chastise and compromise
an excerpt

14.

It was 9pm and the Sanderson’s were busy enjoying a second pre dinner drink of sparkling Portuguese wine. She reserved the Gazela for before dinner and passing the time as it was light enough to sip on an empty stomach, and its light yellow tinge, tasty fruit and gentle acidity made it an excellent choice for the summer.

“This table looks beautiful. I can’t believe you’ve only just moved in.”

“I always like to get settled quickly. It’s the first time Max and I have lived together and I want it to feel like home as soon as possible.”

Lily had laid the table with a deep ultramarine tablecloth which was covered with a white linen tablecloth which left the corners revealed. A blue and red runner was placed the length of the table, which combined with the deep red wall and the two candelabras gave the bare room a hint of warmth. She had fanned the napkins, and used the heavy silver cutlery that her mother said she had inherited but didn’t say from where. She let each guest choose their favourite from the selection of wine glass jewels which were placed around the stem to prevent them getting mixed up. This was a good icebreaker; especially in a tricky situation. She had a few collections but thought the food themed silver trinkets were best suited to the evening.

“I’ll take the fish please, seeing as that’s my trade. Who’d have thought, win with a little silver fish dangling from it.”

“Ooh, can I have the cake? This way, a moment on the lips doesn’t go anywhere near my hips!” they all chuckled in unison at the age old yet always appropriate joke. Mrs Anderson was small and plump, but the dark red dress she wore hung loosely and flatteringly over her midriff. Her patent leather shoes shone in the light of the ten tall candles, and her cheeks were beginning to grow ruddy.

“I’m really sorry; I have no idea where Max could have got to.”

“Well, work is work, and sometimes we have to go beyond our duty. It’s understandable love. Don’t mind us; we’re not full of airs and graces, and we’ve had our fair share of the real world” stated Mr Anderson.

She had tried ringing but his phone was off. She didn’t want to think the worst of him but she knew deep down what that probably meant.

“Well, I don’t want dinner to spoil so if you don’t mind, we’ll start. Max can join in when he arrives. He’s a quick eater anyway” she bubbled. Her heart was racing and she tried hard to not let the pumping seep into her voice. She wondered whether she was being too upbeat.

The langoustines and avocado were laid out like a fan on each plate, carefully sprinkled with rock salt and ground black pepper, and served with a side dollop of home made lemon mayonnaise. Lily was careful to leave Max’s in the fridge.

“There’s paprika for anyone who’d like it”.

She noted that neither of the couple used the paprika; this would come in handy for when her catering business was underway. Make the paprika optional she thought, or else just put a little on; it may be something a bit too different. These people are very traditional and probably a little stuck in their ways. Let’s see if I can’t spice things up a little round here.

When the main course came out, the guests did the fantastic gasping and complimenting that any good guests should. Lily was especially grateful this evening. The huge XXX was laid out on a stunning copper fish plate. Its huge opaque eyes stared up at the guests as though counting their number. In two big warmed earthenware dished sat the mountains of steaming pesto mash and sweet smelling beetroot roasted with apples and sweet onions. She skilfully cut open the fish, dissecting the main bones, and offered it to the fisherman in the crowd out of respect. He served the host, then his wife before laying mounds of tender flesh on his own plate.

“Better save some for Max” he chimed.

“You eat your fill. I can always fix Max something later.”

Lily took the light New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc from the ice bucket, rather proud of her choice; it was zesty and offered a touch of fruit, but with enough acidity to cut through the oiliness of the sea bass. She had considered a light rose, but didn’t think a fisherman by trade would enjoy sipping on something pink. She filled their crystal glasses three quarters full, twisting the bottle expertly between pours so as not to spill a drop, and knowing it would flow much more quickly now had a second on standby chilling in the fridge.

They all ate with much enjoyment, and Lily felt that the night was a success, despite Max’s absence. The Sanderson’s were getting restless, and Lily knew it must seem strange that she wasn’t frantically worried even though he hadn’t called.

“I am sorry. This happens a lot, I’m afraid” she mumbled as she brought out the platter of fruits, skewers and the hot vanilla sauce. “Max rarely remembers to credit his phone and if he’s stuck in meetings he can’t get to a phone. One day something serious will happen and I’ll just be busying myself as usual, unawares.” She could feel her voice wavering, but hoped they would put it down to the wine or worry. Either would be preferable to the raging emotions she had battling inside her. Right now, she was hoping he didn’t return until it was all over. She guessed they would make their excuses and leave within the next forty minutes. That was all she had to play with; all he had to manage. The Sanderson’s were sat tentatively looking at the fruit.

“I hope you don’t mind me being rude, but this is one of my favourites”

Lily piped up. She skewered a piece of melon, and dipped it into the rich sauce, swishing it around a little so it made waves of creamy goodness which washed over the fruit, until it was no longer recognisable.

“No, not at all. You enjoy dear.”

Mrs Sanderson was the first to have a go; the strawberry she chose was luscious and bulging, like a pair of excited lips. She dipped it successfully, with her husband looking on, clearly impressed. He wrestled with a strawberry of his own, which kept sliding off the skewer back onto the plate like an eel or a lively sprat. Lily showed him how to hook it at the end, and he let out a triumphant noise as it stayed put and allowed itself to be lowered into the sweet mixture.

“So, dear, what line of work are you in?” Mrs Sanderson was dipping her second strawberry into the rich vanilla custard, with a huge smile. Her husband had relaxed his shoulders and was enjoying the fresh pineapple. He skewered the fruit and dipped it as though he was casting a rod which Lily found highly artful.

“Catering, cooking; I used to be a chef in a big restaurant I London; not a Michelin starred place or anything, but it’s pretty well known. Anyway, I got fed up with the kitchen antics and banter and decided to be my own boss. It was going well in London.”

“How are you going to do that here? Is there a need?”

“Well, I sourced it before we moved. There’s no provider of tourist picnic baskets, or anyone for a XXX mile radius that provides business lunches. I can also cater for parties, private dinners, or even in the homes of people wanting to treat a loved on; a kind of butler service. There was big demand for that in the city.”

“It’s a bit different here, love.”

“Well I think it sounds wonderful. Take no notice of Jack; he’s forever practical and thinking about breadwinning. He means well” he reached over and touched her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze under the sanctuary of the table cloth.

“I have some money put aside so I’m ok for a while, but if you have any suggestions, I’d like to know. I’m hoping to get an allotment and grow my own produce, so I could even have a local produce stall or something.”

Over desert they had covered enough distance to know that the Sanderson’s three girls were called Emily, Janet and May, and were all in various cities studying and working and they didn’t get in contact quite as much as their parents hoped but at least they were doing well. There were no grandchildren as yet. Mr Sanderson had hoped for a boy to carry on with the trade, but they were not happy that this wasn’t the case. “There’s no guarantee like there used to be” he had almost whispered, staring into the glass whilst swilling wine. Mrs Sanderson (“call me Sue”) had been a dressmaker all her life, but once she’d had the children she worked from home. When they were big enough to leave, there were no shops that required the trade anymore, and so she worked as much as she could.

“So we are both our own boss. How fantastic!” Lily had exclaimed. Mrs Sanderson had coloured slightly.

“Coffee anyone?”

The evening ended with hands wrapped around huge coffee mugs with steaming black coffee and Magno brandy, and the conversation lulled as each person sank into their own thoughts, like the final coffee of a meal often enabled. This was followed a firm handshake from Mr Sanderson and a light hug from his wife. They smelled faintly of the treats she had fed them.

“Next time you come to us.”

“Yes, and next time I’ll make sure Max is with me.”

Lily closed the door; half closed her eyes and leaned against it. She pressed her lids down and her back into the door. It was a lovely night but she hadn’t been able to enjoy it fully. She was pleased Max hadn’t suddenly interrupted towards the end. It made things easier to explain. She cleared the plates from the dining room, blew out the candles, careful not to blow the wax onto the tablecloth, and filled the dishwasher. Her shoulders hung low as she stooped into the fridge. The delicious avocado was turning brown. Deflated, she opened the bin and flicked the ingredients into it, before placing the plate in the dishwasher, turning off the light and taking herself up to bed with slow leaden steps.

15.

Lily opened the door, her face puffy and crumpled and her eyes raw. She squinted a little into the darkness.

Max was slumped against the wall, one foot on the third step, the other on the pavement, his hand clutching the black railing. His eyes were slanted and crossed, with dark circles underneath. His hazel irises had trouble staying put, and as his eyes spun he laughed uncontrollably like some sort of on stage comedic deviant.

“Before you start…I don’t fucking care about the neighbours.”

“OK, no worries. But try and be a little quieter, darling. People are sleeping and they have to be up early…”

“Fuck being quiet! Let them get different jobs if they’re going to moan. What’s wrong? DON´T THEY LIKE TO SEE SOMEONE ENJOYING THEMSELVES? His shouts echoed loudly, and a curtain twitched; even though it was dark, she was sure of it

“Come on Max. Come inside…”

“Don’t tell me what to do! You’re all the fucking same. You always want to control. Control, control, control that’s all you’re INTERESTED IN”

His voice had been wavering and the last two words were screamed at the top of his voice. Lily winced, conscious of the cold air in her simple white cotton dressing gown and of the sleepy street that would be sleeping no more. The pillows had been pressed against her face and had left rivulets of pink seams on her left cheek. Her eyes were watery and puffy, but very clear.

“It’s Ok darling. You’re home now.”

“Home? Home? This is no fucking home. It’s not MY home. It’s yours…all yours! Your things, your rules…I can’t even fucking smoke in my own home. And why? Because it’s all, yours.”

Max dug his finger into her collarbone to emphasise the point, and Lily stepped back a little to ease the pressure. Max tumbled to the ground, laughing as he tried to scramble up.

“Look at me! Think I had one too many…just one for the road and look at me.”
´s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked hard and helped him to his feet. With Max slumped over one of her shoulders, they managed to get him up the steps and across the entrance, slamming the door into the wall as they passed through.

“Where’s my dinner?”

Lily carried him to the stairs and sat down with him to prevent another fall. Last time he had cut his head and she’d ended up being up all night frantically worried he had concussion. There’d been no point taking him to the hospital; she knew they would have to wait for him to sober up. Anyway, she hadn’t wanted to risk him ending up being locked up for being disorderly. He wrapped his muscular arms around her a little too tightly and dragged her head down.

“I love you, Lily. You know that? I love you.”

He pressed his hands against her breast, kneaded them but lifted them a little too high. His breath was strong, acidic, and noxious; he’d been drinking whiskey which was a bad sign. It meant she had to tread carefully.

“I know Max. Just let me shut the door…it’s a bit cold.”
“Nah, come here. Give me a kiss.”

“Max…the door…the neighbours…just wait…”

He continued to pull on her, and she kissed him on the cheek before shifting his weight and unbalancing him enough to be able to stand up and close the door she put the chain across, as though it would help somehow.

“The only thing cold around here is YOU.”

He was up on his feet, swaying as Lily closed the door firmly behind them. “Now, where’s my dinner? You said you’d make me dinner.”

“I did, Max. It was sat there, waiting for you, nine hours ago. Where have you been? You could have called.”

“You could have called” he mimicked, his stare becoming glassier and his lip curling. “I’ll eat it now. Where is it?”

“I threw it out. It was ruined. Let’s just go to bed, it’s late. You’ve got to be up in two hours for work.

“Fuck work. They’re all cunts; every last one of them. I’m not going. Fuck them.”

“Max, we’ve talked about this. You need to go to work. You’ve been lucky up to now but…it affects us both now.”

“Fuck them, and fuck you. I want me dinner.”

Max stumbled towards the kitchen, took out a heavy bottomed frying pan, some oil and two eggs. He lit the biggest ring to its fullest heat, put the pan o the top and then sat at the table. He lit a cigarette with some determination.

“Max…you’re not…”

Her voice trailed off into the night. She lowered the heat, cracked the eggs into the pan and cut a chunk of bread before putting it in the toaster. She got a plate from the cupboard

“Listen Max, you can’t go on like this. We can’t go on like this. But I can only help you if you help yourself. Now, eat this and get some sleep. You’ll be suffering tomorrow, but this should take the edge off.”

She buttered the toast, and placed the eggs on top. Sunny side up; just how he liked them. A trickling noise made her turn round. Max was sat slumped in the kitchen chair, his face crumpled like a brown paper bag, with his zipper open, pissing all over the floor. Lily scraped the eggs and toast into the bin.