Cathy Hopkins - [Mates, Dates 07] (9 page)

‘Keep it simple,’
Mum’d advised earlier. ‘You don’t want to be in a panic when your guests
arrive, so do something you can prepare beforehand and just warm it up when
people arrive.’

She’d been fab and
offered to help when I told her of my dilemma. Between the two of us, we’d made
a Jamaican curry, my grandmother’s recipe. I thought Luke’d like something
different from the Italian meals he must get every night.

‘All you have to do is
turn on the oven,’ said Mum before she’d left. ‘A hundred and eighty degrees
centigrade for an hour and twenty minutes.’

After my bath, I got
changed into my black halter-neck top and black jeans, put on my make-up then
lit the candles.

By the time Luke
arrived, the flat looked warm and inviting.

‘Wow, this is nice,’
he said as I gave him a quick guided tour. I have to hand it to Mum, I thought,
as we went from room to room, she really does know how to create a comfortable
atmosphere with her use of warm colours, Moroccan rugs and Eastern artefacts.
Luke particularly liked looking at Dad’s black and white photos that lined the
hall walls. And he spent ages looking at Dad’s film books on the bookshelf in
the sitting room. I made a mental note to have a look at some of them myself as
the doorbell rang and I went to let Lucy in.

I felt so grown-up.
Like I was playing the part of a hostess at an adult dinner party in a movie.
Lucy was a bit shy when she first arrived, as she’s not used to having proper
dinner here with candles and the big table in the sitting room set and
everything. Usually it’s a slice of pizza on the knees in front of the telly.
She soon relaxed though and I could tell she liked Luke because, when he went
to look at our CDs, she did a fake swoon with her hand on her heart then gave
me the thumbs up.

I looked at my watch
as Luke put my new chill out CD on. ‘Supper should be ready,’ I said as I
showed everyone where to sit at the table.

When I went into the
kitchen to get the curry out of the oven, something didn’t feel right. Or
should I say, smell right. Whenever Mum cooked it, you could smell the spices
and garlic wafting out of the oven long before it was ready. I couldn’t smell
anything. I lifted the dish from the oven. Oh
noooooo
. Cold. It was
stone cold. Uncooked. Raw.

‘Need a hand?’ asked
Tony coming up behind me.

‘More than a hand.
Blooming oven’s not working.’

Tony bent over, looked
at the oven then laughed. ‘It’s not broken Nesta. You turned the grill on but
not the oven.’

I looked at the
switches. The grill symbol was just above the oven symbol. ‘Oh
no!
Oh
no!
I
hated things like
this happening. Mum had got this posh new oven last year and using it was
really
complicated. It could do all sorts of things if you knew how to work it. It
probably even turned into a private plane if you knew what knobs to turn, but I
hadn’t got the hang of it. I hate reading all those techno manuals that assume
that the reader is fluent in domestic appliance speak. Why couldn’t it just
have an on/off button then simpletons like me could use it.

Tony laughed again and
pointed at the dials. ‘You have to turn it on. To oven, not grill, and then you
have to put it to the temperature you want.’

‘Oh don’t laugh. What
are we going to do?’

‘What do you want to
do?’

‘Dunno. Crawl away and
hide. I mean, how’s it going to look? I’ll be a laughing stock. He’ll think,
Nesta. Cook? Why she can’t even turn the cooker on. Pathetic. He’ll think I’m
soooo pathetic.’

‘We could heat it up
now,’ suggested Tony.

‘Takes an hour and a
half,’ I said. ‘They’ll be starving.’ I felt like crying. I wanted it all to be
so perfect and now it was ruined.

‘Can I take anything
through?’ asked Luke appearing at the kitchen door.

I was about to blurt
out that I was a complete idiot and he may as well go home and give up on me
right there and then, when Tony pulled on my arm.

‘Urn, bit of a
problem, mate,’ he said. ‘Fuse has blown on the cooker I think. No heat.’

Oh, bless him, I
thought. He can be a real pal when he wants. I made a mental note to back him
up in some way when he needed my support in the future.

‘Want me to take a
look?’ asked Luke. ‘I’m fixing stuff all the time at the restaurant.’

‘Noooooo,’ said Tony.
‘Best not mess with it. It can be a bit dodgy sometimes. No. We thought we’d…’

‘Get take-out,’ I
interrupted, then I remembered Tony and I didn’t have much money between us. Oh
God, what to do now? It would be rude to ask our guests to pay for their own
meals after we’d invited them.

Tony had obviously
realised the same thing. He squeezed my arm again. ‘No. We don’t need to do
takeaway. We’re Italian,’ he said. ‘So… We’ve er… got the microwave. I’m sure
we can knock something up.’

He started opening
cupboards and pulling out pots and jars. Our evening is turning into a
disaster, I thought. Tony’s like me and he can’t even boil an egg without
ruining it.

‘Does the top part of
the cooker still work?’ asked Luke.

Tony switched one of
the switches. ‘Yeah. The hob is gas, it’s only the oven that’s electric.’

‘Got any pasta?’ asked
Luke.

Tony nodded.

‘Parmesan cheese?’

Tony nodded again.

‘Nesta. You’ve done
your bit for the night. You go and join Lucy and I’ll knock us something up,’
said Luke. ‘Give us a hand, Tony?’

Tony nodded, so I went
into the sitting room to join Lucy.

‘Oh, poor you,’ she
said, after I’d told her what had happened. ‘But hey, a boy who can cook, looks
like a Roman god and seems genuinely nice.’

‘I know. I think he
may be out of my league,’ I said.

Lucy’s jaw fell open.
‘Out of your league? In all the time I’ve known you, I have never heard you say
anything so ridiculous.’

I was feeling miserable.
‘I think he is. Like, he is gorgeous, but more than that, he seems to be good
at everything. Bright. He’s soon going to find out that I’m a total airhead. In
fact that’s what he must be thinking now. I bet he’s worked out what happened
and that I can’t even work the cooker. God, I’m soooo stupid.’

‘Rubbish,’ said Lucy.
‘I don’t know what’s got into you lately. You’re not stupid and he wouldn’t be
here if he didn’t like you. I bet he’s grilling Tony about you right now and
trying to find out all he can about you.’ Then she laughed. ‘Geddit? Grilling
Tony. Luke’s a chef. Grilling Tony? Hope not. Cannibalism isn’t my thing.’

I gave her my Queen
Victoria, ‘We are not amused’ look.

‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘Couldn’t resist. But I bet he is trying to find out more about you.’

‘Do you think? Let’s
go and listen.’

We sneaked into the
hall and eavesdropped on the boys. They seemed to be getting on brilliantly.
Chatting away about cars. Tony was telling Luke about Dad refusing to let him
have driving lessons.

I had to laugh at them
when I poked my head round the door. They looked so domesticated. Luke in Mum’s
Marge Simpson apron and Tony chopping tomatoes.

‘You should have your
own TV show,’ I said. ‘Move over Jamie Oliver, Luke and Tony have come to
town.’

Half an hour later,
Luke brought in a big bowl of pasta. It was absolutely perfect and tasted
amazing. Lucy even helped herself to an extra bowlful. Tony chatted away
happily, but I didn’t say very much as I was still feeling like an idiot
because of the cooker.

After the pasta, we
cleared away the dishes and it was time for dessert. Well, at least nothing can
go wrong with this, I thought as I took a tub of ice cream from the freezer
then found chocolate sauce and maple syrup to pour over it.

I found bowls, put
everything on a tray and took it all through and put it on the table.

‘Help yourself,’ I
said to Luke. ‘It’s vanilla. Homemade by Mum.’

‘Fantastic,’ said Luke
digging in with a large spoon. ‘You can’t beat that homemade flavour.’

‘What do you think?’ I
asked as he took a mouthful.

‘Erum…’ I could see he
was struggling to be polite, but it was clear that he didn’t like it.

Then Tony took a
spoonful. ‘Ey
uuck
!’ He spat it back into his bowl. ‘
Nesta
! This
isn’t ice cream.’ He picked up the tub and looked at the label, then he burst
out laughing. ‘This is the creamed cod that Mum made last Friday night. No one
was very hungry remember? She freezed the leftovers.’

By this time I was
purple with shame. Luke was going to think I was Queen of Stupid. Reigning
bimbo champion. ‘Oh, so sorry, sorry,’ I blustered. I’ll get the right tub.‘

‘Don’t worry,’ said
Tony getting up. ‘I’ll get it. You stay.’

‘I’ll give you a
hand,’ said Lucy getting up to go with him.

I gave Luke a weak
smile and tried to gauge what was going on his head. Not sure, I thought. He
does look amused. But is this a good thing? Or a bad thing?

And that’s when I did
my piece de resistance for the night. I leaned over to relight one of the
candles while at the same time giving Luke my best seductive look. I was so
busy gazing at him that I didn’t notice that as I lit the match and leaned
over, the candle flared and next thing I knew, I’d singed the front of my hair.

‘Aghh,’ I cried as I
frantically blew the candle out then poured a glass of apple juice over my
forehead.

Lucy came back in with
the ice cream. ‘What’s that strange smell, like something’s burning?’

‘And why is Nesta
trying to drink her juice through the top of her head?’ asked Tony. ‘Mm. Great
party trick, Nesta. Sorry about my sister, Luke, she has these strange turns.
It’s probably time for her medication.’

‘She just singed her
hair,’ said Luke as I lifted my head. Juice dripped down my forehead into my
eyes causing my mascara to run. I couldn’t bear it another moment. They were
all looking at me as though I was a clown and they were waiting for the next
trick.

‘Excuse me a second,’
I said, then ran to my bedroom and dived on to my bed. A second later, Lucy
came after me.

‘You OK?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Nooooo. I mean,
can the evening get any worse?’

‘No,’ said Lucy
sitting on the end of the bed and shaking her head solemnly. ‘I don’t think it
can. But don’t worry, everything happens in threes. You’ve had the three. The
supper was raw. The ice cream was actually creamed
cod. And
you set
fire to your hair. So that’s one, two, three.’ She tried to look concerned, but
I could see it coming. Her shoulders were starting to shake. Then she bent over
laughing. ‘Snnnckkkk,’ she giggled. ‘Set… fire… to… your… hair.’

I began to see the
funny side of it as well. ‘Well Tony did tell Luke that my cooking would be an
experience he’d never forget.’

‘Oh you can be sure of
that,’ Lucy said, laughing. ‘And I just knew there was something fishy about
that ice cream.’

‘Yeah, like, oh my
cod,’ I said and started laughing as well.

Soon the two of us had
rolled off the bed and were on the floor howling, tears pouring down our
cheeks. It wasn’t long before Tony and Luke came to find out where we were.

At first Tony looked
really concerned. Then he realised we were laughing, not crying.

‘What’s so funny?’
asked Tony.

‘Nesta is,’ said Lucy
pointing at me. ‘Nesta Williams. The Domestic Goddess.’

And then they started
laughing and Luke sat on the floor next to me and interlocked his hand with mine.
It felt great. Like a current of electricity coursing right from the tip of my
fingers to the tips of my toes.

After that the evening
was brilliant. We went back into the sitting room, had ice cream with all the
toppings we could find, maple syrup, chocolate sauce, chopped nuts and flakes
and we played the chill out CD again. We were having such a good time that,
before I knew it, it was ten-thirty and Mum and Dad were back.

Great, I thought. I’d
been hoping that Luke would still be here when Dad got back. So maybe I didn’t
dazzle him with my brilliant cookery skills, but I was sure that Dad would
impress him by chatting to him about films.

But something really
weird happened instead.

Mum and Dad came in
and Dad took one look at Luke, then did a double take. Then he started staring
at Luke with a really hard look on his face. What is the matter with him, I
thought? It was like he had seen a ghost.

‘Mum and Dad, this is
Luke. Luke, this is Mum and Dad,’ I said.

Mum smiled. ‘Pleased to
meet you, Luke. How was the curry?’

That set us all off
laughing again.

‘Hmm. Slight change of
plan,’ said Tony. ‘Explain later.’

‘Oh. OK,’ said Mum,
looking puzzled.