work, Harry
always bought several rounds while Jake (mindful of his
bank manager, who was making increasingly threatening
noises) tried to nurse half a shandy through the evening.
No one actually said he was mean, but the unspoken words
hung in the air alongside the cigarette smoke.
He was often too tired to make much conversation, but
he watched. Did the others not realise they were being
befriended by a shark? Harry had predatory eyes, clear,
focused and hungry. The others might think him a good
sort but Jake was determined not to land between those
expensive, gleaming white teeth.
The one bright spot was Jill, one of the restaurant's
ever-shifting population of waiting staff. She was freckled and
funny, and a truly terrible waitress, but at least she always
turned up for work, though this wasn't due to professionalism,
but because she couldn't bear to be parted from Jake.
They had been going out for only a week before she said:
'I know this is so totally the wrong thing to say, but I have
fallen in love with you. Do you want to kick me out?'
'I haven't finished counting the freckles on your nose yet,
let alone the rest of you. I'll let you know when I've
finished,' he teased. 'Anyway, the feeling is mutual because
you are practically perfect, you know. You're gorgeous, you
make me laugh and, most importantly, you don't seem to
mind that this bed is as hard as a rock and so short our feet
dangle over the edge.'
She was always chronically short of cash as well. If they
were off on the same day they would walk to the nearest free
exhibition, or lie in bed eating cold curry and making love.
He was enjoying himself so much he didn't want to spoil
it by taking her home to meet his family yet. This was
because they were mad. Mrs Goldman never believed in
using one word if you could slot in at least another fifty,
even if they contradicted each other. She was always on the
lookout for a molehill to turn into a mountain. Jake was
convinced his father had taken up bird-watching just to get
out of the house, but as he hardly uttered a word when he
was in it, it was difficult to tell the difference.
Four of the kitchen staff had left or been sacked within
hours of each other that month, so no one had been able to
have much time off. Jake was knackered, but it was his and
Jill's first afternoon off together for three weeks and he had
it planned down to the last minute. He was going to take
her on the bus (cheap) to an exhibition (free), which would
leave him flush enough for pasta for two at an Italian
restaurant round the corner. He was just outlining this plan
to her when his mother rang.
'There is an enormous bird flapping around in the attic.
I can hear it!' Jake's mother had a phobia about birds.
'Well, where's Dad?'
'Out.'
'Are you sure?'
'Of course I'm sure. It's always the same. I don't know
why he bothers to call this place his home and does he take
his phone with him? No! It is right here in front of me on
the sideboard. I told him to shut the window in the attic but
he must have forgotten, and heaven knows what it is
dropping onto the boxes up there. Imagine the smell! Oh
my God! Maybe it is laying eggs; before we know it there
will be a whole flock of them. There is that box belonging to
your oma up there – it is all we have left of her!'
'I'll come right over, Mum,' said Jake, putting the phone
down. It was easier to say it now and cut out another twenty
minutes of kvetch.
He sighed. 'It's going to take ages to get across London
and she won't let me out of her clutches until I've had at
least two cups of tea and an update on everything our
neighbours have been up to, even though she knows I don't
know who half of them are.' He smiled at Jill ruefully. 'Then
there will be an intensive interrogation of every aspect of
my life for the last six months, followed by analysis, criticism
and entirely unsolicited advice.' He didn't want to do any of
this, but he was a good Jewish son. In his head he saw his
precious
always bought several rounds while Jake (mindful of his
bank manager, who was making increasingly threatening
noises) tried to nurse half a shandy through the evening.
No one actually said he was mean, but the unspoken words
hung in the air alongside the cigarette smoke.
He was often too tired to make much conversation, but
he watched. Did the others not realise they were being
befriended by a shark? Harry had predatory eyes, clear,
focused and hungry. The others might think him a good
sort but Jake was determined not to land between those
expensive, gleaming white teeth.
The one bright spot was Jill, one of the restaurant's
ever-shifting population of waiting staff. She was freckled and
funny, and a truly terrible waitress, but at least she always
turned up for work, though this wasn't due to professionalism,
but because she couldn't bear to be parted from Jake.
They had been going out for only a week before she said:
'I know this is so totally the wrong thing to say, but I have
fallen in love with you. Do you want to kick me out?'
'I haven't finished counting the freckles on your nose yet,
let alone the rest of you. I'll let you know when I've
finished,' he teased. 'Anyway, the feeling is mutual because
you are practically perfect, you know. You're gorgeous, you
make me laugh and, most importantly, you don't seem to
mind that this bed is as hard as a rock and so short our feet
dangle over the edge.'
She was always chronically short of cash as well. If they
were off on the same day they would walk to the nearest free
exhibition, or lie in bed eating cold curry and making love.
He was enjoying himself so much he didn't want to spoil
it by taking her home to meet his family yet. This was
because they were mad. Mrs Goldman never believed in
using one word if you could slot in at least another fifty,
even if they contradicted each other. She was always on the
lookout for a molehill to turn into a mountain. Jake was
convinced his father had taken up bird-watching just to get
out of the house, but as he hardly uttered a word when he
was in it, it was difficult to tell the difference.
Four of the kitchen staff had left or been sacked within
hours of each other that month, so no one had been able to
have much time off. Jake was knackered, but it was his and
Jill's first afternoon off together for three weeks and he had
it planned down to the last minute. He was going to take
her on the bus (cheap) to an exhibition (free), which would
leave him flush enough for pasta for two at an Italian
restaurant round the corner. He was just outlining this plan
to her when his mother rang.
'There is an enormous bird flapping around in the attic.
I can hear it!' Jake's mother had a phobia about birds.
'Well, where's Dad?'
'Out.'
'Are you sure?'
'Of course I'm sure. It's always the same. I don't know
why he bothers to call this place his home and does he take
his phone with him? No! It is right here in front of me on
the sideboard. I told him to shut the window in the attic but
he must have forgotten, and heaven knows what it is
dropping onto the boxes up there. Imagine the smell! Oh
my God! Maybe it is laying eggs; before we know it there
will be a whole flock of them. There is that box belonging to
your oma up there – it is all we have left of her!'
'I'll come right over, Mum,' said Jake, putting the phone
down. It was easier to say it now and cut out another twenty
minutes of kvetch.
He sighed. 'It's going to take ages to get across London
and she won't let me out of her clutches until I've had at
least two cups of tea and an update on everything our
neighbours have been up to, even though she knows I don't
know who half of them are.' He smiled at Jill ruefully. 'Then
there will be an intensive interrogation of every aspect of
my life for the last six months, followed by analysis, criticism
and entirely unsolicited advice.' He didn't want to do any of
this, but he was a good Jewish son. In his head he saw his
precious
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