Oh my God,’ shouts Alex falling into Tom’s arms.

My mother looks horrified.

    ‘No, no what I mean is,’ I stutter. Oh God, is there really any point?

    ‘We have you on CCTV camera emptying the till and taking the customers’ wallets,’ the policeman declares solemnly.

    ‘No,’ screams my mother while appearing to faint. Oh God, this is seriously dire.

Simon releases my hand and I look at him. He is shaking his head.

    ‘You’ll have to go with them. I’ll follow in my car. I am seriously hoping you have a good explanation for all of this.’

A good explanation? Good Lord, of course I have a good explanation. The guy had a bloody gun at my head. Somehow I don’t imagine that will be good enough for Simon. What am I saying? Of course it will be good enough for Simon. I watch as he leaves the restaurant with his parents and wait for him to turn back and give me a reassuring wave, but he doesn’t. Oh dear, this is not good.

    ‘Come with us please,’ orders another policeman and I shrug at my dad who nods encouragingly while waving smelling salts under my mother’s nose.

    ‘Don’t worry darling, keep your chin up.’

    ‘It’s all a big mistake,’ I call back to Alex.

    ‘Do you know how many murderers have said that?’ comments Tom dryly.

I give him a dirty look and follow the policemen. Oh well, things can only get better now because, let’s face it, nothing can be worse than this.

Chapter Seventeen

    ‘This is you in the film, you agree with me?’ I am sitting in a dingy little room. I cannot believe they think I am a criminal. Where on earth is Simon? Surely he should have had me out of here long before now. He is a solicitor after all.

I stare both mesmerised and horrified at the video that is being played in front of me. I actually do look like a criminal. There I am, stealing people’s wallets as cool as anything. But worse and this really is the worst of all, I cannot believe how awful I look. My hair is tangled and looks limp, and my face is deathly pale. I suddenly realise I am not a patch on Claudine and Christian probably never really found me in the least attractive. What a bloody fool I have been. Two policemen now sit opposite me and I wonder if they are planning on using the good cop, bad cop routine.