The Day I Died

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‘So, you moved from a mentoring job in London to a teashop in Radley?’

Jesus. The meat was disgusting. Jo washed it down with some wine and tried to straighten her thinking. Her behaviour did seem a bit odd, when he put it like that.

‘I thought I’d got this job sorted in Radley, so I found a place to live. Then the job fell through and I was already settled, so I thought, well, why don’t I find another job?’

A piece of fishy gristle flew across the restaurant.

Stuart nodded, politely ignoring her ineptness. ‘Right. And then you moved again.’

‘Right.’ Oh dear. This wasn’t sounding at all plausible. Jo gave up on her main course and had one last go at explaining.

‘I moved to Radley for one job, which fell through, but once I’d moved I thought I’d find another job nearby, so I moved again, but then that fell through.’

‘The job or the place?’

‘The place. No, the job.’ Jo was utterly confused. ‘Um, can we talk about something else?’

Stuart laughed. He speared his last mouthful of steak and offered it across to Jo. She bit into it gratefully. It tasted delicious.

‘So, whereabouts did you live in London?’

Jo made the steak last as long as she could, hoping desperately that a vivid memory of some part of London might leap into her head. ‘West,’ she said, when it didn’t.

‘Anywhere near Ealing? I used to live in South Ealing.’

Jo puffed out her cheeks as though trying to remember the local geography. ‘Not far, I guess. I was a bit further out–a place called…’ Shit. ‘West Ham.’

‘West Ham? That’s East.’ Stuart frowned.

‘West Ham-ly’, she corrected, quite credibly she thought. What was the logic behind West Ham being in East London?

‘Never heard of it. Dessert?’

Jo didn’t want to take any more risks with the indecipherable menu so she shook her head and finished off the wine. Stuart asked for the bill and seemed to forget all about the West Hamly thing, conveniently for Jo, who was rapidly losing track of her lies.

The waiter swooped back with the bill, then swooped off again with Stuart’s card tucked neatly inside. Jo wondered how much it had come to. She probably would have got a more substantial meal in the Burger King down the road, but this had been an experience. A good experience, she thought as she set off for the bathroom. Tonight had been enlightening.

‘Bit of a worry,’ said Stuart, when she returned. ‘They’ve still got my card.’ He gave a look of mock concern. ‘I might go and hunt down our man.’

He darted off, heading for the cluster of waiters who were doing just that–waiting.

Stuart was still complaining to the head honcho when their original waiter appeared at the table with the little machine in his hand. Jo leaned over and took a peek. She guessed it would have come to over a hundred pounds, probably nearer two hundred. But it was something else that caught her eye.

Even though her vision was blurry, Jo was fairly sure she wasn’t mistaken. Embossed on the gold card sticking out of the reader were the characters, ‘MR & MRS S. THO—’

Stuart returned to the table, glanced crossly at the waiter and punched in his PIN. Jo watched him through suspicious, drunken eyes. Surely he wasn’t married? There must be some other explanation. Maybe he was separated and using an old card. Maybe it wasn’t his card. Although, strictly speaking, that would make him a thief, which wasn’t particularly reassuring either.