Diana looks at me thoughtfully as she drinks some more of her wine. I wonder if she looks at opposing solicitors and people like that in the same disconcerting way, or if she keeps it for pretty colleagues. 'Do you cook a lot?'
The question surprises me. Why would she care? 'Um. Yes, I suppose. I quite like making an effort now and then, and my housemate always seems happy to eat it. And wash up afterwards, which is nice of her. I hate washing up.'
Diana shifts in the chair and crosses her legs, then winces. She sees me start to smile, and frowns. 'What?'
'I tried that as well.' I glance down, and notice incidentally that she's wearing a nice pair of new boots. 'Crossing my legs, I mean. Didn't work for me, either.'
Diana sits up straight again and sighs impatiently. 'No. Not in these chairs.' She glances around, then almost makes as if to peer at the chair underneath her. 'What kind of weird-shit drugs was the designer on?'
I actually have to stifle a giggle, and like the cheeky way Diana grins at my reaction. There's a tiny tiny moment where our gaze holds. And then it passes, just as I begin to think something nice is beginning to happen. I take a moment or two to think of something to take the conversation forwards – or elsewhere, at least. 'Nice boots. They look new?'
She looks at me with a mixture of amusement and mild surprise. 'They are. Reasonably new. Well spotted. And thanks.'
I shrug. 'I like a nice boot. I have way more than I need, at home.' I look at them again. 'That colour suits you, you know. I noticed it ages ago, with that pair you had on when we...' I break off, not quite sure how to say it. She raises an eyebrow, and makes me carry on. I drop my voice. 'When we first kissed. That day, at that godawful office party.'
She looks at me for a second or two. 'I'd have to take your word for that, Fiona. I'm surprised you remember. Impressed, but surprised.'
There's a silence, which is not quite awkward, but needs to be broken fairly quickly. I've reintroduced the idea of us kissing, and that means we have to address at some point what the kiss was or wasn't, and what it might be or lead to in the future, if I'm mentioning it again. I wonder if I could ever explain how every detail of that first office party is etched indelibly into my memory.
Diana recovers first. 'Did you not enjoy it, then? I always quite like those little get-togethers.'
I blush and realise Diana, being on the executive board, is probably partly responsible for them. 'I'm sorry. I mean, it's a nice idea, it really is. But I'm just not really very good at that sort of thing. If I like a colleague enough to want to talk to them about non-work stuff and want to socialise with them, I'll do it in a social setting, if you see what I mean.' I fiddle with my wine glass. 'I'm sorry. Was it your idea?'
Diana smiles. 'Not just mine.' She waits for me to look at her again. 'I don't mind if you're not so keen on them, half the people in the office steer clear of them. Your friend, Michelle, for example.'
I drink some more wine. 'I always seem to end up drinking too much. Well, at the two I've been to so far. I was pretty tipsy by the time you met me. That's partly why I was in that cubicle when you came in. I was trying to clear my head.'
Diana drinks carefully, and scratches her nose. 'Hmm, yes. That was embarrassing.'
I'm surprised she remembers. 'Me overhearing you, you mean? It was awkward for a bit but then I thought, well, I've just got to make a dash for it.' I grin at her, and like the way we're starting to talk about things. I suppose there is something between us that keeps her coming to talk to me, and keeps me welcoming it – and it's good to start acknowledging it to each other. Even so, I'm glad she seems a bit uncomfortable. 'Your face was a picture, I have to say, when you saw me emerge.'
'Yes, well. Like I say...'
I touch her hand briefly and keep grinning. 'It's fine. You were right, anyway, what you said to HR Helen. I had been flirting with you all afternoon.' I take my hand away. 'And you were quite nice about my appearance, even if it did come out sounding a bit impersonal.'
'Was I?' Diana looks at me seriously for a second. 'Well, you're a very attractive woman, Fiona.'
'Thanks.' The compliment doesn't sound quite right, impersonal in a different way now, but I'll go with it.
Diana is quietly thoughtful for a moment, perhaps trying to remember the conversation. She looks at me with her head on one side. 'Helen said something about it...you're a SUCer, aren't you?' The waiter is passing at that moment, and he shoots us a shocked look. I giggle and Diana smiles, as we know he will have heard “you're a sucker, aren't you?”. Diana reaches out and pats his arm gently. 'Sorry, young man. S-U-C, St Ursula's College.' She waves at me. 'It turns out we went to the same college at the same university. The alumnae are informally known as SUCers.'
The waiter drifts off looking dubious. I say, 'Yes. German and Economics, I graduated in the Summer.'
Diana nods. 'PPE. A bit before your time. It'll be 25 years since I graduated, this Summer.' She drinks a bit then fiddles with her wine glass stem. 'Have you had a letter about the dinner?'
'Pardon?' I have no idea what she means.
'The SUCers Dinner? They write to every old girl.'
I shake my head. 'I'm not in the association or anything. If something comes with the crest on it, I just assume it's a fundraising thing or something and chuck it. When I'm rich, I'll think about giving them some money.'
Diana nods, then smiles. 'You won't have seen who's the speaker this year, then?'
I shrug. The Guest of Honour's always an old girl who's made something impressive of her life, who sings for her supper by giving an inspiring speech to the current students over the cheeseboard. In my first year, we had a moderately well-known novelist – she was good, but I didn't bother going again in subsequent years. Diana stays quiet, and a thought occurs to me. 'Shit. It's you, isn't it?'
She grins. 'I've always wanted to be asked. With it being our 25 years, I was convinced it would be that dreadful little MP, the one who's some sort of minister for something. You know? She must be the most famous one out of all of us.' She watches me nod in recognition, then carries on. 'She was in our year. She was an obnoxious little bitch then, and I imagine she's only got worse since going into politics.' She smiles again. 'But no, they've asked me.'
'Congratulations. It's a bit of an honour.'
'It is.' Diana swirls her wine thoughtfully and I wonder if I am a lucky girl to see her feel humbled. She definitely looks a bit uncertain about things, which must be a first. 'I need your help, Fiona.' I stay quiet and let her say what she needs to say. 'What the hell am I supposed to say to these people? What can I give them, that they haven't heard many times before? Why have they asked me?'
The wine is getting a bit low in our glasses. I have a nasty suspicion that Diana has just opened up a whole new angle of conversation, that could last a while. I want to pursue it, but the funky chairs in the wine bar are really getting on my nerves. 'Do you really want me to answer that? Here and now?'
Diana notices our almost empty glasses and reaches for the menu. I touch her hand and waggle my eyebrows at her chair, and she nods curtly. 'Smile at the waiter, we need to pay and go.'
'Why me?'
'He's been checking you out. I'll pay, it's fine.'
I glance over and the waiter starts up. I wave a hand to suggest paying and he nods. Diana and I gather ourselves together, ready to go.
When the waiter brings the bill to our table, Diana is already halfway out of her seat. She slips him a twenty-pound note. 'Get your boss to put the change towards some new chairs, that people might want to actually sit on.'