Love Is a Banquet

Chapter One Spaghetti Bolognaise

Watching Leo

His long black fringe falls into his eyes as he leans over the cooker. He pushes it behind his ear where it stays momentarily before falling forward again obscuring his cat-like green eyes, that I know are framed with the longest black eyelashes. He tastes the sauce, the tip of the wooden spoon disappearing between his full lips. I catch a glimpse of regular white teeth contrasting with his red lips, stained with the bolognaise sauce. Then his pointy pink tongue licks around his mouth, removing all traces of sauce, except for a tiny bit on his chin. I get up from my seat and wipe this away with my thumb, enjoying seeing the flush that spreads across his tanned face. He's shaved very closely and his flawless young skin is so soft.

He picks a handful of basil leaves from the plant on the windowsill and rips them roughly before stirring them into the sauce. I take his hand, place it over my nose and mouth as if to kiss the palm, and breathe in deeply. I inhale the fresh herby scent, and feel the smoothness of his hands, taking in his pianist's slender fingers and his neat, clean nails. His wrist is small and delicate and I can almost encircle it with my hand. The bone is prominent and the inside of his wrist is covered with a fine tracery of veins.

'Will you grate some Parmesan?' he asks, with a catch of emotion in his voice, 'And pour out some of this wine.' I do as I'm asked and sit back down at the beautifully laid table. I sip my wine and resume my watching, as he makes the final adjustments to our first meal together. I can't quite believe all this. I'm sitting in a tastefully decorated and furnished kitchen, with the most gorgeous looking man cooking a meal for us. Things like this don't happen to me; people describe me as "mousey" or "who?" My life tends towards the mundane and the unadventurous.

How did I get here? I'd gone into school as usual, but Robyn, the school secretary, collared me at playtime and in her usual forthright manner said,

'He's dumped you, hasn't he?' I felt my eyes starting to fill up and she hustled me to the office. "You know he was all wrong for you."

'I know but I loved him!' Actually I wasn't all that sure that I did, but I felt it was the sort of thing I was expected to say. I'd been seeing Dan for about four months; me thinking we were in a totally monogamous, serious relationship; he shagging everyone in sight! It was really only a matter of time before this discrepancy ended our relationship.

He'd been my first proper boyfriend and I was pretty naive. I'd discovered that I had a good talent for self-delusion -- believing every lie that he told me. He was good-looking and a sharp dresser. I just bought what I needed where I found it, and he was disparaging about my taste in clothes. He was very muscular and went to the gym a lot.

'You know you ought to go out this weekend and show him you don't care.' Robyn was a great one for putting on a brave face.

'No. It's too soon. I'm going to take to my bed this weekend and wallow in misery.'

Which I did, leaving my bed only to make cups of strong tea and buttery toast and trips to the bathroom, otherwise indulging myself in two whole days of glorious self-pity and very loud melancholy music. Naturally, I did a lot of thinking that weekend about my feelings toward Dan and came to some unexpected conclusions.

He was noticed wherever he went; he wasn't tall but he had the looks that people commented on. He had beautiful rich brown wavy hair and dark brown eyes; he was of a similar build to me -- but was fitter and more toned. I felt flattered by his attention but after my weekend wallowing I realised that I didn't actually want to go out with Dan -- I wanted to be Dan. He was everything I'd like to be; handsome, stylish, confident, and so self-assured in everything he did. When I finally brought myself to accuse him of being unfaithful he was surprised. I know that we'd never actually agreed to be exclusive; but I'd presumed we were, but it had never occurred to Dan. He explained that he didn't believe in monogamy; didn't see the point and wasn't looking for a long term relationship. He put it all very nicely and kindly, but I felt a complete fool -- having misread the situation so badly. In the past I'd never felt the need for a long term relationship; but I think that now I was ready -- I'd been alone (and probably lonely) for too long. Dan was not what I was looking for.

Back at school on Monday Robyn detected a change in me,

'Over him?'

How serious had my commitment to Dan been? A weekend of wallowing and I felt fine, which made me feel awful.

'Right! You're coming with me to a drinks party on Friday -- some people from my church have invited me, and I know there will be this other couple there with their son who's just graduated or something. He could be just what you need.' Alarm bells rang. Being set up with someone is never a good idea. Even by someone with as good judgement and taste in men as Robyn.

'He must be quite a bit younger than me,' I tried as a get out.

'Oh no. He's taken gap years and things. You look young for your age anyway.'

Robyn had taken me under her wing when I started as a newly qualified teacher at St. Mark's Primary. She'd been at the school longer than any of the teachers and knew all kinds of ways of circumnavigating the educational establishment to get what was best for her school. She was probably my mother's age, but she dressed and acted in what my mother would have deemed a most inappropriate manner, which was one of the reasons why I loved her. She knew everything that was happening with her small flock of teachers; we confided in her, but she kept all our secrets to herself, and proffered wisdom -- whether it was wanted or not. She was very much in demand at lunch-times in the staff room -- doing her Tarot readings and dispensing herbal remedies. She was very short and very round and wore long gypsy skirts and low cut blouses, revealing her plump cleavage. Robyn had long thick hair, that she regularly henna-ed, so it was always a really bright orangey-red. She had an enormous brown soft leather handbag, out of which she always managed to extract exactly what was needed for the occasion; a pen, a hanky and even on one occasion a bottle opener!

So I wore my favourite jumper and Robyn took me with her and I was introduced to Leo.

'Thank God!' he said quietly, as he took me by the elbow and steered me to the other end of the room. He was skinny and lithe, and moved slowly and deliberately with feline grace, 'Someone under 40!' he said. I'm actually 28, so Robyn was just bolstering me up when she said how young I look.

Anyway, we chatted, and I could not believe my luck in having this Adonis giving me all his attention. Admittedly we were the two youngest people in the room, so I guessed he was making do. I had to really tilt my head upwards to look him in the eye; but spent most of my time looking down at his shoes, which were expensive,brown and shiny in a well-worn way, trying to think of something witty to say. I was so distracted by his good looks and the way he kept touching my arm as we spoke. Before I'd really had chance to say anything interesting myself however, he'd had to leave, his parents were doing the rounds, he was driving them. Resigning myself to a farewell shake of his hand and mumbled pleasantries, I was taken aback when he landed a kiss on my cheek; then I felt his deliciously warm breath against my ear as he asked for my number. And 20 minutes later I got a text from him asking me to come to his for a meal next week!

So here I am, on our first date, waiting for someone to tell me it's all a joke. But I'm feeling unusually optimistic, I'm wearing another of my favourite jumpers, school finishes soon and so I will have six whole weeks of holiday stretching out before me. Leo appears to be free to spend his time how he wants, as long as he is available to drive his parents about, and attend social functions with them. Apparently there's a villa in Tuscany that he could use if he wishes. I'm not counting my chickens -- trying to play it cool -- but I don't want to be too cool -- rarely in my life have I had chickens to count! I want him so much - I am finding it difficult to keep my hands off him -- which isn't like me -- but I've never felt so totally at ease with someone before.

He's wearing a blue and white stripy apron, like a butcher, but I can see his immaculately ironed white shirt and old faded jeans that emphasise his peach-like bum to perfection. His feet are bare in leather flip flops, nicely tanned. (An image of his toes wiggling in the warm soft Tuscan sand gives me a delicious shudder.) He sits down at the table opposite me, long and lean, with razor-sharp cheekbones that I know I will have to trace with my fingertip before too long. Until then I have to be content with occasionally brushing my foot against his leg under the table.

Robyn

Pacing about my tiny flat, Mario Lanza belting out from my stereo (luckily I've been blessed with a deaf neighbour); I think of how I'm so good at giving others advice on their love lives and how I'm so bad at doing myself what I tell others they should do.

'Oh Robyn! What have you done now? You shouldn't have meddled - You should have left things alone. Now they're on a date and I feel so responsible. I hadn't seen Leo for years -- he's so tall and gangly now -- all knees and elbows! I was watching him at Marjory's party and he never stopped talking! I do hope it's going alright.' I realise I'm talking out loud as the cat jumps up alarmed, but she is used to my sudden outbursts and glares at me malevolently and goes back to sleep.

I sit next to her on my old overstuffed green velvet sofa and, in order to distract myself, pick up a photograph album. The photos are of the children from St. Mark's Primary; I'm looking at the one of Leo's class just before they left. He's on the back row, already a head taller than the other children, a mass of black hair and an endearing, crooked smile. I have photos of every class for each year I've been at the school -- let's just say I have many albums. On each child's first day I look into them and see what kind of person they're going to be. I don't know how, maybe I look into their souls, maybe I can read their auras or maybe I'm just a shrewd judge of character. When I looked into four-year-old Leo's eyes I could see mischief, but beyond that, the man he would become, impetuous and passionate, but with great strength of character. I thought he might be good for Jake. I t was only after I'd set things in motion that Marjory told me she'd heard that Leo had been completely wild until very recently. I began to regret the moment I'd interfered. I tell myself to stop fretting. Things have a way of working out. I've done what I've done.

I really want things to work out for Jake; he's such a good man. I knew straight away that he was gay and he was rather embarrassed at that. I soon gathered that he was only just coming to terms with his sexuality, so I didn't make an issue of it. When he first arrived at school he was in need of a friend, all alone in the big city. He'd come to us from his very first job, teaching in a tiny school in the Lake District and Manchester must have seemed like another world to him. He soon settled into school just fine; the children love him, he has such a natural way with them.

He's been here about four years now and I don't think he set foot in Canal Street for the first two. I kept encouraging him to out and have fun; I thought he must have been so lonely. He used to come out with us 'girls' from school, but I so wanted him to find a boyfriend. One time I persuaded the gang to go to a gay club -- I think us girls enjoyed that night more than Jake did, some of us were rather badly behaved: but this foray did give him the confidence to go back the following weekend -- on his own. I found it difficult when he was seeing Dan, because even though I was glad he'd found someone, I knew they weren't compatible. He introduced Dan so proudly to me. Dan the heart-breaker -- he wasn't going to settle down -- he's one of those people who crave the next new thing -- always looking out for the next person. But Jake was smitten. When the end came though, he coped better than I thought he would -- I think he must have known really.

I'd been out with a few Dans in my time, but sometimes that what you need -- a boost of uncomplicated lust. As long as you both realise that's what it is. There is a rather dashing American widower who has started at the Bridge Club, but I'm not alone in spotting him. Attractive eligible men are few and far between when you get to my age, and there's a whole battery of women inviting him out and bringing him home-made cakes. Battle lines are being drawn.

On my way into the kitchen to make a cup of tea Mendelssohn's Wedding March starts to emanate from my handbag, making me jump. I rummage around and finally find my mobile.

'A text!' peering at the tiny screen. I have to put my glasses on, which I have recently taken to wearing on a chain around my neck as I seem to need them more and more often these days.

"Have just eaten spag bog -- not too messy! Hope Leo has something exciting for dessert! xx"

I feel some of my anxiety subside and poor tabby leaps up in the air as I voice my relief;

'Thank goodness for that!' I decide to abandon the tea and have a celebratory brandy instead!

Darragh

'Was that Leo ringing again? Wanting moral support?' I nod, in answer. I'm sitting at the kitchen table, eating my supper of Lancashire Crumbly and oatcakes and a bottle of Thwaites Thoroughbred. Leo's life has always lurched from drama to drama. For some reason tonight is a big deal for him; he's invested so much in this evening. I don't know how many times he's rung today stressing over every little detail. At first I thought he meant a proper date; but he's back to his old ways it would seem.

With Jen and I it was simple -- our eyes literally met across a crowded room -- and it was love at first sight. Now it takes something for a cynical chap like myself to admit that. But there we were, at some party being given by a mutual friend, and as I came into the room, she came down the stairs, our eyes met, my stomach and legs turned to jelly and she flashed the most amazing smile that seemed to light up the whole room! I don't remember what she was wearing, only her beautiful face, tanned from being outdoors, long brown hair falling all around, her huge grey eyes and the most captivating smile. It sounds terribly corny and clichéd, but that's exactly how it was. Jen will tell you the same, only it was my sexy green eyes that unravelled her!

Since he came back from Uncle Robert's in the spring, Leo has been much calmer and more self-possessed and even seems to be getting on with our parents better, he's even living in one of the 'student' houses that the parents have invested in.

Despite this, Leo's been on the phone all week, alternating, between saying he was going to ring up and cancel his date and that he couldn't wait, back and forth, changing his mind. I kept telling him it was just a date and if things didn't work out it wouldn't matter. He says he's cooking spaghetti bolognaise -- I didn't even know he could cook. This evening marks a change. He's never talked to me much about his personal life before -- I'm not at all sure about this evening. Previously he just seems to have existed on a series of sexual encounters. That sort of thing has never appealed to me. But Leo's life has been so haphazard and disorganised that maybe that lifestyle suited him. I keep hoping he'll meet the right girl and settle down.

I've always had to boost his confidence and even as a child, Leo looked to me for guidance and on many occasion I've had to act as a buffer between our parents and Leo. Leo hasn't always made the best choices in life and I've quite often had a struggle to paint him in a good light. I have tried to shield them from the worst excesses in Leo's behaviour, whilst trying to reassure Leo that everything will turn out fine -- sometimes trying to convince myself along with him.

Halfway through the Sixth Form and Leo had been on the verge of being expelled. He and another boy, Simon, who I believe, had a previously unblemished record, had been caught smoking in the toilets.

'We were just smoking weed,' Leo affected such a look of wide-eyed innocence that I felt that I was missing something. Our father had made rather a large donation to the school library fund and whereas Leo found himself completing his A Levels, Simon did not return after the holidays.

Leo has been responsible for some of the scariest moments in my life. When Leo was in his third year at university, drifting along, wasting his time: One evening I was trying to make Leo sort out his life, trying to make him see that he had to have some kind of plan, even if just for the short term. I kept on and on at him to take responsibility for his life, when Leo started to behave erratically, scribbling over and over again on the notebook in front of him, swaying back and forth. I was really frightened when he started hallucinating, couldn't bear anyone to touch him, or even look at him, and became totally paranoid, convinced that people were watching him. I thought he was having some kind of breakdown and after a great deal of persuasion, I was able to take him to the A&E, where they kept him in overnight. I was allowed to stay with him, sleeping in a little camp bed next to his bed, totally freaked out by the whole experience, but somehow managing to keep it all together for Leo. The following morning a doctor said Leo had suffered a psychotic episode brought on by amphetamine abuse and suggested he lay off the speed. I didn't know whether to be angry or relieved, so settled on both.

That was the second night I'd spent as sentinel for Leo in hospital. Some years previously Leo had 'won' a drinking contest, drinking himself into unconsciousness. Thankfully one of his friends had been sober enough to realise the state Leo was in and had called both the ambulance and me. I'd spent that night in the chair by his bedside, my heart breaking and an overwhelming sense of helplessness filling my whole being, watching my baby brother being re-hydrated on a drip. Leo was only just eighteen then, just a child really. I watched him as he slept, his face still full of innocence and ignorance.

Unlike Leo, I've always had a good relationship with our parents. I know I shouldn't feel guilty because I've found my way in the world easily; I've done everything that has been expected of me, because it was what I'd wanted to do. I've found praise and parental support naturally for doing what I wanted to do; a job I love and marrying the girl of my dreams. Our parents quite often despaired that poor wayward Leo would ever get 'on track', had previously pretty much washed their hands of him. It's like they didn't look at him properly, just saw him askance. At his graduation they must have noticed his face when they came to the ceremony, but they never said a word. Looking at his graduation photo, it breaks my heart -- he's smiling but you can still see bruising and grazes, despite the judicious use of make-up. I have made sure that I have always been there for him, giving him love and support. Perhaps to ease my guilty conscience.

'I hope Leo's going to turn out alright, Jen,' I sit down on the sofa, nestling close to my gorgeous wife. She rests her hand on my thigh and pats it reassuringly.

Leo

'That was gorgeous! I wouldn't have thought that using fresh basil would make so much of a difference.'

'Thank you, that's very sweet of you!'

Spaghetti bolognaise is about the only thing I can really cook. It's easy to do and the raw ingredients are so unassuming and unexciting but the end result is something special. The flavours of garlic, tomatoes, good quality beef and, of course, fresh basil all cook down together to make such a strong robust dish. And it's always worth opening a good red wine to put a generous glassful in. The colour of the sauce is always so intense, such a passionate red.