Page 9 of Never Too Late
‘She has made some friends by the looks of it,’ Ashok said, following my eyeline.
‘She always does,’ I said, smiling over at him. ‘People gravitate to her. Her father is an academic and very singular and, well, then there’s me. So I really don’t know where she gets it from.’
‘Do you not?’
I understood his meaning. ‘You’re very kind but it’s definitely not from me.’
‘I think you do yourself an injustice.’
‘I think you’re trying to sway me to write an excellent Tripadvisor review,’ I said, laughing. ‘Don’t worry. It was already going to be glowing.’
He did that slight head dip to the side again. ‘That is wonderful to hear but not why I said it. It was a true compliment. Even in the short time I’ve known you, I believe you are far more like your daughter than you think you are.’
I glanced over again just as Sash looked back. Her smile widened and she gave a wave, then held her thumb up as she tilted her head in question. I returned the same gesture.
‘Ever get the feeling you’re being set up?’ I asked, picking up my coffee with a grin.
‘I did wonder.’
‘Sorry about that. She’s impulsive. For all she and I knew, you could be married with five children.’
‘While I’m flattered that your daughter thinks I’m worthy of her mother’s attention, I get the feeling that the last thing on your mind right now is another relationship.’
I let out a sigh, returning the cup to the table, its marble top cut into the shape of a lotus flower.
‘Is that selfish?’
Ashok shook his head. ‘Not at all. I was in a long relationship that I once thought would result in marriage. It didn’t and it took me a long time after that to realise that jumping straight back into the dating scene wasn’t what I needed, despite everyone telling me the opposite. What I actually needed was space and time.’
‘That’s it exactly. Space and time. You’re very wise, you know that?’
Oh, God, that was absolutely my last drink. When was this coffee going to kick in? I used to be able to drink everyone else under the table. What happened?
Several intervening decades and a lack of practice, my brain filled in helpfully.
‘Would you like another coffee, perhaps make it Irish this time?’ He glanced over to where Sasha had now been absorbed into the group. ‘As friends.’
Yes to friends. Absolutely not to more alcohol.
‘Both would be lovely, thank you.’
6
Ouch! I squinted as I pulled back the heavy brocade sea-blue blackout curtains in my room. Did someone turn up the sun? Was it having a solar flare? Sliding my feet into the hotel slippers and my arms into the soft robe, I opened the door to my room in the junior suite that Sasha had scored on a last-minute deal.
As a side note, if you’re one of those people who goes into posh hotels and can leave the robe hanging with its belt tidily knotted and the slippers untouched and pristine in their paper wrapping, then I don’t think we can be friends.
Sasha was sitting on the sofa out on the balcony, legs tucked up underneath her, head in a book.
‘Morning.’
She looked up. ‘Morning! Did you have a nice evening?’
‘Yes, thanks. Although don’t think either of us missed your not-so-subtle trick of leaving us together.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Her tone was innocence itself but the grin she sported told the truth. ‘Are you seeing him again?’
‘Hmm. Not in the way you had planned, no, but as friends, yes. How was your evening?’
