Page 72 of Resisting Mr Black
I wished I possessed half of his confidence.
His hand closes round mine. “Now, come on, otherwise we’ll be late, and they’ll be wondering where we are.”
As soon as we walk through the green front door, I see my Mum’s hand shoot up and wave over on a table to the right.
“They’re over there.” I tug his hand as I lead him through the circular tables.
The clatter of cutlery against plates and the sound of soft Italian music pouring through the speakers fills the restaurant as we walk over to their table. I glance around. The place looks pretty much the same as it did the first time we came here ten years ago. The same green and white décor, green tablecloths and empty Chianti bottles as centre pieces in the middle of each table, acting as candle holders with a red or white candle sticking out the neck. There’s something familiar and comforting about its unchanged state, much like my parents.
Mum’s hazel eyes light up as we reach the table and both she and Martin get to their feet.
Martin sticks out his hand for Art to shake, which he takes and flashes my parents a perfect smile. “It’s lovely to meet you Mr and Mrs?”
“Taylor.” My stepdad finishes, pumping his hand up and down. “Martin and Susan Taylor.”
Art manoeuvres round him and pecks Mum on the cheek. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Susan.”
“Oh, please. Call me Sue.” Mum’s cheeks flush pink, and she pats the back of her deep brown, shoulder-length bob and gives a high-pitched laugh, which I’ve never heard before.
“Shall we?” Martin gestures for us to sit, and we all take to our seats.
“It’s great to meet you, Art! I would say Sophie’s told us all about you,” Mum laughs, “but I’ve hardly spoken to her for the last couple of weeks. So, you work together?”
“That’s right, I’ve taken over the management of the hotel. It’s a family business, used to belong to my late uncle. Sophie’s one of my best employees.” He glances intensely at me. I feel myself blushing.
“Oh, yes, of course. Such a lovely place, we went for tea there once, didn’t we, Martin?”
“That’s right.” Martin nods towards the window. “Is that your car, then? The Aston Martin?”
Art grins. “It is—a Vanquish.”
“I bet it’s a bit nippy?”
“It’s got a nought to sixty of just under four seconds.”
Martin gives a low whistle, clearly impressed.
“Very nice. I’ve never been in a sports car,” Mum says, sounding rather wistful.
Art laughs. “I’ll have to take you out for a ride, Sue.”
“Ooh!” Mum giggles. “I’d like that.”
I clear my throat and pick up my menu. “Happy Birthday, Martin. Did you get your card?”
“Yes. Thanks, dear. And thank you for the present.” Martin grins. “How are you?”
I realise it’s the first time I’ve been asked about me since we arrived. They’re both too preoccupied with the guy sitting to my left.
“Yes, great thanks,” I enthuse.
“That new train will keep him occupied for a good few hours up in the spare bedroom. Give me some peace and quiet,” Mum laughs, studying Art over the top of her menu.
“I’ve ordered a bottle of wine for the table,” Martin chimes.
“I’ll just have water, thanks,” Art smiles politely.
Martin chuckles. “We’ve booked a taxi, haven’t we, love?”