Page 17 of Forever Mr Black

“Mmhmm.”

I pull myself away from him and worriedly glance at the door. “I need to move.”

“We’re on our lunch break.”

I fix him a firm look. “You’re being unreasonable. You might not give a shit what the other staff think, but I do.”

“Everybody already knows about us. What’s the big deal?”

“You’re the one who’s just been trying to convince me that me going for the deputy job wouldn’t look unprofessional, and now, you want me to stay sitting on your lap with your hand up my skirt while we get served our lunch!”

A firmer rap sounds at the door.

He frowns and removes his hand. “Better?”

I roll my eyes. “No, let me go.”

He looks at me for a long moment, deciding whether or not to listen to me. “Okay, if you’re that worried.”

He finally releases me from his grip. I slide off his lap onto the seat beside him.

“Come in,” he calls.

The door opens, and George walks in, carrying a tray with our lunches. His eyes anxiously dart between me and Art as he places it on the coffee table.

“Thanks for bringing them up, George,” I say.

“No problem. I was hoping to have a word with Art.” He looks worried that he’s interrupted something. “But I can come back.”

“No, George, it’s fine,” Art assures. “And you’re here now.”

George nods, and he smiles nervously. “Oh, okay, righto.”

“How can I help?”

George takes a hesitant step into the room. His neck and cheeks are a deep shade of red, and there’s a faint sheen of sweat across his brow. He looks even more nervous than usual. He pats the front of his navy blazer. “Well, funny you should mention the cocktail evenings because I, er … well, that’s what I need to speak to you about. I’m afraid I can’t cover the last one this Saturday. You see, I’ve been quite lonely since my wife died. It’s been two years, and I still can’t believe it.”

George shakes his head sadly, and I feel a pang of empathy.

“When I turned sixty earlier this year, I promised myself that I wouldn’t be lonely anymore.”

I glance at Art, who’s frowning, and I know his patience is on the verge of snapping. I rest a hand on his knee. It’s clear this is important to George, and I don’t want Art interrupting him.

“I joined an over-sixties online dating site. It took me a while to get my bearings, but I managed it. Anyway, I met a lovely lady called Linda. She’s sixty and a widow. We’ve been Skyping each other for months. We both like bridge and gardening, and …well, I’m taking her on a date on Saturday. Just to the pub, nothing fancy.” He rubs a hand across his sweaty brow and looks at Art, waiting for his response.

“It’s fine, George,” I blurt. “I’ll cover Saturday for you. You go and have a lovely time with Linda.”

I can feel Art’s eyes on me, but I ignore him. I know I’ve overstepped the line, but I don’t care.

George beams. “Wonderful. Thank you, Sophie. How kind.” He straightens his tie. “Well, that was all. Thanks both.” He opens the door and stops, looking back over his shoulder at us. “Love is precious. Cherish every moment you have together. You’ll miss it more than words can describe once it’s gone.”

I watch George disappear out the door with a lump in my throat.

“How could you say no to that?” I say, not looking at Art.

He frowns. “Do you really think I’m that harsh?”

“I could tell he was annoying you. I wasn’t sure whether or not you were going to agree.”

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