cariad
08-29-2006, 01:22 AM
It had been one of those evenings where everything had turned out just right. Each of those silly details which make all the difference. He had been able to leave work a little early so we had enjoyed getting ready together, there had been a car parking vacancy in just the right spot, the table which had been reserved for us was towards a corner of the room whilst still being next to a large window which over looked the restaurant gardens and river beyond. Even the weather seemed to have done what it could to make the evening perfect, the heavy rain of the past week had gone, leaving the world fresh and green and the river full.
We had been to this restaurant a few times before, enough to feel comfortable, but not too many for it not to still be a very special place to us. We loved the little touches. The plate of delicate canapés as we selected from the menu, the unhurried but attentive service, oh, and the way that each plate would be brought to the table covered, and as a last act of serving, enough waiters would magically appear to lift the covers simultaneously as though drawing back the curtains on the chef’s performance. And that particular chef never failed to delight. Each of his creations lovingly given a short life, too good to destroy, yet incapable of being truly appreciated without being sacrificed.
All too soon we were sipping coffee, that phase of the evening about to close. Still no detail missed, the small fine china cups containing a particular deep rich nectar from beans grown on the other side of the world.
Reluctantly he nodded to the head waiter, and with a small gesture indicated that we were ready for the bill. I could tell by his wry smile that it was high, but we knew it would be, one did not come to be fed but to be pampered. And we felt both pampered and indulged and it was worth every penny.
I watched the river as he took out his wallet and credit card to return to slip into the sleeve, the commercial part of the evening, trying to remember where the river flowed to next, what the water would be seeing on its route to the sea.
“Do you have your credit card with you?” As I turned back to him, I could see by his flustered look that he was not joking. Although I knew I did not have my purse with me, I looked in my handbag just to check. I did not. He took his jacket off, to check in each pocket; nothing.
The unusual and slightly less relaxed activity had attracted a little attention from our fellow diners who glanced our way, before politely returning their attention to their own tables. Looking worried, he said “Let me just check the car, but I think we could have a problem here”.
I tried to return to my earlier tranquil thoughts of the river’s journey; I tried to appreciate the landscaped gardens; and failed at that too. Oh the mixture of emotions ranging from sharing his embarrassment through to mirth; this was after all perfect comedy material. What would the waiters say, who we would have to see, would we end up doing the washing up; rubber gloves and diamonds, or perhaps we should sneak out and do a runner. I am sure I chuckled out loud as I tried to picture the headlines in the local paper.
I could see by his face as he returned to the table that he had had no joy, and the concern on it smothered my more humourous thoughts. He slipped into his chair once again, “Do you have anything in your handbag?” Well, if I had had my day time bag with me I could probably have offered him the sink as well as the rubber gloves, but as it was all I could offer was a hankie and some lipstick.
“I am so sorry about this…” I smiled encouragingly back at him and lightly touched his hand so he knew I was behind him.
As he walked to the back of the restaurant and the head waiter, I could see that the diners on the adjacent tables had realized what was happening. Although generally they pretended not to have noticed, I received a few sympathetic and empathetic facial expressions showing that they knew it that this particular nightmare could happen to anyone.
The head waiter led him out of the restaurant and beyond my sight. There are few places were you are as alone as when you are sitting alone on a table in busy restaurant. Manners dictated that I could not indulge in one of my favourite hobbies, people watching, the view from the window had lost its appeal, my coffee cup now long empty although that did not stop me from fidgeting with it.
I tried to wonder what was happening. I was sure he would have been taken to the manager’s or owner’s office, but what then. This could not be an unforeseen, or even inexperienced event, I was sure they would have an agreed procedure. He could offer to leave the car keys here as security, although how we would then get back home I did not know, we didn’t have the fare for a taxi, oh, but we would have once we got back. Yes, that would be the best option. Surely they would not call the police, it would be reasonable to do so, since we had taken goods and service without the means to pay, I felt my palms sweating slightly as I did not so much worry about what was happening as not knowing what was happening.
I do not wear a watch so I did not know quite how time was passing, although could judge to some extent by seeing courses served and cleared again. At one point I caught the head waiter’s eye, he came over and I asked if everything was okay. Ever the gentleman he assured me that he was sure everything would be sorted out, and offered me another cup of coffee. I accepted, more to have something to do rather than to enjoy it.
It helped, and just as I was finishing it, the door opened and he came back into the body of the restaurant. He gave me a look which managed to say everything is fine, but lets get out of here.
On the way home I heard how he had worked his charm on the owner of the restaurant, a couple of phone calls had confirmed his identity and integrity, and well, it is now the morning after the night before, we have been back to the restaurant and paid the bill, and I heard myself not only offering the owner and his wife an invitation to dinner, but heard him accepting. Thinking of what is created by his chef, what on earth am I going to offer him?
We had been to this restaurant a few times before, enough to feel comfortable, but not too many for it not to still be a very special place to us. We loved the little touches. The plate of delicate canapés as we selected from the menu, the unhurried but attentive service, oh, and the way that each plate would be brought to the table covered, and as a last act of serving, enough waiters would magically appear to lift the covers simultaneously as though drawing back the curtains on the chef’s performance. And that particular chef never failed to delight. Each of his creations lovingly given a short life, too good to destroy, yet incapable of being truly appreciated without being sacrificed.
All too soon we were sipping coffee, that phase of the evening about to close. Still no detail missed, the small fine china cups containing a particular deep rich nectar from beans grown on the other side of the world.
Reluctantly he nodded to the head waiter, and with a small gesture indicated that we were ready for the bill. I could tell by his wry smile that it was high, but we knew it would be, one did not come to be fed but to be pampered. And we felt both pampered and indulged and it was worth every penny.
I watched the river as he took out his wallet and credit card to return to slip into the sleeve, the commercial part of the evening, trying to remember where the river flowed to next, what the water would be seeing on its route to the sea.
“Do you have your credit card with you?” As I turned back to him, I could see by his flustered look that he was not joking. Although I knew I did not have my purse with me, I looked in my handbag just to check. I did not. He took his jacket off, to check in each pocket; nothing.
The unusual and slightly less relaxed activity had attracted a little attention from our fellow diners who glanced our way, before politely returning their attention to their own tables. Looking worried, he said “Let me just check the car, but I think we could have a problem here”.
I tried to return to my earlier tranquil thoughts of the river’s journey; I tried to appreciate the landscaped gardens; and failed at that too. Oh the mixture of emotions ranging from sharing his embarrassment through to mirth; this was after all perfect comedy material. What would the waiters say, who we would have to see, would we end up doing the washing up; rubber gloves and diamonds, or perhaps we should sneak out and do a runner. I am sure I chuckled out loud as I tried to picture the headlines in the local paper.
I could see by his face as he returned to the table that he had had no joy, and the concern on it smothered my more humourous thoughts. He slipped into his chair once again, “Do you have anything in your handbag?” Well, if I had had my day time bag with me I could probably have offered him the sink as well as the rubber gloves, but as it was all I could offer was a hankie and some lipstick.
“I am so sorry about this…” I smiled encouragingly back at him and lightly touched his hand so he knew I was behind him.
As he walked to the back of the restaurant and the head waiter, I could see that the diners on the adjacent tables had realized what was happening. Although generally they pretended not to have noticed, I received a few sympathetic and empathetic facial expressions showing that they knew it that this particular nightmare could happen to anyone.
The head waiter led him out of the restaurant and beyond my sight. There are few places were you are as alone as when you are sitting alone on a table in busy restaurant. Manners dictated that I could not indulge in one of my favourite hobbies, people watching, the view from the window had lost its appeal, my coffee cup now long empty although that did not stop me from fidgeting with it.
I tried to wonder what was happening. I was sure he would have been taken to the manager’s or owner’s office, but what then. This could not be an unforeseen, or even inexperienced event, I was sure they would have an agreed procedure. He could offer to leave the car keys here as security, although how we would then get back home I did not know, we didn’t have the fare for a taxi, oh, but we would have once we got back. Yes, that would be the best option. Surely they would not call the police, it would be reasonable to do so, since we had taken goods and service without the means to pay, I felt my palms sweating slightly as I did not so much worry about what was happening as not knowing what was happening.
I do not wear a watch so I did not know quite how time was passing, although could judge to some extent by seeing courses served and cleared again. At one point I caught the head waiter’s eye, he came over and I asked if everything was okay. Ever the gentleman he assured me that he was sure everything would be sorted out, and offered me another cup of coffee. I accepted, more to have something to do rather than to enjoy it.
It helped, and just as I was finishing it, the door opened and he came back into the body of the restaurant. He gave me a look which managed to say everything is fine, but lets get out of here.
On the way home I heard how he had worked his charm on the owner of the restaurant, a couple of phone calls had confirmed his identity and integrity, and well, it is now the morning after the night before, we have been back to the restaurant and paid the bill, and I heard myself not only offering the owner and his wife an invitation to dinner, but heard him accepting. Thinking of what is created by his chef, what on earth am I going to offer him?