Madame made a fuss about us not having reserved a table for dinner, having said nothing about the need to do so when we took the room. When I shrugged and said we would go back into town her attitude changed immediately and she showed us to one of two unoccupied tables at the far end of the restaurant. Another table remained vacant all evening; she must have been one of those people who enjoys being difficult.
Our waiter was an elegant young Latin type. Darren was keen to try out his school French, and asked me to confirm that it was right to say c'était trés bon to him when he took our plates away after the starter. Subsequently he said merci beaucoup at every opportunity, and the waiter began smiling and paying him unnecessary attention. We all had cheese after the main course, and after having hurriedly served Tom and me, he took great trouble over serving Darren, saying a little about each of the half dozen different cheeses available. Darren could not understand him and I had to translate, but they continued to smile at each other, hardly noticing Tom or me.
'He's gorgeous,' Darren said when the waiter had finally served him.
'Never mind "He's gorgeous," have you forgotten why we're...?' I stopped short because Tom gripped my right leg forcibly just behind the knee, causing a sharp pain.
'You be careful,' he said to Darren softly. 'We don't want you catching no French diseases.'
'I'm not stupid.'
There were more meaningful little smiles when the waiter returned with coffee. Strong though it was, Darren downed his in two gulps and left us to go to look at a map of France on the wall near the restaurant door. After a minute or two our waiter went over to him and began pointing to places on the map, casually resting a hand on his shoulder. 'That's my boy,' Tom said.
'He's not your boy. You shouldn't be encouraging him. We're supposed to be here to visit Andrew, not to sample the local talent.'
'What about you leaving him with those two nude lads at the party?'
'That was all part of their act. It didn't lead to anything.' 'Let him have his chance. He ain't got nobody now Cheung's took up with that Geordie again.'
He was, of course, right. Darren must have been undergoing that torment of sexual frustration that comes from being suddenly deprived of a regular lover. He and the waiter arranged to meet after the restaurant closed at a café nearby called Le Sportif, and when he returned to the table to tell us where he was going all I could do was to repeat Tom's advice to be careful, and to make sure he had enough money to pay for a couple of drinks.