Goodmans Hotel

We travelled into central London on the upper floor of a bus, something I had not done for years and years, although it would have been quicker to ask Andrew to have one of his staff drive us up. The presence of other passengers made it difficult to talk, and a drab day made London's streets look their least attractive, but in those early months of being indoors in the hotel for so much of my time any opportunity to get out and do something different was enjoyable.

Lizetta was sitting at the restaurant bar sipping a Campari. She smiled warmly when I introduced her to Darren, and when we took our places for the meal I sat beside her so that they were facing each other. 'Have you been to this type of restaurant before?' she asked.

'No. First time.' His voice wavered slightly and for a few moments I was worried that he would panic and, struggling to find something to say, would launch into one of his revolting tales from work about hypodermic needles being found in a staff locker or maggots wriggling around in the rubbish bins. His brow furrowed as he looked at the menu. I asked, 'See anything that appeals to you?'

'I don't really know what to choose.'

Lizetta said, 'Have the Moules Marinière with chips. I love them. You'll be able to say you've eaten the classic Belgian mussels dish once, even if you never come here again.'

'Yeah, that's what I'll have. Will it be all right if I have mineral water to drink?' He looked up; his face, far from showing panic, was full of youthful innocence, as though to drink anything other than mother's milk was an adventure for him. I gave him a reassuring smile and hoped Lizetta would not think he was putting on an act.

'Oh,' she said, 'I think we deserve a glass of wine each. We'll have a bottle of water too. I'm sorry, Mark, I ought to let you decide.'

As she was doing me a favour by seeing him, the meal was to be my treat. A waitress keyed our order into a little hand-held unit and pointed it towards an infra-red receiver in the ceiling, sending the details electronically to the kitchen. While we waited for our food Lizetta explained a little about her job as personnel manager, saying that she quite often arranged courses for new recruits in the firm.

She mentioned West London Tertiary College, where she knew some of the staff, and thought some of the courses might suit him. As though everything was settled he said, 'Yeah, is it fairly easy to get to? Would I be able to cycle there?'