‘I’m up for dessert,’ Wanda announced.
Henry laid a finger on her wrist, where it seared her flesh. ‘I hope you don’t mind but I ordered a special dessert for us. It’ll be right along.’ He lifted his other hand, sending a waitress scurrying towards the kitchen.
‘What is it?’ Martha asked.
‘Figs.’
Martha looked taken aback, which was exactly how Wanda felt. Figs?
Henry explained. ‘Fresh green Smyrna figs, slit open and some of the pulp scooped out. They’re filled with raw Demerara sugar that has been supersaturated with dark 180-proof rum. Then they are wrapped in foil and baked so that the aroma penetrates the flesh.’
Kitty, under her breath, whispered, ‘Penetrates the flesh.’
Wanda couldn’t help but echo, ‘Penetrates the flesh.’ She and Kitty exchanged sly glances and didn’t giggle.
Henry continued. ‘Once they are out of the oven, they are opened, topped with clotted cream and served very quickly, while the hot and cold still contrast. I think you’ll find them amusing. If not, there’s an ample dessert buffet to choose from.’
‘I’ve never heard of that dish,’ Wanda admitted. ‘What’s it called?’
‘I haven’t named it yet. If you like it, perhaps it will be “Figs Wanda”.’
‘Your recipe?’
‘The chef here allows me to dabble.’
Oh! He likes to dress up. He cooks fancy desserts. Please, please, please don’t let him be gay!
The chef himself appeared, complete with his high hat and check pants, and served them each with a single cream-slathered fig in a cut-glass coupe. Henry thanked him. He bowed to the table and retreated to his domain.
Wanda picked up her dessert fork. As she prodded through the cream, a perfume that could have got her drunk just from breathing deeply burst up at her. She dug in and scooped a morsel out. Oh! It did things on her tongue, soothing things, but exciting things. Her sinuses seemed to sigh. Beneath her tongue, saliva pooled. Wanda sucked in a deep breath. It tingled all the way down into her lungs. Perhaps deeper.
‘How do you like it?’ Henry asked.
Everyone but Wanda proclaimed their approval. She was too busy enjoying the contrast of texture between clotted cream and tiny smooth fig seeds. Eventually, she managed to breathe, ‘Divine!’
Kitty added, ‘Devilishly so! Figs Diablo?’
For a while, the table was quiet as all devoured Henry’s creations. That seemed to make the noise from the other table louder. There was a squeal of chair legs on hardwood as one of the oafs twisted round to glare at Henry.
‘Hey, you, sailor boy! You got four fine-lookin’ bitches there and we got none. That’s no fair! Send ’em over to us and we’ll show ’em how real men treat their women.’
Henry dabbed at his lips with a napkin, set it down carefully and stood up. ‘I suggest that you and your friends pay your bill and leave.’ His voice was soft and calm.
‘Oh yeah?’ The hooligan snatched his glass beer mug up and cracked it down on the edge of his table, leaving a glittering multi-bladed weapon in his trembling fist.
Wanda stood in fear for her fiancé, though what she could do was beyond her.
The man swung shards of glass at Henry’s face. Henry brushed it aside with his left hand and looped his right fist up and over to slam down on the man’s cheek, driving him to his knees. He swayed, then toppled to lie there, face distorted, eyes closed, blood trickling from his nose and bubbling from the corner of his mouth.
Henry looked at the man’s three companions. ‘I repeat, I suggest that you pay your bill and leave.’
The three looked at each other sheepishly. One said, ‘George was drunk.’
‘And so are you,’ Henry observed. ‘And now George is on the floor.’
The three tossed bills onto the table. Two of them lifted George by his armpits and dragged him out, followed by the third.
Wanda wrapped her arms around her hero’s arm. ‘That was magnificent,’ she told him.
Lucinda, Martha and Kitty all added their praise, but it was Wanda who got to hold him close. Under his sleeve, his arm was massive and unyielding.
The maître d’
‘Not your fault,’ Henry assured him. ‘Better clear their table and take care of the broken glass, right?’
‘Of course! Immediately!’ He hustled away.
Wanda said, ‘The least he could have done after that incident is comp you our meals, Henry.’
Martha laughed. ‘He couldn’t very well do that, you silly girl. Henry owns this restaurant. He won’t be given a bill.’
Henry fixed Wanda’s mother with a look that Wanda hoped would never be aimed at her. ‘Martha, unless someone had told her, how could Wanda be expected to know that? In other circumstances, she’d be absolutely right. It would have been totally appropriate.’
Martha looked down, blushing. She mumbled something that might have been an apology to Wanda.
What a man! He tackles hooligans without blinking and he defends her against her mother, a much more courageous feat. How could a girl not love a man like that? And, as for doubting his masculinity, how utterly ridiculous that was!
Chapter Five
After brunch, Henry had a meeting. Martha and Lucinda decided to take in some art galleries, or so they said, between giggles. Wanda had her suspicions. Kitty was at a loose end and obviously hinting, so Wanda asked her if she’d like to help her shop for Western gear, for the upcoming long weekend. It turned out that Henry’s childhood friend knew exactly where to shop for stretch-fit jeans and denim short-shorts, plus a couple each of clinging micro- and hobbling-tight maxi-skirts that she promised would ‘drive him crazy with lust’ when combined with check shirts that tied to leave her midriff bare and high-heeled Western boots.
‘How does Henry look when he’s “driven crazy with lust”?’ Wanda asked Kitty, nervous about the answer.
‘You’ll see,’ was the calm reply. ‘He doesn’t go all red and slobbering, like some men, but you’ll see it in his eyes, if you haven’t already.’
‘So you’ve seen what he looks like “in heat”?’ Wanda asked.
Kitty slapped Wanda’s rear. ‘No need to be jealous, Wanda. He and I have double dated, not as a couple but as the other halves of other couples, if you get me.’
Wanda nodded, unsure.
‘You didn’t think he was a virgin, did you?’
‘Of course not.’
‘And nor are you, right? Sauce for the goose, as they say. Anyway, not to worry. I’ve seen him look at you in ways I’ve never seen him look at any other woman. I could almost envy you.’
‘Why don’t you?’
‘He’s my cousin, silly!’
‘You two wouldn’t be the first cousins …’
‘Nor the last. Let’s change the subject.