I'm Normally Perfect (re-upload)

Chapter Forty-Nine

We were supposed to be at Graham's house in Belgravia at 7.30 for eight and I began getting dressed around ten that morning. I had to fight the urge to ring Alex at the college every time I made a new sartorial decision. When she arrived home I was standing in front of the door that led from the garage with my arms out.

'What do you think?' I turned around so she could get a full view. I'd raided her wardrobe and gone with an ankle length black skirt, white blouse that fell to my knees and a long pinstriped waistcoat that resembled the gowns at the University.

She nodded, 'Very classy.'

'Yeah?' I smoothed my outfit and fiddled with one of the large mother of pearl buttons on the waistcoat. She took a step back and observed me. I dropped my hands, 'Oh, God, what? What's wrong?'

She chuckled, 'Nothing sweetheart, there's one thing you need, though,' she removed her greatcoat and headed for the stairs. I followed along and tried to make light conversation about her day. In her room she picked through a large wooden jewellery box and then pulled out a rather long string of pearls. 'These should complete the ensemblè.' She pronounced it the French way and I smiled, suddenly less nervous. She draped the necklace over my head and wrapped it once around my neck. It fell to my waist. She smiled, 'Perfect.'

'That's me. Sorry. I make horrible jokes when I'm nervous.'

She snorted in amusement, 'That's all right, dear. I promise everything will be fine.' She tapped the end of my nose with her forefinger and I grinned. After she changed (she only had to put on one outfit) she chose a bottle of wine to take as a gift and we set out for the station. I was so anxious I could only stare out the window the entire time; Alex didn't seem to mind, though, and just held my hand. I wondered if Mr Whitney, I mean, Graham, would think it odd if I didn't let go of her for the duration of the meal. I pictured sitting on her lap throughout the evening and smiled to myself. Alex leaned toward me, 'Take a deep breath, can't have you passing out before we get there.'

I finally let go of Alex's hand as we rang the bell at his house, a three-storey Victorian affair set back a bit from the road, with a brick path and large front garden. She handed the wine to me, as I was the official guest and she was the gooseberry, as she said. It was so strange to me that I should be the star of the show for the evening, Alex was supposed to be first in all things.

A man with a receding hairline and a big grin opened the door. It suddenly occurred to me I hadn't the foggiest clue what he looked like, as he never had his photo on his books.

I ventured, 'Mr Whitney?'

The man shook his head slightly, 'Graham,' and smiled.

'Oh,' I issued a small laugh and held the bottle out to him, 'We brought this.'

'Thank you, do come in,' he stepped aside and Alex and I crossed the threshold. To our left was a dining room, the oak table set and gleaming, with candles lit. To our right was a sitting room, hardwood floors and understated furniture. Everything was very tidy. The lights were low in there as well; they must have been on a dimmer.

He looked at Alex and said with a big smile, 'And you must be Professor Pristin.'

Alex smiled with her dimple and offered her hand. 'Please call me Alex.'

It seemed as if they held eye contact a bit longer than absolutely necessary. I cleared my throat, 'So, thank you for inviting us.'

Alex reiterated that and he helped us off with our coats. He looked at the wine and made an impressed face then said to me,