Circles - Chapter 3

 

Chapter 3

 

 

 

Robert carefully selected a suit from the wardrobe. On their only other meeting, Stella had seen him dressed casually. Today he was out to impress her. The expensive tailored suit, blue striped shirt and navy loafers gave him a smart, yet not too formal image. He was pleased with the effect it created.

        He pulled nervously on the cigarette, his eyes continually searching for her. He had arrived a little early. He flicked the butt away and ran his hands down the jacket when at last he saw her walking briskly towards him.

        Stella was wearing a three-quarter length navy blue coat; the stylish cut hugged her figure closely. She spotted Robert and smiled in acknowledgement. As she stopped in front of him, Robert greeted her with a light peck on the cheek. Her face was still warm, despite the cold November wind.

         “I thought we’d go to L’escargot,” he said, taking her arm and leading her away.

        She gazed up at him doubtfully, “I’ve heard it’s very expensive.”

         “I’m sure you’re worth every penny.”

         “I’m so honoured,” she chuckled and held him closer.

 

 

 

The restaurant was one of the most popular places in Oxford. The number of BMWs, Mercedes and prestige cars parked outside bore testament to its expense. As they approached the entrance, two young businessmen appeared in designer suits; both carried the obligatory portable telephones, not that they looked very portable, thought Stella as she glanced at Robert.

        “We can go somewhere else if you like,” she offered. “This place must cost a bomb.”

        Robert ushered her through the door with a smile. It was crowded with young men and women who could afford the costly, but excellent food. He gave his name to the maitre’d. They were a little early. He placed his arm around Stella’s waist as they walked to the bar. Robert was glad he had reserved a table; the queue for spare places seemed endless.

        “Usual for you Robert?” the young barman asked reaching for a bottle of Gordon’s gin.

        “Yes thanks Phil, what would you like Stella?”

        “Gin and bitter lemon as well please,” Stella replied as she took a seat.

        “Ice?” the barman asked.

        Stella nodded and took a quick look around. It was just as she’d heard; this was the place to be seen. The barman had greeted Robert by name, so he was no stranger to the restaurant.  Where did he get the money to dine here regularly, and how many women had he brought here before her she wondered?

        Her thoughts were interrupted as Robert placed her drink in front of her and sat down. Before they had a chance to start a conversation, a waiter appeared and escorted them to their table.

        Robert was aware of the staring eyes of other diners as he walked hand in hand with Stella across the thick pile carpet. He chuckled inside. It didn’t bother him at all. A long time ago he’d realized that if he ignored them and acted as though he belonged amongst them, they would soon not take notice of him. Besides, they were probably all looking at Stella. She looked stunning in the full-length black skirt and matching blouse.

        He cast his eyes down the menu, and decided rather unadventurously on the fillet steak. Stella ignored his recommendation and chose the Strasbourg Pâté and Dover Sole.

        “You promised you’d tell me the story of your life,” Robert said as the waiter left.

        Stella took a sip of her drink and toyed with the glass. “I’ve nothing much to tell.”

        “That I find hard to believe.  I mean you’re not from Oxford, so what brought you here?”

        She put down her glass and looked into his eyes. “I wanted to get away from home. My sister’s studying here and luckily I landed a job in Oxford. Voila.”

        The waiter returned, briefly disrupting their chat. Lunch was superb. As they ate, Robert coaxed more and more information from Stella.

        It seemed Stella was the daughter of a company director. Robert laughed when she told him she didn’t know what position her father held. She was so strange. Normally the children of the rich or powerful either flaunted their parents’ importance, or totally rebelled. Yet Stella seemed unconcerned.

        Apparently though, her father was important. Her parents owned a five bed roomed, detached house in a posh part of Bucks. That alone informed Robert of their worth!

        As Stella revealed more about her upbringing, his eyes widened. He shook his head unbelievingly, as she spoke of parties hosted by her parents and attended by titled and famous people. Yet Stella had described them as though they were everyday events.

        The more she opened up to him, the less he understood. He had been out with rich people before. He’d even got seriously involved with a daughter of a nobleman, but had always felt as though he was stepping out of his league. He’d never believed that he would be allowed to join their exclusive set. Oh yes, they were friendly and understanding, but there was always that feeling that everything was a joke; and he was the cause of their amusement.

        Once he had recovered from his mild shock, Robert had found his tongue. Stella had listened eagerly, laughing heartily as he told her funny stories of his experiences with middle-class girls and they had talked openly through the entire meal.

        When the waiter cleared the table and took their order for two coffees, Robert was conscious of the fact that he still tended to stare at her. But try as hard as he could, he found himself unable to tear his eyes from her.

        By the time the coffee arrived, Robert realized that the woman he had fallen hopelessly in love with - unaware of her background - was exactly what he had been searching for for so long. She was beautiful, funny, unpretentious and came from the perfect background.

        When they finished their coffees and Robert settled the bill he knew it had been worth every penny of the £60.

        As Robert placed the coat around Stella’s shoulders, he caught the smell of her perfume.  He felt the urge to kiss her.  She turned around and caught his gaze. Robert smiled weakly, and let the moment pass.

        Stella took his arm and leant on him as they crossed the restaurant.

        “See you soon Robert,” Phil the barman waved.

        Robert turned towards him. Phil was looking enviously at Stella.

        “Thanks Phil.” he answered. His smile widened as he realized just how lucky he was to have found Stella. He’d have to keep the likes of Phil well away from her. Once they learnt of her background, they’d be howling after her like a pack of hungry wolves.

        They walked through the busy streets of the town centre. Cornmarket was its usual nub of activity. Four teenage girls in the uniform of Oxford High giggled as they approached the couple. Robert blushed as one of the young girls, egged on by her companions, gave him a long suggestive look. Stella chuckled softly and poked him in the ribs with her elbow,

        “Do you know her? A bit too young for you isn’t she?” she teased.

        “Don’t be silly. They’re just messing around,” he answered seriously, missing her stroke of wit.

        “I’ve really enjoyed today,” she said as they approached Carfax.

        “As I said, L’escargot’s is worth every penny.”

        “The meal was excellent. You certainly know how to impress someone.”

        “Maybe we can do this again?” he suggested.

        Stella gently extracted her arm from his. She reached up and kissed him softly; too friendly for Robert’s liking.

        “Call me,” she said as she turned and entered the building.

 

 

 

Robert gazed out the window as the train slowly made its departure from Paddington. He watched a young man in denims sprint in a determined effort to catch the train. Robert smiled as he managed to open the door and leap into the carriage behind him.

        It had been a bad day. The actual racing had been excellent, with lots of close finishes and some marvellous performances; but too many outsiders had turned over favourites. A certain bookmaker had left Kempton Park racecourse with Robert’s £1,500 safely locked in his satchel.

        What had started out as a good day had progressively worsened. After backing the winner of the first race and showing a healthy profit, Robert had managed to pick loser after loser. By the last race, he had only £350 left.

        He had gone to the paddock and watched the champion jockey mount Precious Serena. The 9-year-old mare had looked a picture of health. Walking purposely around the paddock, her ears pricked and tail gently swishing, she had exuded confidence.

        This was to be her warm up race before tackling the cream of British National Hunt horses in the King George VI Chase, for which she was a strong fancy. By all imaginable form, she had only two serious challengers in today’s field of nine.

        Robert left the enclosure and placed his bet. The measly 6/4 on offer reflected the confidence behind her, yet Robert had taken the odds eagerly; at least it offered him a chance to cut his losses.

        The champion jockey, James Haughton, lined Precious Serena on the inside of Klondyke, a confirmed front-runner and her main challenger. The tapes were raised and Klondyke set off at a brisk pace and went immediately into his customary lead. Haughton settled his mount into third place, right on the rails.

        After three magnificent leaps, Klondyke had opened up a six-length lead. At the fifth of the twenty flights, Mercury Raider, the third favourite, mistimed his jump and met the fence all wrong.

        From his position in the stand, Robert sighed with relief as Haughton manoeuvred the mare around the spread-eagled faller. With the departure of Mercury Raider, it was now a two horse race.

        Klondyke kept up the strong gallop, and stretched his lead to ten lengths. Behind him, Precious Serena had been joined by another runner, yet appeared to be going so easily, that the bookmakers were refusing to take any bets in running.

        By the time the horses had started their final circuit, Klondyke had forged into a fifteen-length lead. With only six fences remaining, Haughton decided it was time to close the gap. When he asked his mount for more effort, the result was immediate. Precious Serena pricked her ears and lengthened her stride.

        The next four fences saw her reduce the deficit to six lengths with immaculate jumping. Ahead of her, Klondyke began to tire.  His jockey looked around anxiously, sensing his horse’s loss of stamina.

        Klondyke approached the final fence with a two-length lead, jumped tiredly and was virtually joined by Precious Serena. In the stands, the cheers of the crowd increased.   Klondyke’s rider picked up his whip and got to work as Haughton drove up alongside. 

        As though he had found a second wind, Klondyke responded to his jockey’s demand and laboured ahead of his rival. Haughton looked to his right, and realized he had a race on. He quickly picked up his whip. They had a hundred yards to go.

        Haughton gave Precious Serena two quick slaps. Once again she ranged up to Klondyke, but immediately the older grey horse stuck out his neck and battled back in front. Today was his day. Try as hard as Haughton did; Klondyke would not be denied victory.

        As the pair flashed past the winning post, groans were heard all around the course. Even before the photo finish was called, Robert threw away his ticket. Precious Serena had given her all and run a brilliant trial, but he was certain that Klondyke had won and he had just lost another £300.

Robert glanced at the other occupants of the carriage. Opposite him, a suited businessman tackled the Times crossword he had balanced on his case. Next to him sat a plain-looking teenage girl. She returned his gaze and smiled. Robert quickly averted his eyes; she wasn’t his type.

        In the corner was a ferret-faced man. He bit his nails as he scoured his race card with a worried expression across his brow. Robert smirked.  Obviously he too had not enjoyed a successful day. He was probably thinking of how to get his money back tomorrow.

        The train slowed as it entered Oxford station. The young girl stood up and smoothed her coat, again smiling widely at him. Robert thought about whether to ask her out for a drink, then decided to catch a cab home.

        He thought of Stella as the taxi drove past L’escargot. Even though she had made it plain that she had no intention of going out with him; he still found it impossible to get her out of his thoughts.

        The cab drew outside the flat and Robert paid the bill. As he inserted the key he heard the phone ringing. He hurried inside, raced to the living room and grabbed the handset.

        “Hello,” he panted into the mouthpiece as he slumped into the armchair.

        “Hi Robert, its Belinda,” the voice on the other end informed him.

        “Oh hi,” he said, hiding his disappointment.

        “Look I’m having a party this Saturday. It’s going to be great. You have to come Robert.”

        “Can I bring a friend?”

        “The more the merrier.”

        “Okay, I’ll be there.”

        They exchanged goodbyes and Robert hung up the phone. He leapt from the chair and punched the air.   Belinda was an old friend, well an old sleeping partner to be honest; her party would be the perfect place to show off Stella. He went into the fridge and cracked open a can of beer, savouring the taste as if it was a bottle of the finest wine. Normally after such a disastrous day he would experience a low that he imagined a junkie must feel once the drug had worn off. Not tonight, he was back on a high.

 

 

 

The next morning Robert woke late. His head throbbed from too many beers the night before. He bathed, drank a cup of black coffee as he studied the Sporting Life. At two o’clock he left his flat and started towards the bus stop.

        He had just taken a few strides when he saw a bus. He sucked in some air and started running. As he neared the bus stop, he twisted his leg and fell awkwardly. The pain seared through him. He stayed on the pavement recovering his composure as the bus drove off without him.

        By the end of the day, the pain was so bad he took a taxi to the A&E department of the Radcliffe hospital. He emerged three hours later with his sprained ankle tightly bandaged.

        By Saturday, he could still hardly walk, but nothing was going to stop him going to Belinda’s party. He had already invited Stella who was really looking forward to the party that so many people were talking about.

        Robert took a cab to The Duke where he spotted Ken beside Stella. He limped gingerly across to their table.

        “What’s the matter with your leg?” she asked.

        “Bit of an accident,” he said sliding into the chair beside her.

        “You should be in bed,” said Stella as he winced when he tried to get comfortable.

        “I’ll be okay. Just won’t be able to dance that’s all.”

        “Are you sure you want to go?” asked Ken.

        Robert smiled, reached into his jacket pocket, found his wallet and removed a twenty pound note. “Do me a favour and get them in mate.”

        Ken needed no second invitation. He smiled at Stella as he asked her order before going to the bar.

        Stella’s eyes followed Ken as he waited at the bar, holding the note high in the air.

        “You look nice tonight,” she heard Robert say.

        “Thanks,” she said turning her attention back to Robert.

 

        Three drinks later, all three emerged from the taxi, made their way past the bouncers and down into the club.

        Belinda hurried across the room and launched herself into Robert’s arms.

        “Where have you been hiding?” she asked once she had smothered him with kisses.

        “Been a bit busy. Belinda this is Stella. You know Ken.”

        The busty blonde looked Stella up and down dismissively.

        “You’re limping, what happened.   Come with me, I’ll find you a seat and get us some drinks, we’ve got some catching up to do,” she said, linking arms and leading him through the crowd, away from Stella.

        Occasionally Robert caught a glimpse of Stella and Ken dancing together. It was a welcome distraction when Belinda told him that she was going to another party. He navigated his way through the crowd of dancers; found Stella and Ken on the dance floor and much to Belinda’s annoyance, invited them along.

        As soon as they entered the detached house on the Abingdon Road, Robert knew he had made a mistake, but did not want to spoil everyone’s fun. What seemed like hours later, he managed to get away from Belinda; suffering her wrath for his rebuffs.

He found Stella and Ken in the kitchen both with a bottle of white wine.

“Look, this is not my scene. If you’re ready to leave I’ll call a cab.”

“Sure. We’ll just finish these and we’ll be with you,” said Ken.

“Okay. I’ll find a call box and be back soon.”

Ten minutes later he hobbled back to inside, but after searching the house thoroughly, he had failed to find either Stella or Ken. When he finally left the party his anger was greater than his pain.

Reviews

[A LaDy NaMeD D]

Whoa Stella is scandalish. Lol but i love her character. I like how his good day gone bad somehow foreshadowed his evening. This was an interesting chapter and now i just have to read the next one lol. Off i go.