In Diane’s world, feeding someone was the obvious approach to show them your love. It was just something she accepted and never really bothered with the reasoning behind. It belonged in the same category as putting the kettle on if ‘something was the matter’ or tidying up the cupboards to while away a thunderous afternoon.
Therefore, it was just as well that besides being a great gardener and a keen traveller she also happened to be an excellent cook. Tonight, as every Wednesday night, she was expecting Richard. And instead of the meat-and-two-veg he would typically get, she decided to cook a mini feast.
He had confirmed he was coming when she rang him this morning, which she had to do after last week when he had left her flowers and a note saying he had a headache and couldn’t come, and the week before when he apparently ‘just forgot all about it’.
She stood there in her bright, seventies-style kitchen, kneading dough and stirring cheese sauce and stuffing vine leaves; all the while taking quick glances through the window at her October garden. Her geraniums were miraculously still very healthy, but the grass could use a cut. Maybe she was being a perfectionist, but it never seemed short enough - except for the few days immediately after mowing.
She tried to keep her mind on her gardening and her cooking, but Richard forced all that out of the way. Her thoughts seemed to easily find their way to him through the maze walled by grated chocolate and whipped cream and mowers - and the tulips that would need planting soon.
Lately, he had given her – and everyone else – many a reason for worrying. He started doing things that were only a few months ago unimaginable. Like skipping choir practice because he was ‘a bit under the weather’. Or telling Ben not to trouble himself and come over so often, promising he would ‘give him a ring’ if he needed something. Or not answering the door when Diane knocked, then loosely explaining he must have not heard.
She had a theory. It was far-fetched and illogical and arguably silly but it made everything fall exactly into place that she just knew in her heart it was right. She was certain it all started with this pen-friend thing. The more regular the letters became, the more withdrawn he got. How could someone like Richard – even allowing for his social inexperience – act like a teenager in a chatroom, substituting his real world for a virtual one?  
She had no idea what this Latin American was writing him that changed him so much. Diane wasn’t permitted to read the letters to him anymore – nor was Ben. Of course, Richard was entitled to a private life. But nearly eight months on he had - quite uncharacteristically - shut everyone out entirely.
And was it normal for a ‘lady’ to describe her love life to a stranger in gory - only just shy of being pornographic - detail? And in the second letter? Diane had pretended to be overcome by hysterical laughter to hide her shock and embarrassment at the words she unsuspectingly read out: ‘…as to my second husband, he always said I was great in bed, but he had such an insatiable appetite for women that I really couldn’t take it after a few months.’ To her relief at the time, Richard just shrugged the comment off saying something about how open people seemed to be in that part of the world as opposed to typical English reserve. However, his remark proved to be a source of infinite resentment when Diane replayed it in her mind later. She could only hope that Richard imposed his ban before a particularly cheesy letter fell into Ben’s hands.
At least tonight she had a chance – an increasingly rare chance – to give him a much needed reality check.
At exactly seven o’clock Richard appeared on her doorstep, and by the looks of him, he seemed to have his own reasons for making it a special evening. He was wearing his positive-thinking, the-world-is-my-oyster stone jacket. And instead of the usual bunch of flowers or the occasional bottle of wine, he had bought her a nice perfume and a box of exquisite chocolates. But perhaps particularly tellingly, he seemed to have lost the absent-minded, dazed air he walked around in for weeks. And at last his charmingly confident smile was back.
‘Punctual, as usual’, she said letting him in. ‘Let’s see what you’ve brought me. Ooh, a Marc Jacob. This is so nice of you. Any special occasion?’
‘Yes, there is. And since when did seeing my favourite neighbour not count as special?’
‘Oh, you flirt’, she said, taking his hand. ‘Mind the drawer chest now’. He walked in hesitantly. For, after a little under a decade, he was still unsure of her house. It was the opposite extreme to his deliberately sparsely furnished home. Moreover, the many pieces of furniture she possessed seemed to be in different places every other time he visited. Changing the furniture around – with the help of her granddaughter and her granddaughter's fiance- was another of Diane’s passions.
She sat him down in the cream and yellow two-seater and made sure he was comfortable with as many cushions around him as what felt like the entire stock of the local Bhs,
‘I won’t be a minute’ she said as she went to fetch some wine. Richard instinctively turned his head toward the window. He could hear it hail outside and thought of what the weather was like now in Paraguay. Christina had said she was really bracing herself for the summer, which started around this time. In her last letter she had described how grateful she was for a late bout of the chilly pampero – chilly here being no more than fifteen degrees. She really hated the heat, Christina. Of course, that was very lucky...
‘Richard? Are you ok?’
‘What? Sorry. I didn’t hear you coming just now.’
‘Oh, didn’t you? It must be this carpet then, it is very thick. But is something the matter? You looked a world away’.
‘I was just trying to guess what all these lovely smells were. You haven’t been toiling in that kitchen the whole day, have you?’
‘Not at all, not at all’, she giggled, playing with her pearl earring. ‘You know how much I enjoy cooking. And I didn’t even have to check my recipe book once! There’s still some life in this old brain, you know.’
They took their wine glasses to the table. The atmosphere was as amiable as Diane could hope for and she kept her guest entertained with her ‘nomadic adventures’ as she called them; visits to her sons and daughters and granddaughters. She had a room in each of these houses and was no more a guest there than she was in her own home.
‘You really went out of your way, Diane. These stuffed vine leaves are delicious. You remembered they’re my favourite. But they must take ages to make!’
‘I’m glad you like them. Here, have a bit of avocado sauce’.
‘Oh, thank you. You know, some of the finer corner stalls in Asuncion apparently serve avocado dips with chipas, for an exorbitant extra charge!’ Almost immediately Richard realized he had made a mistake. It was too early to bring that up. He was saving his bombshell for later.
After an awkward silence Diane spoke. ‘So you’re still corresponding?’ The cheerfulness had not deserted her voice, but now it sounded rather forced.
‘Yes. Yes, we are.’ He replied in a hurried voice. ‘So, tell me Diane. Have you met the new neighbours in number 16? Kidds I believe is the name.’
She gladly allowed herself to be drawn to the new line of conversation, grateful for the sudden change of subject. The main course was hardly the best moment to give Richard a piece of her mind about the Latin American. Coffee would probably be a better time.
They managed to keep the conversation safe enough until – at last – Richard cleared his throat as they took their seats again in the living room. He was impatient to share his happiness with someone. The warmth that glowed inside him was a feeling he had almost forgotten.
Two steaming mugs of black coffee stood awaiting on a glass-topped side table. Their awaiting was destined to continue until, hours later, Diane would pour their contents down the sink, untouched.
‘Err…I have a bit of news, Diane. Goodness. I don’t know where to start…’ His laughter showed how nervous he was. ‘I had prepared some sort of introduction to remind you of Christina, but I see you still remember her!’
Suddenly it became obvious. He had invited her to visit. That was what pen-friends did, wasn’t it? Diane was so absorbed in her shock and in how she would deal with it that she almost missed what Richard blurted out next.
‘We’re getting married.’