Page 2 of Take a Moment

‘I didn’t want to be presumptuous.’ He takes a swig from his bottle of mineral water. ‘Not that familiar with Scottish accents.’

There’s a short silence between us. I fiddle with my phone, while the man thumbs the pages of the book in front of him. Not quite the flowing ‘crap chat’ I was hoping for. More like the tongue-tiedness of a first date.

‘You said you were at a conference. Anything interesting?’ he asks eventually.

‘Interesting to me, but job-related. So maybe not interesting to you.’

‘What does that mean? Do I gather you enjoy your job?’

‘Possibly more so than the average person would consider healthy. Anyhow, if you’re not from Glasgow, where are you from?’

‘I’m a Brummie. From Birmingham, born and bred.’

I pick up my phone and google the term. ‘Ah, I see. A colloquial name for Birmingham or the Birmingham dialect. It’s also a Portuguese surname, according to Wikipedia. Did you know that?’

‘I did not.’ He raises an eyebrow at me. ‘And I’m not sure I’m any better off now I do. Do you verify everything you’re told through your phone? Or is it just to make sure total strangers don’t feed you false info?’

I replace my phone on the table. ‘I’d say it’s more of a bad habit.’

There’s another slightly awkward silence, then he asks, ‘Was the conference in Birmingham, then?’

I nod.

‘What did you think of it? Had you been before this trip?’

‘Yes, but not for years. I liked it. It’s really changed.’

The man nods. ‘It has. Birmingham’s never been seen as a place to visit, but I reckon the city centre regeneration is putting it on the map.’

‘It certainly appealed to me. In some ways, I preferred it to Glasgow. Didn’t see as much as I’d hoped, but I loved the openness of it, like the coloured fountains at that plaza near the conference centre.’

‘Centenary Square.’

‘That’s it. The canals are awesome too. I had drinks by the waterside with a few of the conference delegates I met.’

‘You do seem to have enjoyed it.’

‘I did.’ I pause reflectively. ‘Think if I ever had to go south for work, I’d certainly consider moving there.’

Though we haven’t even introduced ourselves, we continue to chat. By the time the train is pulling into the platform at Glasgow Central, we’re fairly well acquainted; as we’re alighting from the train, we’re at the stage of having a proper ‘goodbye’.

‘It was nice chatting to you.’ I gather my stuff and get to my feet.

‘You too. Good luck with the career.’

‘And good luck with the stag do. Hope the groom makes it down the aisle in one piece.’

‘Me too.’

We step down onto the platform separately, which acts as a natural opportunity for us to go our separate ways. But as I make my way towards the ticket barriers, I feel a hand touch my shoulder lightly. I turn and find myself looking once again into his unsettlingly attractive dark eyes. My stomach swirls in response to this.

‘Don’t suppose you’ve time for a quick drink?’ he asks uncertainly. ‘I don’t need to be anywhere til this evening.’

I’m caught off guard by this advance. ‘Oh, I err… sorry. I’m… engaged.’

His face falls and his eyes flicker to my left hand. ‘Right. Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—’

‘Don’t be sorry’ – the fingers of my right hand instinctively go to my ring finger protectively – ‘you weren’t to know. I’m flattered, honestly.’

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