Past and Present - A Modern Day Romance of North & South

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - REVISITING THE PAST

John was aware of every muscle in his body stiffening in immediate recognition as he took in the person who had seen fit to thrust himself so unexpectedly before him, just at a moment when he’d been lost in thoughts about Margaret and the fact that she would be meeting him for lunch. Now, as his eyes surveyed the smirking, tanned face that had ingrained itself so deeply in his mind like a malignant weed for the past few days, John realised that a hand was being extended towards him. It appeared to be a gesture of goodwill even though it seemed to be distinctly at odds with the self-satisfied expression plastered inanely over Henry Lennox’s face.

“Henry Lennox, by the way,” Henry said, unnecessarily introducing himself.

John managed to make himself shake Henry’s proffered hand, unpleasantly slick with the condensation from where Henry had been holding his pint glass. The gesture was brief, a faint nod towards a courtesy he far from felt. “I know who you are.”

Henry relaxed against the side of the bar, one suited arm draped carelessly along its smooth mahogany surface, his hand within easy reach of his pint. “From Meg, I suppose?”

“Meg?”

Henry sliced his hand through the air casually. “I mean Margaret. I’ve never called her by that name myself – it reminds me too much of old women with perms who run the local WI!” He chuckled to himself at the thought. “And Meg’s anything but that, as you must know.”

“I can’t say that such a comparison crossed my mind,” John responded dryly, wondering just how many Margarets Henry had managed to insult in his time with such an insensitive remark. “Although I think you’ll find that the image of the WI has changed a fair bit over the years.”

The remark, however, went skimming straight over Henry’s head. “So,” he said with a familiarity John felt to be wholly incongruous. “How long have the two of you been seeing each other?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Well, considering I used to go out with her, I’d like to know she’s doing okay. And Meg’s being a bit tight-lipped and defensive.”

“Perhaps she doesn’t feel that it’s any of your business?” John said, his voice as cool as the ice jangling in his orange juice.

To this, Henry gave a short laugh of dismissal. “Oh, she’s just trying to be mysterious that’s all!”

John picked up his drink and took some of it down. “I’ve always found Margaret to be very open and honest,” he said.

“Have you now? I have to say I was surprised when I found out you were her boss. It’s not her usual thing.”

“Perhaps she decided it was time for a change.”

“Maybe.” Henry swilled back the contents of his glass and raised it aloft to indicate to the barmaid that he wanted a refill. “So are the two of you serious?”

“Why should that concern you?” He couldn’t understand what on earth had attracted Margaret to such a man in the first place – to someone who, even with his expensively tailored suit and good looks, still managed to appear somewhat vacuous and unrelentingly arrogant.

Henry shrugged nonchalantly as the barmaid took his glass away to one of the pumps in order to pour in more lager. “Well, in my experience of Meg, she’s always been a bit slow to come to the boil, if you know what I mean.” The barmaid put Henry’s refilled glass onto the bar beside him and, having received the money for it, sauntered away again to see to someone else who’d just come in. “You might be in for a long wait, that’s all I’m saying.”