Rosie Thomas 2-Book Collection One: Iris and Ruby, Constance. Rosie Thomas

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       Chapter Eight

      In the restaurant, waiting for Sebastian, Lesley ranged her cutlery so that the pieces lay perfectly parallel and with the tails exactly half an inch from the table edge. The napkin’s white cone stood in the centre of the rectangle created by the knife and fork, and the autumn sun striking through the plate-glass window was reflected in a starry prism from the blade of her knife.

      ‘Don’t play with your knife and fork.’

      Lesley had been thinking of Iris and the voice in her head was hers. Her mother had been strict about table manners; suddenly Lesley felt her as close as if she were sitting in the opposite chair. Then she looked up and saw her ex-husband. He came across the restaurant, jacket flapping and a scarf trailing, arms out as if to catch the wind.

      ‘Lesley, hello, hello. Am I late? You’re looking fabulous.’

      ‘Am I? Thank you.’

      Sebastian aimed a kiss at her cheek before taking his seat opposite her, allowing a waiter to retrieve his scarf and carry off his battered leather briefcase, which was the size of a small suitcase.

      ‘Have you been here long? It’s one, oh God, twenty past. The bloody phone rang just as I was walking out of the door. An author having a crise. I had to deal with it.’

      ‘It’s all right.’

      He leaned forward and put his hands over hers. The table rocked slightly.

      ‘Good. That’s good. Here we are, then.’

      She slid her hands away and replaced them in her lap. Sebastian glanced around the room, checking to see if he knew anyone.

      ‘Look at this old place. It’s changed a bit since our time, eh?’

      When they had first met each other, a year or more before they were married, Sebastian Sawyer used to bring her here for dinner. The restaurant was round the corner from his flat and he had been a regular, with whoever the current girlfriend happened to be. In those days it had been a checked-tablecloth French bistro, with the menu chalked up on a blackboard, and she had hardly noticed anything because she was in love with him. Now it was all blond wood and brown suede. Off-the-shelf restaurant design, Lesley noted critically, professionally.

      ‘You’re frowning.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Is something wrong?’ Sebastian asked.

      ‘No, nothing. Well, except that I’m worried about Ruby, of course. You know that. It’s why I wanted us to have this lunch together. You are her father, and …’

      He held up his hand. ‘Don’t worry. We’re going to have a good long talk. Let’s order first, shall we?’

      Lesley picked two things off the menu at random. Sebastian asked the waiter where the beef was from and peered for long moments at the wine list. At last he folded away his reading glasses, took a mouthful of wine when it arrived and appeared to be chewing on it, then leaned back with a rich sigh.

      ‘Now then,’ he said encouragingly. ‘Ruby.’

      ‘Have you talked to her?’

      ‘As a matter of fact I have. Since you and I were going to meet today, I gave our daughter a call last night.’ Sebastian twinkled at her. As a senior publisher with a large staff of young, attractive women, the twinkle was a well-used weapon in his armoury. ‘I couldn’t get her mobile, of course, so I tried the number you gave me and lo and behold, my ex-mother-in-law answered.’

      ‘What did she say?’

      ‘To be perfectly honest, I don’t think she had a clue who I was.’

      Lesley made a quick reckoning. Sebastian and Iris had met only a handful of times. Iris had come home from Africa for the wedding, and during the eight years before Ruby was born there had been maybe four or five other encounters. Iris came to London again soon after Ruby arrived, she was sure of that; there was a photograph СКАЧАТЬ