He picked up a chunk of what looked like cheddar and broke it in two, the pale cheese crumbling between his thumb and forefinger as he examined it before placing it in his mouth. It was indecent for a man to have such soft-looking lips but I couldn’t stop myself from wishing I was that piece of cheese. As the thought passed through my mind, I pushed my glass of wine away. Clearly, I’d had more than enough.
‘What else?’ he mused, covering his mouth with his hand as he chewed then swallowed. ‘I’m the same as you, work, sleep and eat. I like to play football when I’ve got time but I had to quit my Sunday League team because of work.’
‘What about your friends?’ I prompted. ‘Family?’
He cocked his head to one side as he munched his cheese. ‘You already know Dave.’
‘And the less said about him the better. Family?’
‘You’ve met Mum and Dad, both retired now. Mum worked at a charity shop in town, Dad was a farmer.’
‘A farmer, really?’
A farmer meant a farm. A farm meant adorableanimals and freshly laid eggs and probably not baby goats at this time of year but a woman could dream. Callum, on the other hand, didn’t look nearly as thrilled.
‘Fourth-generation dairy farmer. Prepare yourself to hear what a disappointment I am because I don’t want to live in the middle of nowhere up to my eyes in manure for the rest of my life.’
‘Well, when you put it like that,’ I replied, my fantasies fading away. ‘You mentioned a sister?’
‘Elsie, yes, two years younger, she works with Dad on the farm, lives in a cottage next door,’ he said as he speared a second piece of cheese. ‘And I’ve a younger brother, Rory. He’s at university in Glasgow.’
‘Studying what?’
‘Alcohol poisoning, mostly. He’s twenty-bloody-four but every year he changes his mind about what he wants to do and starts a new degree.’
‘Sounds fun,’ I said, picking up my spoon and digging into my dessert. It was so much better than the neeps and tatties. If there was such a thing as a shit sticky toffee pudding, I had yet to meet it.
‘You don’t need to worry about any of that.’ Callum grabbed a grape and popped it in his mouth. ‘Or at least heartless, callow Caroline doesn’t. The less you know the better, I think. What about you? You said your mum and dad are away for Christmas?’
I took one more bite of my dessert, savouring the sweet sponge and custard. No point putting it off any longer, time to get the uncomfortable conversation out of the way.
‘Dad is. With his wife. My mum died when I was thirteen.’
‘Laura, I’m sorry.’
A momentary look of embarrassment I recognised very well coloured Callum’s expression.
‘Don’t apologise, really.’
I set down at my spoon and tucked my hair back behind my ears, all at once thirteen again. ‘It’s been fifteen years, I’m OK. The worst part is having to tell people, you never know how they’re going to react. You’d think we’d be better at talking about death as a species by now – spoiler alert, we’re all going to have to deal with it at some point.’
Callum didn’t answer right away. Instead he studied me with that same intent look I’d seen when I told him about my job.
‘Is that why you’re a doctor?’ he asked.
Wannabe pastry chef, Clapham resident, haggis connoisseur and more insightful than I’d given him credit for.
‘She died of an aneurysm,’ I said, nodding. ‘It was such a shock, I found it really hard to accept at the time. One of my teachers suggested reading up on the causes to help me make sense of everything. Learning how brains work, what causes neurological events … Losing my mum will never make sense but understanding the medical reasoning ofhowit happened did help.’
‘And now you’re helping other people.’
The look of quiet awe that widened his eyes and softened his smile only made me look away again.
‘Do you want to try this?’ I offered, thrusting the bowl across the table. ‘It’s very good.’
‘No, thanks,’ he held up a declining hand. ‘I’m a self-confessed snob when it comes to pudding, can’t help it, one of the perils of the job.’
‘All the more for me,’ I shrugged, scooping up another delicious mouthful. ‘What did you do before you were accepted into culinary school?’
