Minding Frankie - Maeve Binchy [132]
Teddy looked at Anton, who shrugged. So then he left.
“Well, Lisa, what is it? You look terrific, by the way.”
“Thank you so much, Anton. How terrific do I look?”
“Well, you look very different, shiny, sort of. Your hair is gone!”
“I had it cut this morning.”
“So I see. Your beautiful long golden hair …” He sounded bemused.
“It just covered the floor of the salon. In the olden days they used to sell their hair for wigs—did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t,” Anton said weakly.
“Oh, they did. Anyway, there we are.”
“I liked your hair—in fact, I loved your long hair,” he said regretfully.
“Did you, Anton? You loved my long hair?”
“You look different now, changed somehow, still gorgeous but different somehow.”
“Good, so you like what you see?”
“This is silly, Lisa. Of course I like it. I like you.”
“That’s it? You like me?”
“Is this Twenty Questions or what? Of course I like you. You’re my friend.”
“Friend—not love?”
“Oh, well, love. Whatever …” He was annoyed now already.
“Good, because I love you. A lot,” she said agreeably.
“Aw, come on, Lisa. Are you drunk again?” he asked.
“No, Anton. Stone cold, and the one time I ever did get drunk, you weren’t very kind to me. You more or less ordered Teddy to throw me out of here.”
“You were making a fool of yourself. You should thank me.”
“I don’t see it that way.”
“Well, I was the one who was sober on that occasion—believe me, you were better out of here before even more people saw you.”
“What do you think of when you think of me? Do you love me a lot or only a little?”
“Lisa, these are only words. Will you stop this thirteen-year-old chat?”
“You say you love me when we make love.”
“Everyone says that,” Anton said defensively.
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, I don’t know. I haven’t conducted a survey on it.” He was really annoyed now.
“Calm down, Anton.”
“I’m totally calm …”
“It would make this discussion easier if you didn’t fly into a temper. Just tell me how important I am in your life.”
“I don’t know … very important—you do all the designs; you have lots of good ideas; you’re very glamorous and I fancy you a lot. Now will that do?”
“And do you see me as part of your future?” She was still unruffled.
There was a silence.
Lisa remembered Katie’s advice not to be reckless, not to say anything she couldn’t stand over. Maybe he would say no, that she wasn’t part of the future for him. This would leave her like an empty, hollow shell, but she didn’t think he would say it.
Anton looked uncomfortable. “Don’t talk to me about the future. None of us knows where we will be in the great future.”
“We’re old enough to know,” Lisa said.
“Do you know what Teddy and I were talking about now when you came in and turfed him out?”
“No. What?”
“The future of this restaurant. The takings are appalling, we’re losing money hand over fist. The suppliers are beginning to scream. The bank isn’t being helpful. Some days we’re almost empty for lunch. Today we had only three tables. We’d be better giving everyone who booked fifty euro and telling them to go away. Tonight we will be only half full. Investors notice these things. It needs some kind of a lift. It’s going stale. You want to talk about the future—I don’t think there is one.”
“Do you see me in your future?” Lisa asked again.
“Oh, God Almighty, Lisa, I do if you could come up with some ideas rather than bleating like a teenager. That is if we have a future here at all …”
“Ideas—is that what you want?” Her voice was now, if anything, dangerously composed.
Anton looked at her nervously. “You’re a great ideas woman.”
“Okay. Light lunches—low-calorie healthy lunches in one part of the dining room, where they can’t see roast beef or tiramisu going past. And even that fool April could get you some publicity for this. Oh, and you could organize a weekly section on a radio show where people could send in their recipes for things that are under