diverted the call and the ringing stopped. “Actually, it's my birthday. Hence the phone calls.”
Mark looked a little shocked. “It's your birthday, and you're spending it in a hotel bar with your boss? Oh God. I'm so sorry.”
She shook her head. “It's fine! Better than my original plan of a bath and room service. And infinitely better than a second night on the town with my lovely analyst colleagues.”
Mark just sat there with a strange look on his face. Christine felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze. “I'm serious, Mark. It's fine. Let's just get another one of these.” She lifted her empty glass. He turned and caught the attention of the only waitress in the place.
“Can you put these on my room? 304.”
“Certainly sir. Just give me one second.” The waitress went over to the bar.
Mark stood up. “Come on. We're leaving.”
“We are?” Christine was genuinely puzzled, but she stood anyway and lifted the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Where are we going?”
“You're not spending your twenty-”
“Ninth.” Christine looked glum.
“Twenty-ninth birthday in,” he paused to sign the receipt held out to him by the waitress. With a toothy smile she turned and walked back to the counter. He lowered his voice to a whisper, “the Berry Bar. Come on.” But then h e suddenly stopped and looked at her feet. “Okay to walk a few blocks?”
“Sure.”
“Then let's go.”
~
Mark's stomach felt like it was edging its way up his oesophagus and towards his throat. He could hear himself jabbering on about something completely inane to do with the bank, but his mind was having a whole other conversation with itself. What was he doing? He was walking a very fine line here, and he could easily fall off it and into a harassment charge. He knew where he wanted to bring her, he had decided it in a split second after she had told him it was her birthday, but now, as they walked along Curzon Street in the evening sun, he started to worry about what she might be thinking. He observed her as she walked. She seemed to be okay. She was chatting away, looking around her, seemingly enjoying the London summer evening. As he looked at the people walking past them, he guessed that they would appear to them like any ordinary couple walking along. Just not holding hands. A first date, maybe. After a few moments of silence, she looked at him questioningly.
Mark had the sensation of being slightly hypnotised, her eyes were so blue. “Just up here.”
As the Dorchester came into view, Christine turned to him with a smile. “Here?”
“That okay?” He searched her face for some sign that it was okay. “More appropriate f or a birthday drink, no? ” He tried to sound breezy.
Christine laughed, and Mark couldn't tell if she was happy about how the evening was turning out, or if it would be a source of water-cooler chat back at the office. But he knew she was classier than that. He hoped.
“I've never been here. I've always wanted to come.” She looked genuinely impressed. “Thanks, Mark.”
“No problem.” Mark hoped his cheeks weren't as red as they felt. “I was here a couple of years ago. It's nice.” Although, he couldn't remember much about that weekend now. It had been a supposedly romantic city break with Jennifer. She hadn't really liked the Dorchester when they had come in for dinner. She had said it was too fussy. Mark had liked it. The staff had been very pleasant, and they had spotted a few American movie actors in the foyer. He had wanted to come back and stay ever since, but the occasion had never presented itself. “Maybe we can get something to eat? They might even have a candle for you to blow out.” They entered through the grand doors.
“We can sit and play spot-the-celebrity if nothing else,” he said quietly to her as they were
Mark looked a little shocked. “It's your birthday, and you're spending it in a hotel bar with your boss? Oh God. I'm so sorry.”
She shook her head. “It's fine! Better than my original plan of a bath and room service. And infinitely better than a second night on the town with my lovely analyst colleagues.”
Mark just sat there with a strange look on his face. Christine felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze. “I'm serious, Mark. It's fine. Let's just get another one of these.” She lifted her empty glass. He turned and caught the attention of the only waitress in the place.
“Can you put these on my room? 304.”
“Certainly sir. Just give me one second.” The waitress went over to the bar.
Mark stood up. “Come on. We're leaving.”
“We are?” Christine was genuinely puzzled, but she stood anyway and lifted the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Where are we going?”
“You're not spending your twenty-”
“Ninth.” Christine looked glum.
“Twenty-ninth birthday in,” he paused to sign the receipt held out to him by the waitress. With a toothy smile she turned and walked back to the counter. He lowered his voice to a whisper, “the Berry Bar. Come on.” But then h e suddenly stopped and looked at her feet. “Okay to walk a few blocks?”
“Sure.”
“Then let's go.”
~
Mark's stomach felt like it was edging its way up his oesophagus and towards his throat. He could hear himself jabbering on about something completely inane to do with the bank, but his mind was having a whole other conversation with itself. What was he doing? He was walking a very fine line here, and he could easily fall off it and into a harassment charge. He knew where he wanted to bring her, he had decided it in a split second after she had told him it was her birthday, but now, as they walked along Curzon Street in the evening sun, he started to worry about what she might be thinking. He observed her as she walked. She seemed to be okay. She was chatting away, looking around her, seemingly enjoying the London summer evening. As he looked at the people walking past them, he guessed that they would appear to them like any ordinary couple walking along. Just not holding hands. A first date, maybe. After a few moments of silence, she looked at him questioningly.
Mark had the sensation of being slightly hypnotised, her eyes were so blue. “Just up here.”
As the Dorchester came into view, Christine turned to him with a smile. “Here?”
“That okay?” He searched her face for some sign that it was okay. “More appropriate f or a birthday drink, no? ” He tried to sound breezy.
Christine laughed, and Mark couldn't tell if she was happy about how the evening was turning out, or if it would be a source of water-cooler chat back at the office. But he knew she was classier than that. He hoped.
“I've never been here. I've always wanted to come.” She looked genuinely impressed. “Thanks, Mark.”
“No problem.” Mark hoped his cheeks weren't as red as they felt. “I was here a couple of years ago. It's nice.” Although, he couldn't remember much about that weekend now. It had been a supposedly romantic city break with Jennifer. She hadn't really liked the Dorchester when they had come in for dinner. She had said it was too fussy. Mark had liked it. The staff had been very pleasant, and they had spotted a few American movie actors in the foyer. He had wanted to come back and stay ever since, but the occasion had never presented itself. “Maybe we can get something to eat? They might even have a candle for you to blow out.” They entered through the grand doors.
“We can sit and play spot-the-celebrity if nothing else,” he said quietly to her as they were
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