Dinner For Two

A short dark story

'MORNING DEAR, YOU are up early. Your coffee is cold. Let me make you a fresh one.'

She flitted across the kitchen and clicked on the kettle. With one mug and two spoons of instant coffee, she grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge, slopping a dash plus a splash into his favourite cup. The way he likes it. The kettle popped. A quick stir was served in front of him. The earlier cold mug hit the bubbly water in the sink.

'Toast?' she asked. 'Peanut butter or Marmite, or would you like both? I'll do that. You enjoyed it last time.'

She placed a knife and a small plate loaded with dripping bread before her husband.

'That's yesterday's paper. I'll get you today's.' She folded the old one and skipped to the mailbox.

She was grabbing her raincoat from its hook and picking up her handbag from the top shelf of the shoe rack. Then she quickly snatched a glance in the mirror. 'My God, I'm looking old. Where's my umbrella? Just in case,' she muttered.

'See you after work,' she called. 'Don't forget; I'll be late shopping for our special meal.'

Mrs Jenkinson gently closed the door. There was no need to slam it these days. She had oiled the hinges, smiling to herself, another small achievement. She could do so much more these days.

'Good morning, Pearl. Your garden looks lovely. Daffodils, tulips and snowdrops, beautiful,' she called to her neighbour.

'How is your husband? We have seen little of him lately.'

'Oh, he's fine, busy with his paper. But, you know, he always read the sports pages first. These days, he starts at page one. I guess his team is having a bad season. Or politics got interesting?'

'We don't waste money on daily papers. Instead, we catch up on weekends.'

'Good idea. Maybe we should do that too? But as my husband no longer works, he needs something to occupy himself.' She laughed. 'Better dash, or I'll be late.'

Mrs Jenkinson upped her pace, checking her watch. She was never late. Today, she had some research to complete on top of her day-to-day duties. 'Oh yes, and the boss has a big meeting today.'

'Good morning, Pearl,' bellowed her boss from the doorway.

'Yes, it's a lovely start to the day. What time is your meeting?'

'You know very well it is ten o'clock on the dot.'

'I wondered if you had changed it? Will you need me to take notes?'

'Certainly, it's important that we don't miss out on this deal,' said Mr Burke. 'I'll need everything signed and sealed, and then we'll deliver it.' He wandered to his office, nose in the air.

Mr Burke ran the family business. He hoped it would grow more prominently and be listed on the stock market. He was a chemist, taking over his father's ice business as soon as he left university. Burke's Ice supplied the local fishing industry for generations. Now, more than ice was to be offered to the fish. Mr Burke had a new product, a liquid chemical to inject into dead fish to keep them looking fresh for days longer than Ice. The lorries supplying the trawlers were kept busy with Burke's Ice. Soon, they would also deliver vials of clear, tasteless liquid. Mr Burke's future business used his knowledge of chemicals. They were preserving the region's fish. He hoped today's meeting would complete a deal, ensuring his company's future.

Pearl busied herself with the documents Mr Burke had supplied. One set each. She knew all there was to know about Ice. Now, she had an added interest in her boss's chemicals.

She read all she could find on Wikipedia and BHT.

'BHT, butylated hydroxytoluene, is that how you say it? I wish these things had simpler names,' she said to herself. The creases on her forehead deepened as she uncovered information on formaldehyde and other embalming fluids. 'All very interesting, not that I'll have to speak at the meeting. But, I should know what we have in our laboratory,' she said.

'This way, gentlemen, please,' said Pearl as she led the men to the board room.

'Can I offer tea or coffee?'

The guests took their seats. They were nodding their drink requests.

'I'll inform Mr Burke you are here.'

Tapping on the MD's door, 'Your guests are all here.'

'Let them wait a few minutes. I don't want them to think I'm desperate,' said Mr Burke, brushing his hair back.

She nodded and returned to the boardroom with trays of steaming teacups.

'He won't be a moment. He has an important matter to deal with on the phone.'

Sugar and milk were passed around, accompanied by aimless chit-chat.

'How long have you worked with Mr Burke?' asked one suited man.

'I worked with Mr Burke Senior ten years before this Mr Burke took over. Lovely men, both of them,' Pearl answered. 'Ah, here he is.'

Pleasantries bounced from one to another. Hands clasped and firmly shaken around the table.

Then the blah, blah, blah started and continued for an hour. Finally, lunch was offered and politely refused. Papers were signed.

Pearl showed the guests to the main door and returned to collect the china wear. Mr Burke had his feet on the table, hands behind his head.

'I thought that went pretty well. Didn't you?'

'Yes, sir, congratulations. I know how hard you have worked for success.'

'No need to mention this to the staff, but I'd like to offer you a raise. You have worked tirelessly for what, twenty-one, twenty-two years for the company?'

'Thank you, no need really; I'm happy with what I earn,' answered Pearl. She ducked her head and continued with the cups.

'You are the only employee who would refuse a little extra in their wage packet.'

'Can I ask for something?'

'Of course, anything?'

'I am preparing a special dinner for my husband tonight. It sounds funny, but I'd like a bath full of Ice. I got a great deal on some fresh salmon. I'm afraid I overdid it and ordered too much. We can eat some tonight and the rest tomorrow. The fish won't fit in my fridge, and I am sorry if that's a problem?'

Burke's belly rumbled with laughter. 'Of course, ask the driver to drop a few kilos around.'

Pearl was typing up her report on the meeting as Mr Burke popped his head around the door.

'I'm off to the golf club. I feel a bottle of champagne is in order. See you tomorrow.'

Pearl, alone in the offices, made her call to arrange her ice delivery. She checked the laboratory for late-working staff. The whole factory was empty. Alone, she rifled through drawers and cupboards until she found what she needed. Vials, long needles, and a five-litre canister of clear liquid all sat there looking at her. She sniggered at the unpronounceable name on the label. She couldn't say the word but knew what it did.

It was raining so hard that it bounced from the pavement.

'No need for shopping. I've got what I need,' she said to herself. 'Salmon can wait.'

Her goodies were bundled into Tesco bags.

'People will think I'm mad. Slow down, you old fool. You are not Gene Kelly.'

She walked the rest of the way home at a controlled pace. Sacks of Ice were piled outside the front door. She treated herself to a 'Christmas morning' smile.

The rain had saved her a grilling from the nosey neighbour.

'Why didn't your husband move that load indoors?' she mimicked.

Up and down the stairs, she stomped. The bathtub was half-filled with Ice.

She puffed as she entered the dining room.

'Hi, hon, I'm home.'

She sniffed the air around him and poked his slightly puffy cheek.

'Tonight, we have fish. I know you hate fish, but I'm having what I like. And we have white wine with bubbles, and it's sweet too. But, of course, you would have chosen a powerful red. Tough luck.' She laughed aloud.

The five litres of liquid and long needles used for intramuscular jabs were placed gently on the window sill beside the bath.

'Now the real work begins,' she said.

She slid that morning's newspaper to one side, and a headline caught her eye. Shaking her head, she said, 'I'll read that later. Now I will have more time to myself.'

She placed her arms under his armpits and heaved. With a loud crack, the shoulders dislocated. She dragged him to the floor with a thump.

'Shit, I guess I've left it too late. Why do I always listen to you?'

The END

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