Yes Chef, No Chef

by Willis, Susan

  "Well, I'm not totally surprised, Katie, in fact I've been waiting for something like this to happen," Sarah murmured.

  "You have?" Katie looked puzzled.

  Lisa leaned over grabbing the bottle of champagne and gasped, "Jeez, get this opened, Katie, I need a proper drink."

  Katie opened the champagne and pulled glass flutes out of the hamper while Sarah explained how her cousin had been seeing a psychologist after her divorce and how she'd been told she has to take the right amount of time to grieve and find closure to the relationship.

  "And that’s the one thing you haven't done, Katie," Sarah uttered quietly but respectfully. "You’ve been so busy fighting with yourself to get over him you haven't grieved properly. You guy’s never saw or talked to each other afterwards and the only communication you had was via email, which I think is so impersonal."

  Lisa hadn't spoken until now and looked at Katie with her face full of concern. "And you’ve been going through all this since Wednesday on your own?" she asked. "You should have called one of us to come over, sweetheart?"

  Katie felt ashamed and didn't want them to know she'd ignored their calls. She croaked, "Well, mum called round and then I was just so upset..." She wiped her nose with a napkin. "And I know I should have called you guys but I just wanted to think it through and get it sorted in my head."

  Sarah empathised. "Of course you did. And we've let you down because I was at the new cocktail bar and Lisa was with her guy at the party. We should have been there for you..."

  "Now, just a minute," Lisa said pursing her lips. "I might have been shagging Adam all night, Sarah, but one text or call and I would have left him like a shot and been in a cab before he'd had time to whip his condom off!"

  Unable to stop herself, Katie sniggered at the image of Lisa running from

  Adam’s bed. "No really, it was fine. And neither of you have let me down."

  Lisa bristled. "I mean, men are just men aren't they? I would have dropped him red-hot for either of you two. Like Cameron Diaz said in the film, The Holiday, we’re The Three Musketeers,” she said looking at them both directly. “You do know that, don’t you?"

  Katie squeezed her arm affectionately. "We do," she said. "Don't we, Sarah?"

  Sarah traced her finger along the bottom of Lisa’s chin and with a smarmy voice, she oozed. "Of course we do, sweetie."

  "All right, all right," Lisa grumped but her mouth twitched in amusement. "That’s quite enough."

  "Food?" Katie asked and got up onto her knees to open the cool box. She felt so much better after talking to them and suddenly her stomach groaned with hunger – she was ravenous. Lisa wet her lips in anticipation while Katie lifted out the frittata, and some pieces of saffron bread with tiny pots of oil.

  "Is this the bread you were kneading?" Lisa asked, "I do like your style mind, Katie, it’s very original."

  She shrugged her shoulders thinking of Tim and smirked. "It wasn't planned," she protested. "It just sort of happened. And, there was no one more surprised than I was, believe me!"

  Lisa picked up a strawberry liberally coated in chocolate, “Hmm, forget love, I’d rather fall in chocolate,” she swooned, put the whole strawberry into her mouth and groaned in pleasure. “These are fab-u-lous.”

  Sarah broke off a piece of muffin and inhaled the fruity lemon aroma and smiled nodding her appreciation to Katie. “My favourite,” she said grinning and took a large bite. “Thanks a million.”

  Memories flooded through Katie when she looked at the bread and knew she needed to talk about Tim – she didn't want the girls pussy-footing around her anymore.

  While they were contentedly eating she broke the silence. "You see, guys, he was my Mr Right,” she said quietly. "And I blew it! I'd actually found what you’ve been searching for, Sarah, and I walked away from him without a backward glance."

  Lisa bit into another strawberry and then wiped away some juice that trickled down her chin. "I’m sorry, Katie, but that’s utter bloody crap!" she cried. "Er... Hello? Have you suddenly forgotten Mr Right’s godforsaken drunken arrogance, and the patronising crap he dealt out? Not to mention having his tongue down some size eight blonde’s throat?"

  "I know," Katie wailed. "Oh, I’m so mixed up."

  "Then do nothing," Sarah advised finishing the last of her muffin. "Just stand still for a while and come to terms with what’s happened."

  Lisa smiled and nodded. "Unaccustomed as I am to agreeing with any of Sarah’s take on romance, she’s right – do nothing."

  "Blimey," Katie whispered. "Wonders will never cease..."

  Lisa added, "But, although I agree with doing nothing about Tim, if it was me I’d get out there, have some fun, and get your tongue down somebody’s throat." She flipped her mobile open and scrolled down looking for photographs.

  "Now, girls, feast your eyes on this!" she said eagerly. "Is he gorgeous? Or is he gorgeous…"

  Katie took the mobile and laughed at Lisa. She was priceless, she thought, while making appreciative comments and handing the phone to Sarah who gaped at Adams smooth, black chest and huge muscles.

  Sarah’s eyes seemed to be standing out on stalks. "Yeah," she mused. "Someone like that would certainly be enough to take your mind off Tim."

  The twisted look of intense concentration on Sarah’s angelic face was hilarious and Lisa rolled around on the towel cracking up with laughter while Katie hung over the arm of her chair and laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Yes, I know where it is, she typed on the email, and I’ll definitely be there for one o’clock. Lunch sounds great, and me too, I can't wait to see you again and catch-up on all the gossip. She pressed the send key, sipped her tea and sat back to wait for Phil’s reply. She'd followed her new action plan, been in touch with him on facebook and they'd been emailing each other for a few days. Apparently, he'd been working as an analyst for one of the leading banks since they left university but was a casualty of the recession and had been made redundant. His brother’s friend had a butchers shop on King Street and he was working there as a stop gap until he found another analyst position. The new message envelope flashed and she opened it - See you tomorrow at one, love Phil.

  Wow, she thought, it must be nearly two years since she'd had a date with a man, other than Tim of course, and panicking she flew through to her wardrobe looking for something to wear.

  Lisa and Sarah both sent texts of encouragement. Lisa told her just to stay cool and have some fun, whilst Sarah told her to wear her red dress and killer heels because she always looked sensational in them and it would give her a real boost. The dress she decided was a little OTT and settled for a more casual look with skinny blue jeans and a white shirt.

  Flattening the shirt collar while she looked at herself in the mirror she moved forward and looked closer at her face. Gently she touched the tiny line around her left eye wondering if it was deeper or longer than the last time she’d looked. She pulled her face into an exaggerated grin hoping she didn’t look too much older than she had at university. Gone were the days when she could get away with a quick flash of foundation but all in all, she reckoned pulling on her denim jacket, she didn’t look too bad. Leaving the flat she counted back the years and decided it had to be nearly nine since she’d seen any of her friends from university and hoped Phil had some news of what had happened to everyone.

  Nostalgia flooded through her for the carefree, university time where most days the biggest worry she had was to find enough money for a bottle of wine to go to another party. Walking down the road to head over to King Street she giggled remembering the drunken nights they’d spent at all night parties, the animal rights group, and peace committees they’d all belonged to and how enthusiastic she’d been to start work and make a difference. Smiling, she thought fondly of Phil’s green issue politics’ and wondered why single-handedly he hadn’t managed to change world opinions.

  Turning onto King Street she strode p
urposely looking at the numbers above some of the doors trying to judge how far down the street the butchers shop would be and wondered if Phil was simply thinking of the lunch as an old friend’s get together and not a date. He could be, she supposed, and maybe that’s all she should be thinking too, but the sun was shining and although she was feeling a little anxious, she caught her reflection in a shop window and knew she was looking good. Up ahead she saw the red and white awning of what she presumed was the butchers shop and her stomach lurched with excitement as she dodged her way between a queue of shoppers at the greengrocers next door.

  The butcher cutting sirloin steaks behind the shop counter had the biggest hands she'd ever seen in her life. Phil introduced him as his boss, Doug, and she stood chatting to him while Phil changed his clothes in the back room. The strong characteristic smell of fresh meat filled the shop while she admired the cuts and joints in the display cabinet and Doug talked through the selection he had ready to suit his regular customers. She explained her job, how she was setting up her own business, and they talked about the benefits and pitfalls of self-employment.

  “My uncle’s an accountant dealing mainly with small businesses and sole traders; he’s great for advice and information. I’ll look for his number while you’re out for lunch.”

  She smiled her thanks back and Phil arrived back in the shop. Grinning at her he threw a casual arm along her shoulder as they walked down to the pub for lunch.

  "But really, Katie, you've hardly changed a bit," he said earnestly. "Honestly, if I didn't know how old you were I'd guess you were in your early twenties. What’s your secret then?"

  While he guided her to an empty table in the corner of the old pub she was tempted to ask him what he'd been doing because to say he'd aged dramatically would have been an understatement. He'd lost his mass of curly brown hair and was nearly bald, his face was lined and he'd gained a huge amount of weight, which she supposed may be with the stress of losing his job.

  "There’s no secret," she said grinning at him. "Just plenty of sex, drugs, and rock & roll."

  He threw his head back and howled with laughter and she saw the old Phil - the Phil who on her first day in the university restaurant had rescued her from a fracas with a tall leggy red head. Katie had felt a bundle of nerves that day finding her way around the campus and lecture rooms and when she’d tried to squeeze onto the end of a long bench with her tray of lunch, the girl deliberately pushed herself along the bench to prevent Katie sitting down. The tray and plate of food had gone up in the air before crashing to the floor to a round of hoots and guffaws from the packed room. When the students looked around to see the cause of the upset Katie had felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment and she’d wanted to turn around and run all the way home. But Phil had jumped up from the bench, glared at the girl and picked up the broken plate then pushed everyone along on his side of the table to make room for Katie. They’d been the best of friends for the next three years.

  Watching him at the bar ordering their lunch and drinks she decided that disappointing as it was and even though he was still the same genuine, decent guy she couldn't possibly think of this as a date because she didn’t fancy him one iota. He would always be lovely but only in a brotherly manner which was a shame because she’d built herself up for a little flirtation.

  After she’d looked at his photograph of his eight year old boy and listened to the tale of his divorce, he said, “Tell me again why I didn’t snap you up and beg you to marry me?”

  Katie grinned. “Well, you did one drunken New Year’s Eve, but because our dear friend Lucy was besotted with you, I just couldn’t do that to a friend. You know us girls have to stick together.”

  He laughed and fiddled with a beer mat on the table. “Aah Lucy, of course,” he said thoughtfully. “Nice girl, but she wasn’t a patch on our considerate and loyal Katie.”

  She slapped him playfully on the arm and he told her where and what Lucy and their other friends were doing and the career paths they’d carved out for themselves. Promising each other they'd definitely keep in touch and contact more of their university crowd to arrange a reunion they headed back to the shop.

  When Phil went to get changed Doug came from behind the counter. “Here’s my uncle’s number who gave me information about government loans for small businesses, and I’ve put my number on there as well,” he said. The small note of paper looked lost in one of his big hands and although she knew it was rude she simply couldn't stop staring at them.

  "Actually," he said smiling, "I don't know if this is your type of thing or not, but I've been thinking of having some recipe leaflets done to encourage the customers to buy some of the least popular cuts of meat. I thought it might pick my sales up a bit. What do you think?"

  She dragged her eyes away from his hands. "Oh yes, of course it would help. I could certainly do some recipes for you. It’s a great idea and maybe I could download some pictures to go with them?"

  "Right, nothing too fancy though. Maybe similar to the ones in Sainsbury’s or Waitrose?" Nodding thoughtfully he grabbed another piece of paper and wrote down the meats he wanted her to include and she agreed to keep the recipes simple. While he wrote down his email address, she looked at his bent head and reckoned he had to be at least six foot, and although he wasn't particularly good looking, he did have thick, solid shoulders and there was certainly something very appealing about him. They agreed a schedule and price for the job and she offered to call back in a couple of days with some proofs for him to check. She practically skipped back up the road thinking how lucky she'd been to have such a lovely lunch; to make another business contact at the same time was fantastic.

  Once home and changing into her Sloppy Joe’s she walked past her answer machine in the lounge, She couldn't stop herself checking for messages because even though it was over a week since Tim’s visit she still hoped he’d ring. But the light on the answer machine remained firmly off and she thought how there was nothing so lonely as an answer machine with no messages. Dear God, how she’d love to see it flashing so she could at least hear his voice and accepting the tears now as a normal reaction to grieve for someone she let them fall instead of struggling against them.

  Perching on the edge of the settee she blew her nose and looked around the lounge. It was amazing how quickly she’d settled into the new flat, and was actually beginning to think of it, and not the apartment, as home. She idly traced her finger along a deep crease in the leather hide of the brown settee and felt pleased with her new décor. She’d used the same colours they’d had in the apartment and knew other women would probably have had a change but basically she couldn’t think of any other colour scheme she liked better. Michael had stained the floor boards a rustic, dark brown colour which was ideal with the fire mantle and surround, and with warm terracotta colours in the cushions, throw and large rug, it all blended beautifully.

  Sighing, she dried her eyes and went into the kitchen-diner to spread all her recipe books out on the table. Opening each book to the relevant meat sections she started scribbling a list of flavours that would work well with offal, gammon, pork and game. While deciding upon the type of layout to use for each recipe she put her hand on a piece of A4 paper and taking a pen she drew around her fingers and thumb remembering how huge Doug's hand was compared to hers. Hmm, she mused, wondering what it was about him that she found attractive and started to make flow charts and download pictures of the four different meats.

  Using colour photographs of the actual liver and pheasant in their raw state might be controversial and off putting to some customers she decided, so she used the images from the recipes she’d chosen which were liver and bacon sauté with potatoes and a hot game pie with a golden crust to hide the pieces of pheasant. But the gammon joint image with parsley and cider sauce looked impressive alongside the photograph of spring green & gammon soup, and gammon & cauliflower cheese grills. Finishing for the evening she felt pleased with her initial work and a little tremor
of excitement ran through her when she thought of seeing Doug again with her proofs.

  When she entered the shop he was serving an elderly lady and expertly trimming fat from a T bone steak with a sharp knife he held confidently in his big right hand. He called out a greeting and asked her to wait for a few minutes so she stood by the counter watching him. His massive hands were twice the normal size and when she raised her eyes to smile into his grey eyes they locked and she noticed his stare was so intent he was unconsciously stroking and smoothing the steak. Backwards and forwards he stroked, it was as if he'd lost track of what he was actually doing and she could feel her cheeks flushing hot with embarrassment while she too stared at his actions imagining him stroking her body in the same manner.

  Try to play it cool, she thought, but who was she trying to kid, the sexual attraction between them was real, alive and pulsating through her. When the old lady left the shop he came around to stand next to her while she spread the recipe proofs out onto the counter and he admired one after another.

  "They're great!" he said enthusiastically. "You've done a fantastic job, Katie. And I know a guy who'll print them for me at a knockdown price."

  Her heart pumped with excitement at his closeness and she smiled coyly at his praise. "I'm so pleased you like them."

  He ran a finger down the side of her arm and even through her fine knit cardigan she could feel the tingle of their bodily contact.

  He gazed longingly at her. "Have dinner with me to celebrate?"

  "Where and what time?" she whispered.

  “Da Vinci's at eight o'clock?”

  Later when her mind played back the scene she realised she hadn’t given the invitation a second thought – it had just seemed the right thing to do. Just before eight she was waiting outside the restaurant in her low-cut red dress, red killer heels – her toes, finer nails and lips were all painted scarlet red to complete the outfit.