Do angels cook?

we’ve just stepped out of Lyon & Turnbull and …”

She cut him short. “Oh, I know, I know. Existentialism. I know all that.” “Well, then …”

“It’s just that I feel that something’s about to happen to me.”

He hesitated. “You’re not feeling dread, are you?”

She seemed surprised. “Dread? Why should I feel dread?”

He explained that sometimes that was what people felt. They experienced a sudden moment of dread when they thought of just how helpless they were in the face of … in the face of what? The world? The ultimate pointlessness of human existence?

But Pat was not feeling dread; nor fear; nor trembling. It was something else, and she could not explain it to Matthew because she was not sure that she understood it herself. So she looked at her case. “But I really should get going.” “Because?”

“Why because?”

He did not want her to go. “Because you’re going out to dinner this evening? Or cooking for somebody and have to get the stuff?”

She shook her head. “I’m not going out. I was just going to make something for myself.”

“You could have dinner at our place. Elspeth would love to see you.” He had not thought about the invitation and he had no idea what Elspeth had planned, but she liked Pat and he could always offer to do the cooking himself. Or James could, although he had cooked for the last three nights in a row.

Pat hesitated. “Elspeth might have other plans.”

Matthew shook his head. “I could phone her. Should I do that?”

Pat looked up at the sky. The vapour “And James? Have you met James yet? He’s our au pair.”

Pat shook her head. “I didn’t know they made male au pairs.”

“They do. And we’ve got one. He’s amazing. He cooks like an angel.”

Pat frowned. “Why do people say that? Cooks like an angel. Do angels cook?”

“I haven’t really looked at the iconography,” Matthew replied. “They’re usually depicted hanging about in choirs. But I suppose some of them cook.”

“And James can?”

“Yes. And he’s really good at other things. He’s fantastic with the boys. You should see him – they worship the ground he walks on.”

“That must be useful.” Matthew nodded. “I think you’ll like him.”

Pat said nothing. Cooks like an angel. She was thinking of what it would be like to have somebody in the kitchen – a man, yes, a man in the kitchen – cooking for you. And then when the man had finished cooking he would serve you whatever it was that he had cooked and you would taste it and say This is divine! And perhaps add, You cook like an angel, you know. And he would smile, and say, I love cooking for you. And then he would put on some music and say, I know this is really corny, but couldn’t we dance? And you would say, Why not? And he would take your hand and you would dance right there, in the kitchen and it wouldn’t matter that your flatmates had left the washing up in the sink and there was a cup with lipstick stains around the rim and the food waste bin needed emptying …

Matthew was looking at her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I was just thinking.” And then, quite casually, “This James … why is he your au pair? I mean, what’s he doing? Learning English?”

“His English is fine,” said Matthew, smiling.

“So?”

“So, he’s on a gap year.”

Pat sighed. Too young. Cooks like an angel, but is still a cherub …

“But he’s amazingly mature,” said Matthew.