Second Chance - Jane Green [56]
The dress should have swamped her, given how much weight she has lost, but she merely wraps it tighter and it’s perfect. She has added black tights, low kitten heels, and a chunky amber necklace that used to be her mother’s, and resisted the urge to pull everything off and start again with her usual comfortable uniform of jeans and boots.
In the old days, she would have phoned Tom and they would have laughed about it together. Wear the black dress, for God’s sake,’ he would have said. ‘Make an effort. Show him what great legs you’ve got.’
‘I hope you’re watching, Tom.’ She had looked up at the sky just before she climbed into the car. ‘And I hope you like the outfit.’ Olivia had performed a small twirl in the driveway of her house and had blown a kiss towards the sky. ‘Wish me luck,’ she’d whispered, and then she was off, navigating the Edgware Road once more.
There are pools of men huddled at the bar, and Olivia’s first instinct is to turn around and run home. She can’t do this. Has never been any good at this. Admittedly she became well versed in navigating blind dates pre-George, but she was so much younger and had so much more confidence.
Some of the men turn and look at her, a couple of them approvingly, and she takes a deep breath and looks around, hoping to see Fred, hoping to know instantly which one he is. Sitting at a table in the corner is a man reading the Financial Times. Olivia squints at him as he looks up and catches her eye, his face breaking into a huge grin.
Please, God, she whispers a silent prayer in her mind as this tall, broad-shouldered athlete of a man comes over displaying a perfect American smile – huge white teeth, and boy-next-door good looks. Please, God, she whispers, let this be him, because God knows they don’t make them like that over here.
‘Olivia!’ There’s no question in his voice but, of course, she had sent him a picture of herself, of course he would know what she looks like.
‘Hi!’ she says shyly, gratitude and delight in her eyes as he envelops her in a bear hug, making her feel very small and delicate and feminine. How ridiculous, she tells herself, turning her head to the side and resting it for a second against a muscled shoulder. How silly I am being, but oh how lovely, what a spectacular specimen of a man. Fred steps back to grin at her, then ushers her over, a large, strong hand resting in the small of her back as he guides her to her chair.
‘Wow!’ he says, holding out the chair for her to sit down. ‘You look great,’ and as he looks around for a waiter to take their order for drinks, Olivia finds herself smiling. This is going to be a good evening after all.
‘Tom was right,’ Fred says, as the waiter places one Cosmopolitan and one vodka martini on the table.
‘Right about what?’
‘Right about the fact that I should meet you.’ He smiles, raising his glass for a toast. ‘To new friendships, and to Tom, wherever he may be.’
Olivia smiles even as the tears well up in her eyes. ‘To Tom,’ she echoes, and Fred passes her a napkin, which she dabs against her eyes, looking up and blinking furiously until the tears go away.
‘I’m so sorry.’ She smiles again. ‘It still gets me at the most unexpected times.’
‘Of course it does,’ Fred says. ‘It gets me too, and I was just a work colleague. I know how hard it must be for his friends.’
‘So hard.’ Olivia nods. ‘You think that time must be the great healer, that people wouldn’t say it all the time if it weren’t true, but I’m still waiting for time to kick in.’
‘You know, when it happened, it was all I could think about for days. I became, like, addicted to the news. I’m serious! I was watching everything, reading everything about the attacks, the survivors, the families of those who had been lost, and still now I think about it every day, but not all day, not the way I did, like, immediately afterwards.’
‘That’s true,’ Olivia says. ‘I do think about it too, but not all day, not any more. Still, Tom wouldn’t want