Dinner for Four

As soon as she'd made the offer, Ellie regretted inviting her parents round for dinner. The logistics involved in not only buying and preparing food, but rendering her flat presentable for their arrival were nightmarish, and she cursed her impulsiveness under her breath. She resisted the urge to launch the telephone into orbit and instead hunted for a clean pair of jeans to wear shopping. Luck frowned upon her and she ended up leaving in a faded blue pair with a number of rusty stains on the knees. No-one will notice, she reasoned.

The walk from the flat to the market took longer than usual since the kids had a week of their summer break left and all parents in the area had chosen to bring them shopping. Threading her way through bad-tempered adults and their squabbling broods, Ellie left the hammer in her bag where it belonged, despite what she considered to be extreme provocation. At least the crowds thinned somewhat once she made it to the market and her mood lifted a little until she remembered Harry. The scowl returned and Ellie retreated to the interior and skulked around the meat stalls proclaiming themselves to be 'family butchers'. Now there's an interesting term, she mused, her hand plucking at the claw-hammer inside her bag. The counters gave off a thick, heavy scent and she lingered, savouring it until the butcher addressed her.

"Can I help you, love?" In his sausage-fingered hand he held a large cleaver, which caught Ellie's attention with it's glittering, finely-honed edge.

"Umm, no thanks," she said, tearing her gaze from the stains on his apron and pasting a smile on her face. "Just looking," she added before gathering herself and leaving the building.

The vegetable stall was thankfully quiet and Ellie managed to gather the necessities of a family dinner without incident. She looked up to see her progress being observed by a group of the much-maligned local seagulls, and, feeling generous, tore a scrap from her cauliflower and tossed it up to them. The ensuing fight was predictably raucous and drew complaints from passers-by as the shrieks and screeches rent the air. Sensing she was being watched, Ellie turned to discover a goggle-eyed toddler in a pushchair grimacing at her. She stared blankly at the dribble-smeared creature and shrugged before grimacing and wandering away.

The shopping hadn't ended at the market, since Ellie suddenly recalled a whole list of necessities she'd overlooked and found herself battling through the throngs in the supermarket. By the time she'd fought off trolley-wielding senior citizens and frosty lunchtime office workers to get her basket of detergents, cloths and rubber gloves to the checkout, the afternoon's preparation time had been severely depleted. With a sigh, she left the store behind her and began the trek home, gazing wistfully through the windows of the pub, wanting a beer but not having the time.

The flat in the backstreets was both a pleasure and a pain; sometimes Ellie loved being there, others she could think of nothing but moving. In summer, with the sunlight flooding into her top-floor bedroom, she could open the dormer window and smell the sea on the breeze, however in winter the window stayed shut until the air inside grew musty and stale. On the bad days she would walk with her head down to avoid the attentions of the drunks and beggars who loitered on corners and sprayed passers-by with abuse and pungent cider breath. Her parent never liked her flat and constantly pointed out it's pitfalls, disappointed that their apparent good taste had not been inherited by their daughter. More and more often they subtly suggested she should move in with Harry, their unspoken approval of his joining the family clearer than if they had said it aloud.

The gardens opposite the war memorial were full of colour and surrounded by the lunch-eating public. For once the fountain was working and the whole spectacle was one of summer festivity despite the slow-moving traffic and scavenging pigeons. It was also an opportunity to vent a little spite by aiming her boot at the rear end of any unwary pigeon who strayed too close. Filthy and partially-feathered, some with toes or even whole feet missing, these dirt-grey garbage eaters vyed with the ubiquitous seagulls for scraps. Like ambulant roadkill, they elicited nothing but disgust from both residents and tourists alike. At least the gulls looked clean.

Eventually she reached her turning where the crush ended sharply. She lived on the top floor of a shop building half way along the street and had to negotiate the black sacks lining the pavement with care. Many were torn and their mouldering contents scattered by birds and cats alike. Outside her building, her own bags sat undamaged. The last thing Ellie needed was to have her leftover bits and pieces scattered across the area for everyone to see, so she took great care to use only tough, beak and claw-proof bags despite the extra cost.

The narrow stairs leading to the first floor flat were in pitch blackness since the bulb had blown a week ago and her downstairs neighbour seemed reluctant to change it. Ellie cursed as she stumbled upstairs before reconsidering. Sometimes it was easier to take the rubbish out in the dark - it avoided awkward questions.

The door on the landing opened a crack and a voice filtered through the gap.

"Is that you, Ellie dear?"

"Yes Missus Hartley. Just been to the market for veg." Her reply seemed adequate and the old lady retired, closing the door quietly. Ellie paused until she heard the clicks and rattles of the dozen or so locks and bolts being fastened on the other side. Missus Hartley had surprised a burglar once and suffered a nasty black eye for her trouble. The invader had taken an expensive set of kitchen knives and from that day forth, the old lady had become paranoid about security. Neither the burglar nor the knives had been found.

Lunch was a brisk affair consisting of a few stringy leftovers between slices of toast and a cup of coffee to steel Ellie nerves before the next part of the operation began. She carefully wiped a clean patch on the worktop for her purchases and took a wander through her home to discover that major work was needed. With a sigh of resignation, Ellie rolled up her sleeves, donned her new Marigolds and decided to make a start in the bathroom.

Armed with cloths and products, Ellie realised the enormity of the task ahead of her. The shower curtain was a frightful mess, and after a good fifteen minutes of scrubbing she resolved never to leave the housework this long again. In the end, the uncooperative vinyl foud its way into a large black sack along with other scraps of filth she found adhering to the bath and tucked into the dark corners behind the basin.

The lounge was still cluttered with tools; Elllie thrived in an environment of disorganisation and untidiness. Each item was caked in grime and needed more work the detergent and scouring pad than she had anticipated. Even when the floor was finally cleared, there were dark stains on the carpet that presented her with her next domestic challenge. The smell was almost unbearable as she bent her back to the task and several times she had to rush to her newly cleaned bathroom to avoid adding to the stains.

At length, the flat was clean. Ellie took the opportunity to put her feet up for a while and lounged in her favourite armchair with a glass of red wine and her latest video. The picture quality wasn't up to her usual standard - she knew she'd kicked the tripod at least twice - and the sound was far too muffled for complete enjoyment. Still, not a bad product, all things considered.

In the kitchen, there was little left to do except clean the work surfaces and mop the floor. That done, Ellie opened the fridge and examined its contents. Plenty of vegetables but as yet, no meat. At that moment, the doorbell rang. That would be Harry.

The meal was relatively straightforward after the effort of the cleaning, and Ellie was quite pleased with the neatly-trussed joint of meat in the roasting pan, swimming in juices and surrounded by potatoes. Overcoming her distaste, she prepared the vegetables and set the pans on the hob to boil. Her timing was excellent; the doorbell rang just as the water began to steam.

Her mother and father were overjoyed to see her and rained hugs and kisses in profusion. Mother bustled from room to room in her regular fashion, impressed by the cleanliness of the little flat and savouring the smells of cooking from the kitchen. Father sat on the sofa and leafed through a few magazines Ellie had left on the coffee table. He frowned for a moment.

"Isn't Harry joining us for dinner, dear?"

"No dad, he had to be somewhere else today. Maybe next time."

Wine flowed before and during the meal, and Ellie's father proudly accepted her request to carve the roast.

"Just like Sunday dinner at home," he observed, wielding the knife with expertise. The meat lay in moist slices, steaming and lightly pink in the middle. Both parents nodded in approval at the joint obviously cooked to perfection and were soon eating, drinking and regaling her with family anecdotes she'd heard a dozen times or more.

Ellie picked at her vegetables before giving up on them and helping herself to more meat with her fingers. The black nail varnish she wore had flaked away, exposing the rime of dirt under her nails. Quickly she picked up her cutlery and continued to eat, the succulent roast seducing her tastebuds and helping her forget her shortcomings.

Conversation finally began to flag as the evening edged slowly into night and her parents eventually prised themselves from the sofa and began putting on their coats. Hugs and kisses were once again exchanged at the door and Ellie waved them goodbye.

"Perhaps we'll see Harry next time," said her mother as she left the lobby. Ellie smiled.

Another glass of wine on the sofa and Ellie watched her latest video, absently picking the dirty brown crusts from under her nails. It was a pity about Harry, but it simply couldn't be helped. She got up and wandered into the kitchen. On the way, she noticed her pictures were crooked, and realised they'd probably been like it all afternoon. She took down the photograph of Harry and gazed at it long and hard.

Dearest Harry.

He'd wanted to be part of the family so much.

Now he was.