Roses Aren't Everything: Chapter 20: Queen Elizabeth
...Ingrid stood up. Carl slipped his arm around her waist and led her to the car. It was a low slung white Porsche with an open top. As they drove out of the nursery gates into the busy street beyond, she had time to wonder what Beth would say if she could see her now. Would she be shocked? Probably. Would she be impressed? Undoubtedly!...
At last Carl takes Ingrid to lunch!
Leanne Hunt continues her engaging novel set in South Africa and featuring a woman at a crisis point in her life.
Collecting herself, Ingrid flashed a defiant smile. “Hello, Carl. Yes, in fact, I was looking for you. How are you?" She was aware that her cheeks had turned pink.
“Mmm, fine thanks.” The young man beside her stretched languidly to adjust a sign over a display of garden tools. His frame was lean and athletic. He wore smart black trousers that accentuated narrow haunches and long legs. His crisp white shirt was open low at the neck, revealing a gleaming Kruger Rand on a chunky gold chain.
“I believe," said Ingrid when he was facing her again, "that you’re closing the shop early. Are you going away on holiday?”
“Yeah, maybe,” Carl answered lazily. “I haven’t really decided. Ma’s been here this week, helping in the shop, and she wants me to go with her to see my brother in Kimberley. But I’m thinking of joining some friends at Sun City.” Suddenly, his eyes met hers. “What about you?”
Ingrid felt her knees go shaky. The smell of fertiliser was strong in her nostrils and the air inside the shop tasted mouldy. Looking self-consciously down at her hands, she replied, “We’re not going anywhere. Warren – my husband – is in hospital. Anyway, it’s a busy time for us because of the run-up to Valentine’s Day in February.”
He laid his hand on her shoulder. “Tell you what." His voice was low. "You tell Alice you need a holiday, and I’ll take you to Sun City with me. How’s that?”
Startled, Ingrid looked up. His expression willed her to answer so she attempted flippancy. “It sounds very tempting, Carl! The only problem is, my daughters would be forced to suffer Alice’s low sugar diet in place of all the treats I promised them. They’d be spitting mad.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I can believe it. How about lunch then? Help me celebrate the end of a busy year.”
“I’d love to.” Ingrid smiled, marvelling at how easy he had made it. “By the way, I knocked over your Christmas tree by the door. I’m sorry.”
Carl waved a dismissive hand. “That’s okay, Ingrid, you did me a favour. It was Ma’s idea. Me, I don’t care much for Christmas. It’s not really my scene, you know?”
She didn’t, but it wasn’t important. Instead, she inquired about the roses they had reserved.
"Oh …" Carl whistled to a man in an overall and spoke to him in rapid Zulu. He told her he had some work to attend to in the office and would need her to occupy herself for a while before lunch.
Nevertheless, at precisely twelve thirty, he reappeared with his car keys rattling. "Sorry about that. The wind makes you look even more gorgeous, do you know that? Come on, let's get out of here before Ma finds something else for me to do."
Ingrid stood up. Carl slipped his arm around her waist and led her to the car. It was a low slung white Porsche with an open top. As they drove out of the nursery gates into the busy street beyond, she had time to wonder what Beth would say if she could see her now. Would she be shocked? Probably. Would she be impressed? Undoubtedly!
Carl grinned at Ingrid impishly but said nothing. After several blocks, they came to a shopping complex with palm trees along the front. Mounting the ramp swiftly, as if he did it every day, he said, “I hope you’re hungry. The food here is fantastic.”
Ingrid nodded. "Ravenous." She had not eaten since leaving Steelesbury at seven thirty that morning.
"Good." He angled the car up the ramp of the parking arcade, saying, “We’ll go up onto the roof. It’s quieter up there and there’s a back entrance which will save us having to face the lunchtime crowds.”
On entering the restaurant, Ingrid understood why he favoured a back entrance. It was packed. As a waiter showed them to a table in the corner, she drank in the eclectic atmosphere. The white walls and red carpet gave the room the impression of belonging to a grand old house, while the spinning ceiling fans and wicker lampshades testified to a British colonial influence. Yet the tablecloths were tie-dyed in a black and gold African print and there were handmade gold candles in the centrepiece of fresh white carnations.
Carl was all charm as they dined together. He began by making recommendations off the menu and taking care to order the wine in accordance with the meal. Ingrid chose the roast lamb stuffed with garlic and peppadews. It was served with roast potatoes, butternut with chillies, and an exotic salad of fresh spinach, strawberries and balsamic vinegar.
The conversation flowed well and was punctuated with little moments of drama which Ingrid knew she would ponder all the way home. She still had a three-and-a-half hour drive ahead of her, but for the first time ever, she wished it could be longer.
**
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