LIZZIE'S WORLD: An unexpected treat

Liz makes it to dinner at Chris’ house and ah, what greets her is a sight to behold! ILLUSTRATION| JOSEPH NGARI

What you need to know:

  • Chris laughs, stops, turns towards me and puts his hands on my shoulders.
  • “My, you’re impatient,” he chuckles. Then he turns around and keeps walking, through the floor-to-ceiling French windows that lead out into the garden.
  • Immediately we enter the garden, I have to stop and breathe in from the sight that’s laid out before me.

“Come in, I have something I would like to show you,” Chris says as we enter his house. I let him lead me through his foyer, past the grand staircase leading up to what I assume is his private quarters, and into the living room. I anticipate a laid-out dining table – but curiously, there’s nothing on it but a runner and some books and magazines. No sign of any food at all, even though it is approaching 8pm and he did invite me to dinner.

When we keep walking past the dining area I pipe up. “Where are we going?” I ask, feeling a little worried.

Chris laughs, stops, turns towards me and puts his hands on my shoulders. “My, you’re impatient,” he chuckles. Then he turns around and keeps walking, through the floor-to-ceiling French windows that lead out into the garden.

Immediately we enter the garden, I have to stop and breathe in from the sight that’s laid out before me. There’s a table and two chairs, right there in the manicured beauty of Chris’ lawn. Two glass lanterns complement the glow from the garden lamps planted in the grass. The table is laid out with settings for a four-course meal, and a waiter is at hand with what looks like a bottle of wine in his hand. I gasp from the beauty of it all. 

“Madam?” the waiter indicates one of the chairs, pulling it out for me as I settle in. The soft music from a speaker I cannot locate, and the scent of roses and frangipani all around me. It’s like I stumbled into heaven. I sigh contentedly from all the auditory, ocular and olfactory input and snuggle down into my chair.

“Are you warm enough?” Chris asks me as he settles into the chair opposite mine. I nod enthusiastically and grin, subconsciously wrapping my poncho around me, although I hardly need it as it is such a warm night. “Some wine?” he asks as he signals the waiter to come forward and pour. “I seem to remember this bottle being one of your favourites.”

The waiter hands me the bottle to peruse – and indeed, this is a two-year-old South African chardonnay from a very well-known vintner. I squeal with pleasure. “This is delicious!” And then I hold up my wine glass, nodding like a kid in a candy shop. “Yes, please, pour me some, thank you!”

Chris chuckles. “I’m glad you’re happy,” he says.

We both take a sip of our wine. “This seems like a lot of effort to go to. Why?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Liz, why don’t you take the time to enjoy the meal, the company, a good time, and not question anything? I’m not asking you to give me anything in return. I just want you to enjoy yourself and your evening.”

And so I sit back and relax, and for the next hour, all I focus on is the potato and leek soup, salmon starter, grilled fish and chocolate mousse dessert, all topped up with endless glasses of white wine. “How many bottles of these did you buy?” I giggle at some point, pointing at yet another bottle that our waiter is popping up. Chris simply shrugs his shoulders.

“Let’s just say that I was prepared for tonight,” he smiles coyly.

I sit back and rub the stem of my wine glass, giving him as piercing a look as I can muster. I am hoping that my gaze will either make him so uncomfortable that he will feel the urge to be honest with me.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Chris says.

“Like how?”

“That’s what I call your interrogation look.”

“What?” I burst out laughing loudly.

“Yes, it’s what you do when you’re trying to force answers out of people. I’ve seen you do it at the office. But you need to know that it doesn’t work on me.” He smiles.

I chuckle in return. “And how long have you been observing me like this?” I ask him.

“A lot longer than you know, Liz. A whole lot longer.” And suddenly, he’s not smiling any more, and from the way he’s looking at me, I sense that this conversation is about to go to places I am not currently ready to go. And so I look down at the napkin on my lap and blush. “I still don’t know why I am here, Chris. Are you going to tell me what the agenda really is for tonight, besides eating and drinking?” And I brace myself as I wait for the answer.