Yes Chef, No Chef

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 purposely 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.

God, what on earth was she doing? she thought, feeling her stomach churn when she saw him striding down the street towards her.

He arrived slightly out of breath and ran his hand through his thinning hair. “Not late, am I?” he asked anxiously.

“Not at all,” she said, “I'm a couple of minutes early.”

He took hold of her hand and hurried her through the doors. Her hand felt tiny inside one of his which made her acutely aware of her short height and small frame, they certainly were a strange match, she decided, as the waiter settled them at a table and she began to relax in his company.

“Well, my delectable lady in red, what do you fancy?” he asked. “I'm going to have a sirloin steak.”

She giggled. “That’s a bit of a busman's holiday, isn't it?”

“Maybe,” he said, beaming in pleasure at her. “But this place does cook the best steak in town and even though I spend all day cutting meat I still love eating it.”

He ordered a bottle of Australian red wine, to which she nodded her agreement and then told the waiter he'd like his steak to be cooked rare. She watched his hands tear a hunk of bread into pieces and dreamily told the waiter she’d have the same.

Smiling at the proud and happy grin on his face she chatted about the benefits of self-employment, and told him briefly about Tim. And just when he was explaining how his wife was away for the week their food arrived.

Heavens, she thought, she’d certainly read this situation wrong and how stupid of her not to even wonder if he was married.

He must have noticed her hesitancy because he touched the side of her arm. “She’ll be gone for good shortly because we are in the process of splitting up,” he said and frowned.

She couldn’t think of anything to say back without being intrusive and looked down at their food. On his plate was a large, thick steak which was grilled and browned to perfection on the outside and when he cut into it the bloody juices ran out and onto the plate.

He brightened and smiled at her. “Fabulous!” he declared chewing his first mouthful. “Juicy and tender - just as it should be and the flavour, mmm...”

She took his lead and relaxed her shoulders determined to enjoy the meal. Her steak was so tender her knife sliced through easily and she agreed enthusiastically with him about the fantastic flavour.

“You see, the sirloin is cut from the top blade of the cow and has a more intense taste,” he explained swirling the wine in his glass. “And of course, this wine is superb with it.”

She agreed that the richness of the red wine complimented the steak and knew he was enjoying it as much as she was. He was the perfect dinner guest, his stories were funny and his manners were impeccable, and the sight of the small cheese knife held gracefully in his hand brought a lump to her throat. Why on earth did she feel so emotional about this man?

“Coffee at mine?” he asked.

She agreed and although she knew she'd had too much to drink and a tiny voice in the back of her mind urged caution because he was a married man, she climbed into the back of the taxi with him promising herself she’d leave after a quick coffee.

They crept in the dark along the path to his back door and giggled like naughty schoolchildren while he struggled with the key in the lock. She walked into the lounge behind him and after switching on a small lamp he turned and kissed her deeply. His lips tasted of the steak and red wine and she moaned in delight when his big hands began to roam her body. Clinging to him in unashamed desperation with her heart thumping and desire flooding through her from head to toe, he picked her up in his arms and carried her like a little girl upstairs to his bed. He began peeling her clothes off and groaned in pleasure as he undid her bra.

“They're really too big for the rest of my body,” she said shyly. “I'm sort of top heavy.

“They're unbelievable, just like the rest of you,” he murmured, and cupped one each into his massive hands. He squeezed and caressed them until she thought she'd cry with pleasure and ecstasy of his touch.

From somewhere in her drunken haze an image of Tim’s face came to her and suddenly she felt anxious and full of doubt. Was she ready to do this with another man? And yes, she had physical needs the same as everyone else, but maybe if she needed time to think whether it was right or wrong, then...

Doug sensed her hesitation and pulled back. "You, OK?" he asked running his hand through her soft hair.

"I'm not sure,” she said miserably. “You’ll think I’m stupid but suddenly I thought of Tim and well..."

He pulled her closer into his broad strong chest. "No, I don't think you're stupid. I feel a bit like that myself," he explained, and told her how his wife had long since stopped any physical contact with him and had been sleeping in their spare bedroom. “And although I know my marriage is basically on its last legs this is the first time I’ve even considered being unfaithful.”

She nuzzled into him relishing the safe and secure intimacy of his big body. "It's hard, isn't it?" she asked, "I mean, trying to move forward when there’s still a part of you stuck in the past, and even though I know Tim isn’t living like a monk it doesn't mean to say it's right for me, I suppose?"

One of his huge hands slid down the length of her back and massaged her until she could feel her eyelids drooping. She was completely and utterly relaxed. "It's just all so confusing, because I really do fancy you, but..."

She heard his breathing become shallow and all his chest muscles relax, and deciding he must be dozing off to sleep she closed her eyes, let the alcohol effects take over and surrendered herself into darkness.