The Ascendant

Chapter Thirty-Three

‘Well, how did it go?’, asked Dawn from the living room doorway.

I turned down the volume on the TV and enthused, 'it worked! Hobbs was completely impressed. He called me in to his office just after lunch, almost certainly to pulverise me for being the village idiot of the department and maybe dispense my marching orders. He was really quite stern. He asked how I thought it was going and I could tell he was expecting a few “it’s coming together” or “getting there slowly” type lines. But I just sat there and ran through it exactly as you said. I let him talk and then when I got my turn I hit him with it. It was brilliant. He said I should be running my own area by the end of next week. I’m back on course.’

‘That’s brilliant Ben. So he was impressed with your idea then?’

‘Totally. How did he put it? “I must say I am rather impressed Ben, you really do seem to have turned your situation round”.’

‘Very impressive,’ said Dawn, stepping further into the living room.

‘I couldn’t have done it without you Dawn, I owe you big time.’

‘Keep talking.’

‘I mean it. If it wasn’t for you working through all that shit with me last night, giving me your thoughts and ideas I would have been struck dead in his headlights. My time was running out and you spun my hourglass right round! What can I do to repay you? Just say it, I’ll do anything.’

‘Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse,’ said Dawn, taking the television controller from the arm of my chair. ‘Where can I start? Hmm. I don’t think you’ve even said “thank you” yet.’

‘Sorry Dawn, thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you.’

‘OK, now we’ve got that over with let’s deal with the small matter of pay back. How much does your job mean to you Ben?’

‘Lots.’

‘Right, that’s what I thought. So, if my calculations are accurate you owe me precisely … lots! You can start by making me a cup of coffee, not as strong as the one you made yesterday, and rolling me a joint with slightly more tobacco than weed. That should help stimulate the old imagination.’

‘What do you want first?’

‘The joint I think. I’ve had a fairly stressful week myself.’

I rolled Dawn her joint while she put her feet up and surfed the music channels on the television. It wasn’t the best looking spliff in the world but it met her specifications and I left her puffing, confusedly, as I set about making her coffee. As the kettle boiled I took a can of beer from the fridge and cracked it open to celebrate my breakthrough. The cool lager hit the sweet spot in my soul, and tension and excitement was set aside for a moment as I reflected on my progress. It hadn’t been easy but I was still hanging in there.

I brought Dawn her coffee and sat down to watch television with her, sipping my beer and waiting for her to pass me the joint. I had quite a long wait. Dawn was clearly not joking when she asked me to roll a joint “for her.” Fair enough, I thought, as she stubbed out the roach in the ashtray. She’d earned it, and I could always roll another, which was what I did.

Our bag of grass was humongous and it was going to take a fair amount of time to get through it, I figured. Joe had happened across a bargain through an acquaintance and we’d all contributed thirty pounds each. The result was what looked like a year’s supply of ganja for even the most dedicated dope head.

My second joint was a significantly better effort than the first, aesthetically speaking at least. In practice it had the same effect as the first, with Joe coming down stairs just in time to finish it off before heading out for the night.

Teen pop bands continued to jump and dance before me as Dawn showed no mercy with her selection of TV channels.

‘I’ve got it,’ she said eventually. That first joint must have been a good one.

‘You’ve got what?’

‘What?’

‘You’ve got what?’

‘What? What are you talking about? Oh yeah, that’s it. I know how you can repay your debt.’

‘How?’

‘I’ve seen you out there in the kitchen, with your tins and sachets and whatnot. If it’s not ready prepared for you before you buy it, it’s not food, and if it doesn’t go ping then it’s not cooked.’

‘Well it works doesn’t it?’

‘Not really. You need a bit of variety Ben. Which brings me to my challenge. And here it is,’ said Dawn, pulling herself into an upright position. ‘You’ve got to cook a meal, a three course meal, for all the members of the house.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Duh! I think I see where your boss was coming from now. Only joking Ben. Where was I? Oh yeah, a three course meal: starter, main course and pudding. That’s the traditional method, but you can feel free to add your own artistic interpretation if you wish. So long as none of the ingredients don’t come ready prepared or in sachets you can come up with anything you see fit. But whatever you do come up with, the ingredients must be fresh and there must be three courses, or more if you wish? What are your plans for Saturday night?’

‘I haven’t got any yet.’

‘Well, you have now. You’re catering for five at 15 St Thomas Gardens, NW5 darling.’

‘But I can’t cook.’

‘Bollocks. Come on Ben, you agreed that you owed me big time and said you would do anything I asked. Well, now I’ve asked. Let me just ring round the others to make sure they can make it.’

I got myself another beer while Dawn gleefully rang Joe, Greek and Iain, confirming their availability and taking special requests for particularly sensitive pallets.

‘No, the chef will not be warming up a vat of tinned soup,’ she said, smiling teasingly at me, ‘or any tin of any description, sir … Well, we were sat here watching the telly and he just turned round and said, “Dawn, do you know what? I’m going to treat you, Iain, Joe and Greek to the meal of your lives on Saturday night. Whatever you’ve got planned, cancel it.” I thought he was going to say he wanted to take us all out but then he said he’d be doing the cooking. Three courses, all fresh ingredients … I know!’

And so it went on. Having plundered Dawn’s mind to get Hobbs off my back I found myself in a new and equally terrifying predicament. I rolled myself another joint to the tune of Atomic Kitten’s 'See Ya' and glugged down another beer. Being a nervous wreck can be thirsty work.

By the time Dawn had finished ringing round the others she had regained all of her usual zest.

‘Well Ben, it looks like you’ve got a full booking. Have you decided what you’re cooking yet?’

Nope, I was too busy feeling like an expertly fried kipper!