Sometimes only a cheese soufflé and triple-cooked fries would do, and no one made them better than Bettine.
Reaching the café, she saw through the window that it was busy. She also spotted Will sitting at one of the tables, oblivious to his surroundings, tapping away on his iPad. As she watched, he paused to take a mouthful of tomato soup and thickly buttered bread. She’d asked him several times what he was working on, but he always said it was nothing special.
By the time she’d placed her order at the counter, all the other tables were occupied. As she hesitated, a toddler made a grab for the hem of her yellow polka-dotted dress, and the sudden flash of colour and movement caused Will to look up.
‘Hi.’ He glanced around, saw that she was searching for somewhere to sit. ‘You can share my table if you like.’
The iPad was swiftly switched off and moved to one side. Layla pulled out the empty chair and sat down opposite him.
‘Help yourself to chips.’ Will nudged the plate towards her. ‘They’re amazing.’
She took one. ‘I know. They’re half the reason I’m here.’
‘What’s the other half? Oh, have you ever tried the cheese soufflé? Out of this world.’
‘And that’s what I’ve ordered.’ Layla felt herself relax. ‘Looks like we’re soufflé twins.’
‘With excellent taste.’ Will paused. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘Doesn’t this feel a bit weird to you?’ Layla gestured at him, then at herself. ‘We’ve sat together hundreds of times, but it’s always been side by side. We’ve never sat facing each other before. You look . . . different!’
‘You mean having to see my whole face is an ordeal?’ He raised an eyebrow in protest. ‘Would you prefer it if I stayed in profile?’ He turned his head to the left, then to the right. ‘Like this?’
‘I’m sure I’ll get used to it. And don’t let me disturb you when you’re busy.’ She indicated the iPad. ‘If you want to carry on doing what you were doing, go ahead. I’ll be quiet, I promise.’
‘It’s OK, I’ve finished for now.’ As ever, Will evidently had no intention of letting her see what had been occupying his attention.
‘Is it poetry?’ said Layla. ‘Are you a top-secret spy? Ooh, are you an anonymous restaurant critic, is that why you’re always so secretive?’
‘You got me.’ Will grinned at her across the table, utterly relaxed. ‘Here comes your lunch now.’
As they ate, he chatted about his job and the weirder encounters that took place with people in his cab, including this morning’s foreign tourists who’d been outraged when he’d explained that he couldn’t take them on a guided tour of Scotland this afternoon. No, not even a quick one.
‘Thank goodness I’m not weird.’ Layla tipped her head from side to side, jangling her oversized flamingo earrings. ‘Apart from my outfits, that is.’
‘I’d never call you weird. You’re one of my best clients.’
‘Best as in favourite? Or because I spend the most money?’
‘Both, of course.’ He hesitated. ‘Can I ask you a personal question? Why don’t you drive?’
He’d never asked before. Layla experienced the familiar twist in the pit of her stomach. ‘I don’t like it. I don’t want to. This is actually the world’s best cheese soufflé.’ She cut into the crisp golden-brown crust with the side of her fork and inhaled the steam from the Swiss-cheese melted centre.
‘But why don’t you want to?’ He was looking at her steadily. ‘OK, you don’t have to tell me. Let’s change the subject.’
‘No, I will.’ She put down her fork. For years her mind had skittered away from the memory, like a squirrel in a panic. It was an experience she only wished she could wipe from her brain. ‘I almost killed someone once. And that was it, I couldn’t handle the guilt. After that day, I never drove again.’
Will’s expression softened. ‘I’m sorry. I did wonder if it was something like that.’
‘Yes, well. It’s not as if it’s a secret.’ Layla shrugged, adrenalin stirring in response to the inevitable flashback now that she’d said the words aloud. ‘Some people are better off staying off the road, and I’m one of them.’
‘But this person didn’t die.’
‘No.’
‘Were they driving too?’
‘No. Pedestrian.’ She exhaled slowly, willing herself to keep the fear at bay.
‘But it’s not as if you did it on purpose. You didn’t set out to mow them down. It was an accident, an honest mistake.’
‘It wasn’t,’ said Layla.
He gazed at her in horror. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t mean I did it on purpose. It wasn’t my mistake,’ she clarified.
‘Oh. So why . . .?’
‘I was twenty, I’d been driving for three years. And I had a boyfriend I was crazy about. We were in my car, heading over to his parents’ house so I could meet his family for the first time. I was driving down the street when this older woman stepped out into the road without looking.’ Layla swallowed; the sound of another human being thudding against the side of the car would live with her forever. ‘I wasn’t going fast, but I couldn’t stop in time. It was the most horrific moment of my life. And then it got even worse.’ Her voice cracked with emotion, and she was forced to compose herself. ‘Because it was my boyfriend’s grandmother.’
‘Oh God.’
‘Lying on the ground in terrible pain with a fractured pelvis and three broken ribs. She hadn’t been looking where she was going because she was on the phone to her friend, telling her about how she was heading over to her son’s house to meet her grandson’s new girlfriend for the first time.’
Will shook his head in sympathy. ‘Go on . . .’
‘Ambulance. Police. I was breathalysed, even though I hadn’t had a drink in days. My boyfriend called his parents, who arrived and screamed at me. Then he joined in and started yelling too, while a crowd of people stood around gawping at the whole thing like it was something off the telly. Anyway, the family blamed me. Luckily there were enough witnesses to prove it hadn’t been my fault, but it didn’t stop me feeling guilty. Because if I hadn’t been there, driving down the road at that moment, it would never have happened. So that was the end of the boyfriend, and it was the end of driving too. I never want to risk having that feeling again. And I won’t, so long as I have you.’ OK, that sounded wrong; hastily Layla went on, ‘I mean, you and any other taxi drivers who pick me up and take me wherever I want to go.’
‘Well now I understand,’ said Will. ‘It’s a terrible thing to happen. No wonder you were traumatised.’
Layla nodded, relieved she’d told him, glad he’d asked. ‘Have you ever had an accident?’
‘No. Did the grandmother recover?’
‘Yes, thank goodness.’
‘Did the family ever apologise for blaming you?’
‘No.’