I Noticed You Around

Saturday nights at the restaurant were always busy, but this Saturday night happened to be Valentine's Day. The restaurant was full to bursting. For the wait staff, it promised to be an evening of sore feet, impatient diners and generous tips, because no matter how bad the service, no one wants to look tight-fisted in front of their date.

For unlucky-in-love Lucy, waiting tables on Valentine's Day was half torture, half guilty pleasure. She always felt a little bitter when a glamourous woman walked into the expensive restaurant, clinging to a suave man's arm like he was a well-earned prize. The pink fairy lights strung up in the windows, the flickering candles on each table, the painted lips stretched wide with smiles, the expensive aftershave and well-polished brogues; she wanted that for herself. Just a taste of it. Just once.

Instead, she was invisible; dancing her way through a myriad of tables, oblivious diners and expensive handbags, flung idly beside killer heels. Dodging fellow wait staff, burning her fingers on piping hot plates, and answering to clicking fingers all the while. And yet Lucy always worked this shift, because she wanted a taste of that romance, even if she could only savour it vicariously. Working on Valentine's Day was Lucy's only opportunity to avoid being sat at home on her own, whilst her happily-engaged friends live-tweeted their romantic night out, for the benefit of all those who weren't so happily engaged.

This year was no different. Lucy had clocked the gold-digger and her banker as soon as they walked through the door. The redhead was - just now - flicking her hair affectedly over her shoulder and waving about her polished nails, as though to prevent her meal ticket's attention from straying. So too, was there the long-married couple; dressed up in their best, only to sit at the table with pinched, disappointed faces. There was the foolish twenty-something who had forked out for a meal which he could ill-afford. He was always easy to spot, because no man would ever order a salad and water unless he was keeping a close eye on the bill. And there - as ever - was Nate. "The Widower", the younger girls called him. He dined alone - always at the same table - every Tuesday evening. He'd done so for years, and Lucy had yet to work a Tuesday at the restaurant without serving him. She hadn't expected to see him that weekend, but there he was at his usual table, alone. Lucy supposed that he was missing his wife, and didn't want to be sat at home on the most depressing day of the year for anyone who was single.

Fingers were clicked, drawing Lucy's attention to The Gold-Digger. She drew in a deep breath, schooled her features into a passive smile, and took herself over to the table.

'How can I help you?' asked Lucy.

'I'd like to change my order,' the redhead replied. 'I've changed my mind about the veal. I'd like moules marinière instead.' Her date grimaced.

'Abi,' he hissed, 'you ordered twenty minutes ago. They'll have already started cooking it.' He glanced awkwardly at Lucy, but was silenced by a flippant wave of the hand from his date.

'Nonsense, Charlie. I've changed my mind, and the customer's always right. Isn't that so?' the redhead smirked, gazing up at Lucy.

'It's absolutely no problem,' smiled Lucy, through clenched teeth, before heading to the kitchen in the hope that the veal was still uncooked.

'Why do you have to be so difficult?' Charlie complained, his cheeks flushed. He'd been seeing Abi for four months, and this wasn't the first time she'd proven to be demanding.

'It's a restaurant, Charlie,' Abi laughed, shaking her head in confusion. 'Their job is to serve us.' Charlie narrowed his eyes at his date, and calmed himself by refiling their champagne glasses. 'Anyway,' Abi continued, one of her new Louboutin's gliding its way up the inside of his leg, 'the food's not important. We're important. Let's discuss us.'