Yes Chef, No Chef - By Susan Willis Page 0,58
the game pies.”
Tim glanced at his emails and saw Kate’s address. “Thanks, Jessie, I just need a minute, can you pull the door shut behind you?” he asked as she sauntered out of the room without a backward glance.
He wanted to be on his own when he opened the email to read what she had to say. Again it was short, business-like and to the point. She asked him to thank his mum and dad for the flowers, and gave him a temporary address for post and the settlement fee that his dad had told her to expect.
Christ, he didn’t know his mum had sent Kate flowers but there again he had ignored her messages on his mobile, and because of the extra work he hadn’t called to see her as planned. The image of his mum’s lovely face came to him and he mellowed - it was just the automatic kind gesture she would make to anyone, let alone his estranged girlfriend. He decided to go and see her straight after lunch time service was finished because it would be the best time to catch her alone without running into his dad.
Kate’s temporary address was neither her mum’s house, nor either of the girls and he wondered whether it was a flat or a house? And more importantly who it belonged to. Surely, she couldn’t have met someone else already, could she? Well, he decided glumly, she wouldn’t be single for long because she was so attractive and what most men would think of as a really good catch.
For some reason a sudden memory of the long weekend they’d spent in Menorca flashed back into his mind and he remembered how she’d looked on the beach in a skimpy pink bikini with two small triangles of material straining to hold her full breasts.
He remembered smoothing sun cream onto her flat stomach and sliding a finger under one of the triangles hoping nobody could see. “Erm, thanks very much for creaming my back, Tim,” she’d said. “But I can manage to do my stomach myself.
“I know,” he’d breathed, ragged with desire. “It was just an excuse to get closer to those gorgeous breasts of yours.”
She’d teased him with her giggle. It wasn’t a girly giggle that she had, it was more of chuckle which when they were making love would turn into a throaty sexual sound from deep inside her that drove him mad with desire. Oh God, he groaned thinking of the soft gasp of pleasure she always made when he entered her. He was filled with such a deep longing that it seemed to gather in the back of his throat into a ball of complete and utter misery. Grabbing his jacket he strode out of the restaurant and drove out to Belgravia.
Driving up to the house he prayed his mum would be home because now he’d made the decision to come he felt desperate to talk and when he thought of the last time he’d walked up this path with Kate, he cringed with shame at how obnoxious he’d been. Turning his key in the lock he could see her running down the last few stairs and she cried out with pleasure at the sight of him.
“Oh Tim, thank goodness you’ve come. I’ve been so worried about you?” she said reaching up to plant a kiss on his cheek and put her arms around him. At the warmth of her embrace and her clean familiar smell he leant down and buried his face in her neck and felt tears sting the back of his eyes.
“Hi, Mum,” he managed to say in a voice strangled by the same lump in his throat.
She stood hugging him and he remembered the day when he’d arrived back from school aged eleven and she’d gone. He’d dropped his school bag onto the floor and an old housekeeper they’d had scuttled through from the kitchen scolding him about leaving his things lying around then casually told him that his mum had left that morning with a suitcase and that she’d be staying to look after him and Jenny until his father got home.
He untangled himself from his mums embrace now and they walked arm in arm into the lounge where he sat down heavily on the settee and she automatically went to pour them drinks. “Not for me, Mum,” he said. “I’ll just have some juice because I’ve got to go back into work at five o’clock.”
He looked at her slender, elegant back