Henry Higgins?

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'Firstly, of course you have no need of money. You can have whatever you want to eat and drink. This is entirely my treat and without being smug, I can afford it. You have seen I have got two cars and I also have two houses so I can certainly afford anything you want to eat and drink.

I am guessing that you are nervous sitting there because you haven't been to too many restaurants, well you cannot be any more nervous than me because I have never, ever, sat in a restaurant with a girl as young and pretty as you. I am desperately trying to find things to say to you that will not make you run out of the door.'

She slowly smiled.

'That's true I suppose. Actually I have never been to a proper restaurant, only cafes and chippies.'

'So why did you come,' I waved down the passing waiter and asked him to bring me a bottle of house champagne.

Jane looked over her shoulder towards he window and mumbled, 'I don't know.'

Not the right question.

We sat in silence while the waiter poured a drop of bubbly into my glass for me to taste.

'That's fine thanks.'

He filled both the glasses.

I picked mine up and said 'Cheers,' and waited for her to clink glasses.

She did and then tasted it.

'Wow that's nice innit. I could get to like this.'

I laughed, 'One little question. I am not allowed to give you champagne unless you are eighteen years old. Do I have a problem?'

She giggled, 'Nah I'm nineteen now, last week. Do you want to see ID.'

'Of course not. I believe you and anyway it would not really be my responsibility it would be the restaurants. What would you like to eat.'

The waiter proffered us the menus and ran through the specials.

After a lengthy discussion about the menu being in French which she could not understand and how it wasn't really much like English cooking, there was no roast joint and vegetables, Jane eventually selected the onion soup and a steak. I had the snails and confit of duck.

'Can I take my coat off now?'

'Of course.' I jumped to my feet hoping against hope that this was not a huge flash and that she was about to run out of my life after showing her wares to the entire restaurant.

She hung it on the back of her chair.

She was wearing the same yellow dress that she was wearing the first time I saw her. I was entranced.

'I remember that dress. You were wearing it the first time I saw you. It looks lovely on you.'

'It's my favourite,' she murmured, a little embarrassed at a compliment.

Or maybe embarrassed that on that occasion she had been wearing no underwear and I knew. I idly wondered whether she was wearing any today.

She demolished the onion soup while hardly taking a breath.

'That was lovely,' she said. 'Is there any more.'

I just managed to stifle a laugh as I called the waiter over.

'Our compliments to the chef and the young lady is asking if there is any more please.'

The waiter allowed himself a broad smile. 'Of course Miss, I will talk to the chef.'

While she was waiting for her second bowl I set about my snails, firstly dipping bread in the sauce before spearing the gastropod with the fork and swallowing.

She watched fascinated.

'That did look like a snail. What was it really.'

'It really was a snail.'

She pulled a face.

'Here taste the juice on this bread.'

She sniffed at it and then ate it. She admitted that 'Yeah, the bread and juices tasted okay but surely not a snail.'

The second bowl of soup arrived and disappeared as quickly as the first.

While she ate I explained that although this was a snail it was not a common or garden snail that she would know from home. That it was specially bred and then given a clean diet for many days before cooking.

We sat and looked at the last one in the bowl.

'Would you like to try it.'

She thought she would and quickly chewed and swallowed it down.

'You are right. This is like English food,' she said. 'It was like a whelk.'

There was a minor disturbance as the waiter brought her steak. It was very rare and I could see we were going to have a problem.

She prodded it with her finger and watched a drop of blood drip onto the plate.

'Are they going to cook it now' she asked.

'Not really,' I said. 'That is how they normally serve it. But let me see what I can do.'

I quickly spoke to the waiter in French explaining that this was the young ladies first time in a nice restaurant, how much she had enjoyed the soup and the snail but this was her first time with very rare beef could they cook it just a little more, 'a point' perhaps, so that it actually stopped running with blood.

Again the waiter went to speak to the chef and returned with the steak still rareish but definitely cooked a little more.

By then I had explained how I believed that an undercooked steak tasted better and perhaps softer and perhaps she might like to try it when the waiter brought it back. If she didn't like it then she could choose a different meal altogether perhaps.

She again drew comparisons to English food as she declared the thin matchstick chips as just like MaccyDs but better and then the steak as delicious.

She had examined my confit, admitted that she had only seen ducks on the pond in summer and then to my delight helped herself to large chunks of my meal. The red cabbage was deemed 'funny' but good and the Lyonnaise potatoes 'Oh wow.'

We looked at the desert menu as she realised that maybe two bowls of soup had not been such a good idea.

I asked the waiter to give us half an hour and then return with the menus. It was still only eight-thirty.

Over the second bottle of bubbly I found out a little more about her.

She was, as I knew, nineteen, she lived with her mum in a council flat behind the HAC.

'It's lovely,' she said.

'From our tenth floor flat you can see right down into the HAC grounds. I've seen parades, parties with carousels of horses, marquees and dance bands, helicopters landing and taking off and even parachutists coming in with flares attached to themselves at night.'

She had no brothers or sisters or pets or a father. Her father had disappeared when she was six, and good riddance to him. He had knocked her mum about from time to time. She thought he might be in prison again.

She was a receptionist at a dental practice in Archway.

I asked about her boyfriends. I commented that she always had a lot of lads with her and was there one special one?

She looked over her shoulder again towards the window.

'Well Billie, I suppose, but we're not serious or nothing. He's always there. He's .....' She went quiet.

'You can tell me.' I expected her to tell me that she wanted to marry him.

'He's the one who talked me into coming tonight.'

Now that was a shock.

'Didn't you want to come. I hope you have enjoyed yourself anyway.'

'No, I mean yes and yes. I did want to come which I why I kept your phone number, and your silly poem. That was a seriously bad poem.' She giggled.

'I kept dithering. I thought you looked kind but all the boys thought you just wanted to see me because I had flashed my bum at you and shown you my tits. Well what passes for tits. As you know I haven't got anything to show there. They didn't know about the coat though.'

She giggled, her blue eyes twinkled and her face lit up.

'That was so naughty of me.'

I laughed. 'They've got me right I am afraid. I was entranced by your legs and bum and even your non-existent tits, but I really loved your face, your eyes and your freckles.'

'And as for your giggle and your wink, well I do not have the words to describe them. I could guess I could write a poem.'

'No please,' she giggled nicely for me. 'Anything but that again.'

'The truth is they are waiting outside for me, so I felt safe coming. If you had started to molest me all I had to do was start moving to the door and they would come in and beat you up. That's why it had to be close to home.'

I must have looked uneasy.

'They won't do it now because they can see I am relaxed. Taking my coat off was a sign that all was well so far. Another problem is that they know me too well. Why there are never any girls with us is cos I love to flash. The boys of course love it and come out with me whenever they can. I rarely wear any underwear and I love to flash given half a chance. I wouldn't do it in here of course because it's posh.'

She looked a little embarrassed. 'Can I tell you some secrets.'

I nodded. 'Of course.' The champagne was beginning to have an effect on her.

'I am not wearing any now.'

Somehow I had expected that.

'And I never close my bedroom curtains. Although we are on the tenth floor I can see all over the HAC ground and I am sure some of the flats the other side can see me, specially if they have binoculars which a lot of the army people have.'

'So.' I said. 'For my third house I need to buy a new flat and then get some binoculars.'

She laughed and said shrewdly. 'I don't think there is anything you haven't seen.'

At that moment I am pleased to say the waiter brought back the menus for desert and I was able to change the subject.

The only thing dismissed out of hand were the crepe suzettes. As soon as I had described them as pancakes she elicited the information that they had them every year on Pancake Day.

She settled for a chocolate and cherry trifle while I had the honeyed figs.

The deserts quickly came and she finished every bit of her fairly heavy trifle. I guess we had taken a fairly long gap before we ordered them.

I had very slowly savoured my figs knowing somehow that she would want to taste them. After all she had tasted everything else.

'What are they,' she asked.

'Figs,' I said. They are fruit. They grow on a tree, see like this.' I picked one up and dangled it between my fingers. Then they are dried and then this one is soaked in honey and juices. It is very succulent.'

'May I try it.'

'Please do.'

I put it on the plate and gave it to her.

She hesitated and then pushed the plate away. There was a light in her eyes that I did not understand.

'I can't eat that. Look at it. It reminds me of .... Well Suzie, I went to school with.'

I was genuinely puzzled. 'You mean she had a face like a wrinkled fig or a prune perhaps.'

She giggled again. 'No silly, look at it, it looks like, you know her bottom, at the front.'

I must have been bedazzled by her and the champagne because I still appeared puzzled.

'Look,' she said, and stuck her finger into the middle of the fig. 'Her pussy,' she whispered.

I laughed until the tears rolled from my eyes.

'Yes,' I said. 'I can see that now. But I'll bet Suzie tasted sweeter. What do you think.'

She rolled her eyes. 'That was a long time ago. I was only fifteen. But it was fun at the time,' she giggled.

I could see she wanted to try it, probably even more now we had discussed it's appearance.

'Go on,' I said. 'It won't bite not like...'

She jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow.

'Go on,' I repeated. 'Just close your eyes and bite it and swallow it. Don't lick and play with it like you did...'

Her elbow found it's home in my ribs again as she picked it up and bit into it.

'Oh wow. It's fantastic.'

'So,' I said slyly. 'How does it compare,' and jumped back to avoid another thump.

'You know what,' she said lowering her voice. 'It not only looks better and tastes better but it smells a hell of a lot better. She rolled into a series of giggles as the smutty jokes came pouring from both of us.

At that moment the chef came strolling from the kitchen acknowledging the smiles and the thanks of his patrons. He came right up to us.

'M'sieu,' he said 'I have to thank you and this delightful young lady for gracing my restaurant tonight. You have brought a breath of fresh spring air into this dull little world. I understand that you liked my onion soup eh.'

'Oh yes,' she said. ' I have loved all of it. Every course has been wonderful, mine and Charlies.'

Somehow I didn't mind being called Charlie.

'Until the fig,' he said. I have heard you laughing and now I see you have left some of the fig. Is it no good?'

This I am afraid made us both start laughing again and I was forced to reveal, much to Jane's embarrassment why she had only eaten half of it.

She quickly put the final piece in her mouth and chewing it down made complementary content noises.

We both laughed and she giggled, again and again.

The chef waved his fingers towards the waiter, said a few words in French and coffee and digestives arrived tout suite.

Jane tried the calvados but wrinkled her nose in disgust.

'Oh no. That is the first thing I have tried that is really yuck.'

He whispered in the waiter's ear and she duly received a wine glass full of a light amber drink. I raised my eyebrows as she sipped and gave her ultimate approval.

'Oh wow.'

'A desert wine?' I asked.

He nodded. 'A Chateau Yquem, my own bottle.'

I nodded again. 'Magnifique.'

He sighed and said, 'But I must return to supervise the cleaning and the preparations for tomorrow. Msieu, madamoiselle. He raised her fingers to his lips in a gallic salute.

'Oh my God,' she mouthed. 'He kissed my fingers, like they do in films.

I have never seen anyone do that before. And the French, they do kiss a lot don't they. I have been watching over your shoulder. The waiter and one or two the other people here when someone comes in they know they kiss them on both cheeks.'

I laughed again. 'So do I normally. I would have done it to you but you arrived so quickly at the table and looked so nervous I thought I might frighten you away. But next time, be ready.'

'Ohhh next time. You mean you want to do this again.'

'Of course. I have had a wonderful time. Haven't you?'

'Well yes but I don't know whether Billie will let me come again. I will try. But I must go or he will come in here soon. He has been hanging around where I can see him at the window. I don't want him getting mad with you. Sorry. I must go.'

She said all this watching the window and as a shadow moved against the door she jumped up and ran to the front stopping someone, Billie I guess, from coming in.

As she passed the window she waved but I saw her arm fiercely clenched by Billie who glared at me in return.

I asked for the bill while reflecting on the time. How quickly 3 hours had passed. I sat and dreamed of the next opportunity I would have to listen to her giggle.

Chapter 6

I waited three weeks before hearing a word. I was on the point of looking up Dentists Archway on Google when I got the text on my mobile.

'Thk u. Sry wait. Soon.'

I have had more romantic messages but rarely one that had filled me with such hope.

Even so after another three weeks I actually had a short list of Dentists in Archway in my hand. I started with Aaronovitch and was in despair by the time I got to Young and Partners.

But then the hint of a giggle as I heard, 'Young and Partners, can I help you.'

'Jane,' I said.

'Charlie,' she whispered. 'I can't take private calls they will sack me..'

'I would like to discuss an appointment with your senior partner.'

'Yes Sir, that would be Mr Young.'

'By name is Charles LeFig. I am French' I said speaking in a bad mock French accent. I heard a giggle starting but it was quickly squashed. 'I have a leetle restaurant near here with maman. I zink you know it.'

'Yes Sir.'

'I weel be zere tonight at seven o'clock. Peraps you could check my teeth and it weel not be neccessaire to see Msieu Young.'

'Thank you M'sieu LeFig, I will try to make the appointment for you.'

The phone went dead.

So there I was halfway though my main course at about eight thirty when as before she arrived in a hurry at the table.

I was not to be pushed aside this time so I stood and kissed her on both cheeks. She just stood there looking like she had seen the New Coming so I kissed her quickly on the lips.

That made her sit and quickly. No coat off I noticed but she also was not looking at the window. I thought that was a good sign.

' I am so sorry I really cannot stop,' I pushed a glass of champagne into her hand that the waiter had quickly poured into a spare glass.

'Billy and Mum are waiting for me to go home any second. I am supposed to be getting Billy some fags from the off licence. I can't ring you at work, they sacked the last receptionist for taking private calls and Billy checks my home phone every night. He got really upset that I had enjoyed myself so much with you last time. He doesn't even let me go out with girl-friends any more. And Mum supports him. She wants me to marry him. Not that he has asked, but I think he just assumes that I am his.'

I was prepared. I handed over a phone. New, straight out of the box.

There I have bought you a phone. It is all paid for, it tops itself up when it gets down to ten pound and you can even email me on it. Keep it hidden and talk to me when you have your lunch breaks. Now go. Don't say a word. Don't drink any more, they will smell it.

I will find a way to see you again. If you want it.'

I slipped the phone in her coat pocket and eased her towards the door. She stood there for a moment before kissing me this time. On the lips I noted with some satisfaction. She turned and ran.

She would find a way to talk to me occasionally I was sure.

Chapter 7

Indeed she phoned me the very next day. I could hear that she was in the street. It transpired she was on her way to the corner shop to buy a sandwich for lunch. She told me that she had been getting more adventurous with her lunches and pate was now a favourite. It seemed that anything French was good.

On about her third call in as many days, short ones admittedly I told her that she was turning into such a Francophile that I was going to change her name. Once I had explained what a Francophile was I said,

'I shall call you Danielle. That is just a corruption of your own family name and very French.'

'Danielle,' she tried out the sound of it on her tongue. 'Yes I think I like it. Shall I call you Sharles.' It rolled off her tongue like silk.

'If you like but I think from you I prefer Charlie.'

She started calling me at night from her bed when her mum was asleep.

We would talk for hours usually asking me questions, often about France but more and more how to get on in the world. How to get a new job started to be a regular question from her. She was quite ambitious but every time I mentioned that the only way to start getting on in the world was to dump Billy, she would go quiet.

She started to tell me about her work. Mr Young, the senior partner was beginning to hit on her, but she thought that perhaps it had mainly been her own fault.

'How could that be,' I asked.

'Well one day, I had been there about a month, I went in as usual to find that he had a uniform for me. A dental nurses coat.'

I asked was he sure like, as I had not received any dental training nor did I have anything to do with the patients except on the phone or on reception.

But no he said that we should all look the same and I should look the same as the nurses, who had always wore one.

It was a bit tight and also very short but that wasn't going to be a problem because I could wear the bottom open over my skirt or trousers I figured.

I took my jumper off and of course I never wear a bra so the nylon material felt really nice and rubbed against my nipples. They would stand out and I am sure you could see a bit of the surrounding colour through the thin coat.

Still in my own little way I quite liked that.

But then a few days later he brought to my attention that the other two nurses were just wearing their coats with no skirts or trousers below.