A Catered Affair (29 page)

“We aim to please. Perhaps you’d like to look at the new water tank. My plumber put it in yesterday.”

“Why not.”

He led the way to the bathroom.

“Now then, as you know, we changed it to a new, twenty-five-gallon tank, so what with it being just you living here, you’re not going to run out of hot water. I’ve switched it on. It’s all working. Right now you’ve got a nice full tank of water.”

“Fantastic.”

“And we’ve fitted an insulating jacket to save you losing heat. I went for the Titan in the end. It’s yer standard sixty-millimeter thickness.”

“Excellent.”

Just then the buzzer went. “That’ll be the removal man.”

“Right you are. I’ll be off, but give me a tinkle if there are any problems.”

“Will do, Terry. Thanks for everything. Everything is absolutely perfect. Oh, and since you’re here, I should give you this. Saves me putting a stamp on it.” I handed him an envelope containing a check for what I owed him. He handed me my keys followed by an old-fashioned salute. “A business doing pleasure with you,” he said with a grin. With that, he was on his way.

It took the Wizard of Aus about an hour to offload his van—moaning all the time that he’d had to double park and there were traffic wardens everywhere.

No sooner had he left—leaving my kitchen-diner–slash–living room full of boxes—than Kenny arrived. I opened the front door to find him red faced, breathless and covered in sweat. He was wearing running shorts and trainers and carrying a knapsack on his back. “I jogged over,” he said.

“From Muswell Hill? You’re mad. That’s miles.”

“I know.” Wheeze. “Big mistake.” Wheeze. “Plus I haven’t done a run in months. I think I could be dying.” Double wheeze.

I started laughing. “You’re not dying. You’re just out of shape.” I told him to come in and sit down and that I would get him a glass of water. He followed me into the kitchen and I went hunting for a glass in one of the removal boxes.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but until the Ikea van gets here with my new sofas, you’re going to have to sit on the floor.” He took off his knapsack and, with practically no effort, lifted himself onto the breakfast bar. His breathing was returning to normal. So much for dying.

“This place is amazing,” he said as I handed him a glass of water. “I love the open-plan thing, the wooden floors and the glass doors onto the garden. And you’ve painted the walls white instead of that ubiquitous bloody cream everybody goes for.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, “why people think cream is neutral. It isn’t. Cream is a huge statement. It’s as much of a statement as green or blue.”

“Absolutely. Nothing goes with it apart from browns and earth tones.”

“Whereas everything goes with white.”

“Don’t you just love being right?” he said, laughing.

I had to admit that I did.

“By the way,” he said, “I got you a flat-warming present.” He reached down, picked up his knapsack and produced a bottle of vintage champagne. “Happy new flat. It did occur to me that jogging over here with a bottle of bubbly wasn’t the most sensible idea, but it hasn’t exploded yet. It should settle down.”

“Aw, Kenny, that it so sweet,” I said, giving him a hug. “But this isn’t a new place.”

“OK, happy newly renovated flat.”

“Tell you what—why don’t you stay for dinner and we’ll drink it then.”

“Deal.”

He finished his glass of water. “Hey, Tally, don’t suppose I could ask a favor. Could I possibly have a shower? I think I might be starting to smell.”

“Sure. As it goes, Terry left me with a full tank of hot water. You got something to change into? Otherwise I might have a pink silk robe you can borrow.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll pass. I have everything I need.” He tapped his knapsack. I directed him to the bathroom.

“Oh, by the way,” I said as he disappeared, “you remember I mentioned my friend Rosie was coming over to help? She should be here any minute. She’s great. Really feisty. I just know the two of you are going to get along.”

“If she’s a friend of yours, I’m sure I’ll like her.”

Once Kenny had gone, I decided to make a start unpacking boxes. It made sense to get the kitchen sorted first. I didn’t even have a kettle to make tea or mugs to drink it from. I’d just located a box marked POTS AND PANS when the door buzzer went. I assumed it was Rosie. It wasn’t. It was Nana and Mum.

They were on their way to visit Millie, who was in the hospital. Since it was miles away and hard to get to by public transport, Mum had offered to drive Nana there. My place was on the way.

“It’s her lungs,” Nana said when I asked what was wrong with Millie.

“I thought it was her leg.”

“It was, but it went to her lungs.”

Mum was already looking around the flat. “It looks fabulous. A bit white maybe.” (Mum was a fan of fuchsia walls and black glass chandeliers.) “But it’ll be better when you’ve got your cushions and bits and pieces in. I have to admit Terry the builder has done a great job.” She handed me a silver gift bag. “I got you a little something to say happy new flat. It’s just a bit of fun.”

I took out a pair of bubble-gum pink rubber gloves trimmed at the wrists with orange feathers. There was also a cow-print dustpan and brush.

I burst out laughing and gave her a hug. “Oh, Mum. These are brilliant. I love them.”

“And I got you something, too,” Nana said. She handed me a paper bag. Inside were two tiny brown paper parcels wrapped in sticky tape.

“I know you’re not moving into a new flat, but it feels like a new start, so I made you these. It’s an old Jewish tradition. One packet contains bread, so that you should never go hungry. The other contains salt so that your life should never be without flavor.”

I was really touched. “Oh, Nana, that is such a lovely thought. Thank you.” I went to kiss her.

“My pleasure, darling.”

At this point Mum broke in. “So, Scarlett tells me you’ve been busy. She says Hugh’s back in town and that you’ve also been seeing a lot of Kenny the caterer.”

“Hugh and I have been catching up—that’s all.” I wasn’t about to tell her he’d kissed me. She hadn’t particularly approved of Hugh the first time around.

“You know,” Nana said, “Kenny is such a lovely boy. You could do a lot worse.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Mum said. “Whenever we met up to discuss the wedding, he came across as such a lovely chap—friendly, funny, down-to-earth.”

“I mean, God forbid she should end up with a drug dealer.”

“Why on earth would Tally end up with a drug dealer?”

Mum turned to me. “But surely Kenny’s not your type.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Nana got in first. “Now, my friend Hetty—her daughter married a serial killer.”

“What?” Mum said, frowning. “No, she didn’t. The woman was having a fight with her husband. He accused her of putting too much milk on his corn flakes. She threw the bowl at him. He lost it and strangled her. The papers called him a cereal killer.”

“If I could possibly get a word in. I am not going out with Kenny. This is Scarlett getting hold of the wrong end of the stick. The two of us just hang out together. We’re friends—that’s all.”

Just then Kenny appeared, dripping wet. The only thing covering his modesty was a tea towel. His hand was behind his back, clearly gripping the towel in an attempt to hide the gape. “Tally, this was all I could find in the airing cupboard. Don’t suppose you’ve got a bath towel in one of those boxes.” It was only then that he noticed Nana and Mum.

“Ah. Morning all.” I could see he didn’t know where to put himself or what his next move should be. He nodded at Nana and Mum. “Hope you’re both well.”

“Not dating, eh?” Nana said to me, her face one huge grin. “If you say so, darling.”

“Hello, Kenny,” Mum said. “So, how’s business?”

“Mustn’t grumble,” Kenny said. He looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him. I wanted to scream at Nana and Mum that they’d got it all wrong. Instead I tried to “normalize” the moment—to pretend that there was nothing odd about me, Nana and Mum standing in my hall with my half-naked wedding caterer.

“Kenny,” I said, “you remember my mum and Nana Ida.”

“Of course. You’ll forgive me if I don’t shake hands.”

“I think that would be for the best,” Mum said, smiling.

“Ooh,” Nana said to Kenny. “Tell Stewart I’ve finally made an appointment with his mother’s alternative therapist.”

“Excellent. He’ll be pleased.”

“And your aunty Pearl? How’s she? Lovely woman. Give her my regards.”

“Will do.”

Mum grabbed Nana’s arm. “Come on, Mum. Let’s give these two some privacy. We said we’d be at the hospital at half past eleven. Bye, Tally. I’ll call you during the week. Good to see you again, Kenny.”

“You, too,” Kenny said.

“Cheerio,” Nana said, giving us both a smile and a wink. “And I’m loving the tea towel.”

Suddenly everybody’s eyes were on Kenny’s nether regions. It seemed that Nana was the only one to notice that Kenny was wearing a souvenir tea towel covered in images of London landmarks. Written under the image that actually covered the relevant area were the words BIG BEN.

Mum opened the front door and practically shoved Nana out of the flat.

 

 

“Bloody hell, Tally, you didn’t tell me your mother and nana Ida were coming.”

“That’s because I didn’t know. I’m really sorry. There wasn’t time to warn you.”

“So now they think that we’re . . .”

“Yes, but don’t worry. They might take a bit of convincing, but I’ll set them straight.”

I went rummaging in one of the removal boxes for bath towels. I handed him two, and he disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later the Ikea van arrived with my furniture and Rosie arrived with the most beautiful bunch of flowers.

I introduced Kenny and Rosie and left them to get acquainted while I went out to get cappuccinos and bacon sandwiches to keep us going.

When I got back they were in the living room. Kenny was sitting on the floor unpacking my new coffee table. Rosie was sitting on my new white sofa, arms folded across her chest.

“I can’t believe you hated
The Piano
,” she was saying. “It’s one of my all-time favorite films. Not only is it an epic work of searing emotional intensity and brooding sensuality; it’s a hugely important feminist commentary. That scene where the husband chops off Holly Hunter’s finger so that she can’t play the piano again is momentous. At that moment he is cutting off all her power—her penis, if you will.”

“I have to confess I didn’t get that far. To me it just seemed pretentious and dull. Tally fell asleep after about ten minutes. I held out for a bit longer, but in the end I turned it off and watched the soccer.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” Rosie was getting quite irate by now. “You gave up on
The Piano
to watch soccer? How could you do that?”

“I have to say, it wasn’t hard.”

“But how could you not appreciate its visual beauty, the poetry of expression told in the form of off-center melodrama.”

“I’m sorry. I have no idea what that last bit means.”

“It’s perfectly clear. How can you not understand?”

Oh, great. This was going well. “Hey, you guys—breakfast’s here,” I said, heading into the kitchen. “Come and get it.”

We each took one of my new bar stools—which had arrived already assembled. I tried to keep the conversation light.

“Did I tell you, Kenny, that Rosie had a baby a few months ago?”

“You did. Actually, my sister just had her third at Christmas. She wanted a home birth, but my brother-in-law put his foot down—quite rightly, I think.”

“Why quite rightly?” Rosie shot back. “I’ve given birth twice—both times in hospital because my blood pressure went up while I was pregnant, but given the choice I would have opted for home deliveries. It’s so much more relaxed to be at home around your own things.”

“But what if something goes wrong?” Kenny said.

“You see, this is what the medicalization of childbirth has done—turned it into an illness. Most births don’t go wrong.”

“OK, but what if something did go wrong and you couldn’t get to the hospital in time and the baby died or was brain damaged? Could you live with yourself?”

“You have to trust your midwife to pick up problems early on.”

“But suppose she doesn’t? Is there no such thing as an incompetent midwife?”

“There is, and you get plenty of them in hospitals, believe me.”

“Lovely bacon,” I said. “Really crispy. And the fried eggs are nice and runny in the middle.”

By now I was thinking that it might be better to separate them and give them different jobs to do. But they both insisted on helping build furniture because I’d said I was hopeless at following instructions. While they got on with the dining room table and my bed, I unpacked boxes.

By four Rosie said she ought to get back and relieve her parents of Ben and Izzy. She and Kenny exchanged a pleasant-enough farewell, but I couldn’t help getting the feeling that it was for my benefit.

I walked Rosie to her car. “Thanks for all your help today,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”

“My pleasure, hon. Look, I’m sorry I was so hard on Kenny. I behaved badly. It’s just that I’m still tired and a bit hormonal and he managed to press a couple of my buttons. I got on my high horse and totally overreacted. Tell him I’m sorry.”

“So you liked him, then?”

“Yeah, he’s great. Look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I really think that Kenny could be perfect for you. You’re right—there is a chemistry.”

“Oh God, not this again. Look, Kenny and I really get along, but he would never be right for me. Plus the timing’s all wrong. We’re both coming out of bad breakups . . .”