The SAS And The Glam That Goes With It

Chapter 5

"I don't believe this!" growled Price. He unclipped a small, grey box from his belt and looked askance at it.

"Is that a pager?" asked Sam.

"Yes. Excuse me for a moment." He pushed his chair back and slid out from the table, heading towards the door. Sam twisted in her seat to watch him go, and then turned back when she heard the beeping again. The man he'd called Gaz was walking towards her, striding through the aisle between the tables. He saw her watching and gave her a thin smile as he walked past.

She stared after him, turning to watch him push open the door and go to Price, who was pacing along the pavement, his phone pressed to his ear. He nodded at Gaz, pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and signed something to him that Sam couldn't understand. Gaz waited, his back to her, with his hands pressed into his pockets.

Sam noticed other diners were looking at her. Blushing, she spun back round in her seat and tried to look less conspicuous. What the devil's going on? She wondered, frowning. She picked up her fork and poked the remains of the fish again. Why's he got a pager? Attempting to look coolly unconcerned about her abandonment, she picked up her wine glass and took a small sip before slowly turning back round to face the door, clinging to the back of the chair for balance with what she hoped was an air of indifferent nonchalance.

Outside, Price slipped the phone back into his jacket. He and Gaz exchanged a few words and then both of them headed back inside. Gaz continued past her, giving her a curt nod, but Price disappeared into the bar. Okay. We're not worried. There's probably a perfectly reasonable explanation for this, Sam thought. He reappeared again and returned to the table.

"What's going on?" she asked, bewildered. She could see people on the other tables looking at them again, pointedly passing judgement with their eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I really need to go."

"What's happening?" asked Sam, confused.

"I have no idea," he said. "Hopefully nothing. I'll call you when I get back. You are... very charming."

"Sir?" The waiter had appeared at Price's elbow, proffering a card reader.

"I'll get this one." he said. The waiter handed him back his card and he slid it into his wallet.

They stood facing each other for a few seconds, in awkward silence. His gaze scanned her face with such intensity she felt suddenly shy. She looked down at his open collar, blushing. The sounds of the diners around them seemed to fade into muffled, distant static. Sam felt drawn to him, pulled by an invisible force that crackled along her arms and down her spine. She found her eyes inexorably returning to his face and their gazes locked once more. He tilted his head towards her.

"Sorry about this!" Gaz reappeared suddenly at Price's elbow "Car'll be at the end of the street in a few minutes. Nice to meet you." He nodded at Sam.

"I'll call you." Price said, brusquely. "Goodbye."

The moment unravelled. Sam was left, jilted, at the table.

For a few moments, she stood frozen. What the hell just happened? She thought.

"How bloody awful!"

Sam spun round to face the source of the upper-class drawl and found Vivianne behind her, standing with her hand on her cocked hip, her face twisted into a wry, cynical smile.

"What's going on?" asked Sam, confused.

Vivianne slumped into Price's empty seat and slapped a glass of red wine onto the table. "Christ only knows. How well was the date going?"