Read Online The Waitress by Melissa Nathan - Free Book Online Page B

arm, ‘you must meet everyone. This is Basher, this is Toby and this is Foxy.’ The three guests acknowledged her with politely interested nods and varying widths of smile. ‘And of course,’ he continued jovially, nodding to Cliffie and Maurice, ‘you know those two rascals.’ Cliffie grabbed her in a brotherly arm-lock and then darted out of the way before she elbowed him in the ribs.
    ‘Right,’ said Sydney, clapping his big red hands together, ‘time for a pre-lunch drink, I think.’ And suddenly, as if by magic, the men disappeared.
    ‘What’s wrong with Basher’s head?’ whispered Bea.
    ‘I think that’s his face,’ replied Katie.
    ‘Quiet, girls’ said Deanna, ‘and help me with the vegetables.’
    It was at the table that Katie had the opportunity to examine thoroughly why she didn’t want to marry any of these men. Basher ate like a horse, Toby’s idea of Women’s Lib meant letting women out to do flower-arranging ‘if they showed an aptitude’ and Foxy was so-called because if you looked really carefully you could see his nasal hairs came out at such an angle that they looked like whiskers. But most importantly, none of them were Dan.
    After lunch, Sydney appeared in the kitchen.
    ‘Well?’ he asked Katie, clearly proud of his potential date selection. Before she had to answer, Deanna swept in front of her.
    ‘Come on with you,’ she told her husband, tight-lipped, almost brushing him out of the room with her hand like she would unsightly dust. ‘Out from under our feet. We’ve work to do. We’ve just served a four-course lunch for eight and you’re in here with your “Well?”’
    Sydney moved out of the way to give the women more room to clear the kitchen, his contribution to Sunday lunch. ‘Toby’s great-uncle’s an Earl,’ he whispered excitedly over Deanna’s head at Katie, as he reached the door.
    ‘And his mother’s a horse, by the looks of things,’ Deanna retorted, flushed with heat and exertion. ‘Get along with you. She’s got a date tonight with a nice boy from Oxford, stop interfering.’
    ‘Oh really?’ said Sydney, body half out of the room, ‘and what does his father do?’
    ‘Minds his own business, probably,’ scolded his wife. ‘Get out of my kitchen or there’ll be no tea.’
    Sydney winked at Katie and tapped his nose before the door was shut firmly behind him.
    Katie put down the cutlery she was drying. ‘Thanks Mum,’ she said. ‘I was starting to have nasty visions of an arranged marriage there.’
    ‘Arranged marriage my
foot
,’ said Deanna. ‘I’m not having my daughter married off like some pig at auction.’
    ‘Thanks, Mum.’
    ‘Not until you’ve got a career to fall back on.’
    ‘Oooh!’ said Bea suddenly. ‘It’s kicking!’ She turned to face her mother and sister and sure enough, her bulge was dancing its own little rumba.
    ‘Ooh!’ echoed Katie. ‘It’s going to be a dancer!’
    ‘No it’s
not
!’ retorted Bea fiercely. ‘Rugby, centre back.’
    ‘Won’t she get teased about that at ballet?’ asked Katie.
    They looked again at the amazing dancing tummy, before Bea replied, fondly stroking her bump, ‘It’s a boy, I just know it.’
    They all beamed the same Simmonds smile and silently made the same vow with God that they didn’t mind if it was a boy or girl, as long as it was healthy and didn’t have its father’s chin.
    At three o’clock that afternoon, about the time that Katie set off back from Glossop, the London sky gave up all pretence of providing any light. And Sukie could hold out no longer. She knew it was frowned upon, but if Greta had not wanted to be phoned at home, she wouldn’t have given out her home number.
    It only rang once.
    ‘Greta Michaels?’
    ‘Greta, it’s me, Sukie.’
    ‘Sukie, darling. Everything all right?’
    ‘Yes I’m fine. Sorry to phone you at home –’
    ‘What’s up?’
    ‘I just –’
    ‘Did you get the voice-over?’
    ‘Yes, I just –’
    ‘Well