And the ice cream slowly melted A short story by Charles Roberts

 

Jane had spent all afternoon cooking something special for their second anniversary.  Two years since he had walked into her life, two years of sheer joy.  She had never thought that it could happen to her, it just didn’t happen in real life, only on the films.  They’d both been at the birthday party of a mutual friend, she’d wanted a drink so walked across the room to the bar, heading towards the only gap in the people crowding round that bar.  She was rushing to get there before anyone else.  Jane reached out to touch the wooden bar edge, to claim it as hers.  Suddenly another hand was there, slightly behind hers, but they touched.  She looked up at the owner of the hand and her heart skipped a beat.  Their eyes met and she went weak at the knees, her heart pounding in her chest, the room started to spin, she felt her knees give way and she started to go down. Someone caught her and carried her from the room, out into the fresh evening air.

Jane looked up into the eyes of her rescuer, her knight errand.  They looked down at her in his arms.  She saw her reflection in those limpid pools of deep blue.

“I’m fine,” she managed to say, not quite convincingly.

“Just stay quiet for a while.  It’s too hot in there, they should have put the air conditioning on.  Sit here for a while, I’ll get you a cold drink,” a voice like velvet said as he tossed his shoulder length blonde hair back.  She felt something under her bottom as he placed her gently down on the wooden bench set on the terrace overlooking the golf course.  “Are you warm enough?” he asked starting to remove his jacket to place round her shoulders. 

Jane couldn’t speak.  All she could do was look up into those beautiful deep blue eyes and feel his velvet voice wash over her.  She felt the jacket on her shoulders and watched with sadness as he walked through the open double glass doors into the function room his white shirt gleaming in the light from the ornamental lighting round the terrace.  He reached the door and glanced back at her, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.  When he disappeared into the crowded room she wanted to run after him, throw her arms round his neck and never let go.  That was two years ago today, the mutual friend had drifted away to university and didn’t answer his letters, but they didn’t seem to care after all they had each other now.

They’d both been at college when they had met, she doing a catering course, he training to become a plumber.  They both had the ambition of starting their own businesses, but things don’t always go to plan.  Jane found a job in the kitchen of a local hotel as a pastry chef.  He had been taken on by a local plumber, the only good thing about that, was the plumber had paid for his driving lessons and test.  There were numerous bad things about the job and one was being on call over a weekend, but as Jane worked odd hours in the hotel then they made the most of their time together.  Working as they did meant that they didn’t go to the pub or eat out so they saved every spare penny they earned and were hoping to buy a house very soon, but in the meantime they were renting this apartment which was owned by his boss.

Jane set the table with a white, embroidered tablecloth, which had belonged to her grandmother, flowers, in a small vase, and candles.  She was determined to make this evening as romantic as she possibly could.  The food would, of course, be excellent; after all she was a chef who might have specialised in pastries and sweets, but was a brilliant all round chef.  She might have only been working in the hotel kitchen for eighteen months, but she had proven herself a natural when it came to cooking, she could, and did, turn her hand to anything in the kitchen and because she was so good she had been promoted to Sioux Chef above all the men.  But there wasn’t any animosity or jealousy from the men, they saw just how good she was and accepted her.

She went through to the kitchen to check to main course, Salmon Wellington.  She’d bought only the best Salmon, made a puff pastry, then placed a bed of spinach on the pastry with the Salmon on top together with slices of lemon and cucumber, then wrapped the pastry over sealing it.  That would be in the oven for about forty minutes, meanwhile she had scraped some new potatoes, and cut the florets from a Broccoli.  To accompany that she was cooking a simple lemon sauce, then to follow was homemade strawberry ice cream, he had bought her an ice cream maker for Christmas, just the model she had asked for, and that was churning away in the corner of the kitchen counter.

She checked the Salmon in the oven, thirty minutes, she thought, where is he, he’s usually home by this time, looking up at the kitchen clock, then she put the potatoes and broccoli on to boil and went to the bedroom to change.  Jane knew exactly what she was going to wear, she also knew that he loved that dress.  She had just undressed when the power went off, she continued to dress in the light from the window, then her mobile rang; she quickly answered it.  It was him, he was ringing from the hospital, his mother had been taken ill and a neighbour had ‘phoned for the ambulance.  He told her that he didn’t know what time he’d be home because he wanted to stay and find out what was wrong with his mum.  She told him that she was on her way; that he couldn’t wait alone and she would wait with him.

Jane turned off the rings under the vegetables as well as turning the oven off, the Salmon will carry on cooking in the heat of the oven, she thought, I just hope it isn’t ruined.  She switched the ice cream maker off, picked up her hand-bag, and left the apartment, pulling the door shut after her, then ran down the street to catch the number forty seven bus which ran passed the hospital.  And the ice cream slowly melted.