Together they leaned on the parapet of the wall, in the comfortable silence of good friends. Anna felt her heart tilt with gratitude. She reached out and took Leo’s hand.
‘Thank you for being my friend,’ she said.
Leo paused for a moment before he squeezed her hand and then leaned in to kiss her cheek. ‘Being friends with you is easy. I…’ She saw him swallow in the half shadow of the buildings and there was the briefest of pauses before he added, ‘Thanks for being my friend, too.’
What he had been going to say? Friends was as good as it got and she had to accept that much. She’d opened herself up, that night in thechata, and he’d turned her down. He’d drawn the line and she had to stay on the right side of it.
ChapterTwenty-Four
On the morning of the dinner that had gone from a simple supper, a thank you to their neighbours, to a full-on three-course dinner party for nine, Anna returned from the hairdresser, bouncing along on happy feet, thrilled with her new hairstyle. She now had lots of layers and a gently feathered fringe that sat above her eyes, instead of the heavy curtains that skimmed either side of her face.
When she saw herself in the large oval mirror, surrounded by scented lotions and potions that sweetened the air, she looked younger and, oddly enough, happier. It was as if, like a snake, she’d sloughed off an old skin. Slipped out of square-shaped Anna into oval-shaped Anna. She felt so much lighter – as if she’d shed more than her hair.
And though she hadn’t done it for anyone but herself, she was looking forward to Leo’s reaction when he saw her.
He was in the kitchen when she ran lightly up the stairs, his back to her, peeling carrots.
‘Hi, Leo,’ she said.
‘Hey,’ he said without turning round.
‘How are you doing?’ she asked, standing poised in the doorway.
‘Good. Onions chopped. And the beef smells great.’ Before she’d gone out she’d left the beef, which she’d scored with shallow cuts and filled with bacon, to marinade in a delicious-smelling blend of melted butter, thyme, garlic and marjoram.
Still he didn’t turn around and she waited as he sliced the carrots into small pieces.
‘You’ve been busy,’ she said for want of anything to say.
‘Yup.’ Finally he turned around and she smiled at him, waiting for his response. To her surprise his face tightened – infinitesimally, but it was there – and then, as if nothing had happened, he carried on. ‘I’ve chopped the onions, peeled and chopped the carrots, chopped the celery for the sauce.’
‘Great,’ she said, swallowing her disappointment. ‘I’ll get started on the pudding, then.’ She had a simple dough, of flour, butter, eggs and sugar, to make the base of the tart, which would then be topped with fresh plums and part-baked before she added a mixture of egg yolks, icing sugar and cream, and baked for a further twenty minutes.
They had decided upon the menu together over the last few nights, finally coming up with marinated cheese to start with, followed bySvícková na smetane, beef tenderloin with traditional root-vegetable sauce, and bread dumplings, and for dessert a plum tart. They had divided up the list of tasks the night before. It was quite an ambitious menu, given they were cooking Czech food for the first time, but Anna was hoping that although there was a lot to do, it would be quite straightforward.
With an internal sigh, she washed her hands and started assembling the ingredients for her dough.
‘Nice hair, by the way,’ said Leo, reaching into the cupboard beside her, barely glancing her way.
‘Thanks,’ she replied, wilting a little inside. Was it her imagination or was his tone begrudging? As if the words had to be forced out. What had she been expecting? It was hardly a Clark Kent to Superman transformation, after all, but it had made her feel special. She thought Leo, with his innate empathy, might have noticed that inner glow and commented. Perhaps he wasn’t as in tune with her as she liked to think.
She watched as he melted butter in the frying pan and slid in the onions, her eyes focusing on the flex of his forearms like some sort of lovesick teenager. Her skin itched, she was so aware of him.
Leo glanced up and she looked away quickly, turning to crack eggs into the dry mix for her dough, but fumbled and missed the bowl. An egg fell with a splat on the tiles. They both stared down at it for a moment. Leo grabbed a cloth and knelt to clean it up as she dropped to the floor with a piece of kitchen paper. They ended up on their knees, nose to nose over the broken egg, their eyes meeting for a few long-drawn-out seconds. Neither of them said anything, the sudden tension as thick as fog. Anna stared into Leo’s eyes, unable to break her gaze. He stared back, his eyes dropping to her lips. She felt herself sway forward, the magnetic northern pull of his lips towards hers. A dull ache of longing spread through her chest. Then, with a snap, Leo straightened and scrambled to his feet. ‘I think you’ve got this,’ he said and busied himself rinsing the unused cloth under the tap.
As the goosebumps subsided on her skin. Anna applied herself to the task with the diligence of a worker bee in a hive.
They carried on their respective tasks in silence for the next few minutes. Anna felt as if the atmosphere between them was stretched taut, like an elastic band close to snapping.
‘Want me to chop the bread for the dumplings? asked Leo.
‘Thanks.’ And then to fill the silence, she added, ‘They’re in the breadbin.’
He glanced at her. ‘I know. I put them there last night.’ He turned away again, the quiet between them so charged, the air almost crackled.
As he worked, the rasp and cut of the knife on the stale bread grated on her nerves. His moves quick and sharp. Each chop filled the air, almost as if he was deliberately trying to rub her up the wrong way.
In retaliation she pounded at her dough, working out the frustration chafing her body. He didn’t need to make it so obvious that the thought of kissing her was so unwelcome. With the dough mixed, she almost savaged it as she rolled it out to fit in the tart tin.
