Page 21 of A Clean Sweep
‘Here’s what I think we should do. I can send out an email to all the book club members saying I’d like to host a special meeting on the evening of Susan’s birthday. Esther was supposed to host April but I’m sure she won’t mind making it a bit later. And we can say something about finalising the timetable for the year, getting ahead with book choices before we take a break for the summer. Except I’ll flag the others that it’s actually going to be a surprise party for Susan’s birthday.’
‘Are you sure she’d come? She did say she’d probably stay home alone and have an early night, poor love,’ questioned Meryl. She had visions of her and Emily having to physically drag Susan in her pyjamas out of bed, pausing only to pin a glittery ‘50’ badge on her chest.
‘I get the impression that book club is maybe the only real social activity she has, apart from the odd yoga class at the local community centre. So yes, I’m pretty confident she’llturn up. I can do some nibbles and bits and maybe ask the others to bring a plate of something too.’
‘And I’ll rustle up a few bottles of bubbly and some party hats and decorations from my shop. Maybe a nice birthday banner and some balloons? I’ve got some lovely fiftieth ones in bright pink and silver. I could come by a little earlier to get things organised if you like. Ooh, what about a cake? We can’t have a party without a cake!’
There was silence on the line again for a few moments until Emily came to the rescue.
‘You said you bumped into Susan at the patisserie? They do amazing birthday cakes, made to order. If we each contributed something – say £10 or £15 per person – we could easily order one…’
‘And probably have money left over to buy a little gift too!’ added Meryl. She was starting to feel distinctly excited at the prospect of staging a surprise party. As long as the intended recipient felt the same way.
They ended their chat with a promise to meet up soon and finalise the details. Meryl felt quite chuffed with herself, suffused with a warm glow at maybe, just maybe making someone's life a little brighter. Her own hadn't been sunshine and roses all the way but she was a glass half-full kind of girl and hated to see other people gazing bleakly into an almost empty vessel.
Another brief hose down in the shower and she was nearly ready for the main event. Still wrapped in her favourite fluffy bathrobe with a towel around her head she headed to the kitchen. Smoked salmon shredded and wrapped in cling film. Check. Dressing assembled, ready for a final whisk before pouring. Check. Lamb cutlets out the fridge to come to room temperature, chilled ready mash (a cheat, but even Delia cheated sometimes) on standby with chopped leeks to add at end, check.Grainy mustard awaiting lamb juices and a spoonful of redcurrant jelly and seasoning to finish, check. Tarte citron needing nothing more than a sharp knife and a dollop of cream. The only finishing touches remaining were to herself.
There. All done. Meryl turned this way and that, pleased at her reflection and glad she hadn't gone for the suck-it-all-in underwear. Apart from being deeply unattractive, they also forced the unwanted flesh upwards creating a virtual second bosom beneath her already not insubstantial real one. She was confident that if they made it as far as the bedroom then Miroslaw would be happy not to be confronted with a four-breasted freak show contender.
‘Meryl! You look spectacular. Truly, you take my breath away. Let me kiss you.’
Meryl duly obliged, submitting happily to a prolonged and tongue-tinged kiss which ended only when she slapped him playfully on the shoulder.
‘Steady on! I have a gourmet feast prepared and a tummy that's rumbling. So, if you'd care to take yourself through to the lounge …’
She took Miroslaw's coat and deposited it on her bed. Freshly made just in case. Music was playing quietly in the background. Not ABBA but A-ha. Norwegian but similarly Scandinavian. 'Take On Me' was her favourite. She'd loved the video when she was younger and had had a bit of a crush on the lead singer. In some ways Miroslaw reminded her of him. Maybe the chiselled cheekbones.
‘Be a darling and pour us a glass of something while I put together the starter. Maybe the white as we're having fish,’ said Meryl, opening the fridge and removing the salmon and jug of dressing. Miroslaw deftly squeezed in next to her and took out the bottle, sneaking another kiss as he did so. Meryl giggled and bent over to retrieve the mixed leaves from the salad drawer. As she began to plate up their entrees, heserved the wine. They clinked their glasses and each took a satisfying mouthful.
‘Very nice indeed,’ remarked Miroslaw. ‘A good choice, Meryl, and I have no doubt the food will be equally enjoyable. I have been looking forward to this all day.’
Not just the meal, prayed Meryl. Hopefully he had also been looking forward to taking their relationship to the next level. Now that he was here she could feel her earlier doubts fading, to be replaced by a distinct tingle of anticipation.
Seated at her bistro-style dining table which she'd set with her finest linen, cutlery and glasses they tucked into the first course. Miroslaw enthused over every morsel, declaring it worthy of any fine restaurant. Meryl blushed at his effusiveness but was extremely pleased at his compliments.
For the main course, she pan-fried the lamb cutlets and sautéed the leeks in butter, before beating them through the microwaved mash. Miroslaw laughed when she apologised for not making it from scratch.
‘There's nothing wrong with a little helping hand now and again. Since I came to this country I have developed a liking for porridge and often use those instant sachets. So much quicker and just as good, I believe!’
They'd moved on to the red wine now, Meryl returning the half-drunk bottle of white to the fridge. She wasn't sure if Miroslaw was quite as impressed with this one, but he gamely swirled it around and proclaimed the lamb a triumph.
Taking a break before dessert they chatted easily, 'Hunting High and Low' playing away at low volume. Meryl filled him in on the latest goings on in the shop, including a funny episode the day before.
‘So, I'd just arranged a display of cute baby bibs that had arrived earlier in the week. You know the kind of thing. Well, maybe you don't but anyway… they’ve got silly sayings on them. Things like 'Feed me or nobody sleeps tonight' and 'Someone put my cape on backwards'. Not something I'd usually stock but I've had quite a few young mums coming in recently and thought they'd sell well.’
Miroslaw had reached across the table and was stroking her hand in a rather seductive fashion. She felt her train of thought slip away as his thumb caressed her palm, fingers entwining hers.Hand sex, she mused. OK, on with the story.
‘Well, the next thing is this little old lady comes in and heads straight for the bib display. She must have been at least eighty. She's flipping through them, chuckling away to herself. I figure she's looking for a present for someone, maybe a great grandchild? Finally, she takes one and brings it to the counter. “I drink till I pass out”, it says. She pays, I ask if she wants it gift wrapped, and she shakes her head.’
‘No need, love. It's for my Albert. I'm that fed up with him dribbling half his dinner down his front of an evening. Costs me a fortune in Vanish, he does! This should do the trick.’ ‘And off she trotted, pledging to return for a few more soon. Poor man!’
Miroslaw was smiling, his fingers now wandering up her arm and fondling it through her sleeve. Meryl felt little bubbles of excitement frothing up inside her. It looked like passion could very well be on the cards.
‘Dessert? I picked up a very nice tarte citron. Cheating again, I know but—’ She was silenced as Miroslaw pressed a finger to her lips before drawing it slowly down her chin and towards her chest.
‘I only want you, my beautiful Meryl. Right now.’
Straight to the point then. They rose to their feet as one, Miroslaw drawing her into his arms and kissing her with an intensity that literally took her breath away. With lips firmly locked he steered her in the direction of the bedroom and the bed itself. Her head was slightly spinning as he perchedher on the edge and began removing her top. She lay down and took a few deep breaths as he moved on to her waistband, unhooking the button and guiding her trousers southwards. Then proceeded to kiss her from top to toe, still fully clothed himself. Should she start undressing him too? Not that he was giving her much of a chance, the weight of his body pinning her to the duvet.
