Handle With Care (14 page)

“I know. I know he is, really. I just get so wound up when I see things like this.” She gestured in the direction of the tub that had started the whole episode.

“That’s my job. I love cooking for you.”

“No one’s trying to replace you, little sis.” I kissed the top of her head. “And if you’d waited for a moment before going off on a wobbler, you’d have found out that isn’t for me. It’s one of Ollie’s experimental organic baby food recipes for the café.”

Zoe giggled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I’ve been a right idiot, haven’t I?”

“No comment.”

“Is it any good? The baby food?”

“Try it and see.”

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Zoe grabbed a teaspoon from the washing up and sampled a tentative mouthful. “Not bad. Could do with a little garlic, though.”

“You can’t feed babies garlic.”

“Who says? You’d be surprised. Hmmm…” Zoe took another mouthful, then another. “This is good, though. D’you think Ollie would mind if I gave him some tips?”

I considered it. Would Ollie think she was sticking her nose in? Given what I knew of Ollie, I thought not. He wouldn’t even agree that Mrs. F. was an interfering old biddy and had given her the benefit of the doubt over the whole letter thing. “I think it would be a great idea. He’d love some advice from someone with your culinary expertise.”

“Cool.” Zoe smiled, and this time, she genuinely looked happy.

I decided I’d have to work on making sure she felt appreciated. “How about I take you out to dinner at the weekend? Sunday lunch at the Little Angel?” It was a place on the river in Henley, and Zoe had always loved eating there as a kid. I used to tell her she was my Little Angel and they’d named the place after her. It had gone a bit gastropub these days, but the grown-up Zoe would probably appreciate the enhanced menu with added marinated unpronounceables and sun-dried whatevers.

“Sunday? Won’t Ollie be working then?”

“Yes, but I’m asking you. Just you and me, out for a meal like old times.

What do you say?”

Zoe hugged me tight. “Can we feed the ducks afterwards?”

I grinned. “Those greedy little bastards? Of course we can.”

My kitchen had turned into some kind of baby-food research lab. Zoe and Ollie dodged around each other in a crazy dance as they grabbed ingredients, jotted down notes and stuck their fingers into bowls of goop, pulling faces that ranged from disgust to delight as they sampled the flavours. I watched from my seat at the kitchen table, bemused by the whirlwind of activity.

Every now and then, Ollie would shoot me a look that communicated just how grateful he was for me talking things through with Zoe. Then Zoe would shout out an order or smack him on the bum, and he’d roll his eyes at me.

But eventually, they were ready. Ollie placed the twelve pots of mush in front of me with a flourish. Each contained a wooden lolly stick with a different letter written on the end, and a teaspoon. Oh goodie.

“Do I have to?” I pleaded.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Zoe said. “You’re our chief taster.”

“I thought being a baby was the whole point,” I grumbled, but I lifted the spoon in the nearest pot and had a sniff before tasting. It was yellow and smelled faintly spicy. I opened my mouth and hoped for the best.

It was sweet. So sweet my taste buds went into overdrive. “Are you sure this is okay for me to eat?”

“It’s all fine,” Ollie reassured me. “No added salt or sugar, no e-numbers, no artificial colours or preservatives. Just fruit, vegetables and cereals.”

“It tastes like curry. Can babies eat curry?”

“Yes!” they exclaimed in unison, giving each other a look of exasperated affection.

I decided to shut up in case they ganged up on me again and took another mouthful. It was surprisingly good, actually. I decided I needed one more to make a proper assessment.

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Ollie whipped the bowl away. “Don’t fill yourself up with the first one.

You’ve got eleven more to go.”

“So, how would you rate sample A for appearance, texture, aroma and flavour?” Zoe asked, clipboard in hand. “I want marks out of ten for each.”

I groaned, but I did my best to answer for each different sample. There were a couple that weren’t to my taste, including one made with ginger and parsnip, but on the whole, I was really impressed. The blueberry-and-apricot one was particularly good, we all agreed.

“You know, you could get some moulds and make this one into ice-lollies,”

Zoe suggested after taking another spoonful. “It would be much cheaper than buying them in, and it could be a unique selling point for you.”

“That’s a brilliant idea!” Ollie beamed at Zoe.

“I’m full of them,” Zoe said. Modesty had never been one of her strong points, particularly when her cooking was involved.

“What she’s not telling you is about the time she had a brilliant idea to make jacket potatoes with banana and beetroot mashed inside.”

“Hey! I liked them,” Zoe protested.

“You only said that to save face. I could see the way you grimaced every time you swallowed. Potatoes shouldn’t be pink, and they shouldn’t taste of banana.”

“This man is the antithesis of Heston Blumenthal, Ollie. I hope you realise that. He wouldn’t recognise innovative cuisine if you poked him in the eye with it. We had pasta or fish and chips every single night before I took over the cooking.”

“Yeah, and then we had takeaway pizza every other night because you’d made something so gross even you wouldn’t eat it.”

Zoe had her hands on her hips, squaring off at me. “I was ten years old and entirely self-taught. Give me a break!”

“All I’m saying is maybe you should have started with simple stuff rather than diving straight in with the gourmet recipes.”

“But they looked so much prettier!”

“Pretty isn’t the same as tasty.”

Ollie’s gaze moved between the two of us, clearly amused at the squabbling, but I thought I saw something else in his expression too, so I reined it back in and changed the subject.

Later, once Zoe had left and we were working our way through the pile of dirty dishes, I asked Ollie if everything was okay.

“Yeah, of course. Why d’you ask?”

“I thought you looked a bit put out when me and Zo were arguing. You know it’s only for fun, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah. I get that. I just…I guess I felt a bit sad, that’s all.”

“Sad? What for?” I handed Ollie a dripping saucepan, and he began to dry it, but then set it down on the worktop.

“Just that me and my brother are probably never gonna have a relationship like you and Zoe have. I mean, I never really get to see him these days.”

“Why not? Things aren’t that bad between you and your stepdad, are they?”

Ollie heaved a sigh. then looked me straight in the eyes. “It’s not that they won’t let me visit or anything. I just feel so awkward there, like a spare part.

They’re all so close, doesn’t feel like there’s any room for me.”

I thought about it for a moment as I washed goop off the teaspoons. I didn’t want to interfere in Ollie’s life, but then again, maybe he wanted a bit of direction. He had seemed to like it whenever I’d taken charge of things.

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“We’ll go and see them together,” I announced. “As soon as I’m feeling fit again. That way you’ll feel like you belong with me, so it won’t be awkward.”

Ollie stared down at his saucepan and didn’t reply, and I wondered if I was presuming too much. “That’s if you want me to, anyway. It’s your call.”

“Of course I want you there! Would you really want to meet them?”

Ollie’s eyes gleamed so bright with emotion I was alarmed, but I reassured him as best I could that I really did want to know his family.

But as we sat and watched an old episode of
Babylon Five
later that evening, our conversation played through my head again. It was sobering to realise just how dependent Ollie was on me, and how willingly he deferred to what I wanted. I had a huge responsibility towards his happiness, I realised, and I really couldn’t bear the idea of screwing it up in any way.

I’d have to be extremely careful how I exercised the power Ollie had given to me.

As my body healed from the surgery, I experienced a surge of energy like I hadn’t had in years, so when James suggested I might like to come into the office for a meeting with clients and to see the old team again, I readily agreed. It had been only eighteen days since leaving hospital, but I was ready to see a bit more of the world than the walls of my flat and the outpatients’ clinic.

“Can I come with you?” Ollie asked as I stood in front of the mirror, checking the fit of my suit. Now that I wasn’t bloated with dialysate anymore, I could get back into my old clothes again. In fact, if anything, they were a little baggy around the waist. I tightened my belt another notch.

“Are you sure you want to? It’ll be pretty boring. I’ll be in a meeting for most of the time.”

“I want to see where you used to work.”

I’d come to recognise that determined set of Ollie’s jaw, so I smiled affably and agreed. God knew what James and the others would make of him and his bright red hair, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that I was gay, so they’d just have to deal with it.

“How do I look?” I asked Ollie. “Can you see the tube through these?” I’d stuck the thing down with double the amount of tape I usually used, but it still made me paranoid, especially wearing trousers that clung very differently from the jeans I’d been favouring since leaving hospital. At least I didn’t have as much resentment of my tube as I used to, though. Now it wasn’t being used and I knew its days were numbered, I could put up with it with much better grace.

Ollie’s hands dropped onto my shoulders, massaging me through the layers of shirt and jacket. “With shoulders like these, no one’s going to be looking anywhere else.”

“You like my shoulders?” This was news to me.

“Your shoulders are bloody awesome. Really broad and strong looking.”

I raised my eyebrows at my reflection. Okay, maybe I could see what Ollie was getting at. It was an expensive jacket with a flattering cut, after all. I grinned at Ollie in the mirror.

“Go get ’em, Tiger,” he teased.

We headed on out, and when I used my remote to open the garage door, Ollie’s eyes just about popped out of his head. “We’re taking the MG?”

“It is my car.”

“You sure you’ll be up for driving on the way back?”

“I’ll be fine.” I bit back the annoyance at being mollycoddled. He had a valid point, much as I didn’t like to hear it. I might be feeling better than I had been, but I was still a long way from recovered. “If I’m not, then you can drive us.”

“Me? You’d let me? Really?” Ollie was practically dancing on the spot.

I rolled my eyes. “Only as a last resort. Come on, behave yourself.”

Ollie batted his eyelashes at me. “Did I tell you yet how sexy you look in that suit?”

“Flattery will get you many places but not behind the wheel of my car.”

“Spoilsport.” Ollie pouted, but his eyes still gleamed with pleasure.

“Climb on in. You’re making me feel tired just watching you jump around.”

Ollie was suitably impressed by the journey to the office, running his hands over the walnut dashboard and singing the praises of the leather interior. I turned the heated seats on just to amuse him, even though the weather was mild.

When we pulled up outside the office, he was even more impressed.

“Swanky,” he breathed.

I glanced out at the imposing stone facade, impeccably manicured topiary and gleaming brass plate by the door. “You get used to it.”

His face fell.

“All right. I admit it, it’s swanky.” I turned to see what Ollie was staring at and saw James walking down the street with a man who could only be Dane Gibson, the client I was here to meet. There was the same manicured goatee and smug smile I remembered from the photograph on his website. “I’d better get going. That’s my boss over there. Are you coming?” I asked as I opened my door.

Ollie hunched down into the seat like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. “I think I’ll wait out here.”

He wasn’t feeling intimidated by the place, was he?

“You’d be very welcome. Tamara’ll make you coffee and treat you to all her kids’ life histories while you wait. She’s got whole albums of baby photos tucked under her desk.” Most blokes would run a mile, but Ollie would probably enjoy that sort of thing.

“Nah, I’m fine.”

Ollie didn’t sound fine, but as I was running a little late already, I told myself I’d get to the bottom of it after my meeting. I wanted to kiss him goodbye, but I wasn’t used to public displays of affection, so I settled for a quick ruffle of his hair instead. “Okay. I’ll leave you the keys in case you want to stretch your legs, but don’t you dare drive off anywhere.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Ollie mumbled.

I shook my head as I crossed the street. I couldn’t spare the time to try to figure out this latest mood swing. Must be one of his drama-queen moments again. My attention shaped itself around the notes I’d made in preparation for 128

meeting the client, but I did remember to turn and wave before heading into the lobby.

Ollie wasn’t even looking my way.

“Right. I think that just about wraps everything up for the moment.” James shuffled his notes and fixed us all with a beady gaze. “Do you all have everything you need?”

I glanced down at my own notes and nodded my assent. Dane Gibson might be a little self-satisfied for my liking, but he clearly had reason to be. His feedback to the team on our work so far had been succinct, constructive and challenging without being overtly demanding. I could see why his company was such a success with him at the helm.

“Ben, could I have a quick word?” Dane asked as I rose to leave.

Puzzled, I stopped in my tracks. If there was a problem with my work, I couldn’t understand why he hadn’t brought it up earlier.

Dane waited for the others to leave the office, promising James he’d be out in a moment. I stood there, trying to calm my nerves and surreptitiously wipe my sweaty palms on my jacket. But then Dane stepped close. Too close. We were of a height, and his piercing blue eyes stared right into mine. A smile curved his lips—one that made my heart beat faster.