Chapter 2: Thank You

On the Monday of the week after the party, Chris appeared at the door to Section 2 and asked to visit David. Security refused to allow him in to the building because he was not cleared to know what was done there. “I can telephone him from here and tell him you are here,” said the guard on duty, “but I’ll only do that because I know what happened last weekend.” Then he picked up the desk ‘phone and pressed one button. When he got an answer he said, “Sorry to trouble you sir, but I have Mr. Harris from Section 4 asking to see you.”

...

“He’s the young man who had the problem at the party, sir.”

...

Putting the ‘phone down the guard said, “He’s coming through. You can wait over there.”

Not long after that the inner door opened and David came through. “You wanted to see me?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Chris said nervously, “I wanted to thank you personally for your prompt help last Friday. The medics said you may well have saved my life.”

“Nonsense,” came the reply, “I just put you in the recovery position.”

“A little more than that, they told me. They said you stopped me swallowing my own tongue, which could have killed me in a matter of seconds.”

“Minutes, at the fastest, and it rarely happens, I was told. If you Google it you will see the figures.”

“In any case, my wife and I would like to take you out for a meal to thank you. What is your favourite restaurant?” Chris asked.

“Well it’s the Lisboa, but it is rather expensive...”

Chris interrupted him, “That doesn’t matter. And please bring your wife.”

“Oh, you don’t know? My wife died a year and a half ago of breast cancer and I have not remarried, nor do I have a real girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, I didn’t know about your wife. Would Wednesday be suitable?” Chris blundered on.

David sighed, “Yes, I suppose so, but if you want to get a decent table at short notice I suggest you book it in my name. They get very busy.”

Chris discovered how busy when he rang the restaurant that evening and was told no vacancies for two weeks. However when he said they were entertaining Mr. David Ransome suddenly a table vacancy appeared as if by magic. When they asked for how many he had a brainwave and remembered the pretty young programmer from Section 2 who had been trailing round after David at the Christmas Party and said, “Four please.”

It wasn’t difficult to find the girl’s name the next day when he was in the office and an internal ‘phone call to Phoebe confirmed that she would be delighted to make up the foursome for dinner the following day.

David had carefully formulated a plan for the dinner at the Lisboa restaurant. He would eat well, and encourage the young couple to do the same; then when the bill, which he estimated at about a hundred pounds plus tip, arrived he would put it on his own account. The couple’s reaction to that would determine his actions from there on. If it seemed that they, and especially Gillian, were submissive, whether to him or to his job being much senior to Chris’s then he would leave an opening for further progress. If they were not then he would at least have had the pleasure of not eating dinner alone for once.

As with all the best laid plans, it went wrong the moment he arrived at the restaurant, some five minutes before the appointed time, just as Chris and Gillian arrived, only to be shown to a table where Phoebe was already sitting. His response to her presence was to sit on the opposite side of the table, and to gesture to Chris to sit beside Phoebe which left him next to Gillian.

Menus were handed to each of them, and drink orders were invited. David took control experimentally at this point, saying, “We’ll order the wine when we have decided what each of us is eating, thank you.” Nobody contradicted him, and the three youngsters started to read the menus in some detail.

“The specialities of the restaurant are espetadas and fish,” David explained.

“Pardon my ignorance, but what are espetatos?” mispronounced Gillian.

David started to turn the pages in her menu until he reached the page where they were listed. Then taking her hand, to which she offered no resistance, he pointed out the hooks above their table, and over a table some distance away where a diner was enjoying this Portuguese special kebab dish which hung over the middle of the tables.

Phoebe broke in at this point and said, “Did you say that they do good fish dishes here?”

“Yes,” David replied, “I can recommend the Caldeirada especially.” Actually he had never had it, but was curious to see one. I don’t care how she butted in but as she’s here I’ll use her as an experimental animal to try it.