Dinner at Mine (7 page)
‘I don’t always think I know better. It’s just that on this, I do.’
‘Why can’t you ever accept that you don’t know something?’
Rosie let out an exasperated sigh. Sarah lobbed a question into the lull. ‘Er, Rosie, did you say something about coffee?’
‘Stephen’s making it.’
‘Oh, are you, Stephen?’
‘Um. I suppose I could. Who wants some?’
While he waited for the kettle to boil, he wondered where that had come from. He didn’t even know Rosie had ever done rhythmic gymnastics. Why was she suddenly so passionate about it?
Maybe she was just drunk. Unusual, that. Would it mean she’d feel like sex later. Was he up to that? Stephen wasn’t sure. How many people had wanted coffee? Sod it – there were
enough cups for everyone.
In the dining room, no one was speaking.
Rosie scrambled up to pour the coffee. ‘Is everyone having some?’
‘Not for us, thanks,’ Justin said. ‘Coffee after six o’clock always makes it impossible for me to sleep.’
‘You should have said. Stephen would have made you some decaf.’
‘No, thanks, we’re fine . . . In fact, we should probably be getting off soon.’
‘Already?’ Rosie sounded slightly disapproving. ‘We’ve got some herbal tea if you prefer.’
‘No, thank you. It’s a shame, I know, but I have to get up in the morning. And Barbara’s very busy tomorrow too, with the new exhibition.’
‘Of course . . .’
Justin stood up. ‘Well, I don’t want to have to disturb everyone all over again in a few minutes, so we’ll say our goodbyes now. It was nice to meet everyone and I suppose
I’ll see you all again . . . when is it?’
‘Next week. Probably. If Matt can . . .’
‘I’ll check on Monday, Rosie.’
‘Thanks, Matt. Well, it was lovely to meet you properly, Justin,’ Rosie said as she got up to kiss him goodbye. ‘Stephen, will you serve everyone else their coffee?’
In silence, Stephen passed round the white cups while Rosie showed Justin and Barbara out. As soon as the front door shut, Charlotte said, ‘Jesus, that man is annoying!’
No one disagreed. Rosie came back in.
‘Aren’t they lovely?’ she said.
No one disagreed.
Sarah said: ‘I hate to do this to you, Rosie, but I think we’ll have to go too.’
‘Oh no, really?’ Rosie said.
‘If everyone’s going, I’ll be off too,’ said Matt.
Stephen waited quietly with Charlotte while Rosie took the others out to the hall.
After a while he asked: ‘More brandy?’
‘Thanks.’
Stephen poured himself another glass as well and immediately wanted to go to sleep. How long was she going to stay? Could he go to bed anyway?
‘That was very sudden,’ Rosie said in a breezy tone as she came back in. ‘Just us now . . . Oh good, I see Stephen’s offered you another drink. Look, Charlotte, I’m
sorry about all that, earlier. I don’t know what came over me. Perhaps it was too much wine. But whatever it was, I’m sorry.’
‘You’re still wrong,’ Charlotte said.
‘I . . . maybe you’re right. I’ll look it up later. So how have you been, Charlotte? It’s good to have a chance to talk.’
‘All right.’
‘Because I know at work it’s hard to speak properly . . .’
‘I think I’ll go as well,’ Charlotte said, flicking the last of the brandy down her throat. ‘Now that I’ve given Matt a chance to get clear.’
‘Oh look, I’m sorry about that. Is it going to be too embarrassing? We can do separate nights if you want.’
‘He can do it on his own. I don’t think this is my sort of thing.’
‘Oh no, Charlotte! Come on, it will be fun. Matt’s not that bad.’
‘I’m sure he’s fine. That’s not the point. I’m going to get a cab.’
Stephen waved silently as she left. He didn’t seem to be expected to stand up.
‘That was a total disaster,’ Rosie said when Charlotte was gone.
‘It was fine,’ Stephen replied, leaning back in his chair.
‘I can’t believe I got sucked into that stupid argument. It’s not like me. Charlotte was just being so annoying, being stubborn for the sake of it, and I . . . But she was
probably just getting her own back about Matt, so it was my fault, really. Oh dear, it was all going so well until then. Have I ruined everything?’
‘I’m sure it was fine.’
‘But why did everybody leave so suddenly?’
‘They were probably tired.’ Stephen yawned expansively.
‘Shall we clear up? Maybe I should have done it on a Saturday. But I just thought it would be nice for people on a Friday . . .’
‘It was fine.’ Stephen was thinking about how little he wanted to clear the table. Rosie had begun gathering glasses.
‘And what about Matt? You got on all right, didn’t you?’
‘It was fine.’
Rosie gave him a concerned look. ‘Are you sure?’
Stephen grunted.
‘And was the food OK? I thought I might have put too much salt in the soup.’
‘It was fine.’
‘But the duck was definitely overcooked, wasn’t it? I knew I should have waited until after the soup to start it. Was it ruined?’
‘It was fine.’
‘The pudding was good, though – thank you for that – and people did seem to be enjoying themselves for a while, even Marcus. How do you think it went, overall?’
‘It was fine.’
Rosie took a handful of glasses through to the kitchen. Stephen reluctantly stood up and followed her, taking an empty coffee cup to show willing. Rosie piled up banks of dirty glasses and
crockery above the rumbling dishwasher.
‘Do you think we should do these now?’
‘No.’
‘I think I will.’
‘Just put them in the dishwasher tomorrow.’
‘I think I’ll make a start. I want to get the worst of it out of the way.’
‘I’m going to bed.’ Stephen put his empty brandy glass by the others and left the kitchen.
From: Matthew Phillips
To: Dinner At Mine
Sent: 23.51
Subject: Dinner with Rosie and Stephen: Assessment
Comments:
Food:
Soup: Tasty, good combination of flavours, although slightly too cold.
Main Course: Excellent duck with highly imaginative sauce.
Side Dish: Adequate.
Salad: Not to my taste. Too many lentils.
Dessert: Extremely enjoyable; fruit soft, crumble very crisp.
Wine: Pinot noir, with nice balance of fruits.
Hosting:
– Effort: Excellent.
– Conversation: Satisfactory. Mostly enjoyable, although no particularly stimulating topics.
– Ambience: Mostly good. Pleasant home. Awkward lulls well covered.
Scores:
Soup: 7
Main: 9
Side: 6
Salad: 5
Dessert: 9
Wine: 7
Hosting: 7
Overall average: 7
Matthew Phillips
Barrister
New Green Chambers
Sent from my BlackBerry®
From: Charlotte Wells
To: Dinner At Mine
Sent: 00.12
Thanks for dinner, Rosie and Stephen. To be honst, you lose points for trying to set me up. And for keeping me wiating for my dinner for so long. That
explns why I’m so drunk now. Fuck, the buttns on this screne are annying. Wine tho was very good. And there was lots of it.
To be fair, the food was p;retty tasty. I did like the soup. The duck was pretty good as welll. Dessert was ok, but a bit too heaby by that point.
I have to say iThe geusts were pretty boring. Is that your fault? You did invite them. And you actively encouraged them to talk. So that’s bad. Wait, Im home now.
Score: 6
Sent from my iPhone
From: Marcus Thompson
To: Dinner At Mine
Sent: 00.51
Subject: Dinner
The evening began promisingly, with excellent aperitif snacks which went well with the sherry. However, the good impression was rather marred when we
were left on our own for long periods waiting for a dinner that was very late in starting.
When the meal finally began, I was disappointed that a good overall concept was slightly betrayed by the execution. The soup’s taste was mostly bacon saltiness and
it was too cold.
Although the pomegranate was a good flavour, and well integrated into the dish, it was let down by overcooked duck. Okra was also not a suitable side dish as it has a
similar bitterness; the pomegranate demanded a fresh taste to cut through it. The rice was over-boiled.
The lentil salad was enjoyable in small quantities, but too much beetroot is difficult to stomach. There was also far too much lemon juice in the dressing.
The crumble was not what was advertised, for which points must be deducted. It also did not fit the tone of the rest of the dinner. While it was sweet and not too cloying,
overall this course was a disappointment.
The hosting was, on balance, good, although the faults identified earlier pull the final score down from seven to six.
Score: 6
Marcus
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From: Justin Davidson
To: Dinner At Mine
Sent: 14.32
Subject: Dinner last night
Sorry this is a bit late, we were so tired last night. And then this morning I had volunteering. I don’t really have much time to write, but
I’m so busy with this Malawi project this afternoon that I’d better send something now. (Not that I’m complaining – it’s an excellent programme. I’ll tell
everyone about it properly next time.) I think I remember that no one is reading this yet anyway, so I hope it won’t matter being a bit late.
Thanks very much for a lovely meal. I think we liked the soup best. It was fresh, tasty, and chilled just the right amount. The main course was very tasty too, and we do
appreciate that you made a proper vegetarian dish rather than just leaving the meat out of what you were having. Tamarind is one of my favourite spices too.
If I had to make any criticism at all, I’d say the stew was maybe a bit dry. But that’s probably our fault, isn’t it? We were so late that it must have
been cooking for half an hour longer than you wanted. I’m so sorry. It must have been really annoying, so we won’t mark you down for that at all.
What else? I’m sure the wine was very nice, but I’m not much of an expert. You were excellent hosts, of course, very generous. So overall, 7. Is that a bit
harsh? 7½ then. No, make it 8.
See you next time.
Justin
Seven
‘Oh honey, hi!’
‘Yeah. Hi. Honey.’ Barbara gripped the phone tightly to her ear.
‘Aren’t you at your exhibition?’ Justin asked, sounding puzzled even over the crackle of the line.
‘Yes.’ Barbara waited.
‘Look, I’m sorry I’m not there yet. I am coming . . . It’s just this Malawi thing.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I need to get this chapter done tonight before it goes out to review. I think I’m nearly there.’
A gust of wind funnelled down the street, setting the buds on the spindly trees shaking. Barbara stepped back to take shelter in the café doorway.
‘I am coming,’ Justin repeated.
‘Sure.’
‘How’s it going?’
‘You know. Fine.’
‘That’s great!’
Barbara looked through the bright windows of the café. Three people drifted listlessly around the floor, peering at her pots. From outside, she could see a thin coating of dust over the
pot nearest to the window. Would it have killed Mary to dust them? And some flowers, some flowers would have been good. But Mary might not have watered them. Dead flowers would have been even
worse.
‘Yeah,’ Barbara said, breathing out very heavily. ‘It’s going great.’
‘I’m really glad, Barbara!’ Justin said. ‘Are there lots of people there?’
‘Some. It was a slow start.’
There had been three tables occupied when Barbara arrived: an old guy reading a newspaper, two young mothers interested in nothing but their chocolate muffins, and two grad-student types.
Barbara had thought the two students were staring at one of the vases, but when she moved over to the counter it became clear that they were staring at her.
‘Well, I’m sure it’s warming up,’ Justin said.
‘That’s probably the free wine.’
‘Ha!’ Justin laughed desperately. ‘Are those people there?’
‘Which ones?’ Barbara knew who he meant. She was annoyed he couldn’t remember their names.
‘The ones from the gallery . . .’
‘No.’
‘I’m sure they’re coming, though.’
‘Yeah,’ Barbara said, staring through the brilliant windows, knowing she couldn’t be seen. ‘Just like you are.’
‘Exactly!’ Justin replied quickly. ‘It’s still quite early, isn’t it, and they’re very busy people. I’m sure they’ll come.’
‘Maybe,’ Barbara said, not quite smiling to herself. ‘After all, right, they said they’d come, didn’t they? So why wouldn’t they come?’
