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Authors: Nell Harding
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charms forever,” she predicted. “From what I hear, he’s fun company. And even you must get a bit of a rush from being the focus of those eyes.”
Fiona looked at her with a sardonic grin. “I don’t have forever,” she said logically. “His curiosity in interacting with the other half isn’t going to last that long, just like in that Pulp song “Common People.””
“We’ll see,” was all that Sarah would say, obviously happy to cling to her ideal of Colin as an irresistible charmer. “I reckon that what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. You might as well partake of a slice of upper class life while he tastes what it’s like to slum it. Have you decided where to have dinner?”
“The Old Wharf,” Fiona replied promptly. “Fish ‘n chips.”
There was a loud thump as Sarah banged the pint glass she was drying on the bar top. “Tell me you’re joking. You have a rich bloke ready to pay for your meal and you’re suggesting fish ‘n chips?”
“Best in the region,” Fiona pointed out stubbornly. “And it’s a nice evening to eat outdoors.”
“On wooden benches with picnic tables,” the barmaid protested. “You can do better than that.”
“That’s the point,” Fiona explained patiently. “I want him to see normal life. Get his fingers greasy for once.”
“I’m sure they have fish and chips in his clubs and restaurants,” Sarah said, clearly unimpressed. “They just don’t use beer batter, but some fancy wine batter instead or something. You’re wasting a good opportunity just to make a point that he won’t remember. I don’t think you’re about to change his ways in one dinner.”
“I don’t want to change his ways. I just want to open his eyes a little. And get him off my back.”
“And just maybe find yourself on your back?” Sarah couldn’t resist asking slyly, pulling her hand back from Fiona’s irritated slap. “Really, why not? He’s sexy and fun and even up-and-coming historians must have hormones. Couldn’t you use some up-and-coming?”
Fiona sent her a bleak look. “He’s not my type. Yes, he is hot, I agree. But I need more than just a hot body and attractive face to win me over.”
Sarah shrugged. “Then forget about the winning over and just have fun. You deserve it.”
“You sound like a shampoo commercial,” Fiona said testily.
It was Sarah’ s turn to flick her with the end of a tea-towel. “Well, you can at least let him buy you a fancy dessert or after-dinner drink or something.”
“ I can’t imagine that we’ll have anything left to say to each other by then,” Fiona said doubtfully. “I still have no idea what he’s so keen to talk to me about in the first place and we really don’t have enough in common to have involved discussions.”
“You d on’t have to be comparing notes on history,” her friend said dryly. “Opposites attract. You can both introduce each other to new things. That’s how it works, you know.”
It was the s econd subtle reference to some sort of academic snobbery, Fiona noted uneasily, hoping that people didn’t really see her that way. She was by no means elitist in her view on people or in her background, but it might be possible that she had spent so much time in the hallowed halls of academia that she was losing her perspective on things. Maybe this date was a good idea after all, to get her away from her research and writing.
At least that was progressing nicely, she reminded herself with some satisfaction. And slowly, as she advanced in Campbell’s notes, there was a new tone of optimism emerging, as if he were gently shaking off his initial morose attitude and finding pleasure in his new surroundings. She wished that he had dated his jottings more carefully; as it was, she had to estimate the timing by the description of seasons and by cross-referencing with local records whenever he was mentioned in their ledgers.
Sarah’s voice broke through her thoughts. “I
Fiona looked at her with a sardonic grin. “I don’t have forever,” she said logically. “His curiosity in interacting with the other half isn’t going to last that long, just like in that Pulp song “Common People.””
“We’ll see,” was all that Sarah would say, obviously happy to cling to her ideal of Colin as an irresistible charmer. “I reckon that what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. You might as well partake of a slice of upper class life while he tastes what it’s like to slum it. Have you decided where to have dinner?”
“The Old Wharf,” Fiona replied promptly. “Fish ‘n chips.”
There was a loud thump as Sarah banged the pint glass she was drying on the bar top. “Tell me you’re joking. You have a rich bloke ready to pay for your meal and you’re suggesting fish ‘n chips?”
“Best in the region,” Fiona pointed out stubbornly. “And it’s a nice evening to eat outdoors.”
“On wooden benches with picnic tables,” the barmaid protested. “You can do better than that.”
“That’s the point,” Fiona explained patiently. “I want him to see normal life. Get his fingers greasy for once.”
“I’m sure they have fish and chips in his clubs and restaurants,” Sarah said, clearly unimpressed. “They just don’t use beer batter, but some fancy wine batter instead or something. You’re wasting a good opportunity just to make a point that he won’t remember. I don’t think you’re about to change his ways in one dinner.”
“I don’t want to change his ways. I just want to open his eyes a little. And get him off my back.”
“And just maybe find yourself on your back?” Sarah couldn’t resist asking slyly, pulling her hand back from Fiona’s irritated slap. “Really, why not? He’s sexy and fun and even up-and-coming historians must have hormones. Couldn’t you use some up-and-coming?”
Fiona sent her a bleak look. “He’s not my type. Yes, he is hot, I agree. But I need more than just a hot body and attractive face to win me over.”
Sarah shrugged. “Then forget about the winning over and just have fun. You deserve it.”
“You sound like a shampoo commercial,” Fiona said testily.
It was Sarah’ s turn to flick her with the end of a tea-towel. “Well, you can at least let him buy you a fancy dessert or after-dinner drink or something.”
“ I can’t imagine that we’ll have anything left to say to each other by then,” Fiona said doubtfully. “I still have no idea what he’s so keen to talk to me about in the first place and we really don’t have enough in common to have involved discussions.”
“You d on’t have to be comparing notes on history,” her friend said dryly. “Opposites attract. You can both introduce each other to new things. That’s how it works, you know.”
It was the s econd subtle reference to some sort of academic snobbery, Fiona noted uneasily, hoping that people didn’t really see her that way. She was by no means elitist in her view on people or in her background, but it might be possible that she had spent so much time in the hallowed halls of academia that she was losing her perspective on things. Maybe this date was a good idea after all, to get her away from her research and writing.
At least that was progressing nicely, she reminded herself with some satisfaction. And slowly, as she advanced in Campbell’s notes, there was a new tone of optimism emerging, as if he were gently shaking off his initial morose attitude and finding pleasure in his new surroundings. She wished that he had dated his jottings more carefully; as it was, she had to estimate the timing by the description of seasons and by cross-referencing with local records whenever he was mentioned in their ledgers.
Sarah’s voice broke through her thoughts. “I
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