Love on the Menu

by Barry, Jill

‘So you do actually talk to one another without snarling?’

  ‘As and when appropriate.’

  ‘Missed opportunity, my friend, even if she’s already taken.’

  ‘Fortunately not all of us share your unprincipled tendencies.’

  ‘Ah. I suppose that’s because you’re still with Jessie. How’s that going?’

  ‘It’s not,’ said Hal. ‘Jessie went her own way many months ago. What you should know is that Zillah’s widowed and not that long ago either.’

  ‘Wow, oh, poor baby.’ Zak leaned forward. ‘Appreciate the heads up, Hal. I wonder if I should offer to take her to lunch tomorrow.’

  ‘I don’t think her appetite’s a problem.’ Sunday morning sticky fingers. He remembered how she’d so obviously enjoyed the cakes, licking her fingers afterwards in a rare moment of relaxation in his presence. Why did he feel so irritated by Zak’s lunch suggestion? He gulped water and drew one hand across his forehead. The spicy curry tasted fantastic but he hoped his body’s cooling system could cope.

  ‘Thanks for laying it on the line, Hal. About work prospects, I mean. I have a job coming up for the autumn, a West End show this time. And my agent might find me a few gigs. I don’t particularly want to live full time in London while it’s summer.’

  ‘Wouldn’t your folks put up with you for a while?’

  Zak swallowed a mouthful of lager. ‘My mother would of course. As for the old fellow – don’t ask.’

  ‘No chance of reconciliation with -?’

  ‘Probably better not to go there. Kylie’s a lovely girl and she deserves better than me.’

  ‘Dare I ask if this is a sign of maturity?’ Hal snapped a poppadom in half.

  Zak shrugged. ‘Enough of my love life. This website you mentioned – do you plan on building it yourself or will you hire a designer?’

  ‘I haven’t given it too much thought. I don’t even have a name for my new venture now.’

  ‘I heard about that from Zillah. Tough luck, mate.’

  ‘How does she rate me, compared with pond life?’

  ‘She was the soul of diplomacy. You know, I think I will ask her out to lunch. She must have lots of girly contacts. I could offer my services for hen nights.’

  Hal rested his fork. ‘Please don’t tell me you fancy yourself as a singing strip-o-gram.’

  ‘Needs must –’ Zak’s attention wandered as four young women took their seats at a nearby table. A slender redhead, poured into a slinky black silk tube, met his gaze.

  Hal watched the master at work. Zak glanced away before the girl did. Then he looked back and smiled just the tiniest smile. The redhead tucked a strand of hair behind one ear before picking up a menu, which shook as she held it. Hal’s instinct told him the dishes on offer might have been written in Elvish for all the interest she had in them. He reckoned, not for the first time, his sister’s guardian angel must have been on full alert when Nina went on holiday to Majorca with a girlfriend, leaving Zak allegedly inconsolable in London, a decade ago.

  *

  Zillah read her letter from her friend Caroline again after she’d eaten a dish of steamed vegetables with grated cheese. Ruby woke, lapped at the saucer of milk and leapt aboard Zillah’s lap for a cuddle. When she let the little cat out, the other two felines stalked from the shrubbery to claim her. It was like keeping an assignation with someone out on parole.

  Caroline was the best correspondent of the three women friends. She rarely emailed but when she wrote a letter it was worth having. This time she urged Zillah to fly out and visit.

  She’d been before but on both occasions Daniel was with her. He’d spent most days sketching while Zillah saw the sights. Evenings, the four of them walked, talked, ate and drank, philosophised and laughed. There was always laughter with Daniel around. He’d adored being the only male with three attractive women, insisting upon naming them Daniel’s Angels.

  ‘It’s you who were my angel, Daniel.’ Zillah’s words were a whisper. When, oh when, would that gnawing ache subside?

  She folded the letter to keep in her handbag. She’d neither the time nor money to take a trip just now. Maybe in a year or two she’d manage to get away. Maybe the three friends should aim for a reunion the year they hit forty. She shivered. Somehow she didn’t want to think of that. Being the adored wife of an older man no longer cushioned her from fear of the future. Daniel had been so energetic, so positive. It didn’t seem fair.

  Her thoughts roved to Hal. He was the first man she’d been affected by in many years. She decided upon an early night. She needed to be at work by eight the next day.

  *

  ‘If you want a lift in the morning, you’ll have to be ready by eight.’ Hal drove cautiously down the narrow track leading to his cottage.

  ‘So be it.’ Zak clutched the grab handle over the passenger door. ‘I see what you mean about the ruts.’

  It was still light but Hal slowed in good time for his gateway. Even after a couple of weeks’ residence, it was easy to overshoot. The overgrown hedge bulged at either side of the entrance, the foliage forming excellent camouflage.

  Zak whistled at first sight of the cottage. ‘Sheesh! It’s like something straight from a gothic fantasy. A witch’s gingerbread house, maybe. Bring on the hobbits! You’ve found yourself a cool pad, mate.’

  ‘Yes, well, it was affordable. You’ll understand why, when we’re inside. Been on the market a while.’

  ‘Plenty needs doing?’

  ‘Just a bit. I don’t care if it takes me years though.’

  ‘Mr Christmas is planning to put down roots? Something you’re not telling me, perhaps?’

  Hal unlocked the front door and barged through it. ‘This door’s only one of the things that needs fixing. And I certainly don’t contemplate moving again for a long while. After you, Zak. At least you can walk through to the kitchen now, without falling over boxes.’

  ‘Do you keep late hours?’ Zak gazed round him.

  ‘Depends. Why? D’you fancy a nightcap?’

  ‘Whatever. I don’t want to be a nuisance.’

  ‘I won’t let you be.’ Hal pointed to a door. ‘That’s the kitchen. There’s a bottle of Scotch in the cupboard over the sink. You’ll have to improvise when it comes to glasses. I’ll go and grab a duvet etc. You can use the back bedroom.’

  ‘Then maybe I could run a few more ideas by you?’

  Hal loped upstairs, wondering what these might be. He hoped Zak didn’t think he could lodge with him indefinitely. He had a fair idea what that would entail and he really didn’t want the hassle of finding some strange woman standing in his kitchen, rummaging in the fridge for orange juice while her lover finished his beauty sleep.

  He surprised himself by quickly locating spare bedding. On his way downstairs he heard the kettle coming to the boil. If Zak was making himself a cuppa, there was hope for the singer yet.

  *

  Zillah arrived at work next day to find a suite of new office furniture sitting on the forecourt. The silver mini still stood where Zak parked it the night before. Head down, she let herself into her premises before the deliverymen could interrogate her, opened her office door and paused. She sniffed. Her sense of smell was good. And this smell was good too. Top quality leather. She peered round the door and saw Zak’s jacket still hanging from the hook. She decided not to move it, in case she gave the impression of caring what happened to Mr Christmas and his entourage.

  She remained undisturbed and when, a flock of vol au vents later, she returned to her office to check emails. There was one via her website.

  Lonely male, separated from favourite jacket, seeks sympathetic female. How about lunch?

  Her spirits rose. Suddenly she decided lunch with an attractive man, even if he was Hal Christmas’ buddy, sounded fun.

  Zillah typed a reply: Meet you outside at 1.00 pm. Some of us have work to do!!!!

  She deleted three of the exclamation marks and pressed Send.

  But the res
t of the morning flew and before she knew it, Zak’s hand cupped her elbow as they left the building. And he smelt divine. She thanked her lucky stars she was no longer twenty.

  ‘How about the Golden Fleece?’

  ‘You’re a fast learner. That’s my local – well, it is when I’m working here.’

  ‘Hal pointed it out yesterday. Come, lovely lady. My silver mini awaits.’

  ‘Coincidence,’ she said. ‘Guess who that silver van belongs to?’

  ‘We’re twin souls, you and me. Why fight it?’ He zapped his key lock and opened the passenger door.

  Laughing, Zillah strapped herself in and waited for him to get behind the wheel. ‘Enough that my street cred will probably quadruple when I walk into the pub with you.’

  He chuckled. ‘I try. Of course, I realise you’re just toying with me.’

  She was enjoying herself, feeling totally relaxed with a man, for the first time in ages. ‘So will you be around a while or are you just passing through?’

  ‘As it happens, I’ve made a deal with the big guy. He’s letting me crash at his place in return for constructing his new website.’

  ‘Where exactly does he live?’ She noticed how cautiously Zak navigated the slip road. Probably Hal had warned him how women round here drove straight at the jugular.

  ‘On the Bath side of Bradford-on-Avon,’ said Zak. ‘In a very quaint but run down cottage that’ll probably turn out to be as high-maintenance as a Parisian mistress.’

  Zillah knew she shouldn’t ask but failed dismally. ‘So, if you’re about on the weekend, you’ll get to meet his wife – partner – whatever?’

  ‘Flipping traffic doesn’t get any better round here, does it? Um, Jessie’s no longer on the scene. It took three scotches before His Nibs told me the full story. I asked him if he fancied a blind date tonight but he bit my head off. I can’t imagine why.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ She was experiencing a strange feeling of relief and longed to hear more but Zak indicated right and they pulled into the pub car park.

  ‘Lunch on me,’ he said. ‘No arguments.’

  ‘But Zak, if I pay, I can claim it on expenses.’

  ‘Damn,’ he said. ‘I knew it.’

  ‘Knew what?’

  ‘Knew you didn’t take me seriously. If you did, your tax return would be the last thing on your mind. Come on.’

  It is a truth universally acknowledged that, when an attractive single woman turns up at her favourite hostelry with a stranger, an attractive male into the bargain, it’s bound to cause comment. Zillah recalled Abi’s words as she noticed Mickey smooth down his tie on seeing her.

  ‘Zillah,’ he called. ‘How goes it? Got that shmuck sorted yet?’

  ‘Um, yes thanks,’ she said. How embarrassing was this? Mickey wasn’t usually so tactless. What if Hal Christmas had been her lunchtime companion and not Zak? She pushed the thought away.

  ‘What would you like to drink, Zillah?’

  ‘Sparkling mineral water, please, Mickey. This is Zak Silver. He’s an entertainer and he’s between gigs at the moment.’

  Mickey reached over to shake hands. ‘Good to see you, Mr Silver. And what can I get you, Sir?’

  ‘I’ll have the same as the lady, please. And we’d like lunch for two. Zillah tells me the food’s great here.’

  Mickey flipped the metal tops off two frosted bottles. ‘Are you the same Zak Silver that came to Bath in that musical thing a while back?’

  ‘‘I don’t think there’s another actor of that name so probably, yes. I’m impressed you remember.’

  Mickey placed two tall glasses clinking with ice on the counter. ‘My wife dragged me round the stage door to get your autograph afterwards. You weren’t too bad if I’m thinking of the right bloke. You still singing?’

  ‘I do my best,’ said Zak.

  Mickey’s pen was poised to write their lunch order. ‘That particular wife gave me the sack not long after, if I remember rightly.’

  Zillah hastily ordered the crab cakes with salad.

  *

  ‘Thanks for waking me last night,’ said Hal as Zak stumbled into the kitchen next morning, scratching his left armpit. ‘You look terrible. Good job your fans can’t see you now. Coffee and toast?’

  ‘Just coffee please, mate. Sorry about last night. I tried not to disturb you.’

  ‘This morning, you mean. And that door would defy even the most tenacious of burglars.’ But Hal was smiling. ‘I can put up with you for a few nights, I guess. And I’ve made a decision about this place.’

  Zak sipped his coffee. ‘Sounds ominous.’

  ‘‘I was planning to do the renovation on my own - take years over it if necessary. Now I’m wondering whether I can tolerate living in a tip as well as run two businesses. Am I totally insane?’

  ‘‘You’re certainly a workaholic. You should try chilling out more. Look at me -’

  ‘I am,’ said Hal grimly. ‘I hope you were careful with that poor girl last night.’

  Zak groaned. ‘You have no idea! She invited me back to her place for coffee. Wish I hadn’t gone, now.’

  Hal couldn’t resist asking. ‘So it all went pear-shaped?’

  Zak spread his hands. ‘What a man-eater. I like the build up to be subtle, not like a rugby scrum. And certainly not the full Monty on a first date – I do have scruples.’ He stretched his arms out wide. ‘When she went off to the bedroom I pretended I’d got a text from my agent and needed to drive straight to London.’

  ‘Did she believe you?’

  Zak nodded. ‘I told her I had an audition first thing this morning in the West End and daren’t risk getting snarled in traffic. She told me she’d like to cook dinner for me at her place next time.’

  ‘You don’t seem too happy about it.’

  ‘I know. Pathetic, isn’t it? Truth is, mate. I’ve kind of got a crush on Zillah. Now, there’s a real woman for you.’

  ‘Oh, hell.’ Hal sucked his finger where he’d sliced it with the bread knife. He turned on the cold-water tap and watched the crimson drops swirl down the plughole. ‘Isn’t it a bit unkind, moving in on someone still recovering from losing her husband?’

  ‘But I don’t intend doing any such thing. What d’you take me for?’ Zak looked hurt. ‘I enjoy her company and she seems to enjoy mine.’

  ‘How very touching. Where did I put those plasters? Do I even possess plasters?’

  Zak got up. ‘Thanks for the coffee. Okay if I shower now?’

  Hal didn’t respond. Just ripped off a sheet of kitchen roll and wrapped it round his finger before stuffing two slices of bread in the toaster. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Yet another beautiful woman in my sights? Be still my beating heart!’ Zak hovered in the open kitchen doorway, admiring Abi in her pastel floral leggings and black shoestring top.

  Hal thundered upstairs to his offices, face impassive. ‘Morning, Abi,’ he called.

  ‘Morning, Hal,’ she called back before addressing Zak. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Zak Silver.’ He held out his hand.

  Abi shook it. ‘Abi Knight, Zillah’s assistant. Are you an accountant like Hal or are you a fire eater?’

  ‘Neither. I bend spoons for a living.’

  Zillah emerged from her office. Zak turned to greet her, taking her hand and kissing it. Abi whistled.

  Hal called down the staircase. ‘Hey, Zak! Are you planning on getting started today?’

  Zak mimicked slitting his throat with his forefinger. ‘See you anon, ladies. Duty calls.’

  Zillah shut the foyer door firmly behind her as Abi went off to change into whites. ‘There goes an absolute charmer, Abi. Not a man to fall in love with.’

  ‘Are you telling me or trying to convince yourself?’

  ‘I’m merely making an observation. More importantly, we desperately need more petits fours by the weekend. In the mood for marzipan making?’

  ‘You bet. Anyone would think
people were eating them. I’ll try that no-sugar cupcake recipe as well, if you like. So do we know what Zak’s up to, other than bending spoons?’

  ‘Mr Christmas has asked him to create a website for this new venture of his.’

  ‘So Zak Silver’s not just a pretty face.’

  ‘He’s also a singer, with an impressive CV - plus a website. I’d never heard of him but he’s done loads of stuff in the West End and on tours.’

  Abi puffed out her cheeks. ‘Two new men turn up and you’re a hit with each of them. Can’t be bad.’

  ‘I don’t want to make a hit with either of them, thank you. Quite frankly, I can’t think which one would prove the worse proposition.’

  ‘Zak seems fun.’

  ‘Oh, he is. I enjoyed our lunch yesterday.’

  ‘Lunch while my back was turned? Didn’t I just hear you say you weren’t interested?’

  ‘I’m not a hermit. Just not searching for something I know I’ll never find.’

  Abi bit her lower lip. ‘I’ll test that recipe you’re wondering about then mix the marzipan. Okay if I play a CD?’

  ‘Of course. Try the one Zak gave me, if you like.’

  ‘Right.’ Abi tried not to smirk.

  ‘I know you’re highly amused, Abi. But the guy’s just being friendly,’ said Zillah. ‘Plus, he’s probably hoping I’ll recommend people to buy the album from his website. Did I say I’m driving to Brassknocker Hill shortly? Meeting Mrs West for a preliminary discussion.’

  ‘This is the lady who’s panicking because her original caterers have ceased trading?’

  ‘It is. There’s a marquee booked for an early September wedding. We desperately need this kind of function. I’m only sorry we might profit through someone else’s misfortune.’

  ‘You’re too soft-hearted,’ said Abi. ‘It’s a hard old world out there, boss, so just you go and do what you do so well.’

  *

  In his freshly painted first floor office, Hal sat hunched over his laptop, doing something he knew he did well, while knowing most people, on hearing about it, would be attacked by irrepressible yawns.

  Zak was concentrating on his own screen. Suddenly he stood up and stretched. ‘I could murder a coffee. How about you?’