Page 146 of A Night with Damien Spur

Damien was quite happy to coast along without any fireworks. Play it cool. He still wasn’t sure he fancied her.

By week three, Frances had decided to change the status quo. Hitherto, the dates had ended with a friendly peck on the cheek. And even though Damien insisted on paying the tab, Frances did manage to squeeze in a gift. Namely a pair of Vilebrequin swimming shorts. He had planned to stay with Justin and Anna for the weekend in Antibes and had pointed out a pair on display in the window as they passed the shop in the Burlington Arcade after a visit to the Royal Academy.

She gave them to him over lunch at La Famiglia.

‘What a lovely surprise!’ He took the patterned blue and yellow shorts out of the bag. He leant forward and kissed her softly, sweet on her lips. Frances held her breath. She wasfloating.

‘Let’s go back to yours and you can try them on just to make sure they fit,’ she said all breezy casual, with just a tiny hint of “what if he says no?” in her eyes. ‘Okay?’

‘I look forward to it,’ he said.

***

After they had made love, Frances traced her finger across his chest and said, ‘You’re such a terrific guy, I can’t believe we met in such a random way. It must be in the stars.’

Ah,the Voice said.Is this your kindred spirit? Are you finally twinned with your ever-after? Claudia’s cards, the traveller from abroad?

Damien wound a strand of her blonde hair round his finger and stroked her soft cheek. ‘You’re such a sweet soul, Frances, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’

‘Well then, I’d better go.’ Frances pushed his arm aside. ‘Don’t want to rush you. Make you feel pressured.’

‘Please… don’t take it the wrong way.’

‘Is there a right way? Let me translate. It means that you’re not really interested. Well, okay, I’m going to have a shower and then I’ll be off.’ She got up and made her way towards the bathroom.

Damien leapt out of bed, put his arms round her waist and kissed her neck.

‘It’s okay.’ She pulled away from him. ‘My fault. I was the one who seduced you. I really don’t know why I’m so angry.’ She choked back her tears and wiped her face with the back of her hand, calmed herself and after a few breaths said, ‘It’s just that I don’t normally make the moves. But I thought this time it was going to work.’

Damien caught her arm. ‘Stop, stop, stop! Frances. I can’t bear to see you like this.’ He swung her round to face him.‘I just get nervous because I always seem to make the wrong choices. Please stay.’

***

Ten o’clock on Sunday morning Damien was in the kitchen rustling up breakfast, while Frances, wearing his pink Turnbull and Asser shirt and nothing else, sat watching him.

‘It’s all to do with the pan,’ he said, waving the crêpe griddle in the air. ‘The eggs cook quicker in a shallow pan and I don’t fold the omelette. So it’s more like a tortilla.’

‘It’s such a turn-on when a guy cooks you breakfast,’ she said, standing behind him, hands on hips.

This one could be a winner, the Voice whispered in his head.She likes you. In and out of bed.

Damien had placed each ingredient in little white bowls on the marble worktop.

‘First, butter – more flavour than olive oil.’ He gently moved her out of the way and dropped a knob into the pan.

‘Sauté the tomatoes.’ He tipped them in. ‘And wait for them to soften. Then pour in the whisked eggs. Burford browns are the best. Deep golden yolks, and a much richer taste than the usual ones.’

He moved the mixture around in the pan, occasionally prodding the edges of the omelette with a spatula.

‘Let them cook for a few minutes, covering intermittently with a lid. There,’ he said, running the spatula across the surface, ‘nice and firm.’

‘Smells good,’ Frances said.

‘Now for the grated cheese.’ He sprinkled the cheddar on top with a flourish, let it melt and finally added some spinach leaves.

‘Lovely,’ she said, ‘and so simple. I’m going to buy a griddle pan and if you come to stay at mine, I’ll make you one.’

Damien caught that look in her eye.

---