26/6/1996

Dave could be an idiot at times, a complete idiot, and up until that moment he had been feeling so proud of himself.
He had never seen Silke smile in all the time he'd worked in the same company as her, not that is until Monday when she’d smiled at him, it was only a little smile, a flicker, a nanosmile, so tiny that to start with he'd thought he was imagining it, but then yesterday as they passed in the corridor there was that little smile again. So this morning when they passed and she smiled he made up his mind, he was not imagining it, it was a sign and he'd ask her out. So he did so, right there, right then and to his great surprise she said yes, how about tonight. So they made plans to go for a drink straight after work.

But they were plans that almost immediately changed when he got to his desk and his phone rang and Silke was on the other end.
‘I forgot I have to work late tonight.’ she said.
‘What time do you finish?’ the words were out of his mouth before Dave had a chance to realise this was her way of backing out.
‘8.45.’
‘Okay shall we meet at nine then?’ Dave was sure he blown it, too needy, too pushy but again, to his amazement, she said yes.
‘Okay outside the National Gallery 9pm?’
‘Deal,’ she said, her informal language in her German voice sounding so cute. 

It was now 9.12, and Dave called himself an idiot for the umpteenth time. He was still trying to battle his way across Trafalgar Square all the time keeping his eyes peeled for a petite German girl. But spotting her was not going to be easy. He’d never seen the square so crowded or heard it so noisy. How could he have forgotten England were playing football tonight. The thought of going on a date with Silke had snatched all other thoughts from his mind. He battled his way through the large men in England shirts drinking beer, singing songs and staring at the big screen where England were playing Germany in the semi final of Euro 96. Dave should have been 10 minutes early but the hoards were not very accommodating to a nerdy non football fan on a first date, so he was now running over 10 minutes late. He battled his way across the square, politely apologising every time a hooligan blocked his path. He was called all the names under the sun, most of them questioning his sexuality. He wondered what they have thought if they’d  known the nationality of the person he was meeting.
It was only then he realised how horrible it must be for Silke. Would she be scared, angry, worried, intimidated?
Another chorus of ‘two world wars and one World Cup’ rang out from the masses as England attacked. Dave put his head down and edged his way through the crowd.
He was now 17 minutes late, but he was just about at the gallery. He wouldn't have blamed Silke if she was long gone. He looked around. It was like trying to spot a needle in a haystack, a needle that might not even be there. He was beginning to panic now, he knew she was an adult and could look after herself but she was the adversary behind enemy lines.  He heard a loud groan of relief and saw a German on screen holding his head in his hands, but he couldn’t see his German in this crowd.
Then something caught his eye, a short women using her finger to brush her hair from her eyes before she brought the other hand up to light her cigarette.
He was about to call her name but remembering where he was decided better of it and instead pushed his way through the few reminding bodies blocking his path.
He tapped her on the shoulder.
‘What a fucking place to meet’ she said.
Dave smiled, he was going to like this woman.