Except … choosing your food is half the fun of eating out, isn't it? It's almost my favourite bit.
Anyway. It doesn't matter. It'll be perfect. It is perfect.
OK. Let's start a conversation.
'So what do you like doing in your spare time?' I ask, and Jack gives a shrug.
'I hang out. I watch baseball. I fix my cars …'
'You have a collection of vintage cars! That's right. Wow. I really … um …'
'You hate vintage cars.' He smiles. 'I remember.'
Damn. I was hoping he might have forgotten.
'I don't hate the cars themselves,' I say quickly. 'I hate the people who … who …'
Shit. That didn't quite come out right. I take a quick gulp of champagne, but it goes down the wrong way and I start coughing. Oh God, I'm really spluttering. My eyes are weeping.
And now the other six people in the room have all turned to stare.
'Are you OK?' says Jack in alarm. 'Have some water. You like Evian, right?'
'Er … yes. Thanks.'
Oh, bloody hell. I hate to admit that Jemima could be right about anything. But it would have been a lot easier if I could just have said brightly, 'Oh, I adore vintage cars!'
Anyway. Never mind.
As I'm gulping my water, a plate of roasted peppers somehow materializes in front of me.
'Wow!' I say in delight. 'I love roasted peppers.'
'I remembered.' Jack looks rather proud of himself. 'You said on the plane that your favourite food was roasted peppers.'
'Did I?' I stare at him, a bit surprised.
Gosh. I don't remember that. I mean, I like roasted peppers, but I wouldn't have said—
'So I called the restaurant and had them make it specially for you. I can't eat peppers,' Jack adds, as a plate of scallops appears in front of him, 'otherwise I would join you.'
I gape at his plate. Oh my God. Those scallops look amazing. I adore scallops.
'Bon appetit!' says Jack cheerfully.
'Er … yes! Bon appetit.'
I take a bite of roasted pepper. It's delicious. And it was very thoughtful of him to remember.
But I can't help eyeing up his scallops. They're making my mouth water. And look at that green sauce! God, I bet they're succulent and perfectly cooked …
'Would you like a bite?' says Jack, following my gaze.
'No!' I say, jumping. 'No thanks. These peppers are absolutely — perfect!' I beam at him and take another huge bite.
Suddenly Jack claps a hand on his pocket.
'My mobile,' he says..'Emma, would you mind if I took this? It could be something important.'
'Of course not,' I say. 'Go ahead.'
When he's gone, I just can't help it. I reach over, and spear one of his scallops. I close my eyes as I chew it, letting the flavour flood through my taste buds. That is just divine. That is the best food I've ever tasted in my life. I'm just wondering whether I could get away with eating a second one if I shifted the others around his plate a bit, when I smell a whiff of gin. The woman in the golden jacket is right by my ear.
'Tell me quickly!' she says. 'What's going on?'
'We're … having dinner,'
'I can see that!' she says impatiently. 'But what about Jeremy? Does he have any idea?'
Oh God.
'Look,' I say helplessly. 'I'm not who you think I am—'
'I can see that! I would never have thought you had this in you.' The woman squeezes my arm. 'Well, good for you. Have some fun, that's what I say! You took your wedding band off,' she adds, glancing at my left hand. 'Smart girl … oops! He's coming! I'd better go!'
She lurches away again, as Jack sits back down in his place, and I lean forward, already half giggling. Jack is going to love this.
'Guess what!' I say. 'I have a husband called Jeremy! My friend over there just came over and told me. So what do you reckon? Has Jeremy been having a dalliance too?'
There's silence, and Jack looks up, a strained expression on his face.
'I'm sorry?' he says.
He wasn't listening to a word I was saying.
I can't say the whole thing again. I'll just feel stupid. In fact, I already feel stupid. 'It doesn't matter,' I say, and force a smile.
There's another silence and I cast around for something to say. 'So, um, I have a confession to make,' I say, gesturing to his plate. 'I pinched one of your scallops.'
I wait for him to pretend to be shocked, or angry. Or anything.
'That's OK,' he says abstractedly, and begins to fork the rest of them into his mouth.
I don't understand. What's happened? Where's the banter gone? He's completely changed.
*
By the time we've finished our tarragon chicken with rocket salad and chips, my entire body is tensed up with misery. This date is a disaster. A complete disaster. I've made every effort possible to chat, and joke and be funny. But Jack's taken two more calls, and the rest of the time he's been broody and distracted, and to be honest I might as well not be there.
I feel like crying with disappointment. I just don't understand it. It was going so well. We were getting on so fantastically. What went wrong?
'I'll just go and freshen up,' I say, as our main-course plates are removed, and Jack simply nods.
The Ladies is more like a palace than a loo, with gold mirrors, plushy chairs and a woman in uniform to give you a towel. For a moment I feel a bit shy about phoning Lissy in front of her, but she must have seen it all before, mustn't she?
'Hi,' I say, as Lissy picks up. 'It's me.'
'Emma! How's it going?'
'It's awful,' I say dolefully.
'What do you mean?' she says in horror. 'How can it be awful? What's happened?'
'That's the worst thing.' I slump into a chair. 'It all started off brilliantly. We were laughing and joking, and the restaurant's amazing, and he'd ordered this special menu just for me, all full of my favourite things …'
I swallow hard. Now I put it like that, it does all sound pretty perfect.