Cathy Hopkins - [Mates, Dates 07] (8 page)

‘I read a review in
the local paper,’ he said. ‘Family run restaurant, intimate, unpretentious,
slightly Bohemian, fab food and not too expensive. Voted the area’s favourite
restaurant by locals for five years running.’

‘And?’

‘I need you to come
and give me your opinion before I book it for…’

‘You and Lucy?’

He nodded. ‘Yeah, if
she’ll come.’

‘Sure.’

So there I was on
Friday evening waiting in a restaurant for my brother who, as usual, was late.
I didn’t mind too much though as I’d spent the last hour stacking shelves at
Lucy’s dad’s shop and it was good to sit down and relax. Quite a funky-looking
place, I thought as I scraped some wax off the wine bottle that served as a
candle holder in front of me. There were red and white gingham cloths on the
tables and the walls were a colourful mishmash of amateur paintings, faded
photos of people from times gone by, postcards from all over the world. All
were fighting for space and none were winning.

‘Would you like to
order?’ said a voice to my right.

‘Um. I’m waiting for
someone,’ I said looking up. When I saw who it was, I clapped my hand over my
mouth. ‘
You!’

It was Luke. Even in
his waiter’s apron, he looked Pre-Raphaelite and gorgeous.

He laughed and placed
a basket of bread and a small bowl of olive oil in front of me. ‘Yeah. It’s me.
Why? What did I do?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ I said
from behind my hand. ‘Just… you’re the guy from class the other night. What are
you doing here?’

‘I work here two
nights a week. What’s your excuse?’

‘Waiting for my
brother.’

Ohmigod, ohmigod,
ohmigod, I thought, as my heart started thumping in my chest. This is what Iz
is always on about. Fate. Just as I’d decided to be all tragic and never see
Luke again, destiny decides otherwise. Wahey and hurrahalot. Let’s hear it for
destiny.

‘OK,’ he said getting
out his note-pad. ‘So what would you like while you’re waiting?’

I suppose a snog’s out
of the question, I thought before I could stop myself. I almost blushed then
told myself, no relax, Nesta. He can’t read your mind.

‘Appuchino,’ I
muttered.

‘Pardon?’

‘Carperino.’

‘Sorry, I can’t
understand what you’re saying. Your hand seems to be superglued to your top
lip…’

I put my hand down and
attempted to speak without opening my mouth. ‘Uepurino,’ I said.

Luke looked knowingly
at me. ‘Brace, huh?’ he said gently.

Uh? Am I
that
obvious? ‘No. Yeah. How did you know?’

Luke pointed behind
him to a very pretty dark-haired girl behind the counter. ‘Marisa. She had one
until last month. She did the same. Hid behind her hand.’

My heart sank. She was
gorgeous. Obviously his girlfriend as she smiled when he turned to look at her.

‘So she works here
too?’

Luke nodded. ‘It’s our
dad’s restaurant…’

His
sistert!
Yabadabadoo.

‘It’s well worth it,
you know,’ continued Luke.

‘Owning a restaurant?’

‘No. Having a brace.’
He called Marisa over. ‘Hey. Marisa, this is… I don’t know your name.’

‘Nesta,’ I said from
behind my hand.

‘Brace,’ said Marisa.

I nodded.

‘Just in?’

I nodded again. ‘Week
almost.’

She gave me a huge
smile revealing perfect teeth. ‘It’s worth it in the end, but it’s awful when
it first goes in. Feels like everyone’s looking at you.’

I nodded.

‘People don’t even
notice,’ said Luke. ‘I never really noticed Marisa’s. I think she was more
conscious of it than anyone.’

‘So how do you two
know each other?’ asked Marisa.

Luke looked around as
though looking for someone then whispered, ‘We’re doing the same course.’

‘Why the secrecy?’ I
whispered back.

‘You tell her,’ said
Marisa. ‘What do you want, Nesta?’

‘Cappuccino, thanks,’
I said.

Luke turned to go, but
Marisa pulled him back. ‘No, Luca, you sit, it’s quiet. Explain.’

After she’d
disappeared, Luke sat opposite me. As soon as he looked into my eyes, I felt myself
getting hot and my insides felt like they were melting. He was amazing looking.
Sooooooo beautiful. I hadn’t imagined it. It’s a weird thing that when I first
meet someone, I can remember what they look like for about a day, then it
fades, like from sharp focus to blurry. Seeing him again was a real blast back
to picture perfect.

Luke looked down at
the table. ‘I’m supposed to be doing an accountancy course.’

‘Oh… and?’

‘On
Wednesday
nights…’

‘Ah.’ Oh well done on
the brilliant conversation, Nesta, I thought. Oh. And. Ah. Yes, riveting stuff.
Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.

‘Yeah. Ah,’ continued
Luke. ‘Dad’s in the restaurant business. He has three now. This one which has
been here for years, one in Soho and he’s just opened a third up near Harrow,
not far from where I go to school actually. It’s quite handy for popping into
at lunch-time. Anyway, my brother runs the Soho restaurant and Dad wants me to
be involved when I leave school after my A-levels, maybe oversee the Harrow
one. I want to act. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do but he’s dead against it.
So… I told him I was going to do accountancy to help with the business when, in
fact, I’m doing acting. That’s why I was late last week. Dad dropped me off at
the accountancy course and I had to dash like mad to get to the acting.’

‘But what will happen
if he drops you every week? You’ll never make it.’

‘It was just last
week. My car was being serviced, but I’ve got it back now and can drive
myself.’

Hhmm. Is gorgeous
and
has own car, I thought. Not that I am influenced by things like that at all.
Not at
all
. I am
deep
and
beyond
material trappings.
But… hhmm… I wonder what kind of car?

‘But… what are you
going to do at the end of the course when you haven’t learned anything about
figures?’

Luke laughed. ‘I shall
act dumb. By then, I should have the skills.’ Then he shrugged. ‘Dunno. I’ll
think of something.’

After that, we chatted
for a while about acting and films and which he liked and which he hated. As we
talked I realised that he knew a lot about them. He mentioned films I’d never
heard of and he seemed to know who had directed them and who had produced them.
As I listened to him, I began to feel out of my depth, because I watch films
just for fun. That awful feeling that I might be shallow and boring came
creeping back and I resolved to swot up on who was who and what was what in the
film industry. Hhhmm, how can I impress you without revealing that I don’t know
half as much about films as you do, I wondered as I stared at his bottom lip
and tried to commit it to memory. Suddenly what to say was obvious. ‘My dad’s a
director,’ I blurted out. ‘Really? Wow!’ said Luke. ‘Lucky you. Films, TV or
documentary?’

‘TV mostly. Dramas.
But I think he’d like to do a film, you know, for the big screen.’

Luke nodded. ‘Must be
amazing. And there was me rabbiting on about films when you’re the real expert
with your dad in the biz.’

Yeah, right. Me the
expert, I thought as I gave him my lips-closed smile.

‘I wish my father did
something interesting,’ continued Luke. ‘I can’t tell you how much I don’t want
to be involved in his restaurant business.’

‘But involved how?
What does he want you to be? Chef? Manager?’

‘Bit of both. That’s
how it is in a family business.’ I couldn’t resist. I stuffed two big bits of
bread in front of my teeth in my lower cheeks then attempted my impersonation
of Marlon Brando as he was in
The
Godfather
. ‘So, Luca, de
family needs you,’ I drawled in an Italian accent.

He laughed.
‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Marlon Brando.
The Godfather?’

I nodded and
desperately tried to swallow the bread, praying that it hadn’t got caught in my
brace. How attractive would that be? Not. I put my hand back over my mouth just
in case.

‘Can you cook?’ I
asked.

‘I’m Italian. Course I
can.’

‘I’m half Italian,’ I
said. ‘I can half cook.’ Actually that’s a lie, I can’t cook to save my life,
but it made him laugh.

‘So you know what it’s
like then. Life revolves round the kitchen.’

‘Er, yeah. Round the
kitchen. Curries, pasta, you name it,’ I said. ‘I can produce a great meal at
the drop of a hat.’ Not a complete lie, I thought. All it takes is a quick
phone call to the takeaway place and hey presto,
voila
, il supperoni.

Just at that moment,
Tony came in so I introduced them along with my quick explanation as to why we
look so different. ‘Same dad, different mothers,’ I said. ‘Dad’s where we get
the Italian genes from.’

‘And she doesn’t mean
Armani jeans,’ smiled Tony, then started laughing at his own joke.

Luke slid out of his
seat to let him sit down. ‘And the gift of cooking, I hear,’ he said.

Tony looked at me
quizzically.

‘Well, no. Mum can
cook as well,’ I said. ‘She’s from Jamaica and does a mean curry.’

‘Sounds good,’ said
Luke turning to Tony. ‘Your sister was just telling me what a great cook she
is.’

Tony looked surprised.
‘She
was
?’ I could see that he was about to laugh, but I kicked him
under the table and he straightened his face. ‘I mean. Yeah. She is. Always
cooking stuff up is our Nesta.’

Another customer
caught Luke’s eye. ‘Won’t be a mo,’ he said as he went to take the man’s order.

‘So what do you
think?’ asked Tony looking round after he’d gone. ‘Romantic or what? Do you
think Lucy will like it?’

‘She’ll feel very at
home here. It’s kind of a cosy mess, just like the kitchen at her house.’ I
looked over at Luke and sighed. ‘And it is possibly the most romantic place
I’ve ever been in my whole life…’

Tony glanced over at
Luke. ‘Ah. The waiter. That was quick.’

‘Luca De Biasi,’ I
said. ‘His dad owns the restaurant. He’s doing the acting course I’m doing…’

Tony nodded. ‘Ah, he’s
the guy you fell in love with on Wednesday…’

I nodded back. ‘Fate
has given me a second chance.’

‘And maybe she’ll even
give you a third.’ Tony smiled mischievously as Luke came back and handed us
menus.

‘The lasagne is good
tonight,’ said Luke.

Tony glanced at the
menu. ‘Hey, Nesta,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you invite Luke to come and try your
unbelievable
cookery skills.’

Whadttt!
I thought, no way. But Luke was
looking at me to see my reaction and I didn’t want him to feel that I didn’t
want to see him again. Arrghhh. What to do? Um. I know! Agree to it but don’t
give a date. Be vague and hopefully he’ll forget about it.

‘Yeah sure,’ I said.
‘I’d love to cook for you sometime, Luke.’

‘Mum and Dad are out
tomorrow night,’ Tony said with a grin. ‘If you’re not busy, would you like to
come over then?’

‘Yeah. Cool,’ said
Luke. ‘I look forward to it.’

Tony sniggered. ‘Yeah.
And I can assure you that it will be an experience you’ll never forget.’

Tony Costello, you are
dead, I thought as I kicked him again under the table.

Recipe
for Disaster

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Move over Nigella,
there’s a new domestic goddess in town I thought as I lay in a jasmine-scented
bath the following evening. Everything was sorted. The table was laid. My
chicken curry was cooking nicely in the oven. Mum and Dad were out of the way
until after their movie finished. My guests would be arriving in half an hour.
(I’d phoned Lucy and begged her to come and join us, so that it wasn’t Luke and
me with Tony sitting in the middle having a right laugh.) All I had left to do
was light the candles. This entertaining lark is easy peasy, I thought as I
lathered my legs with Mum’s Guerlain bath gel.