Five - no, four minutes until his...date(?), Stuart thought. He'd liked to have said he was nervous, but that was such a...human thing.
Several people passed him, as he waited beside the restaurant doors. Other couples on dates, families, or dinner for one, perhaps. An Italian, kindly suggested by Sarah Jane, where she apparently was once proposed to by a Peter Dalton. A sixty something woman of about 5'8, dressed in a navy blouse and black silk trousers, appeared. Six O'clock - bang on time.
'Ah, Stuart, so lovely see you again!'
'Likewise,' he smiled, holding the door.'
He motioned her to enter and followed, leaving the door to shut behind them. They settled at one of the middle tables, the hum of conversation surrounding them. Stuart studied the menu.
'How long have you lived in Ealing, then, Andrea?'
That was the right sort of thing to ask during these things, wasn't it, Stuart thought.
Andrea sipped her glass of red wine.
'Oh, only about ten years. I could've stayed in Aberdeen, but there's more artistic opportunities here, I suppose.'
Stuart placed down his menu.
'Let's hope you're not caught graffitiing, eh? Otherwise I'd have to arrest you,' he joked.
Andrea just smiled.
'I must say it's a nice restaurant you chose, Stuart. If a little busy.'
Was smalltalk a mandatory part of these things as well, he thought.
'Is this...when I ask you about your interests - your turn ons and offs, and such?'
Andrea paused.
'Well, yes, that's always a good way to break the ice, isn't it?' she said enthusiastically.
Stuart sat back, admiring the beautiful woman before him.
'Andrea. I want to get to know you, but not ask your favourite colour, and that. I want to know you. The meat, not just the bones of what makes you you. You know.' Andrea just stared.
'Shall we order?'
Stuart flashed a smile.
'All right.'
Stuart motioned for some service, and a waitress approached them. Her eyes darted between the couple.
'I'm sorry, sir,' she hesitated. 'I've been informed that your car...is blocking another customer's.'
Stuart blinked at her.
'No, it's not.'
'Well, they - they might disagree, sir.'
'I'm a police officer. I think I'd know a thing or two about parking.'
'Please...just come with me, sir.'
Stuart sighed, then stood up.
'Don't worry, I'm still paying,' he said, fully aware of his frustrated tone. 'Oh, that's all right,' Andrea smiled, though she was probably thinking otherwise.
Bad parking, my arse, Stuart thought. No obstructed car in sight. Someone's hilarious joke, right there. Perhaps he could arrest them for wasting police time.
Stuart re-entered the restaurant. A man, dressed in a red velvet suit and black bow tie, was sitting in Andrea's seat.
'Great,' Stuart said, walking over and sitting down. 'Reservations mean nothing, then, I see. Andrea in the toilet?'
'She was never here, Mr Milligan.'
Stuart stared.
'You know me?'
The man smiled.
'Of course.'
'Are you a friend of Sarah Jane's?'
The man's smile persisted.
'If I so choose to be.'
Long pause.
'Oh,' Stuart said, sighing and rolling his eyes. 'You're one of them.' The man looked blank.
'A fan.' The man studied Stuart for a moment, smiling again.
'In a manner of speaking, yes, Mr Milligan.'
The man stood up.
Stuart's eyes followed him as he walked away.
What...the hell?