Time to write 13 April

Here is Rachel’s link and prompt this week:
https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/29801870/posts/1825328643

‘Do you know The White Hart?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Why?’
‘Meet me there at 8 o’clock on the 25th, Room 102.’

The lighting was perfect for romance, the table set with the finest linen and silver cutlery, two slim candles ready to be lit, soft music wafting in the background.
Champagne was chilling in the bucket, rose petals adorning the ice, and the hot food trolley discreetly placed in the corner ready to serve when his guest arrived.

She’d taken great care with her appearance, believing something special was in the offing. Arriving with five minutes to spare, she wondered why he’d chosen this particular pub.
It had accommodation chalets out back, but didn’t seem to suit his character.
She went inside and asked for the keys to room 102.
The clerk looked her up and down as he shook his head.
‘No room 102 here lady. I can give you room 1 or room 2, but that’s it.’
‘This is the White Hart isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, but we don’t do fancy, and you look too togged up for us. Sure you got the right place?’
‘He told me The White Hart, room 102.’ she said quietly as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

She was late.
He couldn’t understand it. She said she knew The White Hart.
Then it struck him. The pub!

The taxi dropped her at the entrance to The White Hart hotel. Repairing her face as best she could in the restroom, she went up to reception and gave her name.
‘I understand there’s a key to room 102 waiting for me?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Could you sign here please?’
Following the clerk’s directions, she went upstairs and tapped on the door.
There was no reply.
Using the key, she let herself in.
The scene would have been beautiful except it was cold, quiet and shadowy with the candles unlit.
He wasn’t here.
Tears threatened again at the realisation that he’d given up on her and left.

He burst through the bar, frantically searching for her.
‘Bet I know who you’re looking for, Mate! Put her in the taxi me-self. Better get back….’
but he was talking to an empty space.

They met up in the corridor just as she was leaving.
They looked at each other and he held out his hand.
She took it and he slipped a diamond ring on her finger.
‘Dinner might be a bit cold and the wine at room temperature by now. Not exactly what I had in mind to propose.’
Leaning her head on his shoulder she said ‘It doesn’t matter. Just think what we can tell our grandchildren.’

.