Caricature Valentines

"What, the old barn?" I asked, and she nodded. "I've been to the farm shop and cafe there in the converted stables. The kids love the playground by the Sang land countryside walk behind the old farm. Come to think of it, I've definitely seen the signs for the pre-school. How many children do you have there?"

"We have 72 registered, but since lockdown, some only come two or three days a week, or even only half days. We have to be flexible, but parents need to book their slots so we have the staff mustered each day to cover and remain legal. I tend to float and jump in where needed."

Then my phone beeped again.

"Excuse me, just want to get this message," I said and picked up the phone. The time read '19:28'. Lydia had sent another message rather than bother to ring me.

'Sorry hon, mor alts 2 docs - getg pizza. Back v l8 XXX'

I turned to the woman, "Lydia, that's my dear wife of ten years, she's not going to make it tonight and has ordered pizza at work, apparently."

"Oh, that's a shame, you got her a card and ... is that a bottle?"

"Well, it's a special occasion, and we missed each other in passing this morning. It's not a bottle in the bottle bag, it's a novelty vintage tin can. It looks like a 1950s can of peaches, only it is empty and has a removable lid so you can use it for storing things in." I prattled on, "It comes as a set of six cans, all different labels, but I only brought one of them along to present to her."

"Oh, that's a nice thoughtful idea, fits in perfectly with the Tin anniversary theme."

"I thought so, um," I realised I'd been prattling on and not introduced myself. "Sorry, very rude of me, tossing around my wife and children's names willy nilly and not even introduced myself. My friends call me Ken." I held out my hand and accompanied it with a sheepish smile.

The tables were so close together that she didn't even need to lean across to gently shake my offered hand. She smiled much more enthusiastically and much more beautifully than I could ever do.

"My friends call me Lottie but you can call me ... Lottie!" She giggled, "Sorry, when you said 'my friends call me' I couldn't resist."

I,laughed with her. She had a nice giggle.

"Well, my birth name is Mackenzie, it was a name my mother liked, as one of her brothers had it as a middle name, but when I was in school, the name cropped up in a couple of American children's tv shows that were popular at the time and was always used as a girl's name. I hated my name being contracted to Mac, so I always preferred Kenzie as a kid. As I aged into my late teen years I thought Kenzie sounded juvenile, so I asked my friends to call me Ken instead. My oldest and best friend, Tom, who I went to school with, still calls me Kenz for most of the time that we get together."

"I see, well, by explanation I'm really Charlotte, but have always been called Lottie. I like it and it goes so well with my married name, Lottie Langston. It goes so well, that I kept the name even after letting the ex-husband go."

"Was he blind or simply stupid?" I blurted out without thinking.

Without blinking on her part she replied, "Stupid, definitely stupid. He cheated and thought he was entitled to cheat and get away with it, the pompous immature arse."

"I agree he was very stupid. I can't abide cheats and liars. I think for a marriage to work there has to be complete honesty," I said, adding, "as soon as I blurted out 'blind and stupid', I realised that that comment could've been interpreted, well, a lot differently, sorry."

She giggled, "I think I am a good judge of character, with one notable exception you now know about, of course, but you seem a nice person and I interpreted what you said in the meaning that it was complimentary rather than derogatory and did not give any hint that you were, well that you have or had an agenda. You are, after all. Ken, waiting for your wife to get here any moment in a romantic dining room on the most romantic night of the year, apparently."

"I was, but now my wife's no show and I don't really have much of an appetite anymore."

"But you were perusing the menu just now, weren't you?"

"Yes, I was, possibly contemplating having a starter. I mean the food here is delicious and I thought that I could manage something light. What about you, is it your boyfriend or fiancé also running late?"

"The food here is good, I should know, I worked in the kitchens her while studies for my education degree and masters. No boyfriend, fiancé or husband, I'm afraid. Single girl, divorcee, as I said, and never made it beyond ... leather. Three and a bit years, not that I'm bitter, I'm actually well out of it. Tonight? St Valentines Day? Blind date, with someone I've never ever met before. My sister persuaded me that it was time to get back in the saddle, re dating and they set me up."

"They? So you've not dated since your husband or rather ex- was caught?"

"My sister and my mother-in-law actually. And my ex- was comprehensively caught red-handed, was immediately ejected from the house and within six months I had the house free and clear of his imput and without having to share my business but I allowed him to hold onto his business."

"You had a good pre-nup, then?"

"No, it turned out that I was the blind and stupid ever-trusting one in our relationship, so no handy pre-nup in place, but I did have video and voice recorded evidence of his cheating," Lottie then laughed, "Both Rory's business practice and my pre-school were largely financed by his Mummy, he's an only son and his mother is comfortably rich. Anyway, ever since I was introduced to his mother, who holds the purse strings and wears the trousers in her second marriage to her very sweet second husband, has regarded me as a daughter, even after the divorce. She thinks we split up on amicable terms, and she blames herself for Rory's general immaturity and has continued her support for me. Although I have increased the level of payments for the last three years, just in case. My business income did dip during lockdown, but I was helped by Government furlough payments and a couple of local government grants to take on more children from essential services. And when the publicity went out that we were taking in children from nurses, doctors and hospital staff, the donations we usually get from local supermarkets and the local public went up, too."

"So, what was your ex's business, the one that you left alone?" I felt I had to ask.

"Dentist. Costs a fortune buying into a successful practice and Rory is handsome and charming on the surface, and he had money, which opens the right doors. Once he'd bought into a good practice with Mummy's money, I think he felt that intimately intruding into attractive and trusting women's mouths was also an invitation to intrude a little further, need I say more?"

"Oh, my god, he was ... with his patients?"

"At least three of them, I got the videos, the telephone taps, even their history of appointments at the surgery plus the subsequent hotel room receipts and he got the tee shirt to go with it," she smiled. "Actually, I got the tee shirt and every other shirt off his back too, his worries were about the reputation of his business and dental practice partners as much as the wrath of his mother."

"That is horrendous," I said, shocked, "I'm surprised you're even dating, I'm sure it would put me off relationships forever."

"My sister and mother-in-law insisted, as it has been three years since the divorce. They were very persuasive in this instance."

"At least this is a safe crowded place to meet a stranger."

"Yes, I come here to eat a lot."

"Alone?"

"Mostly, although my sister sits with me a lot, occasionally my parents, and more recently, my mother-in-law has reacquainted herself with the place."

"Well, I don't think much of your blind date, he must be bonkers to shrug off such pleasant and beautiful company. Perhaps he has sent you a message or apology?"

"My phone hasn't beeped all evening. Look, Ken, I know you were going to have a starter, I'm actually starving, my first time out on a date in three years and I couldn't touch a morsel at lunchtime."

"Not even tea and bickies when the babies got their heads down?"

"No, not even then, I was far too nervous, but, well, you seem a nice married bloke, with no obvious agenda, and I see the maître d is fending off another couple at the door who haven't booked ... perhaps we could share one table between us and leave the other free for a couple to celebrate their romance dinner?"

"Well, as it looks like Lydia is having pizza and not coming home until late ..."

"And the kids are at the grandparents you said, so we could carry on this entertaining conversation and enjoy some nice food, and also do the right thing for a romantic couple who might otherwise be turned away because the inn is full tonight."

"It is a night for lovers, so yes, we could share and free up a table. Shall I move to your table?"

"Why don't I move to yours? If your wife did show up, you would see her coming and give me a head's up so I could get my handbag ready in case we come to blows." She laughed at the thought and so did I.

As Lottie spoke she stood up and waved to the maître d and signed with limited hand movements that she was moving to my table. The maître d waved and nodded his understanding back in return, before turning to the new arrivals, an older couple, and collected a couple of menus before steering them in our direction. I moved the bottle bag and card envelope, that was in the place setting opposite, to the floor by the right of my chair out of harm's way.

"I am sure it wouldn't come to blows, Lottie."

"Is she not the jealous type, Ken?"

"In other circumstances possibly, but like you but obviously well before your time, she used to work here as a waitress, and well known to the owners and their kids working here. So seeing me sitting with another woman on our usual table booked in our names, knowing that she was expected at any time after 1900 hours would clearly not be an assignation on my part, I'm sure she would see it as it is, a chance meeting in all innocence and a sensible sharing arrangement to everyone's advantage."

"She must be an understanding woman, your wife," she said as slipped her coat over her chair and seated herself in what would've been my chair if Lydia was here. I noticed she hadn't brought a drink with her.

"I have a bottle of chianti here, which I will not finish on my own as I am driving. So, could I tempt you to join me in a glass?"

"That's very kind of you, Ken, thank you. It's nice to know that there are still gentlemen around. I wasn't sure what my date would want to drink, so I waited before ordering."

"No need to wait any longer and, as my guest at my table, I want you to know that I have already settled the bill beforehand in anticipation, so you can have whatever you like on the menu, it's on me."

"That is most kind, Ken, your wife is a very lucky woman."

"You'd have to tell her that."

"I will indeed, if she comes," she grinned in reply.

As I poured the wine for Lottie and topped up my own glass, the couple who had tecently arrived at the front were led by the maître d to Lottie's now vacated table. They were a much older couple than us, not that we were a couple, and I estimated they were in their sixties or even seventies. I warned Lottie of their approach, she simply smiled in response. I thought that Rory was an idiot for losing this girl, in fact any person who cheated was an idiot in my book. If a relationship wasn't working, then surely you discuss the problems and work it out together and, if an end was the only solution, you finish it together. And as for Mr Blind Date, he was a fool for not taking a chance on this woman, especially if her mother and sister were equally or even half as beautiful.

As the older woman passed between us to reach the seat by the radiator, I could smell her perfume, an older, sort of familiar scent, although I had no way of knowing what it was. Probably something classy like Chanel as far as I knew, it certainly smelled as though it should be expensive.

The maître d lit their candle first, then turned, hesitated at ours and looked at me with raised eyebrows. I nodded, he lit the candle and departed.

Looking up I could see Lottie more clearly in the gentle flickering light than the sideways glances I'd been forced by our seating positions to point in her direction. The dark, soft ringlet curls hung down to bounce on her shoulders, perfectly framing her beautiful face, her features even, her eyes dark brown pools surround by the clear whites of her scleras, her lashes long and dark under thin arched eyebrows, her lips full and red. She looked up and smiled, revealing a slight dimple on her left cheek, her right cheek, on my left hidden by a bouncing curl.

I could hear the rustle of my new neighbour to my left as she wriggled in her seat to slough off the winter coat by removing her arms from the sleeves and allowing the coat to casually drape across the back of the chair inside out.

As she wriggled to seat herself more comfortably, she leaned across to me and said, "Thank you my dears, for making room for us. Henry was sure he had booked weeks ago but they didn't find our email until they checked the er ... what was it dear?" She addressed her husband opposite.

He looked older than the fleeting image I had of his wife as they had approached. His face was long and thin, much wrinkled and tanned as if he worked outside a lot, or was a keen gardener.

"Junk file, sweet'eart," he said, "though I was sure I had a confirmation by return. Gettin' here ten minutes early, it's been no problem."

While Pat's accent was that of a duchess or at least a lady, Henry was no lord. I had been born and raised in this mixed urban and semi-rural town and district and his accent was local and with more hint of rural than urban.

The woman turned back to me, "We saw the maître d look your way as we arrived and as Henry told him our names, I looked around and idly wondered why you were singles sitting next to each other at separate tables on this traditionally romantic night, but when your young lady got up and moved across, suddenly your table was available. Most fortunate for us. Anyway, thank you most sincerely. I'm Pat by the way and my husband is Henry, we're celebrating our 46th tonight, what about you two, are you celebrating anything special?"

She spoke with a cut-glass accent that seemed assuredly genuine rather than a put-on 'phone answering voice'. She looked regal too, to match the accent, age uncertain, but must be at least mid-60s I thought, a lot younger than hubby Henry. Her features were open, with high cheekbones and sparkling intelligent eyes that had that glint of joy and, I dare say mischief, in them. She carried that timeless classic beauty that endures in so few woman of age, like certain Hollywood or London theatre actresses that can perform as convincing 30-year-olds while celebrating careers (or marriages for that matter) that exceeded four decades.

Lottie, spoke up before I had a chance to marshal my own thoughts to mangle a strangled reply.

"We're Ken and Lottie, Pat, Henry, it's so lovely to see you here. Forty-six years, eh! How wonderful that must be! Now, Ken and I are actually strangers who've met for the very first time tonight, our acquaintance is less than an hour, more like 46 minutes than years at a guess, but I think we're fast becoming friends, we've had a lovely conversation, and Ken is such a sweet gentleman for company. Ken's wife of ten years, Lydia, was due to share his table tonight for their tin anniversary but is running late; she works long hours as a lawyer, a junior partner in her firm no less, and has just declared by phone message that she's settling for a pizza at work. I mean, honestly, pizza from a box when she could have dined in the best family restaurant in this town, what was she thinking? As for me, Pat, I'm presently single, my blind date is still wearing blinkers and probably stumbling around in the dark somewhere and is so far no show. I've been abandoned in my prime. So Ken very kindly invited me to join him to free up that table and he's even sharing his tipple with me. Isn't that nice of him?"

Pat turned back from Lottie to look at me. "Lottie's absolutely right, you are a gentleman, Ken, a rare gem in these days and, if your wife prefers work over celebrating such an important date in the calendar with the most important man in her life, then there must be a sensible reason. Is she defending an innocent person whose life-long liberty is in jeopardy?"

I had to chuckle. She was right. I was in too silly and unreasonable a situation to make any sense of it. And I thought, 'Why should I make excuses?'

"She's a corporate lawyer, actually, if you pardon my language, she's cum-sucking lawyer, no less and what she is doing to me, our children and our marriage is unreasonable to the point where I have no intention of enduring another minute, let alone another 36 years."

Pat reached out a hand and squeezed my lower left arm. I looked down and realised I had tightly clenched my fists on the table in front of me. Lottie leaned towards me and moved both her hands to comfortingly wrap around my right fist.

"No apologies for expressing heartfelt passion and anguish, my dear," Pat cooed gently in my ear, so close I could feel her breath. "Lydia is a foolish woman, when the jeopardy in question is her own marriage."

I relaxed my fists and released the tension on in my spine and let out the breath I was holding. My eyes were brimming with tears and I think the tension that had been building all day, was venting and I was feeling better.

"What's going on, Ken?" came a voice from above that I instantly recognised without clearing the blurring tears.

I lifted my head and blinked away the tears, to see my wife Lydia standing slightly behind and to the right side of Lottie and glaring down at the table at me holding hands with two women. Although I had unclenched my fists, I felt Lottie and Pat were still holding on.

"Oh, hi, hon, you actually made it and only an hour or so late," I said, "I have an anniversary gift here for you, but I have my hands full at the minute."

"I can see that!" she snapped, "I came home early after getting a call from Mum, the kids wanted to say goodnight and then said you were here for our ..." She hesitated. "Lady Patricia? W-what are you doing here and why are you holding my Ken's hand?"

"Hello, Lydia, dear, long time no see, how have you been keeping?" Pat smiled up at her, "Smart business suit, dear, come straight from work have we?"

"Er, yes, I tried to get home and change but something's wrong with my key. How are you and, oh, hello, Mr Langston, didn't see you there."

"Hello, Lydia," Henry smiled up at her.

Then Lydia noticed Lottie sitting opposite me.

"Lottie? What the fuck!?"

"Hello, Lyddie, haven't had the pleasure to meet your husband before," Lottie looked up at her briefly before she switched her attention back to me, beamed me one of her lovely smiles and squeezed my hand. "I think he is very sweet and, with or without your permission, Lyd, I'd like to get to know him better, a whole lot better."

Lydia stood there as if in shock.

"If you want your prezzies," I said to Lydia, "well, a prezzie and an envelope, you'll have to pick them up. They're down here by my chair. My hands are full of Lottie and er, is that Lady Patricia and Lord Henry?"

"Lady Patricia Langston, dear boy," Pat said, now holding my left hand with her left, and patting my forearm with her right, "I'm Rory's mother, Lottie's mother-in-law, but I truly regard her as my only daughter and want her to be happy, as she obviously deserves to be. As for my sweetheart Henry, he's—"