‘I’ll have the pâté again. It was very nice last time.’
‘I don’t know … I might go for the pickled herring.’
‘We always called them rollmops.’
‘Yes.’
‘Only thing is, they can give you awful indigestion.’
‘That’s the onion.’
‘Yes.’
‘And after that the chicken and mushroom pie. The pastry’s always so good.’
‘I don’t know.’ Marion stared at the menu and nothing made sense and she didn’t want to eat any of it.
Brenda set down her menu and put her hand on her friend’s. ‘Come on, we’re here to have a good meal and a chat and we always manage that, don’t we? Just take a deep breath.’
‘I don’t think I can eat.’
‘I know what I’m going to do. Waitress … we’d like another two glasses of the Chablis please.’
‘Oh no, no, Brenda. I –’
The Chablis was the most expensive, which was why Brenda chose it, going on the principle that it had to be the best. Large glasses.
‘No, Brenda.’
Brenda ignored her and went back to her menu. The wine was brought.
The second glass made a difference, and quite quickly. Marion relaxed.
‘You see? I’m enjoying this. Now then, are you sure about the herrings?’
‘Not really. I think I might join you in the pâté.’
‘You won’t regret it. And then?’
‘I do fancy some fish though. The plaice perhaps?’
‘I always think plaice is a dull sort of fish. What about pan-fried hake with chorizo and spinach?’
Marion took another sip. The menu suddenly looked enticing. ‘I’m spoiled for choice. I’ll have the lamb shank – redcurrant gravy, carrots and peas and mashed potato.’
They handed the menus back to the waitress. It was as usual in the restaurant, not too busy, not empty. They timed it exactly.
‘There’s something I want to ask you,’ Marion said. She drank again and this time it was for courage. ‘Will you come with me?’
Brenda took off her reading glasses and set them by her side plate. But she said nothing. Their starters arrived, the toast wrapped in a napkin. They took up knives for spreading and squeezed lemon juice and ate and did not meet one another’s eye. They drank their wine almost to the last mouthful. People came in. A couple sat next to them. Four took the window table. They had to lower their voices.
‘Marion, I can’t come. To start with, I’m at work. I don’t have a reason to go, they wouldn’t let me in, and I’d have nothing to say to him. Besides, it’s … I think it’s wrong but you seem to feel the need to go and I won’t try and stop you any longer. But I can’t come.’
‘No. I see.’
‘You’ll be fine. He can’t do anything to you, the place will be full of guards.’
‘It’s not that. It doesn’t matter, Brenda. I will be fine. This pâté’s different. Not quite as nice as last time.’