The Take-You-Away

A Willerby Story

“Why is everyone so excited about a takeaway van?” Caitlin asked Lisa as they stacked the dishwasher and tidied up after dinner. “The food at the Green Man is lovely and if you don’t want curry most places in Beckworth deliver.”

“I don’t want to spoil it for you,” said Lisa, reaching over Joe, who was doing his spellings at the kitchen table to put an errant wine glass back on the rack, “but you won’t be disappointed.”

“It’s not going to be good,” Lisa said, taking the flyer from the fridge and reading it again. “Any meal you want, any time you want? It’s impossible to do that well.”

“Ordinarily, I’d agree,” said Lisa. “I once had a boyfriend whose family were obsessed with an awful buffet on in some depressing leisure complex near Cambridge called Jimmy Spices.” She made scare quotes with her hands. “The world’s flavours on one table.” She shuddered. “Urgh, I can still smell it now. But trust me, this is different.”

“I’m intrigued,” said Caitlin, “but remain respectfully sceptical.”

“Just wait and see,” said Lisa, “right, let’s sort Joe. PE day tomorrow, right, unless I missed them switching it again?”

…

The next day, Lisa sent Caitlin a message from her lunch break at the Nevermade call centre.

“You go first,” it said, “think of your best ever meal, the name of the place, where you were and as close as to the exact date as you can.”

This was going to be a Willerby thing then, Caitlin realised.

She smiled and sent a thumbs up reaction.

…

“I like that it comes in November,” said Lisa as she put on her coat, “it’s such a rubbish month. Dark, cold and still ages until Christmas.”

“After all the hype,” Caitlin said, helping Joe into his winter boots, “it better be good.”

“Oh, it is,” said Lisa as they left.

The nondescript van – a cab with an integrated trailer - was where the flyer said it would be, under a streetlamp opposite the Green Man.

It was made of polished steel and the size of an ice-cream van.

Its hatch opened all the way from floor to ceiling and was propped open by two poles, creating a shelter beneath it.

A short squat figure with a long white beard wearing a red and white striped apron whose dimensions were almost but not quite human stood under the awning.

There were twenty or so people already standing in the queue, talking excitedly, breath steaming in the cold - couples, families and a sprinkling of people on their own.

Caitlin knew most but not all of them.

David and Mauve were at the front. She waved at them, but they didn’t see her before they’d handed over their money to the man in the red and white apron.

Then – to her surprise – they stepped into the van and vanished.

“Do you collect the food yourself?” She asked Lisa as they joined the line.

“Sort of,” Lisa said, “but probably not in the way you think. It’s a take-you-away not a take-food-away and that’s as much as a clue as you’re going to get off me until you see for yourself.”

The line moved forward quickly as those in it handed over their money and stepped through the hatch and into the van.

“Hang on, Lisa,” Caitlin said, “nobody is coming out, but they can’t all be in there together – surely there isn’t room.”

“Take-you-away, remember?” Lisa replied.

They last of those ahead of them in the queue – the very excited Donaldson family – paid and entered the van. Caitlin stood on her tiptoes and craned her neck to try and see what was inside, but the interior was lit so brightly it hurt her eyes and made picking anything out impossible.

They reached the front, and the aproned figure gave them a wide grin, crinkling his skin into old laugh lines and revealing a set of honestly crooked teeth.

“Card or cash?” He said, holding up a terminal.

“You take cards now do you, Thomas?” Lisa asked him.

“Got to move with the times if you want to keep up with them,” He replied.

“Well, next time maybe,” said Lisa, “but this time we’ll pay cash – I brought it especially and these days you can hardly spend it anywhere. Still a pound?”

Thomas shook his head. “Sorry, but costs have gone up. It’s one ten now.”

“That seems reasonable given all the inflation,” said Lisa, handing over a two-pound coin, “and keep the change.”

“Much obliged,” Thomas said. “And where and when this evening?”

“Over to you, Caitlin,” said Lisa, “your best ever meal – where and when were you?”

“Menelaos Taverna, Hydra in Greece, a July evening in 2021,” Caitlin said, smiling.

“The Menelaos Taverna, Hyrda on a July evening in 2021 it is then,” repeated Thomas, “step in whenever you’re ready and enjoy your meal.”

“Come on,” said Lisa, “let’s go.”

She took Caitlin’s elbow and guided her into glow, then in an instant out into a perfect summer night.

Lisa gasped.

“Oh, Caitlin,” she said, it’s so beautiful.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Caitlin said, then burst into delighted laughter, “take-you-away - well now I understand, and it is perfect – exactly how it was.”

They were standing at the entrance of a whitewashed taverna on a balcony looking out on the deep blue Mediterranean. Five empty tables with blue and red tablecloths were arranged on a crazy-paved floor beneath a wooden pavilion entwined in grape vines.

To the side was a blackboard with the day’s specials written on it in neat block capitals.

The air smelled of herbs and frying.

“Oof it’s warm!” Lisa said, shrugging off her coat. “I should have thought to ask you about what to wear.”

“Warm but not too hot,” said Caitlin. “It’s from the holiday my mum and dad took Joe and I on the year after Si disappeared, it was on that trip I finally realised Joe and I could be fine.”

“Ah, yes,” Lisa said, “it wasn’t long after you got back from that you both came to live with me.”

Caitlin nodded. “Yep, that’s it – we ate here every night we were away. Each morning, we said we’d eat somewhere else that evening but when it came to it, we always decided it wasn’t worth risking another place given how perfect Menelaos was.”

She turned to Joe. “You must remember this, darling? Where we ate on holiday with Grandma and Papa?”

Joe beamed back at both women. “Yeah! Chips and little squiddies!”

Caitlin laughed. “Yes, Joe,” she said. She turned to Lisa. “He means calamari.”

Lisa laughed back, “I’d have guessed that – and still his favourite! What else is good here? I’ll let you order as it’s your place.”

“Well, obviously the squid,” Caitlin said, “and a plate of mezze, the dolmades, the squid in ink and there was this pork chop thing that’s an absolutely essential order..”

“Paidakia?” Lisa asked.

“Yes! That’s it,” said Caitlin, “how did you know?”

“It’s written on the special’s board, you twonk,” Lisa said, laughing again, “come on, let’s go and sit down.”

They took the table closest to the view.

The sun – just beginning to set – was already painting the ripples yellow, gold and red, and a cool coastal breeze gently ruffled the green paper napkins.

A balding waiter with a thick moustache wearing a spotless white polo shirt and blue jeans came over with a tin jug of red wine, a basket of bread and a globular glass bottle of Orangina for Joe who slurped it up so fast through the straw it was gone long before the food arrived.

He begged so charmingly for another that after the most tokenistic of objections and a half-hearted suggestion of water instead, Caitlin and Lisa smilingly capitulated.

The food was so good that for the first few minutes of the meal none of them said anything beyond quiet exclamations of satisfied joy.

The waiter brought a succession of small dishes without being asked to; dark briny olives, a paprika flavoured bean stew, a small but perfectly crafted bowl of Greek Salad, the feta so cool, sharp and crumbly that when it was gone, they ordered another.

“Any place, any time, is that right?” Caitlin asked Lisa.

Lisa took a sip of wine and nodded. “Yes – as long as you’ve been there before you can go back. I don’t know if it’s actual time travel – the places are always empty and the people in them are more like actors in a film than real people. You can’t really talk to them even if you recognise them from when you were there. My hunch is Thomas makes the places from our memories.”

“Does it do takeaway?” Caitlin said towards the end of the meal, looking at the leftovers.

Lisa looked thoughtful. “Good question, but it’s never occurred to me to ask or try. I don’t think I’d want to – so much of a good meal is the setting, right? It’s why the wine you bring back from holiday never tastes the same when you drink it at home.”

Caitlin considered that and then nodded. “Yeah,” she said regretfully, “I think you’re right. Now I think about it I wouldn’t want to eat any of this anywhere else. It’d spoil my memory.”

“Yeah,” said Lisa, “I’ve thought the same and the risk is if you spoil the memory then you’d spoil it for yourself if you wanted to go back again. Too much of one thing is never good anyway and there’s other meals to look forward to. The van is here for two more nights.”

“Perfect,” Caitin said, “one night for each of us – you tomorrow and Joe, you can have the last turn.”

Then, regretfully, after ice-cream and fruit, full as eggs, Caitlin, Lisa and Joe left Menelaos to return to cold and dark November that felt just a bit less dreary and depressing than it had before.

…

The next night, Lisa took Caitlin and Joe to the cafe of a backpacker’s hostel on the River Kwai in Thailand where she said she’d gone on the last stop of her gap-year round the world trip.

They ate fresh river fish fried in black pepper and so much garlic they smelled their sizzling dishes coming from the kitchen before they saw them.

They drank ice-cold lager and after they’d picked clean the fishbones, they mopped up the herb infused oil with balls of sticky rice they ate with their hands.

“It was nice,” Joe said as they finished up, “but sorry, Lisa, I did like Menelaos better.”

Lisa smiled as she reached over and tousled his hair. “That’s perfectly fine,” she said, “and tomorrow it’s your choice.”

“My favourite meal in my favourite place ever?” Joe said, looking at both women.

“That’s right,” said Caitlin, “totally your choice.”

“That’ll be quite hard,” said Joe. “I’ll think hard about it tomorrow at school.”

“You do that,” Lisa said, “but don’t get into too much of a tizz about it – the van comes every year, so you’ll have lots of other chances.”

…

“We should all go in real life to Menelaos some time,” Caitlin said to Lisa as they watched TV while scrolling their phones later that night once Joe was in bed, “you know, save up, take a holiday.”

“Yeah,” Lisa said, “I would like that.”

“Did you ever go back to that backpacker place?” Caitlin asked her, “in real life I mean.”

There was a silence so long Caitlin thought Lisa had been distracted by something on her feed and hadn’t heard the question.

Then, “No, I never did.” Lisa said. “The day after I ate there I got called home because of mum and dad’s accident.”

Caitlin put down her phone. “Oh my God, Lisa, you ate there the day before the accident?  “I’m so sorry.”

Caitlin put down her own phone and smiled weakly.

“It’s OK, sort of. I think one of the reasons I choose that place, time and meal was because it was the last time I was that old version of myself – the last time there was that sort of normal before everything got turned upside down.”

“We can go back there tomorrow,” said Caitlin, “if you want. We can say something to Joe and make it up to him.”

“That’s kind, but no,” said Lisa, “once a year is enough and I sort of think that might be too much. I told myself last night to make it the last time for a while. Like Thomas said, we must move forward, right? Make new memories? You know that better than anyone. And anyway, I really want to see where and when Joe chooses.”

…

Joe told Caitlin and Lisa he’d made up his mind at school, but he seemed nervous about his choice and kept it to himself.

He wouldn’t tell them anything about it and later, when they got to the front of the queue he insisted on whispering it in Thomas’ ear.

Lisa was standing close to him but caught only his last three words, which were “with my family.”

Thomas’ beamed so widely his eyes all but disappeared into his happy wrinkles.

“Ah,” he said, “the first time anyone here has asked for that – but such a good choice.”

They went in through the brilliant light and emerged in the bar area of the Green Man, Willerby’s ancient pub where the three of them spent most Friday evenings.

Joe looked from Caitlin to Lisa and back again.

“I’m sorry if I did it wrong,” he said, “I know we go here all the time, but this is where all my favourite meals are.”

…

Later after samosas, biryani and chicken tikka the three of them went back through the light and back to the same spot they’d left an hour ago, just a two-minute walk from home.

“Mummy? Lisy?” Joe said, tugging at their hands, “did you like it? Was it fun?”

“It was wonderful,” Caitlin said, “and the best part of it is we can go back any time we want – we don’t have to wait for November.”

“Right!”, said Joe. “We can go back tomorrow! Shall we go tomorrow? Do you agree?”

“Joe!” Said Lisa, “you can’t possibly want to eat out again so soon. We need vegetables!  Sorry boyo but it’s homemade minestrone tomorrow.”

“Boo,” said Joe, but he was laughing.

…

“Urgh, it’s been lovely, but I feel gross now”, Caitlin said to Lisa on the couch in front of the TV again. “Time for a run tomorrow after I drop Joe off?”

Lisa nodded, “yeah maybe,” she said, “I don’t want to, but I know I should.”

“Yeah,” Caitlin said, flicking the channels absently.

“Caitlin?” Lisa said.

“I know, sorry, I’ll find something decent in a sec,” said Caitlin.

“No, it’s not that. Did you hear what Joe said to Thomas about why he chose the Green Man?”

“Just that it was his favourite place,” said Caitlin.

“He said it was because he was with his family.”

“Aw,” Caitlin said, “that’s sweet.”

“Yeah,” Lisa said, and just the tiniest hitch in her voice made Caitlin look up to see her best friend staring at the ceiling, her eyes half closed and shining.

Caitlin turned off the TV.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake Lis’ of course we’re a family. What do you think we’ve been doing all these years? Look around – look at the three-person magnetic calendar with all our shit on it – look at all our photos – look at the laundry we never get on top of – open all our themed WhatsApp groups and feel rightly shamed at the total rubbish that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else we dump in there.”

Her voice softened. “Family isn't a noun. It's a verb. It's not what you are, it's what you do. We’re a family. I thought you knew.”

“I knew I knew,” said Lisa.

“Well, good,” Caitlin said, “and now you know I know and so does Joe. Sorry if you thought you were just taking us in for a couple of weeks. You’re stuck with us.”

Just before they turned in Caitlin asked Lisa if she ever fancied girls, which made her laugh.

“No,” Lisa said, “do you?”

“No,” said Caitlin, “which is very inconvenient.”

They both laughed again, turned off the TV, wished each other a good night and went to bed to their rooms on either side of Joe’s.

“Love you, Lis,” Caitlin called.

“Love you too, Cat,” Lisa called back.

There were lots of very good times to come over very many years, but Lisa remembered that day as among her very best.

And so did Caitlin.

And so did Joe.

…