Just ONE
Rebekah had been dreading the question long before it arrived.
‘Table for how many?’ the waiter asked.
He tapped two menus against the counter, scouring the restaurant for a cosy nook. He would be hard pushed to find one. It was 7pm on a Saturday night and everyone who was anyone in Edgbaston was out enjoying their weekend and a meal with no washing-up afterwards.
Or should that be anyone who had anyone?
‘Madam?’
‘Just one,’ Rebekah replied.
The she last needed thing was to break down
She hoped the waiter wouldn’t hear the tremble in her voice over the roar of diners on their second bottle of house white. The last thing she needed was to break down in front