Where There's Smoke

She looked up. Paul had halted by the table. He had a lopsided smirk on his face as he stared down at her. The girl stood behind him, looking on with blowsy confusion.

“Hello, Paul.”

Even in the candlelight, she could see how flushed he was. His face was bloated and puffy. He looked from her to Alex. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

She felt surprisingly calm. “Alex, this is Paul.”

Alex gave him an uncertain smile. Paul’s grin was unpleasant. “You haven’t introduced us to your friend,” Kate said. “Sorry, no, I haven’t, have I? Forgetting my manners.”

Paul motioned with his head at the girl, who was swaying with the effort of standing still. “This is Kim. Kim, meet Kate. Kate’s an ‘old friend’ of mine. This is Alex, her ‘new friend’. So what do you do, Alex?”

Alex glanced hesitantly at Kate. “I’m, uh, I’m a psychologist.”

“A psychologist!”

Paul’s voice was growing louder. Kate was aware of heads turning in their direction. “Don’t tell me you’re finally seeing a shrink, Kate? Or is this just a social thing? One way of getting treatment without paying for it, I suppose.”

More people were turning to look now. Kate felt a cold detachment. “You were on your way out. Don’t let us keep you.”

“Yeah, I’m on my way out, all right.”

His smile was a thin mask. “Freud here doesn’t know what he’s letting himself in for, does he? You watch your back, mate,” he said to Alex, without taking his eyes from Kate. “Little Katie here’s always mixing business with pleasure. Until she’s got what she wants out of you, and then boom! You’re out!”

Alex’s face was pale, except for patches of colour on his cheeks. “I think you’d better g-go.”

He said it quietly, and the syncopation was barely audible, but Paul picked up on it. “You thu-think I’d buh-buh-better guh-go? Why, so you can psychoanalyse her with your dick?”

The surrounding tables had fallen quiet. Kate saw the head waiter coming towards them. Alex clenched his fists on the table. “Ignore him,” she said, but now both men were focused on each other. Alex seemed to be almost quivering.

“G-get out!”

Paul leaned towards him. “Fuh-fuh-fuck off.”

“Alex, no!” Kate said, reaching across to restrain him as he began to stand. He glanced at her, and while he was still half in, half out of his seat, Paul hit him.

The punch caught him on the cheek and knocked him sideways, sending him sprawling almost full length onto the table. It tipped up, toppling Alex off in a cascade of candles, food and breaking crockery. The noise seemed to go on forever as dishes, trays and glasses crashed to the floor, and then, abruptly, it stopped.

A plate spun, lazily, in the ensuing hush, spiralling to a gradual standstill. The restaurant was utterly silent.

Then Kate was out of her seat and kneeling beside Alex, and white-coated waiters were converging on them from everywhere.

Alex let her help him sit up. His mouth was bleeding. Broken plates crunched underneath him. “Are you all right?” she asked. Dumbly he put his hand to his mouth. He blinked, staring at the blood on his fingers, and then glared up at Paul. Kate felt him tense. “Don’t, Alex! Please!”

She kept tight hold of his shoulders. Some of the tension went out of them, and then other hands were helping him to his feet.

Paul was surrounded by waiters. He looked surprised himself by what he’d done as he allowed himself to be hustled towards the exit. The girl, who hadn’t spoken throughout, tottered along behind on her high heels. Kate saw Alex staring after him with a look in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. Then Paul was roughly pushed out of the room, and the doors had closed and shut him from view.

One waiter brushed the worst of the debris from Alex’s clothes while another neatly stamped out the small puddles of blue flame that had spilled out from the alcohol lamps.

The table was swiftly righted and Kate and Alex were politely ushered along the aisles to the door as waiters set about repairing the mess. Some people stared openly at them as they passed, others ostentatiously kept their eyes averted.

There was no sign of Paul or the girl in the foyer. The head waiter solicitously sat Alex in a chair and had hot towels brought to wipe him down. Alex held a napkin to his mouth, saying nothing. A taxi was ordered, and the head waiter smilingly refused Kate’s offer to pay for the meal and damage. He was polite, but clearly wanted them to leave. Kate glanced back into the dining room as the door swung open. Their table was already fully set and covered with a fresh white cloth, candles glowing sedately as though nothing had happened.

She tried to persuade Alex to let the taxi go straight to his home, but he refused.

“I’d rather take you home first,” he said. His voice was thickened slightly by the swelling on the side of his mouth from where Paul had hit him. Something in his tone told Kate not to press.