Katy Carter Wants a Hero by Ruth Saberton Page B

with the lobster. Its antennae wiggle desperately and I can almost hear it sobbing. Behind me the pot boils merrily.
    ‘Katy,’ says Ollie patiently. ‘Please step aside from the pan.’
    ‘It’s barbaric!’ I shriek. ‘We can’t murder it!’
    ‘It’s the starter for your dinner party and I don’t imagine that they’ll want to eat it alive.’
    ‘Can’t we have melon or something? Anything we don’t have to kill?’
    I’m sure the lobster nods.
    ‘Not quite as impressive as my Thermidor served in the claws,’ says Ollie, dangling the lobster above the hissing water. ‘And I thought impressing these tossers was the name of the game? A fresh lobster will definitely do that.’
    He’s right, but at this moment I don’t care. I just know I can’t drop this hapless creature into a vat of boiling water. I can’t!
    ‘Ollie, look at him,’ I say desperately. ‘He’s terrified.’
    ‘Don’t anthropomorphise him,’ says Ollie sternly. ‘You’ve taught
Animal Farm
too many times. He’s dinner, not a pet.’
    ‘Ollie! Please!’ I’m nearly in tears. ‘I can’t boil something alive that’s looking at me. Please don’t!’
    ‘Oh God.’ Ollie lowers the lobster wearily. ‘Rick Stein would be spinning in his grave if he was dead.’
    ‘Bugger Rick Stein.’ My heart beat starts to slow as I’m sure the lobster’s does. ‘I’d have nightmares for years. I’d probably turn vegetarian.’
    ‘Melon balls it is then,’ sighs Ollie. ‘This leaves us with a slight problem.’
    ‘Does it?’ All I feel is total utter giddy relief.
    ‘What do you suggest we do with a nine-pound lobster?’
    ‘Can’t he go back to the sea?’
    Ollie starts to laugh. ‘I didn’t get him from the sea! I got him from the market. And since it’s now,’ he checks his funky surf dude’s watch, ‘one thirty, I can’t exactly take him back.’
    ‘Well,’ I say, having a bit of a
Free Willy
moment, ‘you’re not going back to the market, are you, Pinchy? I’m going to take you back to the sea.’
    ‘Pinchy?’ snorts Ollie. ‘Are you mental?’
    I give him an arch look. ‘I’m not the one boiling animals alive.’
    Ol shrugs. ‘Point taken. But what do we do now? There isn’t a lot of sea in Ealing.’
    I’m thinking swiftly. ‘We’ll have to keep him here until we can take him to the coast. And we’ll have to make sure James doesn’t notice.’
    ‘What’s all this we stuff?’
    ‘You brought him here. So you’re totally involved.’
    ‘I was going to cook him,’ grumbles Ollie as he lowers the relieved Pinchy into the sink, ‘not play Animal bloody Magic. And anyway, where do you think you can hide a brute this big?’
    And then I have my brilliant idea. Minutes later the bath is full, I’ve lobbed in about a ton of sea salt and Pinchy is looking very much at home. I pull the shower curtain round the bath and
voilà
! One secret lobster, saved from a hideous death by me.
    Brigitte Bardot, eat your heart out!
    And James will never know, right?
     
     
     
    While my new pet makes himself at home, I’m dispatched to Sainsbury’s to buy melon and Parma ham. I dash round like Speedy Gonzales on a really fast day, but even so, negotiating the harassed-looking families in the narrow aisles takes a while, and by the time I return, Ollie is surrounded by bubbling pans and gorgeous smells.
    ‘You’re seriously talented,’ I tell him, dipping my finger into a creamy brandy-scented sauce. ‘This is gorgeous.’
    ‘Fingers out!’ Ollie raps my knuckles with a wooden spoon. ‘I reckon this’ll take me another hour. Then I can push off and you can pretend that you’ve been slaving all afternoon. ‘
    ‘I owe you one,’ I say fervently. Bless him, he’s even laid the table and made it look like something out of an interiors magazine.
    ‘Don’t worry.’ Ollie throws finely sliced fillet steaks into a pan, where they sizzle and spit. ‘I’ll call the favour in sometime. In fact, I’ve a