I saw her as she came through the door into the café. I was sitting at my usual table, back near the far wall. There, I could sit with my back against the wall and watch everyone who came in, yet be far enough away from the counter so that I wasn’t bothered by people passing by me on their way to get served. I watched her for a few moments; liking what I saw, liking the way she moved. She had that special grace about her that fascinates me. I always like watching a woman who moves through the world with a lightness of step, a delicacy, but at the same time an ease and a confidence.
I could have watched her for a while. I had the feeling she would be someone who made a ceremony out of her coffee break. Someone who would sit, sip and appreciate, take delicate bites from her sandwich or cake, take an interest in the world around her. Me, though, I was too busy. I had something to write. For once I had something I felt I ought to write, not the usual half-baked musings on the inconsequential I’d been passing - wasting – my time on lately. That morning I’d woken up with a thought nagging my mind and now it had grown, matured, and was now something I felt I could use.
A shadow passed across my table and stopped.
I looked up.
She stood there, coffee and a cake, one in each hand. ‘May I?’ she said.
‘Yes, sure. Of course.’ I made a show of moving my laptop so she could put down her cup and plate. She sidled across the seat, knees together.
‘I hope I’m not disturbing you,’ she said, looking at me with an intensity that made me lower the lid on my laptop.
‘No,’ I lied. ‘I’m more or less done… for the moment.’ I resigned myself to never finishing that idea, of it fading away and disappearing like a rain puddle on a hot day.
‘You don’t remember me, do you?’ she said.
I looked at her. ‘No.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Then we must not have met yet… and I’m just in time.’
‘In time for what?’ I laughed.
‘To save your life,’ she said.
[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US)]
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