Page 10 of Kept 4
“Yes,” I nod, “I’m planning on training to become a chef. I’m just a cook now, but I hope, one day.”
“Just a cook?” he shakes his head, “there is no such thing. One who prepares food lovingly and enjoys nourishing others is a magician, an enchanted, powerful being; never, never just a cook.”
I laugh loud enough to draw the attention of the young woman and her companion near the window again. Throughout the meal, I’d felt their eyes upon me, but for the life of me, I can’t see why. I don’t recognise either of them.
“Are you ready for dessert now?”
“Absolutely. I don’t suppose,” I begin hesitantly, I want to ask for the recipe for this meal, but some chefs keep their recipes closely guarded secrets, others, like me, believe they live on through their cuisine and happily share; it is impossible to discern one from the other, unless you ask, “that you would share your recipe for chicken moambe with me?”
“Would you stay later, perhaps for another glass of wine?” he smiles.
“With you?” I ask hesitantly.
“Oui.”
“How could I refuse the invitation of a magician?”
“Then, I will most happily share my spells with you.”
I grin as he smiles and turns back to the kitchen, “my name is Pierre,” he says over his shoulder, nodding to the boy to bring over my ice cream.
As the young boy deposits it onto my table, I thank him.
“Are you an apprentice here?” I smile.
“My father is the cook,” the boy says quietly.
“Oh, so your mother works here too?”
“No,” he snorts, “my three brothers and I do, but each of our mothers works elsewhere.”
“Oh,” I focus on picking up my spoon and try not to show my shock. Clearly, my estimation of Pierre was on the money. Luckily, I am saved from saying anything embarrassing as the boy hears the small service bell and turns away to collect another meal.
As I eat though, I watch the boys, noticing the similarities in how they stand, how they tilt their heads, their lovely skin colour; and I wonder if one day my daughters will work in my restaurant, if all my dreams come true.
‘How wonderful, to be surrounded by family, and food and happy customers.’
And as I think this, I know, as strongly as I have ever known anything, that I did the right thing by leaving my vampire.
‘But for now, I have to live through this nightmare,’I think ruefully, ‘this feeling of my heart having been torn from my chest. I just hope that like all my other heartbreaks, the pain will subside, day by day.’
I decide that staying to have a glass of wine with the cook is not such a good idea after all. As much as I want the recipe for the wonderful meal I just ate, it is too soon to fall into the arms of a lothario. I smirk, recognising that this might have been one way of staving off the pain of a break-up when I was younger, but now, it didn’t seem like a good way forward. Best to be alone, find myself, firm up my plans for the future, sleep solitaire.
‘Besides, if Nicholas can feel everything I feel…well, he might not be too happy to know I was ‘feeling’ another man, not yet.’
Even as I think this I realise that‘not ever’is probably more realistic, knowing my vampire, and I suddenly begin to worry that a vengeful Nicholas might reappear every time I’m about to get laid and rip my new beau’s head from his shoulders.
‘But,’I shake my head, hoping I am wrong, ‘he said he wanted me to live my human life, have babies, so at some point he is going to have to accept that this would mean me having another man in my life, and in my bed.’
Looking down at my ice cream bowl, I realise I have eaten it all. It had been a generous serve, and yet I had lapped it up in seconds. I ruefully glance up, hoping I hadn’t been seen eating like a pig, and once again catch the eye of the woman in the corner.
Grimacing, and suddenly feeling uncomfortable, I push the bowl away and raise my hand for the bill.
Drawing out a roll of notes, I pay quickly and leave a generous tip, before heading outside before the cook can notice I have left.
Although it is late, the streetlights are bright, and the moon is full; I’m not frightened of walking alone the short distance back to where I’m staying, but I should have been.
5
