Katy Carter Wants a Hero by Ruth Saberton Page A

and wait to be amazed.
    ‘Christ,’ says Ollie when I open the door, ‘you look like shit.’
    ‘And good morning to you too,’ I reply.
    Ollie heaves a big polystyrene box on to the worktop.
    ‘Seriously, you look awful. What happened?’
    ‘Tough night.’ I flap my hands dismissively. I’m not prepared to analyse my relationship with Ollie. He thinks James is a wanker at the best of times and I can’t risk him refusing to help me with this dinner party on principle because he doesn’t want to help my fiancé out. The only row I’ve ever had with Ollie happened when James refused to insure me on his new BMW. James’s reasoning was that I could use the tube or the bus easily and didn’t need a car. ‘Besides, Chubs, you’re hardly the best driver, are you?’ he added, going on to list all the scrapes and dents I’d added to the outgoing Audi TT. I made the mistake of telling Ollie this, and he was totally outraged on my behalf.
    ‘He’s such a bully!’ Ol exploded. ‘Grow a bloody backbone, Katy, and tell him to insure you on the car. You’re his fiancée, for God’s sake!’
    Of course I stuck up for James, who was only thinking of the car, and Ollie went on to say some very harsh things and I was so hurt that we didn’t talk for a week. Eventually, over a sneaky fag in the school boiler room, we made our peace and agreed that in the future we wouldn’t discuss our respective partners. So far it seems to have worked.
    Ollie looks at me thoughtfully through narrowed toffee-coloured eyes but doesn’t pry any further. ‘Well, stick a pan of water on to boil and let’s get this show on the road.’
    I grab one of our Le Creusets and practically put my back out.
    ‘Too small,’ says Ollie, peeling back the tape on his polystyrene box. ‘It needs to be really large to fit,’ he pulls back the lid proudly, ‘this fine fellow!’
    Oh. My. God. I stare at him aghast. From within the box a large claw is waving jauntily at me, a claw that is practically the size of a man’s fist.
    ‘What the hell is that?’
    ‘It’s our starter,’ Ollie says proudly. ‘Isn’t he a beauty? I got him for an absolute song.’ Somehow he manages to pluck the creature out of the box without having any limbs severed. I stare across my kitchen at the world’s most enormous lobster ever, who regards me with beady black eyes.
    ‘It’s alive!’
    ‘Course it’s alive, you muppet.’ Ollie wiggles it at me. ‘Grr!’
    I step back hastily. Those claws look mean.
    ‘Doesn’t that mean we’ll have to kill it?’
    ‘Yep,’ says the murderous Ollie. ‘Which is why I asked you to put the water on to boil.’
    ‘We’re going to boil it alive?’
    ‘That’s the usual way. Although you can put a knife through his brain, I suppose. I can’t say I’ve ever really fancied that, though.’
    I look at the lobster and the lobster looks at me. Am I imagining it or is there a pleading look in his dark eyes?
    ‘So a pan of boiling water is best,’ Ollie continues cheerfully, lobster under one arm as he fills the biggest pan I own. ‘Don’t look so worried. It’ll be quick.’
    The lobster is waving its claws frantically. Ollie puts the pan on the hob and bungs the lid on. I feel faint. I know I’m being a hypocrite here because I eat meat, but I’m not used to being faced with the realities of where my yummy burger actually comes from. In Sainsbury’s, steaks come in nice little packages; they don’t line up and moo at me. I look again at the lobster and I swear to God it’s starting to tremble. It knows what horrible fate is about to befall it. I can practically hear it begging.
    Having a vivid imagination is such a curse!
    Steam is rising from the pan and the water boils like the pits of hell. Ollie whacks in some sea salt and lifts up the unfortunate crustacean.
    ‘No!’ I scream, hurling myself across the kitchen with a speed that would have done Kelly Holmes proud. ‘You can’t!’
    I’m face to face