Henry donated a dinner for two to the charity auction.
His wife, June, kept bidding.
At eighty pounds, even Henry asked her to stop.
The auctioneer said it was lovely that she wanted a romantic meal with her own husband.
June asked him to read the description once more….
Henry was famous among his friends for his cooking.
He could spend twenty minutes describing a sauce before anyone had tasted it.
June said she could usually get the plates washed in that time.
Whenever they invited people round, Henry planned the menu. He bought special ingredients, borrowed an extra pan and warned everybody that the pudding needed a delicate touch.
June peeled, carried, fetched and cleared.
After dinner, Henry sat with the guests and explained how much work the meal had taken.
June could hear him from the sink.
One spring, the village hall held an auction to raise money for a new roof.
People offered things they could do.
A neighbour donated two hours of gardening. The hairdresser offered a haircut. Henry offered a three-course dinner for two.
The organiser asked him exactly what was included.
Everything, Henry said generously.
Shopping?
Naturally.
Cooking and serving?
Of course.
Clearing away afterwards?
Henry glanced at June.
The organiser was already writing.
He said yes.
On the night, Henry wore his good jacket and sat beside June. He said it would be nice to see people appreciate proper food.
June said she hoped they would appreciate the whole package.
The auction began with a basket of vegetables and a weekend in a caravan.
Henry’s dinner came next.
The auctioneer described a lovely meal, prepared and served in the winner’s home.
Bidding started at twenty pounds.
June raised her card.
Henry smiled. He thought she was helping the price along.
A woman near the front offered thirty.
June offered forty.
Henry whispered that it was very kind of her, but the roof would be grateful enough.
A man at the back offered fifty.
June offered sixty.
Henry put a hand on her sleeve.
You don’t have to buy my cooking. We live together.
June said she knew.
The woman near the front offered seventy.
June offered eighty.
The hall applauded.
Henry looked pleased, worried and slightly hungry.
The auctioneer asked whether anyone wanted to go higher.
Nobody did.
He brought down his little hammer.
Then he smiled at the couple.
How lovely. Eighty pounds for a romantic dinner with your own husband.
June asked him to read the full description.
He picked up the card.
Three courses. All ingredients included. Cooked, served and cleared away by Henry.
June nodded.
Every plate, the auctioneer added.
Henry said that was what he’d agreed.
June put her bidding card away.
The auctioneer asked whether he had misunderstood what she was buying.
Not with him. By him.
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