Soul Music: Love Encountered - 16. Dressing For Dinner

Zoe Marshall was holding her phone up as a looking glass substitute. She wanted to give her make-up one last going over before leaving the house. There'd be several more inspections before she arrived at her brother's place. No, they were meeting at his boyfriend's, weren't they? She'd already checked it several times on Google Maps. Walking from the train station wouldn't be a problem. A brisk twenty minutes worth of exercise would be good for her. Zoe smiled with satisfaction at her appearance. God, it felt so great to get away from the stifling conformity of what she was allowed to wear at her workplace. The dress-code there was tedious, hide-bound, and annoying.

She didn't go for the full goth look by any means – she'd tried it and it didn't suit her – but there was enough black intensity to mirror her long, dyed black hair. Her job as a receptionist at a medium-sized law firm paid the bills while she tried to finish off her portfolio of current applied design ideas. Zoe pursed her lips again to check the dark purple lipstick. She needed a couple more concepts to supplement what she'd produced at uni so she could start hawking the portfolio round again. So much for the idea that doing a work-ready degree should mean she'd walk into a job: no such luck.

Still, it was looking more hopeful – a mate was putting in a good word for her at his workplace. Maybe it would lead to something this time? Really, that's what she should be concentrating on to the exclusion of everything else. Zoe snorted. She needed a change of scenery. Being cooped up in her room was driving her slowly mad. Her house mates were fine, and the communal areas were kept in a reasonable state, but her room was her only territory, her thinking space. She deserved a good meal cooked by someone else, and she was curious about her brother's boyfriend.

Zoe applied two black and gold fake ear-stretchers. She loved them – they looked so edgy, but without any of the pain and aggro of having her ears done. Eugh … the thought of actually having holes in her earlobes that large made her feel faintly sick. Next came a metallic blue nose ring, equally fake. Yep, that was wicked. No pastel coloured eye shadow or pink lipstick required. Fuck, but that law firm was living back somewhere in the mid-twentieth century. What with the rigid hierachy and the assumption that a receptionist didn't have a brain, the sooner she was out of there, the better.

What was her brother's boyfriend going to be like? Geoff, wasn't it? Zoe took another look at herself. If Geoff took fright, that was his problem. It was how she liked to see herself. Anyway, it was only the outer layer. It would only take a little work on his part to start and uncover more. Yes, she was going to behave – she always did in company, despite indications to the contrary. She might bark, but she very rarely bit anyone. Meeting Geoff's friend would be good, as well, though it was sometimes the women who took most offence at her appearance.

Just who was Geoff? A search online hadn't revealed anything. None of the usual social media sites had an account for a Geoff Lumsden. Tony kept on emphasising how shy Geoff was. So was that the only reason for him being invisible online? Maybe … But it was weird for someone like him – he was Tony's age, not an old man of seventy. Not that she lived all her life online either. Zoe frowned. Too many employers took to searching around for any dirt on their prospective employees. And she had no wish to come across a photo of herself, drunk, reposted on some random site.

Geoff had to be somone special, at least in her brother's eyes. A man who'd captured Tony's heart to that extent must have something about him. Tony hadn't stopped talking about him since soon after the two men met. What was it? Looks? Allure? Zoe shrugged. She'd find out soon enough. Tony and she were tight. Very tight. The joking around was just that. Any hint that Geoff wasn't who or what he seemed and there'd be trouble. She started lacing up her favourite calf-high, green Doc Martens when there was a knock on the door. Zoe took a moment to admire the contrast between the boots and her black and red opaque tights before she got up to see who it was.

The young man standing in the doorway blinked at the sight of her.

“Jesus, Zoe.” He looked Zoe up and down, concentrating particularly on her short tartan shorts, and then her ear-stretchers. “Is this you as Ms Hyde?”

“Yeah, maybe. And?” Zoe glared in his direction. “Dunc, maybe you enjoy wearing suits when you're at work? I fucking hate my work clothes – skirts and blouses. And 'proper' shoes. As if any of those make me a better receptionist, I ask you. So, you shouldn't be surprised if I hang loose at the weekends.”

She in her turn inspected his conservative jeans and a v-necked pullover. With his sensible haircut, he looked to be going on forty instead of twenty something.

“OK …” The young man's eyes were still on her ear-stretchers.

“Dunc, you moron, they're fake.” Zoe started to remove one of them, prising the magnets apart. “Think. Do you see me with gaping holes in my ears at other times? No, you don't.”

Duncan blushed. Zoe rolled her eyes in amusement. It was pretty clear that the trainee accountant fancied her. Or thought he did. The poor sap had only joined the house-share a few weeks before.

“Anyway, Dunc. You knocked. What d'you want?”

“Oh … err. Yeah.” Duncan gave the appearance of a man knocked completely off his stride.

Fed up of waiting, Zoe turned to start gathering some things – phone, make-up bag, travel pass. “Whatever it is, Dunc, you'll need to be quick. I've a train to catch.”

“Ah … Ehm … No matter. Hope you have a great time.”

Zoe looked up in time to see the door closing as her visitor left. Had he wanted to ask her out? That seemed the most likely explanation. She snorted in derision. Dunc would have to grow some balls before she'd even consider it. Zoe finished gathering her stuff, grabbed her coat, and headed off to the station and her train.

“What are you gonna be wearing this evening?” Geoff was hanging around the doorway to the kitchen.

Tony took a moment to finish positioning the two racks of lamb on their beds of crushed potatoes, olives, and tomatoes. He nodded – his decision to have two medium roasting tins was the right one. The large tin was sitting unused on the kitchen table. Fortunately they both fitted in the oven at the same time.

He shrugged in reply. “Nothing special. I brought a clean shirt in case of accidents, otherwise …” Tony looked down at what he was wearing. “Here it is.”

“Oh …” His boyfriend chewed his lip.

Tony held an arm out. “Come here, love.” Using the flats of his arms, he gathered Geoff in for a kiss. He managed it without getting his messy hands everywhere.

“You OK?”

Geoff shrugged, but didn't say anything. Looking at him, Tony thought for a moment.

“Hmm … Look, give me ten minutes or so and I'll be able to take a break, Why don't you get changed into whatever you've got in mind and I'll give you my opinion? Yeah?”

“Yeah, OK.” The other man gave a half-smile, then started moving away.

Geoff's eyes were caught by the food which was ready to go into the oven. They lit up with anticipation. Tony supressed his instinct to say something lovingly snide. He was glad Geoff wasn't having second thoughts about their guests – it was too late anyway – but just some first night nerves.

“Like what you see?” The herb-covered lamb looked wonderful even though it hadn't been cooked yet.

“Course I do.” Geoff looked at him. “It's your cooking. You know I love eating anything you produce.”

Tony couldn't resist. “What? Even kippers? Or sushi?”

“Eugh.” Geoff pulled a face. “I think I'd admire them from a safe distance.”

Tony grinned at him, and quickly washed his hands. The lamb would be in the oven shortly

“Right, that's the main course done. I've still got to finish off the starter before it can go in the oven. Thank god, the dessert is those cupcakes.” Tony wiped his forehead. It was getting distinctly warm in the kitchen.

“Err … should you be eating those?”

Tony smiled. Geoff's thoughts were still on his diabetes. “Yeah, it'll be fine. I'll only have the one, and it's one of the plainer cakes. You lot can eat the rest, butter cream, icing, and all. Though I've only bought enough for two each.”

Geoff moved to peer at the ingredients for the starter, a goat's cheese, red pepper, and tomato tart. He paid most attention to the cheese.

Tony looked sideways at him. “You've had goat's cheese before surely?”

“Never assume. I was just thinking that myself, but I think the answer's 'no'.”

“It's quite strong tasting. You'll like it, I hope, or if you don't, it's hardly the end of the world. There're plenty of other ingredients for you to focus on. Like the sweet peppers.”

Geoff leaned in to give him a quick kiss. “I've lost count of the number of new food things you've introduced me to. Though nothing's appeared yet to threaten pizza as my number one favourite.”

Tony shook his head in despair. “Why do I have such a food philistine for my boyfriend?” Then he smirked.

“Excuse me. At least I didn't say fried chicken or burgers.”

“Indeed. And pizza can be several steps up from a Big Mac.”

Tony took his boyfriend by his shoulders and turned him to face the kitchen door. Then he gave Geoff a gentle shove.

“Go away, and change into your party clothes, otherwise I'll never get this starter ready.”

He emphasised the point by reaching out and giving Geoff a tap on the backside. The other man jumped slightly before swivelling round to glare at Tony under lowered brow. Tony blew him a kiss, and after a short delay, Geoff grinned back. Then he turned, theatrically rubbing his arse as he did so, and hurried off upstairs. Tony chuckled to himself as he bent down to put the lamb in the oven. Then he needed to prepare the cooked sweet red peppers. At least the fooling around had settled Geoff's nerves. The tart recipe also called for olives, but as they were already appearing with the lamb, he was replacing them with some wilted rocket instead. He got to work again.

Helen locked the door to her flat and jogged down the two flights of stairs to the communal entrance. She stopped for a moment to adjust the straps on one of her sandals. It wouldn't be long before summer arrived. Bliss. A break from regular playing would mean much more opportunity to visit archaeological sites. A week away on a dig? That would be nice, if she could manage it. Helen opened the outer door and headed off through the evening sunshine towards the bus stop. She did have a car; the bus was better though. Apart from anything else, she wouldn't have to watch her alcohol consumption so closely. Drink driving? Never, ever. She was well able to see herself back on the bus. If a lift was offered, she wouldn't refuse it though.

Not that Geoff was a great drinker – he only ever had a pint, or just a half. Nor should Tony be if he was looking after his diabetes properly. In fact, out of the three, she probably drank the most. Nights out with the girls were pretty notorious in that regard. Helen smiled wryly. She didn't get drunk, but she was often fairly merry. Fortunately their meet-ups only happened every month or so. Trying to find a night when they were all free was a nightmare. On those nights she treated herself to a taxi back home. Better safe than sorry.

Her phone beeped a notification, followed by another. Helen didn't bother looking – it could wait. They were only responses to a selfie she'd taken earlier when she posted an update saying how she was going to be spending the evening. Of course, neither Tony nor Geoff were mentioned by name. She might do an update or two while she was there. What they were eating, perhaps? Something about Geoff's garden, if she got there early enough? Some morsel or two to keep the hordes at bay. It was too good an opportunity to pass by. And there was Tony's sister.

As she walked along, Helen looked at what she was wearing. Nothing special, just what she felt comfortable in. A relaxed pair of dark red jeans with a loose, sparkly top. It was good that her short, cropped hairstyle didn't need anything doing to it. Helen grimaced. She had no time for the prevailing fashion for long, straight, time-consuming hair. How many hours – and how much money – did those women spend faffing on their looks? She reached the bus stop, and miracle of miracles, a bus was approaching.

She sat at the front and stared out of the window. Why couldn't she find someone like Geoff? Or even Tony? Helen snorted. Bloody typical, wasn't it? Gave credence to that old saw about how all the most attractive men were gay. It certainly applied in her case. Mark had been a bastard. He'd put her off men for quite some time, and she wasn't in a hurry to replace him with another chip off the same block. Some time to herself was fine, as long it didn't become a permanent thing. Don't give up hope? Easier said than done. Helen pulled her phone out as a distraction from her current train of thought. She'd nearly got lost in a morass of kitten pictures when she realised that the next stop was hers. Getting herself together, she got up and moved the short distance to be next to the driver.

Tony had put the onions on to soften by the time his boyfriend reappeared. He was wearing one of his favourite pairs of cords with a shirt he'd never seen before. Pink and patterned with small flower sprigs, it was quite unlike anything else Geoff had worn since he'd known him.

Tony did a double take. “Wow! That shirt looks amazing on you. Pink is definitely one of your colours.”

“Really?”

“Really. Why haven't I seen it before?”

Geoff coloured. “Ehm … You know the first time I visited you? When I got lost?”

“Of course, I do, love.” Tony was a little puzzled.

“Well … I started the morning by wearing this shirt before Helen took one look at it. She told me in no uncertain terms to wear something else.”

“OK … Well, perhaps you might've come across as some sort of clothes horse? You were on edge enough in your old, familiar gear. Good call, I reckon.”

“She was the one who forced me to buy it. … Anyway, I haven't dared wear it since, until today.”

Tony sniggered at the picture of Geoff and Helen this conjured up. “Now, that makes sense. You'd never have bought that shirt on your own. She's got a good eye.”

Geoff held an arm out and eyed the material dubiously. “As a pattern, I quite like it … But a shirt? And me wearing it?”

Tony pulled his boyfriend into a loose hug. “You're a gorgeous, sexy man, and this shirt only enhances that. I'd like to see you in more things like this.”

Geoff's colour deepened – his usual response to a compliment. “So?”

“So, as far as I'm concerned, you're wearing that shirt this evening. I repeat, it looks amazing. You'll put me to shame …” Tony gestured at the sky-blue shirt hanging off one of cupboard handles, then took the opportunity to give the onions a quick stir.

Geoff frowned. “I like you in blue.”

“Do you now?” With a smile.

Geoff nodded.

“And why haven't I heard about this before?” Teasing, raised eyebrow.

Geoff's gaze lowered. “'cause you know how to dress. You always look good.”

Tony drew his boyfriend in closer. “That's sweet, love. But it's also rubbish. I may spend more money and time on clothes than you do, but … Is it all a success? Of course not. … Geoff, I do love hearing your opinions. Yeah?”

Geoff looked up, and gave him one of his adorable, shy smiles. Tony kissed him on the cheek.

“That's better. So I pass inspection? That's good to know. Right, I need to get on. These onions are done.” Tony glanced at the pan again. “Hmm … perhaps a little overdone.”

He took the pan off the heat and tipped the onions into the part-cooked pastry casing. As he turned to get the peppers and cheese, he thought of something his boyfriend could be doing.

“Why don't you set the table, love? We're eating in the dining room, music room, whatever you call it.”

Geoff laughed. “It was the kitchen originally. This was the scullery. I admit I never eat in there, so to me it's the music room.”

“Well, go and blow the dust off the table and chairs. Then we'll be able to crash out for twenty minutes or so before the invasion. If two women can be termed an invasion.”

“OK.” Geoff started opening up cupboards and drawers, finding the things that were needed, before he headed off into the adjoining room.

Zoe consulted her phone for what she hoped was the final time. She looked at the street name, Alexandra Road. Yep, that was it. She turned into the quiet street and started looking for house numbers. Was she on the right side? Yes, again. Odd numbers, and she was in search of number eleven. Soon enough she was standing outside Geoff's terraced house. Zoe looked at it. This was all for one person? It didn't look that much smaller than the house she shared with three other people. She couldn't help feeling jealous. Think of all that private space. And how the hell did Geoff afford to live there?

After a short pause, Zoe shut down that line of thought. It was none of her business really, unless Tony brought it up, or something. She was there to meet Geoff, and have a good time. Not to start an argument, or a political debate. Though she enjoyed a robust, respectful exchange of views. One last inspection. and Zoe stepped up to ring the doorbell.

After a short wait, the door opened to reveal a bearded man wearing a pink shirt with blue and white tiny flowers, and fawn cords. Zoe smiled – this was Geoff, at a guess.

“Hi, I'm Zoe. I'm a little early, but that's the trains for you. You must be Geoff?”

The man gulped slightly. “Err … yeah. Hi. Yes, I'm Geoff. Welcome.”

He stood back to allow her in, then closed the door.

“Ehm … Tony's in the kitchen if you want to say 'hi'. The … the kitchen's just through there.” Geoff pointed towards the back of the house.

“I'll disturb the chef for a moment, then I'll leave him to it.” Zoe took her jacket off and looked for somewhere to put it.

“Oh, sorry.” Geoff took hold of the jacket and hung it from one of the coat hooks.

Zoe felt for him – he was obviously shy, though trying hard. He got extra points for not freaking out when he first saw her. She followed her nose to the kitchen.

“Greetings, brother dear.”

Tony looked round from doing the washing up. “You're early?”

“Yeah – Saturday evening trains aren't exactly every five minutes.”

Tony took a look at what she was wearing. A grin emerged. “You surprise me, Zo. … An occasion like this might've been a good excuse for a nice skirt, a blouse …”

Zoe stuck her tongue out at him. “Geoff didn't blink when he saw me. You been prepping him or something?”

“No. Geoff works for the local authority. He's probably seen pretty much everything when it comes to what people wear. The food'll be ready soon. Why don't you give Geoff a hand with laying the table?”

“Oh … We're not eating in here, then?” Zoe looked at the homely, cluttered table in front of her.

“Does it look like it? No. In your honour, we're using the dining table.”

“Oohh … Which is where?”

“Through that door there.” Tony pointed to the right of her.

“OK. Anything to carry through?”

“Not yet. The starter won't be long. I hope Helen's not late.”

Zoe shrugged as she left.

Tony frowned – he'd misjudged the timings slightly. Both courses were going to be ready earlier than he'd anticipated. They both looked and tasted great, but it would be better if they could sit down to them in good time. He was about to get the tart ready for serving when the doorbell went again. Helen, hopefully. He heard Geoff greeting their second guest. Tony took a breath. Good.

Tony spared a minute to add his welcome. Coming back to the kitchen, he started serving up. All was OK. Just.

That done, he stuck his head round the dining room door. Zoe and Helen were chatting away while Geoff listened in.

Zoe was replying to something Helen had just said. “Yes, it takes time and money. But how much does it cost you to keep your hair that short? You must be at the hairdresser's once a month at least.”

Before Helen could reply, he dived in. “OK, guys. Dinner is served.”