Chapter 5 - Week 2: Biscuit Week (Part 2b)

As it turned out, 'everything' wasn't an order the restaurant could fulfil, so Rebecca settled on a lamb rogan josh, a saag gobi, and a naan - no, two naans, because she couldn't choose between the garlic and the peshwari. Oh, and a mushroom rice. And a lahsi. Just to take the edge off the champagne.

'Woman after my own heart,' Robert said.

'Leftovers for tomorrow,' Rebecca said.

There wouldn't be leftovers for tomorrow, but Rebecca didn't know that, yet.

Robert took a deep breath once the waiter had moved on. 'So why am I single, then?'

'The masses will want to know,' Rebecca said, nodding.

'Honestly?'

&apos ;Honestly.' Rebecca paused, a piece of her second poppadum stalling on its path to her mouth. 'This isn't to do with those scars, is it?'

Robert's answering laugh was a little uneasy.

'No,' he said. 'I did have a girlfriend,' he said. 'Broke up around the same time you split with your accountant, matter of fact.'

'I'm sorry,' Rebecca said. 'Rude of me to bring up.'

He shrugged. 'It happens.'

'So?' she urged him, and he laughed again.

'Relentless!' he called her. 'You should've been a police detective.'

'Who can only work when drunk,' she said.

'Might not be best, then,' he agreed. 'So...I suppose it's similar, really, to what happened to you.'

'She said you were too fat, took the dog, and left you?'

'Christ, no. If she touched Panda I would've gone Liam Neeson on her ass. No, so you know I like to bake.'

Rebecca nodded. 'I gathered as much.'

His teeth were very white when he smiled. 'Too much, apparently. She liked my baking, and, well...'

'She got fat,' Rebecca guessed.

His grin widened. 'So to speak.'

'So...you left her?'

'Ha! No. She'd never looked better. She didn't have the willpower, so she left me. Better off in the end, I suppose, but at the time it kind of stung that someone might dump you because you make a mean biscuit they can't say no to.'

'Monster,' Rebecca whispered.

'So now I'm just looking for someone I can grow fat and old with.'

'Psh,' Rebecca dismissed him, with a very obvious glance down at his flat abs and strong legs. 'You don't get fat.'

'No, you're right,' Robert said. 'Just old, then. For my own part, anyway.'

Rebecca didn't know what he meant by that, but thought it might be better not to ask. Besides, their food had arrived.

The table went a bit quiet after that, only interrupting bites of curry with, 'Here, try this's and the ceremonial tearing apart of naans to gauge gluten content and proving time.

The rogan josh was delicious, as was the saag gobi, and the mango lahsi took the edge off the spice. It reminded her of university in the way that most fattening things did, especially when paired with alcohol. It might have been the champagne's fault that when she looked down it was to find her entire meal was gone except for a spoonful of mushroom rice and a half of a naan. But she couldn't blame alcohol for that tin of brandy snaps, either.

Unbidden, the fat woman in the photograph floated back to the surface of her thoughts. She finished the rice.

A spoon clanked on glass. Alan was standing, though it was difficult to tell.

'I just want to thank everyone for coming tonight,' Alan said, his soft Belfast lilt difficult to hear among the conversations of the other diners. He pushed his thick glasses further up his nose. 'It was a difficult day in the tent, but I think I speak for everyone when I say that we all deserve to be here today, and no matter what happens tomorrow...' His delicate hand landed on his husband's shoulder '...we are all Baking Contest family, and we will always remember you. Saying that, we have already lost one member of our family...' He gestured to the empty chair and Verona's name in Sharpie '...and it would be wrong for us to forget that. So I propose a toast: to Verona.'

They lifted their glasses. 'To Verona.'

Rebecca clinked glasses with Robert last. They watched each other over the rims as they drank, his eyes smiling, but a little...

Uncertain?

Afraid?

'I don't want you to go home,' Rebecca said to him.

He leaned forward, his knee pressing against hers. 'I don't either.'

'Bake well tomorrow, yeah?' she urged him.

'Like my life depends on it,' he replied.