The author reminisces about a trip to London
It happened in London. My wife and I were flying to Strasbourg next day, en route to Hochwald for Christmas. The evening was free. Since it was near Christmas time, we decided to visit that world centre, Piccadilly Circus.
The lights of Regent Street, the colourful illuminated advertisements and the crowds around Eros beckoned. They were a happy, jostling throng, many with obvious presents. Others were bound for home by bus, tube, train, or by hailing taxis. It was an an animated magical scene, repeated each year.
We decided to be part of that scene: we would have a pre-Christmas drink. Entering a well-known hostelry we went downstairs, found two seats, and sat down to get our bearings in a friendly atmosphere.
"What will you have, dear? Our usual?"
"Yes, that will do me. It is early days yet."
I arose, went to the bar and ordered two half pints of beer. Returning, I noticed a man and his wife now sitting on the next two seats.
He spoke, remarking on the usual topic, the weather. He then said: "You are English?"
Being cautious with strangers, I replied: "We might be, or might not be."
"I know you are English. You are drinking beer. However, your glasses are nearly empty. Allow me to have the honour." I thought, he seems a nice chap and wants to talk, but I said: "Thank you very much, but we will be going soon."
His wife interjected: "Do have a drink with us. It is my birthday today. You must celebrate with us." I looked at my wife for approval and replied: "All right then. Being a special occasion. Just beer." We then got talking, especially the ladies.
His wife said: "Look what he has given me for my birthday, and for Christmas," as she brought out a beautiful crocodile skin handbag, followed by an expensive bottle of perfume - the latest - a very smart umbrella, a pair of those classy long gloves, and one or two other things. Naturally, the wives chatted and we gave our happy birthday wishes. It was very pleasant.
Suddenly he said: "It's a bit dull here. Let's go to a club. Get a bit of the Christmas spirit. You'll come with us?"
"Many thanks, but as I told you, we have a flight tomorrow. We don't want too late a night. Thank you, but please excuse us."
"Nonsense," said his wife. "Of course you will come. Remember it is my birthday. You must join us."
Again I looked at my wife for approval, thinking in for a penny, in for a pound. "Yes, we will join you."
"Good. We can now celebrate," said his wife.
We went upstairs, out into Piccadilly. Stopping for a moment to view the scene, our host hailed a taxi. We got in and set off for this club he knew. When we arrived, he insisted on paying the taxi and the entrance fees of the club. We found a table. Drinks were ordered. Again he went to the bar and put down money, saying, "When that is gone, let me know." He obviously was not short of cash. We enjoyed the entertainment and the atmosphere. They were very good company enjoying every minute. We were all quite relaxed.
From what I could gather he was or had been a tea planter. The Christmas feeling pervaded.
Then, surprisingly, a slight argument cropped up between our two companions. My wife and I held our counsel, remembering the old adage: never take sides in a domestic dispute. Up until then, it had been a merry party and we had no wish to spoil the rest of the time.
Apparently his wife had left the gift of the beautiful umbrella at the last club. The argument was who should fetch it and return.
Despite his protestations and offering to buy another tomorrow, she countered that it was the original birthday present and a substitute was not the same. She must have the original. She won.
Saying she would see us soon and would come back as soon as she could, his wife left. He did not let losing the argument upset anything in any way. We continued where the conversation had left off before the slight discord. We discussed various topics, and enjoyed the entertainment. He was a good host with his stories, experiences and wit too. We were conscious of one missing person. He certainly tried to fill the gap.
After about an hour, I casually said, "Your wife seems to be a long time, I suppose she is all right," with the thought that perhaps we should go to the first club and make sure.
"She won't be back. I only met her on Waterloo station this morning."
We were astounded, nonplussed, and could have been knocked down with the proverbial feather. We were lost for words, trying to recover our breath. Our host was nonchalant, taking it in his stride.
"I know," he said, "let us go up to Soho," naming a well-known restaurant, "and finish the day with a good meal," shrugging his shoulders and smiling.
Again he had the entree. We all enjoyed a delightful meal. Once more he was an excellent host.
We came out, chatted for a few moments, hailed our taxis, parted with cheerios and good humour.
Many a time since we have thought of our unexpected evening, who was our host, and especially that, or rather those, birthday gifts. Perhaps our paths may cross again some time. Until then, Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas!
Mervyn Madge is a pharmacist, now retired, from St Budeaux, Plymouth