“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” says Paige. So much for playing our cards close to our respective chests. Sebastian’s companion turns to face us, and a deliberate moment later, so does Sebastian.
“Paigeypoos,” he says in mock surprise. “Adrian! Hi guys.”
“Hi,” says Paige flatly, her arms folded again.
“I don’t believe you’ve met Nikki—”
“Nikita,” corrects the woman.
“Or Nikki for short,” says Sebastian, nodding his head from side to side.
“I prefer Nikita,” she says.
“Yes,” says Sebastian. “Of course you do. My love.”
“Nikita is very nice name,” she says, and offers me her hand. I’m not sure what to do at first – in the end I shake it.
“Nikki’s nice too,” says Sebastian.
“Meh, not so much,” she replies, moving on to shake the hand of my reluctant girlfriend. Sebastian forces a laugh, though it’s barely in the same league as his usual rat-a-tat-tat guffaws.
“You’re… not English,” I find myself saying.
“Polish,” she says. “Though I live in England now for the very long time.”
“Right,” I say, painfully aware that my girlfriend is just staring at Nikita so intently I swear I can hear the fizz of dust particles being incinerated as they float into Paige’s narrow field of vision. “And what is it… that you… do… Nikita?”
“I am detective,” she says. Out of the corner of my eye I see Sebastian wince.
“A detective?”
“Yes.”
“You mean, a police detective?”
“More like the Private Eye.”
“How fascinating.”
“It is very interesting work,” she continues. “I meet all kinds of peoples.”
“Yes,” I agree. “I’m sure you do.”
“And what is it you do, Adrian?” she says earnestly.
“I’m a schoolteacher,” I say without thinking, but as the words tumble out of my mouth, I’m reminded – for the first time since this morning – that actually I might not be a teacher for very much longer, and that I’m standing next to the man who at the very least is the catalyst of my current dilemma, and could, with a couple of quick phone calls, save my doomed career. “At least I…” I shoot Sebastian a look, but his face gives nothing away. “For the moment at least,” I continue, “… I’m a… teacher.”
“How interesting,” says Nikita, her eyes never leaving mine. “I think perhaps you are teacher of science.”
“Science?” I say. “No! No. Computing. IT and Computing.” I glance again at Sebastian. Still nothing.
“And your wife?” All eyes turn to Paige, who says nothing.
“Oh, er, Paige isn’t my… at least not yet! You work in PR, don’t you. Paige. For Sebastian, in fact.”
“Really,” says Nikita. “I did not know this.”
“So,” says Paige in the same casual manner that you might adopt were you, for instance, tightening a set of thumb screws, “how did you two meet?”
Sebastian jumps in. “Oh, it’s a very long story,” he says.
“But very romantic,” adds Nikita.
“Yes, but we don’t want to bore them with it, do we. Darling.”
“It can not be boring if it is romantic,” reasons Nikita.
“Well, no,” admits Sebastian, “not to us maybe, but to others…”
“We met in Istanbul,” says Nikita.
“Really?” says Paige, suddenly becoming very interested indeed. “In Turkey?” She looks directly at Sebastian. “When were you in Turkey?”
“Oh, a while back,” he says, shuffling slightly from one foot to the other. “It was on the way back from one of my African trips. The flight got diverted – you remember?”
“No,” says Paige.
“Really? I’m sure I mentioned it.”
“Anyway,” continues Nikita, “Sebastian was buying the carpets.”
“You were?” asks Paige, again directing her question to Sebastian, rather than Nikita.
“I, er…”
“So you left the airport, and went into the city… to buy a carpet?”
“Well, as I was in… Istanbul… so… I figured… why not!”
“Exactly,” says Nikita. “And I was also buying the carpets,” she adds.
“In Istanbul?” asks Paige.
“Yes,” says Nikita, “my sister she lives there, and she says, ‘come to Istanbul, it is like carpet capital of the world.’”
“I didn’t know that,” says Paige.
“I see this carpet,” continues Nikita, “And it is like the most beautiful of carpets, many colours – and I must have it, for my lovely apartment, in London. But suddenly, now there is this very tall man. And I think maybe I have the big problem.”
“Really?” asks Paige. “Why?”
“Because he is very handsome,” she says. “But also, he is annoying.”
“Annoying?!” says Sebastian, offended.
“Yes,” says Nikita matter-of-factly. “Because you are trying to buy my carpet.”
“Honestly, darling, I don’t think Paige or Adrian want to hear about our carpet buying antics!”
“No, really,” says Paige, an humourless grin plastered all over her face, “please go on. It’s all absolutely fascinating. So this is how the two of you met?”
“Exactly,” says Nikita.
“And remind me when this was again?” asks Paige, but before Nikita or Sebastian have a chance to reply, the lights flicker, and then die, plunging the room into semi-darkness, the setting sun through the windows overlooking the lake, our only illumination.
Peter Jones started professional life as a particularly rubbish graphic designer, followed by a stint as a mediocre petrol pump attendant. After that he got embroiled in the murky world of credit card banking. Fun times.
Nowadays, Peter spends his days writing, or talking about writing. He’s written three novels; a Rom-Com (Romantic Comedy), A Crim-Com (Crime Comedy), and a Rom-Com-Ding-Dong (a sort-of Romantic-ish Comedy, with attitude). He’s currently working on his fourth novel, which – if it’s a musical – he’ll no doubt describe as a Rom-Com-Sing-Song. (Spoiler: It isn’t).
He is also the author of three and a half popular self-help books on the subjects of happiness, staying slim and dating. If you’re overweight, lonely, or unhappy – he’s your guy.
Peter doesn’t own a large departmental store and probably isn’t the same guy you’ve seen on the TV show Dragons’ Den.
