Fireside Romance Book 3: Heating Up

Chapter 2-4

“This mutton stew is really tasty,” Tom said.

Cliff shook his head. “In polite circles it’s called a lamb carbonnade.”

Tom looked at Mark and me before turning to Cliff. “It’s only Simon and Mark.” He then shovelled in another huge forkful of stew.

Cliff smiled and shook his head once again.

“Any more bread?” Tom asked, dipping the last piece in the gravy on his plate.

“You’ve had four slices already.” Cliff stood and reached for the bread crock. To Mark and me he said, “Our food bills are out of this world.”

“I’m a growing boy,” Tom protested.

“Whatever you say.” Cliff patted Tom’s shoulder and laid another couple of slices next to his plate.

“Thanks.” Tom smiled at his partner.

“Do you do much of the cooking, Tom?” Mark asked.

“Because I’m home way before Cliff, I usually get the tea underway.”

“Yeah, it’s the same for me,” Mark admitted.

“You’d have thought with him preparing food all day, he’d have seen enough of the stuff without starting up again at home,” I said.

“I don’t mind,” Mark admitted. “Besides, sometimes I bring home something from the café if there’s anything good left over.”

Mark and I insisted on doing the washing up. Cliff was adamant that guests didn’t do the washing up. Mark told him we weren’t guests, we were friends.

“And as you’ve put so much effort into preparing the food,” Mark told him, “we can’t sit by and watch you clean up, too.”

Cliff caved, but insisted on helping.

“I might as well put the stuff away, as I know where everything goes.”

We couldn’t argue with his logic, so it didn’t take long before the kitchen was back to its original pristine state.

“I’ve just got time to put the video on. There’s a documentary I want to catch on the Third Reich,” Cliff said, heading for the sitting room.

“We don’t mind watching it, too.” Mark told Cliff’s retreating back.

“I need to tape it anyway. I might be able to use it sometime in class. I’m not sure if such a programme makes for a cosy night in with friends.”

“I see your point,” I said.

Cliff set up the recording. “I know most people are aware that the Nazis put Jews in concentration camps, but they also persecuted communists, the disabled, and homosexuals, too.”

Mark nodded. “You’re right, maybe tonight isn’t the best time to watch such a programme.”

Instead we sat around and listened to a few of Tom’s jazz CDs. With the lights turned down low and the gas fire letting out plenty of heat, I felt snug and cosy.

“Do you think the music quality from a CD is better than vinyl or cassette?” I asked Tom when the first disc had finished playing.

“It’s certainly better than tape, there’s no hiss, but I’m still fond of my LPs.”

“Luddite!” Cliff accused good-naturedly.

“I’m not. Vinyl gives warmth to a recording. Sometimes a CD can sound a bit too clinical.”

“What do you think about getting a CD player as our present to each other this Christmas?” I asked Mark.

“That’s a good idea,” he said. “Do they lend out CDs at the library?”

“We started getting them in a year or two back.”

Tom put in a second disc. I didn’t get a look at the cover so wasn’t sure what we were listening to, but it was pleasant enough.

Eventually our eyes began to grow heavy, so we decided to call it a night.