look more confident and brave than I really feel inside. Taking just a few strides with her long shapely legs, she approaches the table and takes a seat on the high backed chair opposite me.
“Thank you for meeting with me Isabel, I very much appreciate it. May I buy you a drink?”
“No I’m fine thank you; I will only be having the one.” I surmise that Dr Acerbi is an intelligent woman and so will get the hint that I am not expecting to stay any length of time with her.
“Very well, please excuse me while I get myself one.” Oh yes, she got the hint.
Usually when I get nervous I tear at the beer mats that are placed on the tables, so making sure the only one’s on our table are what we will be using, I collect the remaining one’s and plonk them down on the shelf behind me. On her return, Emelie wastes no time at all.
“You and Marc seem to be getting along extremely well I see.” Whoa! She doesn’t hold back in what she wants to say. Ok, come on Chambers, you can do this. I will not let her manipulate the conversation.
“Yes, he’s been a great companion over the last couple of days and we have enjoyed the time we’ve spent together.” I can honestly say that I speak the truth, for the both of us.
The Doctor nods, “Has Marc told you much about himself, his work and family?”
I am not quite sure where she is going with this or what it has to do with her, what Marc and I talk about, but I’m desperately trying to rack my brains of how I can tell her that it is none of her business, in as a non-offensive way as possible. Nope, I’m afraid I can’t.
“I mean this in the politest of ways Dr Acerbi, but what the hell has it got to do with you what Marc and I talk about. It really is none of your bloody business to be frank.”
She sneers back at me, “It appears I have got you all wrong Isabel. On first impressions I saw you as this sweet little woman.”
You condescending bitch! There I have said it, mentally anyway. All at once she grabs a hold of the glass tumbler, knocks back her bourbon and abruptly stands screeching the feet of the chair across the tiled flooring. Placing deathly dark painted finger tips onto the table, she leans in closer towards me and in a voice low enough so that only I can hear, she venomously spits the words out,
“I do hope you realise what you have got yourself in to with Marc Sanders Isabel, because as has just been proven, first impressions count for nothing.”
With that she leaves. What in God’s name was that all about?
My head is all over the place; one part of it is remembering what Marc said about her being vindictive and the another is asking myself what she meant by what was just said. I was never good at riddles.
So I sit here for some time nursing the glass between my shaky hands and try to straighten out my thoughts. I am exhausted from trying to stay strong in her presence, but now in her absence I am a quivering mess. It is no good, in the past I was one for storing and bottling feelings until they were fit to burst. I am not going to do that this time; I’m a different person to what I was back then and so now I know I have to tell Marc.
Chapter 9
The journey on the bus seems to last a life time and so I listen to my ipod hoping that Ronan Keating will help ease the nerves. I need to continue to be open and honest with Marc,
“Thank you for meeting with me Isabel, I very much appreciate it. May I buy you a drink?”
“No I’m fine thank you; I will only be having the one.” I surmise that Dr Acerbi is an intelligent woman and so will get the hint that I am not expecting to stay any length of time with her.
“Very well, please excuse me while I get myself one.” Oh yes, she got the hint.
Usually when I get nervous I tear at the beer mats that are placed on the tables, so making sure the only one’s on our table are what we will be using, I collect the remaining one’s and plonk them down on the shelf behind me. On her return, Emelie wastes no time at all.
“You and Marc seem to be getting along extremely well I see.” Whoa! She doesn’t hold back in what she wants to say. Ok, come on Chambers, you can do this. I will not let her manipulate the conversation.
“Yes, he’s been a great companion over the last couple of days and we have enjoyed the time we’ve spent together.” I can honestly say that I speak the truth, for the both of us.
The Doctor nods, “Has Marc told you much about himself, his work and family?”
I am not quite sure where she is going with this or what it has to do with her, what Marc and I talk about, but I’m desperately trying to rack my brains of how I can tell her that it is none of her business, in as a non-offensive way as possible. Nope, I’m afraid I can’t.
“I mean this in the politest of ways Dr Acerbi, but what the hell has it got to do with you what Marc and I talk about. It really is none of your bloody business to be frank.”
She sneers back at me, “It appears I have got you all wrong Isabel. On first impressions I saw you as this sweet little woman.”
You condescending bitch! There I have said it, mentally anyway. All at once she grabs a hold of the glass tumbler, knocks back her bourbon and abruptly stands screeching the feet of the chair across the tiled flooring. Placing deathly dark painted finger tips onto the table, she leans in closer towards me and in a voice low enough so that only I can hear, she venomously spits the words out,
“I do hope you realise what you have got yourself in to with Marc Sanders Isabel, because as has just been proven, first impressions count for nothing.”
With that she leaves. What in God’s name was that all about?
My head is all over the place; one part of it is remembering what Marc said about her being vindictive and the another is asking myself what she meant by what was just said. I was never good at riddles.
So I sit here for some time nursing the glass between my shaky hands and try to straighten out my thoughts. I am exhausted from trying to stay strong in her presence, but now in her absence I am a quivering mess. It is no good, in the past I was one for storing and bottling feelings until they were fit to burst. I am not going to do that this time; I’m a different person to what I was back then and so now I know I have to tell Marc.
Chapter 9
The journey on the bus seems to last a life time and so I listen to my ipod hoping that Ronan Keating will help ease the nerves. I need to continue to be open and honest with Marc,
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