“Could we have two more champagne cocktails, please?” I call to the waiter and seriously hope that my credit card is not over the limit. “A thank you for the scarf,” I explain.
“You shouldn’t have, but thanks!” she grins, shoving a handful of peanuts into her mouth. When the drinks arrive, she clinks hers to mine. “To your scarf!” I taste the champagne cocktail, the bubbles tingling in my nose. Mm, much better than prosecco or any wine I’ve ever tasted. I think I have a new favourite drink. Suddenly Natalie eyes me critically. “I guess we’re about the same age, aren’t we?” I’m surprised at this change in direction. I don’t really think we are, I’d say she’s seventeen years old or so, with her soft features and young face.
“You’re certainly younger than me,” I venture, not wanting to offend her. Natalie giggles and takes another sip. “Don’t be so sure! I was twentysix in September but it’s obviously my fate to look like a little girl!” She raises her glass and all at once I notice the blue light in her eyes again. They look like the Chartreux cat’s. I blink and glance at the lamp overhead.
“That’s a gorgeous ring you’re wearing,” she changes the topic again and peers at my left hand. “I already noticed it in the shop.”
“You like it?” I beam at her, the blue lights forgotten. “It belonged to my mum and I got it only a few days ago,” I explain. It’s really strange how easily I can talk to this stranger, as if I’ve known her for years.
“For Christmas?” she asks now, carefully touching the relief on the ring.
“No, I found it in the attic,” I say without thinking and bite my lip. That sounds really weird! But Natalie doesn’t comment and seems lost in thought as she stares at the ring.
“It suits you,” she whispers. “You like to wear it?” I look at her questioningly. Sure I do, otherwise I wouldn’t, would I? For one second I’m tempted to tell her about the key and the chest, but fortunately I stop myself in time. She’d think I’m completely mad!
“Of course I like to wear it, it was my mum’s,” I say by way of explanation. Natalie changes track again.
“By the way, when were you born?”
“On 19th February 1988. Why do you ask?” I look at her suspiciously. She doesn’t seem the type who’s into astrology but you never know. Maybe she’s a weirdo after all, just my luck. I decide to finish my drink and leave.
Maybe Natalie senses my uneasiness, as she suddenly asks, “Have you eaten yet? I’m really starving and they do a delicious steak toast here.” I hesitate, my stomach grumbling at the thought of food. But I’ve bought so many goodies I should go home and start on them which would be much more sensible. “Come on, now it’s my turn!” Natalie beckons. “Unless you have other plans?” Sitting alone at home or staying here in a cosy bar with this girl? Even if she might be into esotericism? The choice is not really a hard one, and everybody has their weird sides. Who am I to talk really!
“No plans, let’s have dinner,” I agree and Natalie claps her hands. She really does seem very young. She orders two steak toasts and a whole bottle of Rioja. Boy, am I going to be drunk tonight!
“Let’s drink to the New Year!” she beams at me and I gratefully clink glasses with her as I’ll have nobody to do so with tomorrow. “I’d rather toast it today because tomorrow’s no party day for me.” Wait, that’s my line but Natalie’s just said it. Surprised I look at her.
“Why not? Don’t you have a party to go to?” To Cassius’ place maybe to have lots of champagne cocktails? Girls in McQueen dresses usually have lots of friends and are so unlike me. She wrinkles her small nose and frowns.
“Actually no. Tomorrow I’m going to sit alone in my flat and probably go to bed at ten.” My line again. She can’t have the same issues as I do, can she?
“Never mind, I’ll be doing the same,” I shrug. “The food I bought at your shop today is for my one-girl-party tomorrow.” So, now I’ve said it and it wasn’t too difficult. Natalie tilts her head.
“You wouldn’t like to be lonely together then? That is, then we wouldn’t be lonely anymore.” She giggles and winds one of her shoulder-length locks around her finger. I feel a grin tugging at my mouth. Why the hell not? I suppress the cautious voice inside my head that warns me that she’s a complete stranger. But we’re getting along this evening, so it won’t be any different tomorrow, will it?
“I’d like that!” I agree. “And I’m bringing the food.” Natalie nods, looking as if I’m doing her a huge favour.
“Mm, that smells good!” she grins at the waiter as he serves our meals. We eat hungrily, talking about everything and nothing, and empty the bottle of Rioja. It’s really late when we leave the bar and not a second has been boring.
As I wait for my cab – I’m way too drunk for the bus now - Natalie hands me a piece of paper with her address. “See you tomorrow at seven. Bring an overnight bag, maybe you'll want to stay over.” Without a further goodbye she turns around and walks down the street. The high heels of her boots click on the pavement. It’s snowing so heavily now that I can’t even see her footprints as she vanishes into the darkness.
What on earth was I thinking about to accept an invitation from a total stranger? I don’t know this girl at all! She could lure me into her flat and murder me, well, she’s a bit small for that but you never know. Or it could turn out to be an exceedingly boring evening. Yesterday we both had too much to drink and we all know how quickly alcohol creates friendship. But how about today? Will we have anything in common once the drink wears off? Maybe she won’t even remember the invitation. It would be rude to simply not show up but I resolve to call her and cancel under some pretext. Flu maybe. Toothache. Family crisis. Anything. I extract the crumpled paper from my coat pocket but there’s no phone number, not even a name, just an address. Great! Maybe I could call the shop and leave a message, but no, it’s Sunday. The day drags on and in the afternoon I have to admit that I secretly want to go. It’s just too boring here and I’m curious to find out if her flat matches her designer dress. What do I have to lose after all? I’ll spend a couple of hours with Natalie, have dinner with her and then leave. But I definitely won’t take an overnight bag.
I’m driving in my white Fiat Panda past this old factory building for the third time now and can’t find any flats here along the river. The address can’t be right, there isn’t a single apartment block around. Obviously Natalie has tricked me. It’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have come here!
The instant I decide to make a U-turn and head home I glimpse a wheelie bin in front of the factory with a pink 7 sprayed on it. House number seven? That can’t be right, can it? I park the car, take the bag with the food with me and wade through the sludge. No snowploughs in this part of the city. It’s very quiet here and there’s nobody in the street except me. A bit spooky really. The wheelie bin stands in front of a large iron door and to my surprise there’s a small sign which reads “Natalie & Rupert” – also in pink – and a bell. Who’s Rupert? I thought Natalie lives alone. Hesitantly I press the bell and wait. I thought so, it has to be wrong, there’s nobody here. But the moment I want to leave I hear steps on the other side of the door which swings open shortly after. Natalie embraces me and laughs. “I was afraid you wouldn’t find the flat. I really should have described it to you. Come in, it’s freezing!” It seems nothing has changed since yesterday and suddenly I’m rather happy to be here.