The Dinner Guest by B Walter (best short books to read txt) 📕

bit of road. I walked for a bit until I got to a street named Glasgow Terrace. I was about to get my phone out to access Google Maps, but a group of boys with their hoods up started coming towards me and I thought it best not to put temptation in their way. They passed me without comment, and I carried on walking purposefully in the opposite direction. I waited until I was alone again, then did a quick Web search of supermarkets near me. There were two Sainsbury’s stores not far away, along with a massive superstore across the river in Nine Elms. It was a bit of a walk, but the sun had come out and although there was a slight chill of autumn in the breeze, it was still a nice enough evening. I decided a stroll in the fresh air was exactly what I needed. I zipped my hoody up to my chin and set off down the street, following the course set out by the Maps app until it opened out onto a large, busy road.

The rush of traffic – all beeping horns and growling engines – was a change from the relative quietness of inner Pimlico. I walked along the road towards the bridge and carried on until I was halfway across it. That’s when I stopped and stared. Just stared. The sweeping surface of the Thames. The towering futuristic-looking apartment blocks of Vauxhall. The impressive sight of Battersea Power Station, surrounded by cranes. And, to the other side, a bit further down the river, the unmistakable shape of the London Eye.

I was here. In London. A place I had only visited twice previously in my thirty-two years. For a few minutes, I was entirely present in the moment, filled with optimism and hope and the thrill of the impressive change of scene I had brought upon myself. And then, as if a switch had been flicked, I remembered why I had done it. The purpose of the whole thing. You’re not here to have fun, I told myself. I took a deep breath of the cool late-afternoon air, and carried on walking across the bridge into Vauxhall to get my shopping.

Chapter Seven Charlie

Eleven months to go

Matthew had been asking me to be a member of his book club for years. It was practically the first thing he asked me when we went on our first official date.

We’d gone for dinner at the Mango Tree as it was relatively close to the flat I was living in at that point in Eccleston Square. It was a dull little place, and my parents had been going on at me to buy something better, but a little place suited me just fine while my career in marketing started to take off. I’d arrived late (couldn’t find my shoes) and Matthew had been sitting there at the table, reading a book. That in itself was a major red flag for me. Who brings a book to a restaurant? On a date? I knew Matthew was quite quiet and bookish when we’d been at school together, but this was at a level I hadn’t prepared for. When I’d sat down opposite him, he did at least have the grace to appear a little sheepish, setting the book to the side before greeting me with his lovely, warm smile. I’d known then and there that we were on to something special. I knew I’d been right to take our mutual friend Archie’s advice and meet up with Matthew after all this time. This wasn’t going to be just some casual one-night stand with a vague past acquaintance. This was something more concrete. More real. When we’d started talking about books, Matthew had said, ‘You should come to my book club. There’s a bit of an odd group of us. But your godmother, Meryl, is always there, so you’d know her.’

I think I pulled a face at that. ‘Yes, she’s mentioned it a few times. I did think it was a bit unusual for a woman of her age to be spending the evening in the company of a bunch of young men discussing naughty novels.’

Matthew grinned. ‘Who says our novels are naughty? We have an eclectic range. And anyway, it isn’t just us and Meryl. There’s also Jerome; he and Meryl must both be in their sixties. And there’s Anita, too.’

‘Jerome?’ I asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘Not Jerome Nightly?’

He nodded with a smile. ‘The one and only. Doesn’t act as much these days. Just a few cameos in the odd romantic comedy. He and Meryl go back a long way.’

‘And Anita? I don’t think I know her.’

Matthew took a sip of wine and looked a little pained. ‘She’s a bit of a downer, I’m afraid. Jerome’s daughter-in-law, although we think she and his son have now split. It would have been more normal for her to distance herself from her father-in-law a bit when she left his son, but for some reason she still turns up. Has a bit too much wine. Moans a lot about whatever book we’ve read. Makes digs at Jerome.’

‘Is she our age?’

Matthew laughed. ‘Good Lord, no. About fifty. Only twelve years younger than her father-in-law; that’s what made her marriage to his son Harry a bit strange. A nine-year age gap between them, I think.’

I helped myself to more wine. ‘That’s not such a bad age gap. I’ve seen worse.’

Matthew had a knowing glint in his eye. ‘Are you referring to you and your aristocratic ex?’

I leaned back, laughing a little. I liked that he was teasing me so early on. ‘There was little more than a decade between me and my aristocratic ex, as you call him. And that’s the largest age gap I’d ever consider workable.’

Matthew was still smiling. ‘Well, only one year between us.’

I felt a prickle of something along my arms. A buzz of anticipation. A trembling of destiny, someone a bit kookier than myself