The chink of bone china signalled the arrival of their starters. Tom had pushed the boat out tonight. But hopefully, Emma would be impressed. This place was certainly daunting, he reflected, as he took in the plush, velvet drapes which covered the enormous windows overlooking the terrace, and the imposing chandeliers at either end of the room, before he turned his attention back to the newly-arrived plate of scallops before him. Taking a long sip of some perfectly-chilled Chablis, now standing in the ice bucket, he urged, “try the wine. It’s delicious.”

Emma paused, lifted her glass , and agreed. “Superb. They always do everything so well here.” She spoke with an air of familiarity. He guessed she’d been here before.

Even the tableware oozed luxury. Dainty German crockery, delicate, Austrian crystal glasses, shipped straight over from the continent, no doubt. Yes, this place was expensive. Yes, this meal would cost him a week’s wages. Yes, he’d struggled to justify the expense when suggesting the restaurant to her, but having finally summoned the courage to ask her out, Tom wanted to impress.

He glanced across at Emma, a flawless nymph, framed perfectly by her dark, flowing tresses, a cherry-red evening dress blending perfectly with her lip gloss as she picked softly at her starter.

“How’s your smoked chicken?”, he asked.

She paused, gazing deliberately back at him.  “I don’t think I ever tasted chicken this good”, she replied, and taking a sip from the crystal, confirmed her original assessment. “Mmm… divine”, she purred.

Satisfied, he lowered his eyes toward his own starter, but stopped as he glimpsed the large man now seated at the next table. Just arrived, he and his partner had been ushered in by the head waiter. Tom assumed recognition when the two men seemed to shake hands, before he glimpsed the edge of a £20 note passing from one to the other.

He stared again at Emma, who by now was finishing her chicken. She might have been a supermodel under the soft light, and Tom suddenly had a terrifying thought.

Crikey, am I completely out of my depth here?