Famished - or something like that

Famished - Part 2

"Mind if I join you?" he said the following day.

She looked up, squinting against the sun.

"Please yourself," she said, tucking into a whole roast chicken she'd bought fifteen minutes earlier. "It's a free bench."

He sat at a respectable distance, pulled out another one of those wrap things from a small paper bag and proceeded to nibble at it delicately. By the time he'd managed to get through half of it, all she had in front of her were bones and the odd bit of gristle. Her hands were greasy with fat and specks of chicken skin.

"You work around here?" he asked.

No I don't, she thought, but nodded her head in the direction of some office blocks that overlooked the park.

"Oh right," he said. "I'm, er, Paul, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Mr Paul Bytheway," she laughed.

"Ha, no," he said, embarrassed. "I, er, um..."

"Shirelle," she said and extended a greasy hand not quite far enough for him to reach, forcing him to lean over in order to shake it. She repressed a grin as he tried to surreptitiously flick off a glob of chicken fat that had stuck to his fingers.

"Nice name, Shirelle," he said, wiping his hand down his trousers. "Is it, um, English?"

She shrugged, and said, "Something like that."

They chatted for a while – well, actually he chatted while she managed to give away not a single jot of information about herself. But, by the time he needed to go back to work, she knew quite a lot about him.

"See you here tomorrow?" he asked as he stood to leave.

She smiled and gave a single nod.

She watched him walk away and, once he was out of sight, looked down at the carcass sitting on her lap. She picked up a leg bone. "Waste not, want not," she said, licking her lips.

Two days later she let him spring his trap. He was back on the celery while she sucked the meat off a second rack of ribs from the hot food counter of a local supermarket. Of the first, there was no longer any sign.

"I, er, um."

"Yes?" she said, between gnawing at a bone.

"There's a restaurant close to where I live. Over there, about a mile," he said, pointing.

"Yes?"

"Well, I like to reward myself sometimes if I've managed to lose a little bit of, well, you know."

"Weight?" she finished for him. Well, he certainly didn't look any thinner. She, however, was conscious that her wrists were slightly skinnier here on Friday compared to how they had been on Monday when she'd looked at her reflection. She really needed to get a good meal inside her.

"Um, yes. Well, I, er, wondered, er..."

"Wondered what?"

"Um, wondered if you'd like to join me," he said, rushing the words as if he was afraid they'd stick in his throat.

She raised an eyebrow.

"On me, of course. You can have whatever you want. I'm, er, not short of a bob or two. No, um, pressure."

She smiled.

"Sounds lovely. Where is it?"

He told her and also gave her directions. She nodded but didn't write anything down. She didn't need to. She'd known the place years ago when it had gone under a different name.

"Um, seven-thirty all right?"

She nodded again.

"Um, do you, er, want my phone number in case you can't make it or change your mind or something?"

"No," she said. "I'll be there. Seven thirty, sharp."

She watched him walk away and, after he'd disappeared from view, finished off the rest of the ribs – in their entirety.