Peter raced out onto the rainy street, cursing the taxi firm. They were normally so reliable. He glanced at his watch and swore, scanning the road. Not a black cab in sight. Unhappily, he recalled Fiona’s words.
“If this relationship goes stale, then I’m off the menu. Permanently.”
As if answering his prayers, a bright yellow light appeared on the street. Relief!
“St Pancras station,” Peter barked as he jumped in, “and step on it! I’ve a train to catch.”
Reaching for his phone Peter began to laugh.
“Hard work having a mistress.”
“You’re going where?” his wife had asked.
“Conference in Leeds. Someone’s cried off sick. I have to fill in.”
“Actually that works well. I meant to tell you, I’m going to visit mum next weekend.”
Peter couldn’t believe his luck. His plan to take Fiona away for her birthday was all falling into place nicely.
A bell tinkled. Fiona looked up optimistically. A middle-aged couple looking guiltily happy stood where she had hoped to see Peter. Fiona took a sip of her champagne. She could feel the romance of Paris soothing her. Poor Pete, he might have missed his train, but at least he was trying.
The couple were seated next to Fiona. The two women exchanged knowing smiles. The bell tinkled again.
Peter stood in the doorway, aghast. Why was his wife sitting next to his mistress? And who was this other man?
This weekend was just not going to plan.
(A longer version of Table for Two? was published in Sentinel Champions #9, Sentinel Literary Quarterly, February 2012)