He turned and there she was. ‘Hiya, Spencer.’
‘Hiya, Birdie.’
It was as though he had seen her yesterday. He put down his briefcase and sat next to her on the seat. Swinging back and forth with their feet, she put her head on his shoulder.
‘I’m back,’ she said.
10
Grace sat in the small coffee shop waiting for Frank. She had agreed to meet him for a coffee. This was the best way of seeing him without having to commit to hours of wasted time at a restaurant. The small café in Soho that Frank had asked her to meet him at was busy but she had managed to get two chairs out the front. Frank had called her after she left Violetta's apartment. It was a Saturday morning. Carlotta had gone to ride her horses, and Violetta was clearly in no state to do anything. Grace was alone. Perhaps that’s why she decided to agree to meet him. What else did she have to do?
Birdie’s condition was still the same, and the doctor was still talking about operating. Spencer was with her most days. Grace was sick of the hospital and she welcomed something different with someone who didn’t know her. No one to ask how she was or how Birdie was doing.
Sitting outside the café in Soho, she felt dowdy compared to the people inside, laughing and chatting, reading the papers. In her tailored black pants, her Marc Jacobs’s duffel coat, black turtleneck and orange Tods loafers, she realised she was over-dressed, maybe over-stuffed. She reached up and pulled the velvet headband out of her hair and stuffed it into her Hermes bag.
As she looked up she saw Frank riding towards her on his bike. He chained it up and came and sat beside her.
‘Morning,’ he said.
She looked at him again. He was pleasant looking, a little too frat boy for her taste though.
‘Hello,’ she said.
‘Coffee?’ he asked.
‘I have one,’ she said, gesturing to her cup.
‘OK, I’m going to order one. Want anything to eat?’
‘No, thanks.’
Grace smiled, put on her Fendi sunglasses and watched him inside laughing and talking with the waitress. Tall, slim, wearing the same jeans and sneakers but this time with a dark blue sweatshirt with 'Atari' written across it.
Grace sighed. At least the coffee was good, she thought. Frank walked out, holding a plate of pastries. ‘Starving,’ he said and offered one to her.
‘No, thanks,’ she said.
‘I’m glad you decided to meet me,’ he said, his mouth filled with apple Danish.
‘Thanks for inviting me,’ said Grace, wondering how long she had to stay.
The waitress bought Frank’s coffee out.
‘Thanks, babe,’ he said.
Babe, thought Grace, trying not to roll her eyes.
‘So Grace, how’s life?’ he asked.
‘Interesting,’ she answered. ‘How’s your life?’
‘Mine later, yours first. Why so interesting?’
Grace thought for a moment about everything in her life and then smiled. ‘Well, maybe not so interesting to others. You know, family stuff, new job…’ her voice trailed off.
‘Yeah, I get it.’
‘What do you do, Frank?’ asked Grace, trying not to look at her watch.
