TIME AND SPACE (Part uh!)

That was what I needed, time to sort out my
stupid head, space to figure out if a marriage
proposal was what I wanted. So I stalled.
"I want you to meet my father properly." I
said;"You might not want to be related to him."
Poor Patrick! So maligned because I could never
say yes to anything other then a shag!
"Oh God! You want me to ask him for your
hand don't you?" Said Alan aghast.
"No." I shook my head:"Just meet him, it's
important for me to know that you will get
along. Then I will give you my answer."
"Say we don't? Say we hate eachother's
cologne or something?" Alan's dark eyes
drove into me, he knew I was stalling.
"You both smell good, it won't be a problem."
I assured him.
"You are a cow." He said sadly, but yes I'd
talked him around and he would lunch with
Patrick and it would be all jolly good fun!
But it wasn't, it was shit!
We met in a swish private club, Tory of course,
where the receptionist was a woman with steely
eyes and hair and a bad case of pomposity.
"Yahs?" She said like a Sloane victim.
"We are here to lunch with Sir Patrick Beamish."
I said in my best pretend voice. She looked at
me doubtfully and pityingly at Alan.
"Rebecca Martin and guest?" She said looking
at my Primark dress and Alan's usual black/black
garb.
"That's us." I confirmed, I felt my head start to
sweat.
"If you would like to follow me through?" She
beckoned to us, I had an irrestistable urge to
run away, but that was childish so I resisted it!
We were led through the dark panelling and
dark leather, very old school, though with a bit
of swooshing it could have doubled as an S&M
club. Probably did.
The restaurant area was almost entirely made up
of elderly men, though some had young hot girls
with them, probably called Millie, or Flora.
Daughters I guessed, or socialite girls who didn't
mind a few wrinkles as long as the pound signs
kept rolling.
"What a fucking awful place!" Hissed Alan into my
ear. I shushed him.
Patrick sat alone looking wonderful, Peter Cushing,
Van Helsing even, more alive then any of these
stiffs.
"Sir Beamish, your guests." Said Iron Knickers.
"Thank you Emily." He said and winked, the old
crow actually blushed and ducked her head.
"May be she doubles as Money Penny to his
elderly Bond?" Offered Alan.
"Bastard." I hissed to him, he was on form I'll give
him that.
"Patrick I'd like you to meet Alan, Alan Sir Patrick
Beamish." I said without saying the Dad word.
The men shook hands. This would be good.
Then I clocked Mickey Straw staring at me from
the bar, he winked.
"What's that Copper doing here?" Said Alan.
"He's my bodyguard, why?" Said Patrick.
"Nice choice." Said Alan bitterly.
"Rebecca seems to know him ." Said Patrick keenly.
"Oh you could say that, couldn't he Becks?"
I grinned horribly.
"An old friend." I said to Patrick, he smiled
his knowing smile. Damn that Straw.
"But he was at that awful wedding the other
time and you said nothing." Said Patrick.
I squirmed on my seat this was intense.
"It's complicated." Said Alan and began to
idly pick a rose apart that dressed the
table. I looked transfixed as he wrent
the petals. Poor rose.
"Shall I ask him to wait outside if he's
making you uncomfortable?" Said Patrick
also watching those leaves fall.
"Can you make him stand in front of a
bus please?" Said Alan and turned to
stare at Mickey much as a Pitbull would
stare at a rottweiller.

Believe me it got worse.
Ciao
Becka M