Story for today: A Dinner Party

Though I say it myself, I have turned into a reasonably good cook. Cooking for one presents challenges, not least summoning up the energy to do it at all, when it’s easier to order take-away or warm up a ready meal. Lapin au vin is my signature dish, a fragrant rabbit stew; I used to cook it for Jenna sometimes on Sundays.

Tonight is my first dinner party, though, and I have to admit I am feeling nervous. Of course, it’s only Jake and Serena – a toe in the water you might say. I like my sister- in-law, but she talks for England! I’m hoping that’ll fill any awkward gaps in the conversation.

Now the bell is ringing and I usher them in, take their coats and fuss with drinks. Serena is in full flight. “I haven’t seen the flat since you redecorated. It’s been ages…”

She wanders into the dining room, stops abruptly. It hasn’t changed: the walls are still scarlet, the ceiling black with the lamp hanging off-centre. We had so much fun planning that. I’ve put the little mirrored table in the corner. It’s what Jenna said she wanted to do, before she… left.

Yes, I bought it. After her last, interrupted phone call I didn’t know what to do. Then the phone rang, it was the owner of some antique shop in Brighton. He’d found a mobile, he said, and rang ‘home’, hoping to contact the person who had lost it. I went down to Brighton, of course, but it wasn’t any use. Jenna had just vanished. The only clue I had to go on was a small hand print on the glass of a dusty mirror. I was sure it was hers.

The dinner party is going well. Jake and I are exchanging stories of childhood escapades. Serena is babbling on about celebrity gossip and the latest episode of Game of Thrones.

Every now and again I glance at the mirrored table. I have covered it with stuff: an art deco table lamp, a collection of black glassware, a ‘30s cigarette lighter that Jen fell in love with, even though neither of us smokes. I can’t wait for the dinner to end.

At last they are making home-go noises. I get their coats with what I hope isn’t too much alacrity, and wave them on their way with hugs and kisses.

I go back into the dining room. Carefully I move all the stuff off the mirrored table, slowly I place my palm on the shining surface. For an instant the mirror seems to cloud, the shadow of a hand seems to brush mine.

One day, I know, I will see Jenna’s beloved face again.