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January 2027
Laura opened her last birthday card and read it with a grin. “Afternoon tea at the Ritz, Greg? That's what I love about you, you never give up.”
Greg finished his coffee. “Sixth time lucky, I reckon.”
Laura slid the card back inside the envelope thoughtfully. “We'll see, I guess. I can’t see us ever getting in the door now. It’s totally cursed!”
Rowan snagged the card from her mother, read it herself. “Probably be an asteroid strike on the hotel or something, mum. Bit risky.”
“Well, you were the reason for, I think it was, the second cancellation? Coming along three weeks early...”
“Hardly my fault. And that doesn’t account for the other times. I’m with mum, it’s cursed.”
“Funny curse though,” Laura said. “It’s never anything bad. Just...events.”
The maitre d’ blinked as Greg gave their names. He flipped a few pages of the guestbook back and forth, frowning. Greg and Laura exchanged knowing glances. While they had got farther than ever before, actually inside the hotel, right through the doors and all the way through the main lobby, they were still both expecting another disaster (well, they were none of them disasters, exactly...). Laura had begun to think it would actually be a let down if they ever actually did it. Nineteen years ago, their first cancelled booking was, now.
2008
“Let’s have lunch. I still owe you one from...”
“Paris. 1793.”
“Come on. Let’s do the Ritz.”
Crowley had not bothered to book. In his world, table reservations were things that happened to other people.
The Tube train rattled along. Greg, looking out of the window into the tunnel, felt inside his pocket yet again for the little box. Still there. Of course it was still there, there was no way he was going to lose this ring, the one he had seen in the jewellers’ window and instantly known he had to buy it for Laura. He felt like he had found her ring, not chosen it. And knowing her love of afternoon tea there was only one place he could think of to give it to her. Afternoon tea at the Ritz had been booked for three months.
The train was slowing down in the tunnel. It stopped. There was an uneasy silence. Not being a Londoner, Greg attempted to make eye contact with the guy sitting opposite him. He was looking at his phone and swiping at it angrily, and ignored him completely. Laura glanced at her watch.
Minutes passed. And then some more minutes. People were shifting around. At the far end of the carriage someone actually spoke to their neighbour, although they just shrugged in reply. There was an announcement from the driver but in usual Tube style, it was mostly unintelligible. Something about ‘widespread communication failures?’ No one was sure. The train was still not moving, however.
Sixty minutes had now gone by. A few people were now talking; the unspoken social rule of really, really long delays had kicked in, when even British people can talk to someone they don’t know on public transport.
“Where’re you two off to? Dressed a bit nice for the Tube,” said the guy opposite, giving up on his phone at last.
“Tea at the Ritz, would you believe?” said Laura. “We’ve missed our reservation, now.”
“Oh, no!” the guy said. “That’s bad luck.”
“Worse than that,” Greg said. He had spent the last sixty minutes in agony. Now he came to a decision. There was no way he could sit on this any longer, he was so nervous anyway and trying to hide it, he couldn’t do another three months or however long it would take to organise all this again.
He got up and fumbled the little box out of his pocket. Thought about it for a minute and then knelt in front of Laura, down on one knee, the whole thing. She put her hands over her mouth, blushing and laughing. She had had some idea Greg had been planning to propose today but obviously, hadn’t imagined this.
“I was going to do this somewhere more romantic, but I don’t think I can wait any longer...”
It was like a cheesy Christmas film. He proposed from the floor of a Tube carriage, she said yes, people clapped, someone from a few seats up produced a six-pack of beer so they toasted their engagement with Budwieser, someone else took a photo on Laura’s phone.
The train then rocked to life, finally, moving out of the tunnel rather sheepishly and allowing them to alight, hours late for their reservation and besides, already engaged. Laura and Greg shrugged, went to the pub instead and found that no one’s phones were working so they couldn’t even tell anyone what had happened. By this time they were quite drunk and finding the catalogue of disasters quite hilarious.
2012
Did Ashtoreth and Francis have days off from the Dowlings at the same time? Would they do the Ritz? I’m saying yes.
Laura stopped for a second and leaned on the low wall alongside the Embankment. The Braxton-Hicks were very strong today, her whole abdomen tensing up for a few seconds before releasing. She had been getting them for weeks. The midwife said they were ‘practice contractions’ but the strength of some of them made her very nervous as to what a real one would be like.
Greg had wanted to cancel their booking but Laura saw this day out as a bit of a final fling; they wouldn’t be going out to fancy hotels on their own for quite a while, once the baby was here.
“You OK?” Greg asked, immediately all concern. He had found Laura’s pregnancy to be fascinating and terrifying both together, not quite able to believe, even after seeing the ultrasounds and the little hands and feet, that she had a whole other person inside her. A person they had made. He felt a bit like a spare part, sometimes, watching Laura do the hard graft of actually growing their baby. A girl, they had been told, and he couldn’t believe that, either.
In reply to his question, Laura actually doubled over. “Ooof...Greg, I’m not sure these are just Braxton-Hicks,” she gasped. “They’re a bit....ooof....regular.”
Greg had already yanked his phone out of his pocket and dialled for an ambulance. The printed-out reservation email came out of his pocket with his phone and danced off down the street in the stiff breeze, unremarked.
2019
“Let me tempt you to a spot of lunch.”
“Temptation accomplished. What about the Ritz? I do believe a table for two has just miraculously come free.”
Greg had actually called the hotel the day before to check that they were open, as there had been several days of odd occurrences and wild rumours that the government had then completely denied. He knew he had seen footage of what they claimed was Atlantis, and a new rainforest, and something even worse than normal happening on the M25, but a lot of people apparently didn’t remember any of it. Laura bought the explanation that it had been a mass hallucination caused by high mineral levels in the tap water, but that sounded like bollocks to Greg. For a start it had been everywhere in the world. But anyway, yes, the Ritz was still open, though they were taking the precaution of boiling their tap water, apparently.
“Third time lucky!” he said exuberantly as they got in a black cab at Euston (he was taking no chances with the Tube). He didn’t think much to it when his phone rang during the cab ride, answering it casually. Laura watched him, already knowing that they were once again, not going to get so much as a look at a cup of posh tea. She hadn’t wanted to book again, thinking she could tell a sign from the universe to avoid a place when she saw one. But Greg had insisted and, actually, she did want to do it. They had done loads of fantastic things since they’d been married, but this...this was always the one that got away.
“Well,” Greg said after finishing his call. “That’s a bugger. Apparently they’ve double booked us. He was very apologetic. We’ve got a voucher we can use any time over the next year including a night’s stay so that’ll be nice....”
Laura shook her head, resigned to their fate. “Greg, you sweet, summer child. We are never going to set foot in that place.”
“No, look, it’s right here,” he showed her his phone. Laura shook her head, smiling wryly. The universe had spoken again, and what it had said was, “Go to Claridge’s.”
2020
“Told you so,” Laura said as Greg pulled the printed out, expired, voucher off the kitchen noticeboard and tossed it, unused and unusable, into the recycling. He replaced it with a handy set of hooks that Rowan had made (in a distance-learning woodwork class that had made Greg very nervous) to hang covid masks on so they were handily near the back door.
2024
“Come on, let’s do the Ritz. It’s been ages, angel.”
“Yes, yes it has.”
“Is there a table, d’you think?”
“There is now, darling.”
(Come on Neil, make it happen).
Laura smoothed her skirt down over her hips and looked critically at herself in the full length mirror. Still look alright, she thought, still look ok for the Ritz. For a moment she dreamed of walking through those doors...
Outside the bedroom she heard Rowan hammering up the stairs yelling something. “Mum! MUM! It’s grandad on the phone! Nick’s getting out!”
Laura snatched the phone from her daughter’s hand. Six years, six years her brother-in-law, her sister’s husband, had been in jail, for a violent burglary that he vehemently denied having anything to do with. Laura’s brother-in-law was far from an angel in general, but he had always, always said that he hadn’t done this (it had been nasty, an old lady had been tied up and robbed, something he claimed he wouldn’t have even thought to do, and the family believed him). The gist of this call, in which details were very sketchy, as her dad was crying like a baby, was that someone else had come forward and confessed to the whole thing, Matt was exonerated and coming home today, so everyone needed to get over there and give him a decent welcome. He’d had some dark times in prison and he needed to know that everyone in the family still believed in him.
Laura unzipped her silk skirt with a wry smile and reached for her jeans. Brilliant news about Matt, obviously it was, but today of all days? Well. She hadn’t expected anything else, really.
2027
“Wanna do the Ritz, angel?”
“Of course. Today? Have you booked?”
“No. When do I ever? Reckon there’ll be a table, though.”
“I really think we should try to do things properly, now, all things considered. It’s only a phone call, after all. You know, Crowley, I’ve realised something...” Aziraphale was frowning. “There are several years between our little dates, of course, but I have an awful feeling...”
“What is it? The people we bump always get something good, don’t they? I don’t think they mind too much.”
“I’d have to ask Richard, of course, but I have an awful feeling we might have taken that table from the same couple, three or four....no...gosh, Crowley! FOUR times. There was that time all the phones went down, which was your work, I recall. The girl who had the baby....and, yes, that was her brother-in-law....one time you just had Richard give them a voucher, that’s rather...careless, my dear...Hm. All those times, it was the same poor couple! Oh, that won’t do, will it?”
“Nkh...I don’t know, angel, are you sure?”
“Quite sure. Well, we must try to make it right, at any rate.”
The maitre d’ blinked as Greg gave their names. He flipped a few pages of the guestbook back and forth, frowning. Greg and Laura exchanged knowing glances.
“I called this morning....” Greg began.
“Is there a problem?” Laura asked, almost laughing.
“Oh, no, madam, not at all. I was just making sure I had the right people....” He turned back to Greg. “Your table is paid for, sir. Oh – I was also asked to give you this.” He handed over a folded piece of hotel stationery. Laura took it, mystified. She unfolded it and began to read, with Greg looking over her shoulder.
Dear Lucy and Greg,
It has been brought to our attention that you have been attempting to visit this establishment for some time. Dear Richard, the maitre d’Hotel, has informed us of five previous bookings that for various reasons did not result in your attending. We feel somewhat responsible for this, as it appears we have benefitted from your last minute changes of plan (nearly) every time.
I assure you that it was not our intention to deprive you of their excellent hospitality for so long. We also trust that the events which have precluded your visits here were happy ones. Please accept our offer of payment for your long awaited afternoon tea, and we sincerely hope it will be worth the wait!
AZ Fell and AJ Crowley
Someone had added a PS in a different hand.
Since you’ve had to wait two decades the champagne is on us too, hope we got the right vintage, you got engaged in 2008, right? AJC
Laura was laughing hysterically. “Are they here?” she said when she could speak. Richard made a non committed sound, discrete to the last about his best tippers.
As they at last entered the dining room, however, she spotted them straight away, two men, one platinum blond and the other red haired and mysterious in shades, raising glasses to them as they went past. Both of them were grinning. Laura raised her hand, hesitantly.
Rowan stared at them for a moment then hurried to catch up with her parents. “Looks like I didn’t need to come after all,” she said.
“Ah, but, yes, you did, you see, you broke the jinx. Those two,” Greg brandished the letter in their general direction, “can’t take our table this time, because we booked for three.”