‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I don’t seem to have a menu.’
‘None of us have menus,’ said Nathan. ‘I believe our hosts have got a little surprise planned for us, in that respect. And we should find out what it is in —’ he glanced at his watch ‘— roughly ten seconds.’
Sure enough, ten seconds later, a remarkable thing happened.
From the centre of each table, a circular section was removed, like a little trap door, by hands at first invisible; and through each resulting aperture a man’s head appeared. Sixty different men’s heads, at sixty different tables. The rest of their bodies remained beneath the tables, hidden from view. A ripple of surprise and admiration went around the room.
At table number 11, the head was crowned by a mop of red hair. The head swivelled around slowly through 360 degrees, and each of the twelve guests found themselves being stared at in turn by a pair of piercing green eyes framed by large, owl-like horn-rimmed spectacles.
‘Good evening,’ said the head. ‘My name is Dorian, and I will be your talking menu tonight. I will be here all evening, to tell you about the food, and to answer any food-related questions. I’m afraid I cannot talk to you about any other subject. Nor, sadly, am I allowed to eat or drink any of the delicious items with which you are about to be presented. Don’t feel too sorry for me, please, I am being well paid for my work tonight, and I will be taking home a generous doggy bag. And so, without further ado, allow me to introduce the first item on tonight’s succulent smorgasbord. Ladies and gentlemen, prepare your palates for a selection of our chef’s amazing amuse-bouches!’
Right on cue, a team of waiters and waitresses glided towards the table. The plates laid down in front of the eager diners contained three small, exquisitely crafted items of uncertain provenance. Dorian proceeded to explain.
‘First of all, ladies and gentlemen, you have a cured-beet and Scottish salmon Napoleon with Bibb lettuce, topped with Beluga caviar and marinated in a cumquat distillation. We think you will find it both acerbic and whimsical. Next to that, you will find a cold potato-truffle soup with a hot, butter-poached Yukon Gold potato, parmesan, black truffle, and sea salt of a notorious astringency, especially garnered from the seas around the famous Kwajalein Atoll in the Marshall Islands. And last but not least, throw yourselves upon a periwig of Kumamoto oysters, served with a green apple mignonette dusted with coriander and a fennel-cilantro salad with ponzu dressing.’
Wondering if the food itself could possibly live up to the sensory expectation aroused by these descriptions, the guests sat with their forks poised over their plates, their mouths filling with juices.
‘Any questions, before we start?’
‘Erm … what exactly,’ said the chat show host, ‘is ponzu dressing?’
‘Ponzu, sir,’ said Dorian, ‘is a citrus-based brown sauce from Japan. Not at all uncommon, I’m sure you’ve had it many times before. The word literally means “vinegar punch”.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I have another question,’ said Ryan Quirky. ‘Some oysters are known for their aphrodisiac qualities. Is this true of Kumamoto oysters?’
‘Sir,’ answered Dorian, ‘it is especially true of this variety.’
And with that, they began to eat. But Nathan noticed that Lucinda left her oysters on the side of her plate.
*
Between the main course and the dessert, Josephine slipped outside, ostensibly to have a cigarette but in reality because she could not stand making conversation with Helke for a moment longer. It was cold in Centenary Square, and her breath steamed in the air as she fumbled in her handbag, first for her packet of cigarettes and then, at greater length, for her lighter, which she seemed to have mislaid.
‘Oh, fuck it!’ she said out loud.
‘Do you want a light?’ someone said, stepping out of the shadows.
It was Selena, the waitress, who was also having a quick smoke.
‘Oh. Thank you. That’s very kind,’ said Josephine, too flustered and annoyed to feel particularly grateful.
‘No problem.’ She offered Josephine the end of her own cigarette. ‘Nippy, isn’t it?’
‘Well, that’s what you get for trekking up to the frozen North, I suppose.’
Selena smiled, but said nothing to this.
‘Enjoying the show in there?’
‘I suppose they’ve made an effort. The talking menus are original, at least.’
‘It’s given an evening’s work to a lot of out-of-work actors, that’s for sure.’
Josephine had no wish to get into conversation with this person. This whole evening, which she had thought would be merely tedious, was turning into a nightmare. She looked around her at the unfamiliar cityscape, the steady flow of evening traffic stopping and starting at the lights on Broad Street, the groups of cheaply dressed, rather threatening (she thought) teenagers wandering backwards and forwards past the library, and cursed the organizers for dragging her up here. Birmingham! What were they thinking? OK, so it was a fancy building all right, but still, that didn’t justify forcing her to spend a night in this dismal hell-hole. She would definitely have a word with the steering committee about it at breakfast tomorrow.
‘Queueing up to work here tonight, people were,’ Selena continued. ‘I was lucky to be chosen.’
‘Mm,’ said Josephine, not listening.
‘My girlfriend applied, too. But they didn’t want her.’
‘Really.’
‘Shame, ’cos she was hoping, with all these art people here, she might have met someone useful, you know?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘You write for the papers, don’t you?’
‘Who told you that?’
‘One of the girls in the kitchen. I never read the papers these days, to be honest. Too depressing.’
‘Yes, well, I don’t write about art, so if you want any favours you’re wasting your time.’
‘Sure. Whatever.’ Selena fell silent, but not for long. ‘She’s really talented, though.’
‘Sorry, who?’
‘My girlfriend. She does portraits. Mainly of homeless people.’
‘How very fascinating and … worthy of her.’
‘But not ordinary portraits. She makes them pose to look like —’
‘You’re right, it is chilly out here. I think I’ll go back inside.’
‘Look, don’t get me wrong. My friend isn’t looking for help. She knows there are no short cuts. She knows you have to be tough in this business. She can cope with being knocked back a few times, you know what I mean?’
‘Well, look, it’s been a blast talking to you. Goodbye.’
‘She’s a strong girl, my Alison. Very strong. I mean, you have to be, to deal with some of the stuff she’s been through.’
‘I’m so glad to hear that. Now —’
‘Only having one leg, for instance. I mean, how many people could handle something like that?’
‘Great. She sounds like a real trouper.’ Josephine was halfway through the library’s main entrance when the meaning of Selena’s words suddenly came home to her. She turned round at once. ‘What did you just say?’
‘I said she was a strong girl.’
‘Not that.’
‘And really talented.’
‘Did you say she only had one leg?’
Selena noticed the change in Josephine’s manner. She nodded slowly.
‘That’s right.’
Josephine came closer.
‘And this is your … girlfriend, right?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Girlfriend — as in someone you … someone you’re … in a relationship with?’