My Time Again by Ian Cummins

Author:Ian Cummins [Cummins, Ian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-02-08T22:00:00+00:00

Dear Graham

Thank you for your reply and for answering my questions.

If you can come to Macari’s Coffee Bar on Worthing seafront at 10 am on Saturday, wearing something red and displaying a copy of The Times, I will make myself known to you.

Regards

Carol

Receiving the letter on a Thursday meant there was not enough time to guarantee that a reply might reach her, so he had to just go.

Despite the many meetings he had had in his life, each with its level of risk – the presentation to the Daily Mail when he was in university, his first interview at Paternosters, his meeting with the senior partner when he asked for a profit share, and so many more – the pending encounter with Carol made him feel more nervous than anything before. Scared that some last-minute traffic problem might delay him, he travelled to Worthing on Friday evening and took a room in the Chatsworth Hotel, a beautiful Georgian building close to the seafront.

Once he had checked in, he took a walk along the seafront and found Macari’s some two hundred yards from the hotel. He felt a strange superstition that prevented him from entering the café before seeing Carol the following day. So, he returned to his hotel for a meal, and despite the wonderful comfort of one of the best rooms, his anticipation for his morning meeting ensured that he experienced the worst night’s sleep of his life.

He arrived at Macari’s ten minutes early the following morning. In 1992 there was not the plethora of choices of coffee that would become commonplace a few years later, and he was pleased to be able to order just a plain black coffee. Resisting the temptation of the wonderful choice of ice creams that were the house speciality, he took a seat at a table that had a clear view of the entrance, straightened his bright red tie, and laid his copy of The Times on the table in front of him.

When a woman entered alone some ten minutes later, he was confident that this was Carol. She chatted for a few minutes with the person behind the counter. ‘Obviously a regular customer,’ Graham thought and almost held his breath until she had purchased a milky coffee, suitably frothed, and carried it to his table.

“Are you Graham?” she asked quietly. She was about five feet six; her pleasant face showed no signs of makeup and was dominated by a pair of dark-rimmed glasses that were a little larger than they should have been. Her raven black hair was dead straight, parted down the centre, and was worn shoulder length. She was dressed in a knee-length woollen skirt and a jacket of the same mixture of blue and brown colours over a cream blouse. She struck him as a woman who could be very attractive if she tried – but one who probably never tried.

“Yes, I’m Graham. You must be Carol,” he replied, trying to produce a welcoming smile, and fearing that his face betrayed his nerves more than his welcome.

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