Chapter Eleven
Wednesday 4 November 1970
Towards the end of October, Harriet became depressed again.
"Three months since Kieran dumped her," said Zena in the car on the way home. "He did it on the sixth of August."
"Hiroshima Day?" I stared at her, "I hope the date wasn't intentional on his part."
"I don't think Harriet knows about Hiroshima Day. She's still not over him. Mind you, I've seen him around and he looks thoroughly miserable as well."
I thought about it, as I parked outside Zena's flat.
"Perhaps you and I should go see Kieran," I suggested. "He might have realised what he's lost."
"Hmm." It was clear Zena was not happy with that idea.
"Zena, it can't hurt to find out how he feels."
"Suppose not." Still not convinced.
"Think about it," I urged her. "OK?"
"OK," she muttered.
"In the meantime," I proposed, "how about we all go for a meal on the anniversary? The sixth is on Friday of this week, so we can make a night of it, just the four of us. What d'you think?"
Zena brightened at this. "Yes. Good idea. Can you book somewhere? How about your favourite restaurant, Orchards? I'll sound out the other two."
"Good for me too," I said with a heavy heart. "It's about six months since I got dumped, as well."
She smiled, and kissed me. "All the better. Perhaps we can go clubbing afterwards."
I phoned the Restaurant.
"This is Graham Proctor, can I make a reservation for this Friday Sixth November? 7.00?
"Mr Graham! So good to hear from you. Friday Six is pretty busy, but we will fit you in. There is a party in on that night, but we have a table free in the other room. How many?"
The restaurant had two large rooms, one each side of the entrance and foyer, so that a large party could be entertained in one wing while allowing ordinary diners peace and quiet to enjoy the exquisite food. There was a wide, common bar and lounge between the rooms, accessed from the foyer, where diners would peruse the menu, order their food and wait for their table to be ready.
"Table for four please, Ambrose. You sure you can do this?"
"For you Mr. Graham, it's never a problem."
Friday 6 November 1970
So at 6.50pm Harriet and I were seated in the lounge bar of the restaurant waiting for the other two to arrive, when a group of people came into the lounge at the 'party' end of the bar. They had hardly sat down when a woman I thought I should know left the little group she was with and made a bee line for where we were sitting. She did not look happy.
"You bastard, Graham!" was her opening salvo, though she spoke quietly through gritted teeth so as not to make a scene. "You couldn't let her be could you? Had to come and ruin her night."
This was a surprise. Who was she and what the hell was she talking about? Harriet looked on with a mixture of puzzlement and wry humour.
"You must excuse me, but I know you from somewhere, but can't remember where. Also, I haven't a clue what you're talking about."
"Still the congenital liar, Graham? You know perfectly well why you're here, and it's despicable after what you did to that girl!"
Now I was getting irked. "Still none the wiser. Who are you, lady? And what have I done?"
She stopped and rethought. "Annette? You came to our New Year's party. You know what you've done. A liar and an unfaithful toe-rag!"
She was liberal with her compliments, was Annette.
At this she turned to Harriet.
"You want to be careful with this specimen," she said to her with an evil almost triumphant glint in her eye. "I'll bet he hasn't told you about the other two women he's shagging at the moment? He's been doing one of them for months!
Harriet was now looking more and more amused. "Really?" she said with a hint of mockery. "Ooh dear, Graham, what
have
you been up to?"
"A blonde and a coloured girl," our visitor continued. "Likes a bit of variety does Graham."
I caught the smile of recognition from Harriet who was starting to enjoy the confrontation.
"Really Graham," she said with mock indignation. "Have you been a busy boy?"
Annette looked disconcerted that Harriet was not taking her seriously, but obviously decided to move on.
"Anyway," she asserted, "You knew this is her favourite restaurant, and now she's teaching round here-"
Recognition dawned.
"You're talking about Penelope," I interrupted. "You're wrong. This is
my
favourite restaurant, and it was
I
who introduced
her
to it.
"And I'm getting sick of these accusations every time I come into contact with that lying cheating bitch and her abominable family. How could I possibly know what her plans are? She's never spoken to me, and she's turned all the friends I made through her against me. So no, I didn't even know she was back in this area, or that she was coming here tonight, I'm here for a little celebration of my own."
At this Ambrose came over, looking worried.
"Mr Graham, everything all right?" He looked accusingly at Annette.
"Yes fine, Ambrose," I replied. "The lady and I are catching up on some difficult news."
"Very well," he said, shrugged, and walked off. Annette looked impressed that Ambrose knew me personally.
"Why don't you sit down?" I suggested, "cause less of a disturbance."
She sat down and I continued where I'd left off.
"We're 'celebrating' with Harriet here the three month anniversary of her being dumped by her boyfriend, and I'm 'celebrating' that Penelope finished with me six months ago. That was a narrow escape. More comfort than celebration tonight, I suppose.