June 9th, 1990

June 9th, 1990

On the train!

I’m on the last train home (aka “The Drunk Train”) from London, after a super fun Saturday with one of the funniest (and snobbiest!) girls ever; Annabel.

One of the things I love about Annabel (and there’s so much to love about her) is the number of questions she asks and how she wants to know about everything, which some people might interpret as nosey but I like to think she’s just curious (if only because I’m the same way!)

“Miss McGarr,” she said, greeting me in the wine bar in Covent Garden where we arranged to meet.

“I see you’ve already started,” I said, gesturing to the bottle of Dom Pérignon sitting in the ice bucket.

“But of course,” she said, with a wink. “Do fill me in.”

“On what?” I said, trying to get comfortable on the too trendy wiry stool.

“Everything of course!”

I laughed. “Pick something, or someone.”

“Ben,” she said, pouring me a glass of Champagne.

“Hmmm, thank you. I had a feeling you’d start with him. He’s just about done with training at Virgin Atlantic and will be flying very soon.”

Annabel’s response was a deep throaty sound that covered an entire sentence and needed nothing more.

“Moving swiftly along,” I said, trying not to laugh.

“What about the randy little French chap?”
“Ah, Jean Jacques. I’ve talked to him a couple of times on the phone but I haven’t been back to Paris since he helped me look for a house in the countryside. I do still have a key to his flat though.”

“Montmartre, correct?”

“Yes,” I said, taking a sip of the perfectly chilled Champagne.

“Oh, good girl,” she said, clinking her glass to mine. “I shall keep that in mind.”

“You should come with me sometime when Jean Jacques away on a work trip, which is quite a lot.”

“Sounds marvelous,” she said, refilling her glass. “What about this chap you just met in Antigua?”

“Ehm, well you know I met him under a false name and identity?”

“Ya, ya,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Nothing that can’t be rectified.”

I shrugged my shoulders as she continued. “What? You have no desire to see him again?”

“Not really. We didn’t have much in common, I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice guy but not really my cup of tea.”

“Understood.” She put her finger to her lips. “Ooh, what about hunky chap? The one who dropped you off the first time I met you?”

“Jon?”

“Ya, gosh I have to confess, I did rather fancy him myself.”

“I’m not surprised, all the girls love Jon.”

“All except you.”

“I already went out with him. Time for someone else to have a turn,” I laughed.

“So, nothing more with him?”

I shook my head. “Just friends.”

“Have I covered everyone?”

“I don’t know, have you?” I teased.

“Who am I missing?”

“David!”

“David?”

“California dreaming. Ring any bells?”

“Oh gosh, of course, of course, the chap from LA you met on the flight!”

I nodded my head enthusiastically and drained the last of my Champagne.

“So?”

“I have a trip to LA next month, I’ll see him then.”

“I say Miss McGarr!”

“What?”

“You’re blushing. Which tells me you really like him.”

 

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