The Office Party

Part 24

I push Diana's wine across the table, and slide onto the bench on the other side from her. She's still taking in the décor, the upholstery, the layout of the pub. There are people in all the booths – we were lucky to get ours – and a few sitting on the tables in the middle. A few of the regulars are propping up the bar, and there's a couple of clumps of after-work office workers caught in that strange time between going out from work and staying out all night.

I tap the back of Diana's hand and look pointedly at her wine. 'Listen. That's the best they have, which I think is similar to what you had before and the best I can do. I'm sorry. It'll be a bit rough, by comparison.'

Diana turns her hand over and slowly and deliberately trails her fingers up the palm of my hand and along my fingers. She turns the gesture into holding the stem of her glass and meets my eyes over the glass. I try to hide how unexpectedly arousing it is to feel her touch my hand. It's also surprising how such a simple gesture can be so telling: because she did it slowly and deliberately, I realise she's using it to tell me something – that she likes me, that this isn't just a friendly drink after work, that this is the start of something. I like it. I feel the same sense of anticipation I got when she and I were checking each other out at that first party, before I really knew what she was like – the slight sense that if I let her into my life, my life will never be the same again. For the first time since learning who she is and how she is normally, I feel confident that this nonetheless might be worth trying.

She looks quite serious, but there's a certain lightness in her eyes. 'Thank you, Fiona.' She swills the glass quickly and sniffs, then drinks. Then she smiles. 'Hmm. Actually, that's quite acceptable.' She sniffs and tastes again. 'Pinot noir, New World, probably an ex-colony. Nice. Richer than I always expect. If I had to guess, I'd say...' Another sniff and taste. More taste than sniff now, truth be told. 'If I had to say, I'd go with Australia, but can't get closer than that. I'm not good on New World wines.'

I am impressed. I had to make sure Lizzie showed me the label, and I gave no clues while Diana was guessing. The fact she narrowed it down to the grape and the country makes me a little bit intimidated again, but mainly fascinated at knowing how she did it. I tell her the name of the wine, and she nods in satisfaction. 'One day,' I say, 'you have to show me how to do that.'

'There's no great secret,' she answers, grinning. 'Just trying a lot of wine, that's all.' She holds my eye for a second. 'But we can do that together, if you like.'

My heart skips a beat. With the little hand stroke and now this, Diana is trying to make her interest clear. And she's saying she wants to spend time with me, as a person, doing something that's a hobby, an interest, a part of her life, something that's part of her outside work. In a way, I think, she's inviting me to share parts of her that her normal conquests don't. (Or that I presume they don't.) I'm touched, and excited at the same time. This is what I want, what I've always wanted from her, and although I'm not sure she quite realises what it might mean for her, I'm glad that she wants to try. She's welcome to share my life, in fact I want her in it all the time; I want to be equally welcome in hers.

'That would be nice, Diana. I'll hold you to that.' We hold each other's gaze and enjoy the little moment of shared silence.

***

When the moment breaks, we return to talking about food and drink for a while – about wine and cider, tea and coffee, about making cakes and baking, about cooking for pleasure. We talk about eating abroad, and I make the mistake of trying to convince her about something I'd eaten once on holiday in France. I can tell she's not sold on the idea at all.

'Tell me, Fiona,' she asks, and I can tell she wants to keep the topic of conversation but move it away from the rut I've got us into. The way she pauses and holds my gaze before she asks her question makes me feel slightly like I'm in the witness box. 'What would you cook to impress someone?'

I'm caught slightly off-guard. I blow my breath out quickly. 'Ummm, god. Hmmm.'

Diana smiles and holds up her hand. 'Very well, that was mean. Let's say, what's your favourite meal to cook?' She holds my gaze again, slightly meaningfully, I think. 'For someone else.'

I think quickly. She's put me on the spot a bit. If I had to cook for someone special, I'd probably spend days worrying about it, trying out different recipes in my head, fretting and swinging back and forth between temporary certainties. A bit like trying to dress to turn Diana on, I think with a little smile to myself, remembering that meeting we were both in, back in the early days.

She sees me smile. 'What's tickling you now?'

I wave airily. 'Oh nothing. Well, I'll tell you sometime, but not now. An irrelevant thought.' I think about cooking again and decide I'm just going to have to go with a meal I can do in my sleep and I know works. 'Um, well now. I'd do three courses. Seafood to start, prawns in garlic on toast, or scallops, something like that, with a simple salad. For the main, I think something pretty straightforward but tasty like steak. Or no, I know: chicken thighs in a creamy mushroom sauce. Yes. With sauté potatoes and lightly wilted greens.' I grin at her. 'I sound like a restaurant menu now, don't I?' She smiles and shakes her head. I carry on. 'Chocolate mousse to finish. Cheese, if you're still hungry.' I sit back and sip my cider. I realise I've said "you're" by accident, betraying the fact that I'm assuming it's Diana I'd be cooking for, but decide I don't care.

Diana smiles. 'That sounds delicious. You would definitely impress me with that.'

I smile. She was assuming the same thing, which makes me feel happy. 'What wine would we have?'

She purses her lips. 'Good question. But I'm sure we could find something. If the mushrooms weren't those bland ones you normally get, you know? If they were a bit earthier, you could even try a red with the chicken. That would be interesting, wouldn't it?'

I laugh lightly. 'For someone who obviously knows about and appreciates food and wine and how they go together and all that sort of thing, why do you feel you can't cook?'

She shrugs. She doesn't seem too put out. 'I could never be bothered to do it properly. I don't have the patience. And when I do try, it never tastes as good as I want it to, so it's always more enjoyable to take advantage of other people's superior abilities.'

I smile. I know she doesn't mean that in a nasty way particularly. I know as well that I would always find cooking for someone else a pleasure, especially if it was someone important to me, like Diana. 'We should take advantage of each other, then, at some point.' I know that sounds like a sexual invitation as well, but I don't think that matters, in the circumstances. She starts to smile and I grin at the glint in her eye. 'I'll cook, and you can look after the drinks.'

'We should.' She smiles. 'That would be fun.'

There's another little quiet moment, when we just smile at each other. My word, but we're getting on well, I think.

I sit back and cross my legs again. 'So, Diana. This after-dinner speech. What are you worried about?'

She looks at our glasses, both of which are getting low. She holds up a finger, and reaches for her purse. 'In a second. My round, first.' She slides a note over the table. 'You've got younger legs than me, and I'm comfortable here. Can you get us the same again?'

I giggle, and go back to the bar.