Yes Chef, No Chef - By Susan Willis Page 0,89
herself she moaned as though she was in physical pain, rocking herself backwards and forwards. How could she have just walked away from him without trying again to put things right between them? And what did she have left in life now he was gone? When she tried to imagine the years ahead her mind was in a blind panic - it all looked very black and scary. Christ, she was being so pathetic and shameful as it was, she knew if he turned up at the door now she’d crawl along the floor and beg to be given another chance.
The tinkle of an incoming email on her mobile made her sit up and grab it from the coffee table - was it him? Was he going to try and explain what had happened? But her insides plummeted when she saw it wasn't his email address. It was an invitation to accept a contact from an old friend on facebook, and she gaped at the name, Phil Jenkins. It had to be about ten years since she’d heard from him or the crowd at university and she let her mind drift over the memories of their antics in the halls of residence, and then realised those were the times before she’d even met Tim.
She picked the bottle up to pour another glass of wine but something inside her snapped, and she put it back down with a thud. Wiping her wet face she began to wonder how one person could have such a massive impact on her life. For years she hadn’t known he existed and then once they’d met, that was it, her whole life had changed, and now here she was not being able to imagine life without him.
She banged her fist down onto the bag of crisps in temper and then began to pace around the room getting into a stride. Yet, she had lived without him – she’d worked hard, played squash, had girlie holidays and flings with other men. She’d never seen him then, nor heard his voice, nor smelled or touched him, but once they were together then the life she had loved, had enjoyed and thought was fulfilling, suddenly wasn’t good enough anymore. And of course, she had been coping on her own for the last two months, although she realised now she'd been in denial, but nevertheless she’d survived, hadn't she?
Meandering into the kitchen she looked out of the window. ‘Damn him!’ she cried opening the fridge door and looking for something to eat. Spotting a big piece of cheddar cheese she immediately felt her spirits lift with a memory from the days before she had met him. She was galvanised into action and strode purposely into the bathroom, stood under a hot shower, scrubbed her hair with shampoo, and dug out her old tracksuit. She would build her business up, she determined, and would take great delight in the things she’d always done before meeting him - starting with toasted cheese.
Humming softly she grated the cheese into a bowl and mixed it with a huge dollop of mayonnaise - the fresh dairy smell filled her nostrils while she remembered how she used to call this her blues-chasing supper. Her stomach grumbled now with hunger and she scolded herself for the earlier pathetic behaviour. She turned the grill onto medium and lightly toasted both sides of the bread and then heaped the cheese mixture onto each piece spreading it gently with a knife before re-placing them under a low heat.
Peeping under the grill she saw the two pieces of bread with mounds of cheese gently bubbling and melting, and her mouth watered at the sight of it. She brewed a large pot of tea, set her old cup and saucer for one onto a tray, and just as there was a few light brown spots on the top of the cheese she lifted them out onto a plate.
Sitting back on the settee with the tray on her knee, she poured the tea, flicked the TV on and took her first bite of the toasted cheese. The toasted edge of the bread was crunchy and the mix was hot - it was so cheesy it made her lips tingle with pleasure. She swallowed it down quickly and took another bite, but this time the cheese tangled into a long string stretching from the toast to her mouth. And smiling to herself she helped it into her mouth with a finger, which of course