Page 59 of The Winter We Met
‘You’re on the ground floor?’
‘It’s great. There’s a garden.’
‘Not much good at this time of year though.’
For some reason he gave a wide grin.
I gazed at the minimalist furniture. The place didn’t look lived in, with the immaculate cream walls and furnishings and the sparkling glass tables. It was open plan like mine and Oliver’s but couldn’t have been tidier. There was a small dining table by the far window that looked out onto the street. Nik had set it up with red napkins and candles.
He took my coat and woolly hat and let out a low whistle. ‘What a knockout dress.’
It was tight and short. Not my usual style. A present from Angela who said I didn’t make enough of my figure.
‘Great place, Nik. It’s like a hotel.’ I glanced at a small pot, on the floor in the corner, by the front window. ‘I should have known there would be a Christmas tree somewhere.’
‘You should see the bedroom – it’s got a waterbed.’
I tried not to look eager.
‘A glass of wine?’ he asked after draping my things over the back of a white leather sofa. ‘I’ve bought a bottle of Chardonnay. I spotted one on your kitchen unit when I came around for dinner, and assumed it was a favourite.’ He passed me a glass, filled it a little and let me taste it first. So old school.
‘What’s for dinner? I can hardly wait.’ It was at that moment I spotted flames outside the French windows. I caught his eye. ‘You’re not serious?’
‘I found a barbecue in the utility cupboard. What could be more Australian? And it’s oh so cosy standing around those coals.’ He pulled the patio doors open and we stood outside. He was right. I didn’t need my coat. The glow from the barbecue reminded me of bonfire night. I glanced at the wire rack, the burgers and sausages and…
‘Now you’re really having a laugh,’ I said. ‘Brussel sprout and bacon skewers?’
‘A classic and delicious topped with grated parmesan. Sausages, burgers, skewers – they are the basics of a good Aussie dinner. I’ve made coleslaw and a Greek salad and a rather special starter. We often get together at the family house for barbies and my parents are always trying out new recipes.’ He flipped a burger and I warmed myself. ‘The residents seemed pretty happy about the newspaper article, last night. Apart from Alice – how’s she recovering?’
‘Slowly. But she seemed to perk up when you mentioned painting stones. That idea was really special.’
‘I’m just hoping it makes a small difference.’
‘I had a quick look at my emails at lunchtime and guess what? We’ve already had about twenty replies.’ I forced a bright tone, despite knowing I’d have a lot of late nights ahead of me sifting through. Normally I’d have printed them out and asked Gran’s opinion on which offers of help we should take up but she needed all her energy, at the moment, to get better. ‘I’ve read a few… a local caterer called The Springhaye Snacking Company, they specialise in finger foods and have offered a hefty discount on buffet dishes. The owner said she’d catered for care homes before so would make sure nothing was too spicy or rich and would include some old favourites like sausage rolls and pineapple and cheese sticks – things that are easy to pick up and eat, yet with a festive twist where possible. A scout group has said it will run a couple of sponsored events to raise money, to help cover costs like that. A Christmas tree farm has offered to deliver us one for free, whatever size we want.’
‘That’s exciting. We could read more of them after dinner.’ He rolled the skewers. ‘Almost done. You stay out here and I’ll fetch you when our starters are ready – they are something of a surprise.’
More than happy to remain by the coals, I waited, the inside of my chest fluttering as I sipped my wine. Finally he came back and took my glass. ‘Don’t come in for a minute. I’ll just put this on the table.’ Seconds later he returned and took my hand. We went in and he stood behind me. I giggled as he placed his hands over my eyes. We walked over to the window, him guiding me. ‘Here’s the chair,’ he said softly. I sat down. He crouched, his fingers still across my face. ‘Okie dokes, here we go – one, two, three…’ He took his hands away.
I looked down. ‘Toast?’
‘With Vegemite. I’d be letting my country down if I didn’t get you to try that.’
He sat down opposite me, eyes laughing, and I glanced at the plate again. ‘How neatly you’ve cut the bread into four triangles. It’s almost worth taking an Instagram photo – almost…’ I said.
We both picked up pieces. My nose wrinkled.
‘It tastes better than it smells,’ he insisted. Slowly, he chewed and then licked his lips. My pulse sped up. Maintaining eye contact, I bit into the bread, briefly savouring the satisfying flavour of melted butter before… ‘Do you like it?’ he asked. I swallowed as quickly as I could, before gulping back a large mouthful of wine. ‘I’ll take that as a no?’
‘It’s just like Marmite, except even stronger, almost bitter. How could you do that to me?’
Nik threw another triangle into his mouth comically and closed his eyes, making appreciative noises as he ate. ‘I hope the main course makes up for all the drama. You relax there. I won’t be two minutes.’ He brought over the coleslaw and Greek salad, and then a burger loaded with pickled beetroot, a slice of pineapple and a fried egg, the whole stack placed in a bun. I picked it up and bit down, yolk squirting onto my chin.
‘Oh my God. Nik. What are you trying to do to me? This is paradise on a plate.’
‘And the sprouts?’
Mouth full of one, accompanied by crispy bacon and parmesan, all I could do was close my eyes appreciatively and nod. We chatted about favourite childhood foods.
