Twelve Red Herrings (35 page)

They missed a
quite remarkable production,” I prompted, hoping to tease out of her whether
her partner was male or female.

“Yes,” said
Anna. “I tried to book seats when it was still at the National Theatre, but
they were sold out for any performances I was able to make, so when a friend
offered me two tickets at the last minute, I jumped at them. After all, it’s
coming off in a few weeks.’

She took another
sip from her martini. “What about you?” she asked as the three-minute bell
sounded.

There was no
such line in my script.

The?”

“Yes, Michael,”
she said, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“How did you
come to be looking for a spare seat at the last moment?’

“Sharon Stone
was tied up for the evening, and at the last second Princess Diana told me that
she would have loved to have come, but she was trying to keep a low profile.”
Anna laughed.

“Actually, I
read some of the crits, and I dropped in on the offchance of picking up a spare
ticket.”

“And you picked
up a spare woman as well,” said Anna, as the two-minute bell went. I wouldn’t
have dared to include such a bold line in her script –
or
was there a hint of mockery in those hazel eyes?

“I certainly
did,” I replied lightly. “So, are you a doctor as well?”

“As well as
what?” asked
Anna.

“As well as your
partner,” I said
,
not sure if she was still teasing.

“Yes. I’m a GP
in Fulham. There are three of us in the practice, but I was the only one who
could escape tonight. And what do you do when you’re not chatting up Sharon
Stone or escorting Princess Diana to the theatre?”

“I’m in the
restaurant business,” I told her.

“That must be
one of the few jobs with worse hours and tougher working conditions than mine,”
Anna said as the one-minute bell sounded.

I looked into
those hazel eyes and wanted to say – Anna, let’s forget the second act: I
realise the
play’s
superb, but all I want to do is
spend the rest of the evening alone with you, not jammed into a crowded
auditorium with eight hundred other people.

“Wouldn’t you
agree?” I tried to recall what she had just said.

“I expect we get
more customer complaints than you do,” was the best I could manage.

“I doubt it,”
Anna said, quite sharply. “If you’re a woman in the medical profession and you
don’t cure your patients within a couple of days, they immediately want to know
if you’re fully qualified.” I laughed, and finished my drink as a voice boomed
over the Tannoy, “Would the audience please take their seats for the second
act. The curtain is about to rise.”

“We ought to be
getting back,” Anna said, placing her empty glass on the nearest window ledge.

“I suppose so,”
I said reluctantly, and led her in the opposite direction to the one in which I
really wanted to take her.

“Thanks for the
drink,” she said as we returned to our seats.

“Small
recompense,” I replied. She glanced up at me questioningly. “For such a good
ticket,” I explained.

She smiled as we
made our way along the row, stepping awkwardly over more toes. I was just about
to risk a further remark when the house lights dimmed.

During the
second act I turned to smile in Anna’s direction whenever there was laughter,
and was occasionally rewarded with a warm response. But my supreme moment of
triumph came towards the end of the act, when the detective showed the daughter
a photograph of the dead woman. She gave a piercing scream, and the stage
lights were suddenly switched off.

Anna grabbed my
hand, but quickly released it and apologised.

“Not at all,” I
whispered. “I only just stopped myself from doing the same thing.” In the
darkened theatre, I couldn’t tell how she responded.

A moment later
the phone on the stage rang. Everyone in the audience knew it must be the
detective on the other end of the line, even if they couldn’t be sure what he
was going to say. That final scene had the whole house gripped.

After the lights
dimmed for the last time, the cast returned to the stage and deservedly
received a long ovation, taking several curtain calls.

When the curtain
was finally lowered, Anna turned to me and said, “What a remarkable production.
I’m so glad I didn’t miss it. And I’m even more pleased that I didn’t have to
see it alone.” “Me too,” I told her, ignoring the fact that I’d never planned
to spend the evening at the theatre in the first place.

We made our way
up the aisle together as the audience flowed out of the theatre like a
slow-moving river. I wasted those few precious moments discussing the merits of
the cast, the power of the director’s interpretation, the originality of the
macabre set and even the Edwardian costumes, before we reached the double doors
that led back out into the real world.

“Goodbye,
Michael,” Anna said. “Thank you for adding to my enjoyment of the evening.” She
shook me by the hand.

“Goodbye,” I
said, gazing once again into those hazel eyes.

She turned to
go, and I wondered if I would ever see her again.

“Anna,” I said.

She glanced back
in my direction.

“If you’re not
doing anything in particular, would you care to join me for dinner...
”
Author’s
Note Rare At this point
in the story, the reader is offered the choice of four different endings.

You might decide
to read all four of them, or simply select one, and consider that your own
particular ending. If you do choose to read all four, they should be taken in
the order in which they have been written: RARE BURNT
OVERDONE
,
POINT THANK YOU, MICHAEL. I’D LIKE THAT.”

I smiled, unable
to mask my delight. “Good. I know a little restaurant just down the road that I
think you might enjoy.”

“That sounds fun,”
Anna said, linking her arm in mine. I guided her through the departing throng.

As we strolled
together down the Aldwych, Anna continued to chat about the play, comparing it
favourably with a production she had seen at the Haymarket some years before.

When we reached
the Strand I pointed to a large grey double door on the other side of the road.
“That’s it,” I said. We took advantage of a red light to weave our way through
the temporarily stationary traffic, and after we’d reached the far pavement I pushed
one of the grey doors open to allow Anna through. It began to rain just as we
stepped inside. I led her down a flight of stairs into a basement restaurant
buzzing with the talk of people who had just come out of theatres, and waiters
dashing, plates in both hands, from table to table.

“I’ll be
impressed if you can get a table here,” Anna said, eyeing a group of would-be
customers who were clustered round the bar, impatiently waiting for someone to
leave.

I strolled
across to the reservations desk. The head waiter, who until that moment had
been taking a customer’s order, rushed over.

“Good evening,
Mr. Whitaker,” he said. “How many are you?’

“Just
the two of us.”

“Follow me,
please, sir,” Mario said, leading us to my usual table in the far corner of the
room.

“Another
dry martini?”
I asked her as we sat down.

“No, thank you,”
she replied. “I think I’ll just have a glass of wine with the meal.” I nodded
my agreement, as Mario handed us our menus. Anna studied hers for a few moments
before I asked if she had spotted anything she fancied.

“Yes,” she said,
looking straight at me. “But for now I think I’ll settle for the fettucini, and
a glass of red wine.”

“Good idea,” I said.
“I’ll join you. But are you sure you won’t have a starter?’

“No,
thank you, Michael.
I’ve reached that age when I can no longer order
everything I’m tempted by.” The too,” I confessed. “I have to play squash three
times a week to keep in shape,” I told her as Mario reappeared. “Two
fettucini,” I began, ‘and a bottle of...”

“Half a bottle,
please,” said Anna. “I’ll only have one glass.

I’ve got an
early start tomorrow morning, so I shouldn’t overdo things.” I nodded, and
Mario scurried away.

I looked across
the table and into Anna’s eyes. “I’ve always wondered about women doctors,” I
said, immediately realising that the line was a bit feeble.

“You mean, you
wondered if we’re
normal?
”

“Something
like
that, I suppose.”

“Yes, we’re
normal enough, except every day we have to see a lot of men in the nude. I can
assure you, Michael, most of them are overweight and fairly unattractive.” I
suddenly wished I were half a stone lighter. “But are there many men who are
brave enough to consider a woman doctor in the first place?”

“Quite a few,”
said Anna, ^”though most of my patients are female. But there are just about
enough intelligent, sensible, uninhibited males around who can accept that a
woman doctor might be just as likely to cure them as a man.” I smiled as two
bowls of fettucini were placed in front of us.

Mario then
showed me the label on the half-bottle he had selected.

I nodded my
approval. He had chosen a vintage to match Anna’s pedigree.

“And what about
you?” asked Anna. “What does being “in the restaurant business” actually mean?”

“I’m on the
management side,” I said, before sampling the wine.

I nodded again,
and Mario poured a glass for Anna and then topped up mine.

“Or at least,
that’s what I do nowadays. I started life as a waiter,” I said, as Anna began
to sip her wine.

“What a magnificent
wine,” she remarked. “It’s so good I may end up having a second glass.”

“I’m glad you
like it,” I said. “It’s a Barolo.”

“You were
saying, Michael? You started life as a
waiter ..

.”

“Yes, then I
moved into the kitchens for about five years, and finally ended up on the
management side. How’s the fettucini?”

“It’s delicious.
Almost melts in your mouth.” She took another sip of her wine. “So, if you’re
not cooking, and no longer a waiter, what do you do now?”

“Well, at the
moment I’m running three restaurants in the West End, which means I never stop
dashing from one to the other, depending on which is facing the biggest crisis
on that particular day.”

“Sounds a bit
like ward duty to me,” said Anna. “So who turned out to have the biggest crisis
today?”

“Today, thank
heaven, was not typical,” I told her with feeling.

“That bad?” said
Anna.

“Yes, I’m afraid
so. We lost a chef this morning
who
cut off the top of
his finger, and won’t be back at work for at least a fortnight.

My head waiter
in our second restaurant is off, claiming he has ‘flu, and I’ve just had to
sack the harman in the third for fiddling the books. Barmen always fiddle the
books, of course, but in this case even the customers began to notice what he
was up to.” I paused. “But I still wouldn’t want to be in any other business.”

“In the
circumstances, I’m amazed you were able to take the evening off.”

“I shouldn’t
have, really, and I wouldn’t have, except...”
I
trailed off as I leaned over and topped up Anna’s glass.

“Except what?”
she said.

“Do you want to
hear the truth?” I asked as I poured the remains of the wine into my own glass.

“I’ll try that
for starters,” she said.

I placed the
empty bottle on the side of the table, and hesitated, but only for a moment. “I
was driving to one of my restaurants earlier this evening, when I spotted you
going into the theatre.

I stared at you
for so long that I nearly crashed into the back of the car in front of me. Then
I swerved across the road into the nearest parking space, and the car behind
almost crashed into me.

I leapt out, ran
all the way to the theatre, and searched everywhere until I saw you standing in
the queue for the box office.

I joined the
line and watched you hand over your spare ticket.

Once you were
safely out of sight, I told the box office manager that you hadn’t expected me
to make it in time, and that you might have put my ticket up for resale. After
I’d described you, which I was able to do in great detail, he handed it over
without so much as a murmur.’

Anna put down
her glass of wine and stared across at me with a look of incredulity. “I’m glad
he fell for your story,” she said.

“But should I?”

“Yes, you
should. Because then I put two ten-pound notes into a theatre envelope and took
the place next to you.