Human Remains

coming – nearly ready – dishing up… something of that nature.
    ‘Have a seat, Colin,’ Vaughn said at last.
    Vaughn had leather sofas of the kind that were constantly on sale, presumably replaced by their owners whenever they redecorated. I eased myself down on to the nearest one. I noticed the music for the first time – some contemporary classical piano – was it Alexis Ffrench? Or possibly Einaudi?
    ‘You alright, mate?’ Vaughn asked. ‘You look a bit – tense.’
    ‘Ah,’ I said, the first time I think I’d managed to speak. ‘Yes. Got stuck in traffic, you know.’
    He didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest by my sudden inability to make conversation, and chatted away regardless about all manner of crap – the state of the economy, his new car, whether or not to add an extension to the back of the property – and all the while I thought about Audrey and wondered what the hell she was doing with Vaughn.
    I’d always had the impression that she was older than him, and now I can’t think why. She has smooth dark hair, bright blue eyes in an unlined face. She is petite, and even wearing jeans she seemed elegant, chic. I’ve never really considered the meaning of the word ‘chic’, but to Audrey no better word would apply.
    While Vaughn talked, I got up and made my way to the kitchen, without thinking about what I was doing or whether it might be considered rude to walk away from my host while he was trying to engage me in conversation.
    I wanted to see Audrey.
    I stood in the doorway with my glass of wine, leaning against the doorway in a pose I hoped was casual, open, friendly. She didn’t notice me at first, busy stirring something on the hob. I watched her move.
    ‘Oh!’ she said at last, when she saw me. ‘It won’t be long.’
    I didn’t know what to say to her – the perennial problem – and yet I didn’t want to remain silent.
    ‘How long have you known Vaughn?’ I asked.
    She looked at me in surprise, as though I’d asked her age or weight. What on earth was wrong with that question? Was it too late to take it back?
    ‘Did he not tell you? I met him last year. We met on an internet dating site.’
    ‘Really?’ I asked, with genuine surprise. ‘Which one?’
    ‘Matchmakers,’ she answered.
    Of course – that would have to be one of the newer ones, probably one designed for people of a type I would discount as beneath consideration. I prefer ones where the selection criteria include details of educational achievement, career aspirations and salary brackets rather than cock size. Although perhaps that’s where I’ve been going wrong. Maybe I should think about dating sites again; after all, it has been a long while since I dipped my toe into that metaphorical pond. But my needs are a little different, now, aren’t they? And besides, women don’t join dating sites in the same way these days. They join and tell their friends all about it. They tell their friends and family where they’re going, who they’re going to be meeting, what time they expect to come home. They don’t join dating sites unless they have hope for the future.
    ‘Ah,’ I said, wanting to ask a dozen questions and wondering which of them would be the least offensive.
    She handed me a plate containing slices of melon with prosciutto draped over them. ‘Could you take this through?’
    For a moment we held eye contact. Did I imagine it, that she held on to the plate for a moment after I’d already taken hold of it? That she held my gaze for a fraction too long? That there was a challenge in her eyes, a curiosity… maybe – almost – a dare?
    I smiled at her, feeling the warmth of my shame melting a little for the first time since I’d arrived, not relaxing exactly but starting to see the possibilities in the evening ahead.
Audrey, Audrey
, I thought,
you little minx. You little bundle of surprises
.
    Vaughn sat her opposite me at the dining table, presumably so that he could touch her knee with his sweaty paw, but she clearly had other things in mind. I felt her foot brushing mine as we started our main course. At first she pulled it away and glanced up at me with a little smile of apology, as though she had kicked me hard and not just mistaken me for the table leg. I gave her a direct gaze in return, and left my foot where it was. And, a few moments later, her foot returned and this time gently rested against mine, whilst she listened to Vaughn rabbiting on about share prices and