TGI Chronicles Pt. 2 Ch. 07

"They're gorgeous, who are they for?"

"Me, Drew sent them. Aren't they beautiful."

This time I didn't stay so calm. "That's too much. He's gone over the top. He'll be stalking you next. He's got a problem, and now we've got a problem. I've half a mind to go and find the little runt and..."

"Hey, don't be silly. They're only flowers."

"No. They're not only flowers. I guess they're the biggest and most expensive bunch of flowers in this place tonight. And they're on top of that bloody Victorian book last week. The guy's got a problem, and you've got to sort it out, Dav. Or I will."

"Now you are being silly. So, a friend sends be a bunch of flowers for the first night of a play I've been working on? It doesn't make him a psychopath. And I promise you I haven't done anything to encourage him." She looked hurt.

I took the flowers away from her and gently laid them on a table. Then I took her in my arms, "I'm not saying you have encouraged him, but I am beginning to think you quite like the attention. But I do know you wouldn't do anything. But, don't you see, Dav? The guy's getting out of order, it isn't healthy. He should be out there looking for his own girlfriend, not going to the florist to send flowers to mine." I kissed her nose. She kissed my chin.

"I guess so. I will try to think of a way to put him down. I don't want to hurt him, he's really nice. But you're right, it is a little over the top. I'm sorry, I guess a girl just gets flattered when she's sent flowers like this."

I kissed her nose again, "Promise?"

"Promise."

I kissed her again, properly this time. With people pushing past us in the corridor, with one guy saying, "Now, now! All our emotions should be channelled into the production. Come along you two."

We broke apart, I looked at her, "What do you want to do after the show? Shall I wait for you?"

"No. I suspect we will relax with a bottle of wine or two backstage. Why don't you just go home and wait for me there?"

"OK, Will you be hungry?"

"No, I doubt it. Or not for food anyway." She leaned into me and kissed me again.

So with wishes of good luck, I went round and took my place in the audience. I noticed Drew sitting about five rows in front of me.

The play was no where near as bad as I was expecting. It wasn't good, but not terrible either. And, of course, the costumes were fabulous! Afterwards I just went home, had something to eat and waited.

Davinia arrived at about midnight, happy and slightly tipsy.

I asked her if she wanted another drink or some coffee, she chose coffee, so I made two mugs of coffee.

I passed her one, "I thought it was very good. It was a pity that the audience didn't pick up on all the malapropisms. But that wasn't your fault." She just sat in the chair, listening, with her smile on her face, "Oh, and I thought the costumes were brilliant."

"Did you notice when they exited on the wrong side in Act 2? They had to belt round to the other side ready for their next entrance."

"No. It didn't show from our side, in the audience."

We fell to silence. Each sipping our coffee.

Then I thought I could approach what was on my mind, "What happened to Drew's flowers?"

"Is that all you can think about, those bloody flowers?" she slammed her coffee down on the table, and stood up. "It's alright, I told him, he was hurt and I hated myself. Happy?" and she stormed off to the bedroom.

I found her lying on the bed, crying. I just lay next to her, and put my arms around her, cuddling her and waiting for her to calm down.

"Let's just go to bed and talk about it in the morning. I don't want to upset you Dav. I don't even want to upset Drew. But it had to be done. Now come on, let me take off your clothes and let's just go to bed."

I think she really was more drunk than I realised. I hope that was her excuse. She sort of helped me undress her, and I tucked her under the duvet. She was fast asleep by the time I'd undressed and cleaned my teeth.

On the Saturday morning, after some average sex, I think Davinia was a bit hung over, I got the full story.

"I'm surprised you didn't see the flowers as you left, or in the interval. I got Peggy, she's the wife of the director, to put them out in the foyer."

"I wonder if Drew saw them there." I pondered.

"No. He didn't. At the end he came backstage to find me. I thanked him for them, but purposely pretended that he'd sent them to the whole company, and that we'd put them in the foyer for everyone to enjoy. You could see he didn't like that, and he told me that they were really meant just for me. I told him that that was wrong, that he shouldn't be sending me flowers, and that he shouldn't entertain ideas that I thought of him in anyway other than as a friend. He looked so heartbroken. I really felt awful. But I think you were right, he really did have a thing for me. Not that I blame him, I think I'm a rather good catch." She sort of half-laughed and leant up to kiss me.

Davinia left just after breakfast, but I promised to come to the play again that night, and to join her in the after the show party at the pub.

I got the pub first, and Davinia came along later with a whole bunch of the Players. It was an OK time for me, Davinia did spend the whole time with her arm around my waist, or holding my hand, or sitting very close with her hand in my thigh. But, of course, I didn't know anybody, and I didn't know their in jokes, and I didn't care about the actual play. But I survived it.

And, at closing time, we set out to walk home. But Davinia stopped me, "I want to go home to Ma and Pa's. I'm just tired, too tired to sleep with you, Dave. I just want to curl up and sleep forever."

I looked at her, was there any point in arguing? I quite fancied letting her sleep late, whilst I made a special breakfast and served it to her in bed. But, I've run out of arguing with Davinia. "OK. I'll miss you. I'd have liked you curled up in my bed, and sleeping late tomorrow. But if that's what you want to do..."

"It is."

So, I walked her back to her parent's house. And we kissed goodnight. "Why don't you come round for Sunday lunch tomorrow? I'm sure Ma will have enough to go round."

"Sure, if that's what you'd like. I'll come round at about noon. OK? And perhaps we can go out for the evening?"

"We'll see." She kissed me and was gone.

We had a pleasant family lunch on the Sunday. I have to admit I thoroughly enjoyed it, my Dad used to try to give me a good, stable home life. But cooking wasn't one of his strong points, and weekend lunches tended to be out of a tin. Maybe that's why I've taken up cooking.

After lunch Davinia and myself went for a walk along the river, in the spring sunshine. But she told me that she was going to go to Church that evening with her parents, "I'm sorry, Dave. But the pre-Easter evensongs are a sort of regular thing in my family, and I know they want me to go with them. They've hardly seen me in the last few weeks, every break I've had from the play I spent with you. You could come with us if you like."

"No. I think I'll give that a miss. I'm not big on Church."

So, I went home alone, feeling sad. I thought things would be better between myself and Davinia after the play was over, that's what she promised. Maybe her mother was right, she wasn't really that keen on me. Maybe she would really have liked to play Drew off against me, two timing both of us. I was feeling very uncertain as I sat alone drinking my whisky that evening.

Davinia seemed happy enough in the office on Monday, "I want a set of keys to your place, please, Dave."

Promising, I thought. "OK. You can have them right now. I keep a spare set in my desk draw."

"Thank you. And I want you to promise that you won't come home until eight thirty tomorrow night. Go to the gym if you want to, but please don't go drinking. Promise?"

"I promise, but can I know why?"

"No. Now go away, I'm busy."

So, I went away. I saw Tim later and asked him if he was going to the gym later that day? No, he didn't intend to, so I told him about Drew's book present and the flowers. In fairness to Drew I also told him that Davinia had really put him down. So Tim suggested that we leave it, and see if Davinia's warning will work.

I did as asked, and stayed out until eight thirty on Tuesday. I got home to find the table laid for a candlelit dinner. And Davinia dressed in a sexy silk blouse, obviously without a bra, and a short skirt and high heels. I just wanted to know whether they were stockings or tights. But when my hand wandered that way, she determinedly moved my hand up her body.

The meal was great, she had gone to a lot of trouble. She'd got smoked trout from the local smokery, and we talked about how I loved their foods and was waiting to try their new smoked venison. She had made a variation of chicken cordon bleu, and she had obviously taken her lessons from me, because she used ham from Jones, the grocers in the High Street that definitely sell the best choice of hams locally. She had made a cold Zabaglione for dessert, which really interested me. I asked which recipe she'd used, as I had one that used wine rather than Marsala, which I thought made a lighter cream, but no, she had used the Marsala that I kept in the cupboard. I told her that I usually only used that for Tiramisu, like the one she'd missed a couple of weeks ago. Mentioning that was probably a bit of a mistake, she seemed a bit upset that I did. However, she got the wines right, or pretty close and I was quite proud of what she'd managed.

Of course, I told her that she really needn't have done it. But I was pleased that she was back in my flat. And I kissed her. Again she wouldn't let me find out about the stockings. Maybe it was the wine, or the anticlimax after cooking such a meal, but she really seemed down afterwards. I thought she must be tired, so I suggested that we went to bed. But she didn't even seem very pleased at that suggestion, she made some comment about all I ever wanted was sex, which is true, but I didn't want it to show to the point of upsetting her.

All in all, the evening seemed to end a lot cooler than I hoped. But, there we are, that's women for you.

She was still fairly cool on the Wednesday. Tim was out all day, so I could afford to stop by her desk and chat for sometime, in safety. But, she was still cool, not hostile, but I felt there was an underlying feeling of being upset. I really did begin to think that she was heading to give me the big heave ho.

On the Thursday morning I was out at a client's. I didn't get back to the office until mid-afternoon. Tim put his head around my door and said "We're going for a drink after work."

"Are we?"

"Yes." And he disappeared. I wonder what was up. Obviously something important.

We went to the Black Swan, just for a change. After he'd bought the first round, and we were settled, I asked, "OK. Tim, what's this about?"

He looked at me, ignoring my question, before he eventually asked, "How's Davinia?"

"OK, as far as I know. She seems a bit off these last couple of days. Probably post play blues. I'm sure it'll pass. Why?"

He had been drinking while I answered, now he put his pint down, "You really are an Olympic standard blind shit, aren't you, Dave?"

"Where the fuck did that come from? I've done nothing, and certainly nothing as far as Dav is concerned, so you can lay off now." I drank some beer, but this conversation had a déjà vu quality to it.

"Davinia came round to our place on Sunday night. She wanted to chat. She knew that she'd given you a pretty rough time almost ever since you two got together, and she wanted to say sorry, buy you a present or something, and have a new start, now that the play was over and all that."

I listened, interested, "Well, she's got a pretty funny way of showing it, what with the mood she's in."

"No, you've got a pretty funny way of showing your appreciation. After talking to Beth rather than me, she decided on cooking you a really special meal, because we all know what a foodie you are."

A grey light of dawn was just beginning to show in my mind, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling, "Oh."

"She spent hours talking to Beth about the best local producers, and eventually she got to her menu." Tim seemed to be warming to his task.

"I think I know where this is going. You don't need to go through it step by step." I said, feeling guiltier by the minute.

"Oh, yes I do. I promised a tearful Davinia in my office this afternoon that I was going to make you suffer each and every mistake you made, and I'm starting now." And he smiled, he knew I understood, but this was something I was going to have to go through.

"She chose, on my wife's advice, some smoked trout from that smokery up the road, whatever they're called. But you spent your time telling her how much you really wanted to try their smoked venison. Right?"

"Yes, well..."

"And then she made chicken cordon bleu. She got Beth to get her the best organic chicken breasts Beth could find, and she picked them up off us on Tuesday. She went and bought some of the finest ham she could get around here. But that wasn't good enough for you, you decided to tell her how much better it would be if she'd used their honey and mustard baked ham. And then..."

"It's OK, I get the picture."

"...And then she made Zabaglione, but you told her that it would have been lighter if she'd used wine rather than Marsala. In fact you took the opportunity to rub her nose in the fact that she screwed up the other night and you threw away the last Marsala dish you'd made. And then we come to your review of her wine choices..."

"Enough already. I stuffed up. I understand. Thank you, Tim. Can I come down off the cross now, please?"

"In a minute. Seriously, the poor girl took long lunches on both Monday and Tuesday to dash around doing the shopping up to your standards. She had me spending an hour with her on Monday afternoon, choosing wines on the Internet, so that she could get those right. She even got me to let her go home at four o'clock on Tuesday and I had to promise not to let you find out."

Eventually he went quiet, and drank some of his beer.

I took the opportunity for my protest, "But she needn't have done any of it. All I ever wanted was for her to be there, and to be happy."

Tim looked at me, "Yes, you're right. She didn't have to do it for you. But she did have to do it for herself. Would you like my lecture on allowing people to show that they care, or can we take it as read?"

"OK. I think we've done that one."

I sat in silence, thinking. But then a plan came to mind. I looked up at Tim and gave him my best sheepish smile.

"I guess I'm going to have to buy a big bunch of flowers..."

"Flowers! Look Dave, you've been insensitive big time. You've stuffed up. Welcome to the real world, where us real men live, trying to keep a relationship with our women. It's bloody difficult, we all get it wrong sometimes. But you've got to learn to judge the apology level a bit better than just a bunch of flowers every time."

"Chocolates, then?" I was beginning to enjoy this.

"No, not chocolates. Well maybe flowers and chocolates and a dinner out, the Lobster Pot say. That's always a good bet." He picked up his drink.

"No, chocolates. I betcha she'll be all smiles for a box of chocolates."

"You're a fool. You'd better have a big surprise up your sleeve after you fail with the chocolates, because you're going to need it. But, OK, what's it worth?"

"Champagne."

"OK, you're on. If Davinia can say that everything's rosy after you've given her a box of chocolates, then I'll buy the Champagne."

"Right, and I'll by the second round of beer, right now." I got up and went to the bar. When I returned I'd thought things through a little more, "Is it alright if Dav and myself leave early on Friday."

Tim looked at me, "Yes. Sure. Actually I'm not in on Friday afternoon, so it won't make much difference to me. Why?"

"Because we'll need some time to choose the Champagne." I smiled.

I spent nearly two hours on the Internet that evening. And as soon as Davinia came in, I went to see her, but only to check what time Tim was leaving for the day. At about twelve o'clock, I was told. He needed to be on the twelve thirty train for London.

At twelve thirty I was back in Davinia's office. "Come on, pack up, I want to take you to lunch."

"I can't just drop everything to go to lunch with you, just because you want to, so why?" she was still being a bit sullen with me.

"Because I can't tell you here how sorry I am that I didn't show my appreciation for that wonderful dinner you cooked on Tuesday." She began to smile, "And to give you a chance to go home and pack a weekend suitcase, so that we can leave straight from here by three o'clock."

Now she was curious, "Where are you taking me, and I can't leave early, not without clearing it with Tim."

"I've already cleared it, and we've got to be in London, at Waterloo actually, by five-ish. To catch the train to Brussels for the weekend."

"Oh, Dave." And for the first time, she came and gave me a full, passionate kiss in the office, and she bent her leg behind her just like that first time in my kitchen.

"Well, I did promise to make your wish come true. In bed with Champagne and Belgian Chocolates. Well, where better to buy Belgian Chocolates than Brussels. I believe Pierre Marcolini is the best, but we could try two or three chocolatiers, and make up our own mind."

"Don't start telling me that I've chosen the wrong one, or you're on very thin ice, Dave Finch." she said, and kissed me again.

"Oh and by the way, I was wondering if, on Monday, you could just limit your explanation to Tim about what we did this weekend to the fact that I bought you a box of chocolates. It's important to him to believe that a girl will forgive us men just for some chocolate...."

And so we had a wonderful weekend. And she drank Champagne and ate chocolate in bed with me. In fact, at one point, I was lying on my back with her sitting astride me, with my cock well inside her pussy when she did.

On the Monday, I made a point of being in Tim's office, talking to him about project work when Dav got in. He had asked how the weekend had gone, but I just told him that he would have to wait to ask Davinia, as he wouldn't believe me.

When Davinia did arrive, she put her head around the door, "Do either of you two want a coffee?"

Tim waved her in, "Dave won't tell me, so how was your weekend?"

As rehearsed, Davinia came and stood behind me, and put her hands around my shoulders, "It was great. Thank you, Tim, for having a word with Dave. He bought me such a wonderful box of chocolates."

Tim smiled, "I'm being had here. OK. If I accept that it's going to cost me a bottle of Champagne, will you two stop playing silly lovers' games, and tell me what you did."

I looked up at Davinia, she looked at me, I nodded my head, as much as I was able, to tell her to go ahead, "I told you, Dave bought me a lovely box of Belgian Chocolates. But I will admit he let me choose them myself, at the chocolatier in the Place du Grand Sablon in Brussels."

It took Tim a couple of seconds to compute, and then he registered. "I knew I'd been had! I demand a referee's decision."

"Tell you what," I intervened, "If you supply the Champagne, I'll cook a meal that warrants Champagne with every course, for the four of us. It's only fair, this all started with a home cooked meal, it should end in one."

"Sounds good to me," Tim smiled, "Tell you what. You can choose the different Champagnes, but I will pay for them."

"Done."

Davinia leant over and kissed the top of my head. Things were good in my world.

As I came out of Tim's office, I invited Davinia to go out to eat that evening. I already had a sixth sense that she wouldn't be staying the night, so a meal together was the best I could hope for. We agreed I would pick her up at her parent's house.