On a table sat a quiet timid woman who had done everything in her power to avoid eye contact when she entered.
She had spent her time fiddling with her hair and smoothing her clothes down. On several occasions the waitress had tried to offer her a menu, she had smiled and asked for a glass of water. She spent time looking at her watch. Then restudying it as if she didn’t quite believe what it was saying.
She had positioned herself with her back to the wall and she had a clear view of anyone who walked into the dining room. Whenever anyone did she looked up nervously. The disappointment was fleeting on her face when she didn’t recognise that person.
Once she had checked the new arrival she went back to smoothing her skirt. The suit looked old and well worn but there was also evidence that it had been well cared for.
She once again looked up, tears appeared in her eyes when she spotted the newcomer. She watched him settled into the corner table with a look of melancholy on her face. One final look at the stranger and she stood and walked out of the restaurant.
She would be back next year to see the man her son had grown into.