The Piano Man Project Page 0,43

‘Carpe diem.’

Honey smiled. It was fast becoming Lucille’s catchphrase.

‘Thank you, Lucille. I needed reminding of that today,’ she planted a kiss on the older woman’s cheek. ‘Wish me luck with Robin.’

‘Well, if he doesn’t think you’re wonderful he won’t be worth your efforts,’ Lucille said, and Honey hugged her, especially glad of her loyal support after Hal’s apparent abdication from their friendship.

Making bolognese on her own turned out to be far more stressful than making it with Hal there for guidance. Honey couldn’t quite remember the order things were supposed to go in, and although the end result looked pretty much as it should, it had gone seriously off-piste in the flavour department. Robin certainly wasn’t going to be bowled over by her cooking skills, that much was for sure. Just before five o’clock she nipped to the off-licence for more wine. She’d tipped an extra glass into the bolognese in the hope of adding flavour and ended up with something alcoholic enough to take the roof off an unsuspecting diner’s mouth. The addition of yoghurt to calm it down hadn’t helped much, either. She did a double take when she opened the front door, because Hal was standing in the lobby.

‘Waiting for someone?’ she said casually, still hurt by his latest withdrawal.

‘You,’ he said. ‘I smelled your cooking and thought I’d better ask if you needed any help. I don’t want you killing your date and blaming me.’

Hmm. Honey toyed with refusing his help out of pique, but the bolognese really wasn’t good and he was her only hope of rescuing it.

‘Go on then, you can come in for ten minutes,’ she grumped, letting him know he was still in her bad books. ‘I’ve ballsed it up somehow and I can’t work out what to do.’

Hal followed her into her flat, sniffing the air. ‘It doesn’t smell too bad,’ he offered, and Honey knew enough to realise that was as much of an olive branch as he was likely to offer.

‘Yeah, well. Wait until you taste it.’ She took the lid from the saucepan, spooned a little into a dish, and handed it to Hal. She watched him bring the bowl close to inhale the smell, and then dip the spoon in and test it with a grimace.

‘You haven’t put any salt in,’ he said. ‘No wonder it’s weird.’

‘Salt. Of course,’ Honey said, feeling stupid for missing the most basic of things.

‘Give it a good season and cook it through for another hour or so to really soften the meat and cook off the alcohol. Have you added extra wine?’

Honey flicked the gas on beneath the pan and added salt.

‘Yup. It didn’t help.’

‘No shit.’

‘Nope.’

Silence reigned. As churlish as it was, she didn’t feel like making it easy for him.

‘So, the big date with Robin’s still on then,’ he said, placing the bowl with the failed bolognese carefully on the work surface.

‘Can’t wait,’ Honey clipped.

‘I’ll go then, leave you to beautify.’

‘You do that. And there’s no need to wait up for me tonight, okay?’ she said, and then wished she hadn’t because he was actually trying for once.

‘Just don’t burn the bacon in the morning if he stays over,’ Hal said, already moving towards the door. ‘Knock on my door if you need a condom.’

Honey pulled a face at his back. ‘I’m sure Robin will carry his own protection, should he need it. Which he won’t.’

Hal laughed, and Honey wished he’d turn so she could see his smile.

‘The man still lives with his mother,’ he said. ‘He won’t carry condoms.’

‘Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m a modern woman. I’ve got my own supply in the bathroom cupboard,’ Honey said, annoyed again, and she followed him down the hall and banged her door shut behind him.

There was a tap on her door a couple of hours later, and Honey knew straight away that it wasn’t Hal because it was quiet and polite, both traits her neighbour didn’t possess.

Well, that was hurdle one jumped – Robin had actually turned up. Honey had swung between mild excitement in case he was wonderful and hoping he didn’t bother to come at all, and she checked her reflection quickly in the hallway mirror as she went to let him in. She’d made an effort; her blonde waves hung loose around her careful no-make-up-look made-up face, and she was wearing her favourite vintage tea dress and high heels. The dress cinched her waist and gave her a cleavage, and the heels gave her confidence and