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When the cab pulled up outside Ghormeh, Lucy honestly thought there had been some mistake. Paul was a cheap bastard when it came to their relationship. Yet, there he was, already on the sidewalk with a hand outstretched. Maybe he had actually put in effort this year. Maybe it meant something big would be happening during dessert. Her stomach flipped. Her heart beat faster.
Regardless, she was going to do her damnedest to enjoy the meal. Ghormeh had been on her list of must-try restaurants since it opened. Paul had never been interested in going whenever she offered it for date nights, citing his general dislike for curry. Lucy had tried to explain that Persian and Indian were distinctly different food cultures to no avail. Her girlfriends weren’t comfortable with the price point so using it as a girl’s night experience was out as well.
But that didn’t matter now. She was finally going to try Ghormeh and Chef Karim’s cooking. She would make the most of the night, so help her.
Lucy ignored Paul’s hand as she slid out into this brisk London night. Lucy didn’t want Paul to know her hands were shaking. He would misunderstand and think it was a positive sign, not one of anxiety. He let her take the lead as they entered the single glass door.
The restaurant looked and felt homey. Lucy thought it was like she stepping into a friend’s home for a dinner party instead of an upscale restaurant. Two long banquettes lined the walls of the space with small two person tables spaced evenly along them. The chairs were mismatched, as if the host had run out of ‘proper’ dining chairs and was just using whatever they had on hand. Larger round tables with turn tables, like what you might see in a Chinese restaurant, sat in the middle of the dining area. A family table of sorts that could seat ten sat in front of the restaurant’s large front windows. A bar had been set up next to the kitchen and was lined with bottles of wine. There seemed to be a few beer taps as well, but no one was manning the station.
A young woman wearing a black dress and hijab stood at a small lectern about three steps into the space.
“Welcome to Ghormeh, do you have a reservation?”
“Uh, yeah. It should be under Bell.” Paul’s voice pulled Lucy from her thoughts.
The woman smiled, checked something on the lectern then reached for two slim pieces of cardstock.
“If you’ll follow me.”
Waiters in black button downs and embroidered waistcoats smiled as they walked by. The hostess seated the pair of them at the end of the right wall’s banquette closet to the windows and the large table.
“Anthony should be over shortly to help you through your journey this evening. If you have any questions don’t hesitate to flag myself or anyone wearing a waistcoat down.” The hostess offered as she the menus down on the table. She smiled at Lucy then at Paul before returning to the host stand. Lucy took the banquette seat without asking. She wanted to be able to watch the restaurant function and people watch. Paul didn’t like the padding of booths but frowned as he settled into a mid-toned wooden chair with arms and a damask cushion for the low back.
“This is classy,” Paul offered.
“George Karim was on The Sun’s list of young chefs to watch last year,” Lucy offered.
“Was he?” Paul glanced around the crowded dining room.
“Yes, he was on a program with Gordan Ramsey and Great British Bakeoff brough him in to judge a Persian technical bake during Middle Eastern week. I wonder if he has those jammy biscuits on the menu. They looked amazing.” Lucy picked up the thin yet hefty cardstock and began to peruse the offerings. Paul glanced at the menu on the table. A hand reached into his jacket for his phone. She was just about to ask Paul about trying the fixed price menu when a thin black and red clad human appeared.
“Good evening.” Lucy looked up, surprised by the posh accent. The waiter was thin and pale with dark hair that flopped over one of his dark eyes. What really caught her attention though was the debonair smirk on the man’s thin lips. It said, ‘I know I’m hot and I know you agree with me’.
“I’m Anthony. I’ll be your waiter this evening. Have either of you even dined with us before?” He placed two black paper napkins down on the table. A second waiter appeared with two goblets of water which Anthony placed before both of them.
Lucy gave him a friendly smile, “Good evening. We haven’t had the pleasure.”
Paul didn’t look up from his phone. “Yeah, just wanted to have a nice dinner out. Place came highly recommended.”
“Ah well, welcome,” Anthony’s eyes seemed to dart between Paul and Lucy before he continued. “Ghormeh is a Persian-British restaurant. Our chef likes to take his family’s traditional recipes and put a British twist on them. Everything on the menu down to the barbari bread I’ll be brining around once it's out of the oven is made from scratch in our kitchen. Are you familiar with Persian cuisine at all?”
Paul grunted. Lucy bit her lip. “To an extent. It’s similar to Turkish, right?”
Anthony nodded. “A bit Turkish, a bit Indian, but also unique in its use of herbs and spices. If you haven’t tried much before, I suggest the tasting menu. It has the chef’s highlights on it, including his award winning Ghormeh Sabzi which is my personal favorite.”
He paused to look at Paul then back at Lucy. The feeling of his gaze settling was unsettling. It had been ages since anyone had looked at her that way.
“Pardon me for not asking sooner. Are we celebrating anything tonight?”
That seemed to pull Paul away from his phone. He set it screen down on the table. “It’s our two-year anniversary this evening, isn’t that right, love?”
Lucy nodded. “That’s right.”
“Congratulations.” The tone Anthony used sounded more sarcastic than sincere. Paul’s phone buzzed on the table. Lucy hoped he wouldn’t pick it up again for while. Those hopes were quickly dashed as another notification came through.
“I’ll give you two some time to think ,” Anthony said, slipping away from the table.
Lucy watched the waiter go. Paul huffed across the table.
“What?” She leaned back against the plush banquette, arms crossing over her chest.
“Oi, don’t wot at me like that. The waiter was obviously flirting with you.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “He was being nice and doing his job.”
“I told him we were together and here for our anniversary, and he still flirted. The fact you don’t seem to recognize that is a bit troubling, love.”
Lucy’s eyes narrowed as she looked for a green hue in Paul’s sallow skin. Perhaps he was just hangry.
“Anthony is just doing his job. Not every man who smiles and helps me is trying to get in my pants. Maybe you should act like you actually want to be here instead of texting your boys. Am I keeping you from some critical football match? Some fantasy league hangout?”
“I made the reservation, remember. I wanted to take you out. Perhaps I should have taken you to that dump of a Thai place around the corner for your flat. Nothing says date night like Pad See Ew and spring rolls.” His phone buzzed again. This time he reached for it. The light of the screen hit his face at an unflattering angle.
“Pardon me.” The pair turned to see Anthony standing beside their table with a single flute of champagne.
“We didn’t order champagne.” Paul’s eyes flashed with barely contained fury.
“Well spotted,” Anthony said dryly. “This is on the house, in recognition of the lady’s special day.” The waiter placed the flute in front of Lucy with a smirk. She looked from the glass to Paul and back.
“Shouldn’t there be two glasses then? Seeing as we’re together and its our anniversary?”
Anthony’s smirk transformed into a wide shark-like smile filled with perfectly straight shining white teeth.
“Sorry, we only offer complimentary Dom to our most distinguished guests and I’m afraid tossers glued to their phones watching footie while on dates don’t qualify. I do, however, have Heineken on draft, should you wish to order a beer. Though if truly pressed I might be able to scrounge up a warm can of Carling.”
The man’s attention turned back to Lucy and his expression softened. “Now, other than the champagne, what I can get for you? Perhaps the tasting menu?”
“Excuse me,” Paul snapped. Anthony turned his attention back to Paul. “Would you mind knocking it off? Lucy is clearly taken. We don’t appreciate you ruining our date with your advances.”
Lucy’s mouth dropped open. She reached for her wine as a way to disguise the shock. It had been so long since Paul had been so passionate about their relationship. As she sipped dry fizzy liquid, Lucy tried to remember that last time Paul had given a shit about her, beyond as a good lay or a jewel on his arm for work functions.
“My sincerest apologies, Sir. Apparently, I was being too subtle.” Anthony gave Paul another of those shark smiles. “I happen to think that she can do so much better than you.”
Paul gave a small snort. His face was slowly turning red. Lucy tried not to mentally compare her boyfriend to a lobster that was so obviously cooked.
“And who would be better? You?”
Anthony’s smirk widened again. His eyes burned with barely concealed contempt. Lucy sipped her wine. A good girlfriend would, on Paul’s behalf, stop whatever was brewing before it went too far. At the same time, she was enjoying watching Paul squirm while being forced to defend their relationship.
“Actually yes. I was going to wait for the end of the meal to do this but….” Anthony pulled a heavy looking black leather rectangle from his pants pocket. “Could I get your number, Lucy?”
Her name sounded like honey on his tongue. A tingle of enjoyment prickled her fingers and toes. Lucy wondered what her name would sound like coming from this posh man’s mouth in other scenarios. She bit her lip as her mind raced with the possibilities. Were her cheeks warm? If they were hopefully no one would notice.
“This is ridiculous. I would like to speak to your manager about your unprofessional behavior!” Paul shouted as he slammed a hand down on the tale. The small candle holder in the middle of the table fell over. The electric candle rolled off the edge and onto the floor. The crack of the plastic breaking felt deafening. The restaurant seemed to freeze as all eyes turned to the altercation. Lucy drained her glass as waves of embarrassment washed over her.
The hostess had a phone out and was texting someone. A bald man covered in tattoos peaked out of the door to the kitchen. He looked familiar, but Lucy couldn’t place him.
Anthony began to laugh. Small chuckles crescendoed into full belly laughs. The hand holding his phone rose to clutch at his chest.
“What is so funny?” Paul began to stand. His hands curled into fists.
The hostess was crossing the room. The tattooed man wasn’t far behind her. He wore an apron tied around at his waist with a stained towel shoved into it’s mock waistband.
Anthony managed to get his laughing under control. “Hold this for me will you, Luce? If your number ends up in it while I handle this completely unworthy trash, all the better.”
The phone fell to the table with a resounding thump. Anthony turned to Paul. The sharklike grin was back.
“Apologies for not introducing myself properly when I greeted your table. My name is Anthony Lockwood, and I am the managing partner of the Lockwood Group. So, you could say I’m the ultimate manager here.”
All the anger and fear drained from Paul’s face. His skin seemed to shift instantly from vibrant strawberry to buttermilk. He spluttered as he looked around the room for someone to support him.
“You were flirting with my girlfriend. What kind of business are you running where you openly flirt with people who are clearly NOT on the menu? I even called ahead to arrange a special surprise for her. Your team confirmed it. I have the emails to back it up. And you’ve ruined it.”
Anthony’s gaze shifted to Lucy, an eyebrow raised in a silent question.
“Lets get out of here Lucy. Clearly our business isn’t good enough for this posh arsehole.”
Paul stood, putting on his coat. His phone began to ring. It was the obnoxious ringtone that Paul assigned to his closest friends. The ringtone that made Lucy want to pull the stupid thing from his hand and throw it in front of a train. His hand was already moving toward the device. It was what finally broke Lucy’s resolve to make the most of the evening.
“If you want to go then go, Paul. Hang out with your boys and drink shitty beer at the Rose and Throne all night for all I care. I’m going to stay here and enjoy the rest of my night. I have been dying to eat here for months, Paul. Months.”
Paul’s chest puffed out like he was some overblown pheasant. “Lucy, be reasonable. The prices here are…”
“Irrelevant,” Anthony cut in. “Since I seem to have ruined the lady’s evening, Lucy’s meal will be on the house. I’m sure George will have no problem dazzling her with his creations.”
Lucy remained seated. She watched with horror as Paul reached into his coat pocket for the small blue velvet box she already knew about.
“Lucy, I love you…” Paul started. She held a hand up.
“Paul, lets be frank. You don’t love me. I’m the safe option. The girlfriend from back home who was your first everything. The woman you moved to London for, when you hate it here. You hate my flat. You hate my job. You hate the spot I get Pad See Ew from on Tuesdays. You didn’t even say thank you when I got you tickets to see Chelsea play at home. At least once a day you talk about moving back North, to that shitty little town that thinks you’re the best thing since the damn Queen.”
Paul’s eyes became glassy. “Luc…”
She ignored his attempt to stop her soliloquy. “When you are in the same room with me you’re glued to your phone. Did you think people wouldn’t notice? My friends told me you were cheating and I swore you were just going through a rough time at the office. Yet the fact our waiter is paying attention to me and not the person with his nose in his phone is a problem? What the fuck is wrong with you”
She stopped to drain the last of her champagne from the glass. Everyone’s eyes were on their table now. A single tear ran down Paul’s face. The sounds of a kitchen working were the only signs of life in the restaurant.
“The answer is no. Don’t even bother with the shiny bauble. We’re done. In the morning I’ll box up your shit and courier it to your office.”
There were gasps as Paul began to cry in earnest.
“I…I…” he stumbled as he tried to find words. “I love you.”
Lucy shook her head. “You never loved me. We were easy and you like it that way. I’m sure there is someone out there for you, but it’s not me.”
Paul all but ran out of the restaurant. The other guests held their breath as he left. Through the windows they watched him cross the street just as a downpour of rain started
“Well, that was poor timing,” the tattooed man quipped. The restaurant seemed to restart then. Guests returned to their conversations. Waiters began to circulate around the room. The hostess appeared beside Anthony and the tattoo-covered man.
“I’m so sorry for all of that.” Lucy’s voice finally began to waver. She felt as though an icy knife had been stabbed into her heart. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.
“Nothing to be sorry for. That was the best non-adult entertainment I’ve had all month,” the tattooed man laughed.
Anthony popped the man’s stomach as it undulated. “Be respectful, Skull. Can’t you see Luce is in shock? Besides, I think I can hear George swearing from here. You should probably check and make sure he hasn’t murdered Kipps.”
Once Skull was on his way, Anthony turned his attention to the hostess. “Farrah, put in two orders of the tasting menu, with an extra portion of bread. Two house teas and the bottle of Dom I opened.”
“Right away Mr. Lockwood.” She hurried away. A waiter took her spot at the front of the restaurant to greet incoming guests. Anthony slid into the seat Paul had vacated and began to unbutton his waistcoat.
“You don’t have to sit with me. I’m sure the restaurant is very busy this evening if you’re waiting tables.”
Lucy watched as he shrugged out of the garment revealing the black button-up beneath. The shirt pulled across his chest as he moved. He smiled softly.
“If they need me, my staff know where I am. Honestly, I just wanted to make sure you were ok and make up for ...that.” Long fingers found the buttons of his cuffs and undid them with ease. He began to roll the sleeve up the elbow before continuing. “I’m sorry for how public that scene was.”
“Don’t be. It’s better it happened before we’d eaten.” She snickered as a new waiter appeared with a cloth wrapped teapot and two delicate china cups. “Fewer things to throw.”
Anthony nodded in agreement. He started to work on the second cuff. “I take it you knew he was planning to propose?”
“I found the ring in his drawer last week.”
Anthony reached for the tea pot. Lucy watched as he deftly poured two cups .
“It’s George’s mum’s special blend. She gave him permission to serve it, but none of us know exactly how she makes it. She just shows up on Sundays with a bag and asks for a box of George’s shirni morabai as payment.”
Lucy raised the cup to her lips and inhaled. The bitter notes of black tea were softened by warm spice and something floral. She took a test sip. The tea didn’t even need added sugar. What wizardry was this? It reminded her vaguely of winter days in her student housing at university. Norrie would bundle the two of them under blankets and have spiced cider brewing in a small crockpot while Christmas movies play on their tiny television.
“Good right?” Anthony sipped his own tea slowly.
“Incredible.” Lucy set her cup down. On the banquette next to her, rapid chirping and vibrating began. Her purse shifted along the surface with the force of it.
She did her best to ignore it and focus on Anthony’s features. She wanted to remember him for later. His cheekbones would be a nice addition to her sketchbook.
“Word has gotten out, I see.” Anthony grinned at her. His eyes sparkled with mirth.
“They can all fuck off.” Lucy took another sip of her tea. “I’m going to enjoy dinner. Then maybe I’ll respond, if they happen to be my best friend or my work-wife.”
“That reminds me.” Anthony motioned to where his phone still sat forgotten at her elbow. “I was serious about getting your number. It’s not every day such a gorgeous woman comes into my restaurant.”
“Let’s see how the evening goes. After all, I’m distraught.” She grinned back at him.
“Absolutely wrecked,” he laughed. “Ah and here’s George.”
A man about her age - shorter than Anthony, but thicker set, in an orange chef’s jacket and black pants entered the dining room. He looked something like a perturbed gourd as he crossed the space to their table.
“Lockwood, what the bloody hell did you do? You were supposed to fill in while Denise was stuck on the tube, not cause a scene in my dining room.”
Anthony merely smiled at the chef. “George, I’d like you to meet Lucy. She’s very excited to be dining here, and has had a rather terrible day. Your mum would have killed me if I had stood by and done nothing.”
Lucy laughed as she picked up Anthony’s phone from where it lay on the table and handed it back to her new dining companion. “Ask me after dinner.”
“Best make it good, George, my love life is riding on this,” Lockwood joked.
George rolled his eyes before he turned to head back to the kitchen. He mumbled something that sounded like ‘bloody menace’.
Farrah appeared with the bottle of Dom Perignon and a second champagne flute. The glass was already filled with the pale gold liquid. A tiny trail of bubbles fought their way to the surface. Had it been sitting out?
“Thank you Farrah.”
The hostess nodded then left the pair to each other’s company. Anthony refilled her glass before reaching for the second.
“You know, I’m starting to think you had a plan when you brought this over.” Lucy giggled as she picked up her glass again.
“A gentleman doesn’t plan. He merely considers every eventuality.” Anthony clinked his glass with hers then took a sip.
“Eventuality huh?” She grinned at him as she sipped her drink.
“Ah well, a guy can hope that when a gorgeous creature walks into his bar that she’ll dump the tosser she’s with and give him a chance.”
A waiter in a bright blue waistcoat appeared with a tray of plates. They quickly dropped a basket of bread and two steaming dishes. One was a beautifully plated yellow and green disc with cheese and pomegranate seeds on top. The other was a fragrant green stew. A pair of smaller plates followed. Each plate and been accompanied by a gleaming silver serving utensil. Anthony looked at the dishes then up at the waiter.
“Rice is a few minutes out. Skull burned the last batch due to the commotion earlier.”
The waiter didn’t wait for Anthony’s response before leaving.
“Want to dig in even without the rice?” Anthony set his champagne down and reached the smaller dish. Lucy eagerly nodded. Her stomach burbled its agreement.
“So this first dish is Kuku Sabzi. Herbed egg frittata with feta, pomegranate and a lemon yogurt sauce.” He cut a slice for her, effortlessly sliding it to her plate.
“I normally take a piece of the bread and making a bit of a sandwich, even if George calls it herasy. The bowl is our award winning Ghormeh Sabzi, which is herb stew that we do with lamb, but you could make it with anything really. Its best with the rice, which as you heard is a bit delayed.”
“I’m ok with waiting, if you are.” Lucy eyed the strew. The scents of parsley, onion and coriander were delectable.
“I’ll think you’ll find I am more than capable of waiting until just the right moment to enjoy something. Though do eat. The frittata is best warm.”
As Anthony began to build his sandwich, Lucy assembled what she thought might be a good first bite. She used the bread as a spoon to collect the garnishes before pinching a piece of the egg.
Flavor exploded on her tongue as Lucy took her fist bite. It was savory, sour, creamy and just a little bit sweet. If everything was this good she might have to forgo Thai Tuesdays to afford Ghormeh every week. Maybe the cute manager would be willing to give her a discount, or at least a standing reservation.
“Good?” His question interrupted her thoughts.
“Bloody delicious more like. And we’re not even to the award winning stuff yet.” She covered her mouth as she spoke in an attempt to be ladylike.
“Shall we toast then? To endings and good food?”
Lucy reached for her glass. “To endings, good food, and spectacular company.”