The Dinner Party

Maureen Neil

The Dinner Party by Maureen Neil

I don't know what possessed, me I could not even cook; I have learnt to do so since then from my long suffering husband. But back to the day I duly invited my new man friend for dinner, so what's so wrong about that? Well he was new and I was a divorcee with 2 children one very obedient boy and one naughty little girl.

I had the day off; it was a Wednesday, children at school, so went to the butchers to get something for the tea, came out with gigot chops, got the veggies and potatoes. Now this was the early eighties and we were a struggling one parent family who never drank wine never mind on a school night, so milk it would have to be, not a very glamorous dinner party more just come for your tea, that was what I had said, so that's fine.

House looking nice have spent hours cleaning - don't want to appear to be slovenly, but not too tidy - don't want to create a don't touch, everything in its place palace, that would be off putting too, as if two children were not enough. Anyway sure they will behave - son has had a word with his little sister she has promised to be on her best behaviour.

So now prepare the tea as we call it on the council scheme, we don't have lunch and dinner we have dinner and tea, but he is a wee bit posh so he would probably call it dinner. He will also probably expect wine or at least something to drink but the budget won't run to this so tough! Panic begins to set in but I must not overspend so stick to my decision. Have a look at the gigot chops, think god why did I pick these I have never cooked them in my life before. So decide to put them in the oven with onions in a dish for say around an hour, they should be cooked by then.

Tea is at 6pm the table is set albeit in a corner in the living room. Children are washed and dressed and looking gorgeous and angelic, now for me; quick change and looking... well not too bad. He arrives right on time with sweets for the children and flowers for me, so kind and very like him. As by this time the chops are nearly cremated I get everyone to the table, serve dinner including the glasses of milk and hope he doesn't mind too much.

Alas the chops are very tough; my daughter announces she cannot eat them, I am near to tears and he is being so kind, eating his tea and drinking his milk. Then my usually well behaved son takes a drink of milk and spits it out all over the table. I just want to die and go straight to heaven; or even hell would do. Demanding an explanation for this outrage, my son blurts out there is salt in his milk, I look round at the man I am so trying to impress and he is nodding his head, oh god his too and he drank half of it. While all the commotion is going on my darling naughty little girl has vanished. We soon find out where she is as the new man tries to get up from the table, she is below the table and has tied his shoelaces to the table leg!

Fortunately this story has a happy ending and 22 years later we are still together and married and he made a wonderful step-father; but who would have blamed him for taking to his heels and running for the hills?