Free The Mutilation Machination by Shaun Jeffrey

of what?
    She perused the thought for a while, letting it bounce around
inside her head before she tired of thinking about it and set to cleaning the
house.
     
    Evelyn felt giddy with excitement. Neil had called her and asked
whether she wanted to go out for a drink and something to eat. She couldn’t
believe it – had butterflies in her stomach already.
    He arranged to pick her up at six o’clock and take her to the new
Italian restaurant in the town.
    Remember child, being blind isn’t a curse. It’s a godsend.
    In a world without form, Evelyn was bombarded with noise and
aromas. The smell of garlic assailed her nostrils, accompanied by a potpourri
of spices and herbs that made her mouth water.
    “This way. Here, let me help,” Neil said.
    Evelyn felt his hand on hers. It felt warm against her skin and
sent a delicious shiver down her spine. She tapped the ground in front with the
stick, a proboscis extending from her hand to search out obstacles that may
trip her up.
    Once they reached the table, Neil helped her to be seated and she
collapsed her stick and placed it on the ground by her feet.
    “The menus, erm, menu, sir,” a voice said.
    Evelyn imagined his face as he stared at her with her dark
sunglasses, his slip of the tongue faux pas not going unnoticed. She felt
herself blush and pursed her lips in annoyance, not that she should be the one
that felt embarrassed.
    “Thank you,” Neil said. “Evelyn, would you like me to read it to
you?”
    “Yes. If you don’t mind.”
    He proceeded to read through the starters and main courses while
she listened, head cocked to catch every word above the chatter of the diners.
She loved the quality of his voice. It had a strong, masculine sound to it.
    She eventually decided upon a starter of Carpaccio Di Salome,
which Neil informed her was thinly sliced Scotch salmon, marinated in olive
oil, lime juice, garlic and dill. The way he read it out to her made it
probably sound more succulent than it was. For her main course, she decided on
Pollo Ai Porri E Zafferano; pan-fried breast of chicken in a leek, fresh herbs,
saffron and cream sauce, which sounded delicious.
    They made idle chatter while waiting for the meal, and Evelyn
savoured the Sardinian white wine Neil ordered. Conversing with Neil came
without effort. They chatted about various subjects, ranging from school,
friends and family without any hesitation or embarrassing pauses. Evelyn
couldn’t recall when she had felt so relaxed in public.
    The aroma of the salmon, garlic, lime and dill wafted into her
nostrils as the starters arrived.
    She carefully put down her glass and searched the table with her
fingertips to find the plate and the cutlery. Even though she couldn’t see
anyone, she felt they were staring at her so she tried not to draw attention to
herself, making her movements slow and delicate. Her fingers came into contact
with a place mat, raised up on which she felt a pattern, but which to the
trained hand became letters.
    She fingered the design; found an ‘a’ and a ‘d’. Further
exploration unearthed an ‘n’, followed closely by ‘e’, ‘g’ and ‘r’. Adnegr?
    She mulled over the letters for a moment, rearranging them in her
mind.
    garden
    ranged
    gander
    danger.
    She snatched her fingers away.
    “What’s the matter?” Neil asked.
    Evelyn shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing … the plate was hot,
that’s all.”
    “Are you okay? Let me look.”
    “No, honestly, I’m fine. It probably felt hotter than it is.
Sensitive digits.” She wiggled her fingers in the air and then placed her hands
back on the table and found the knife and fork. She prodded the fork around the
plate, using the knife in her other hand to ascertain the area of the plate.
Once the cutlery met resistance, she stabbed the food and then sliced it with
the knife, using the weight of the fork to work out whether it contained any
food. Bringing empty prongs to her mouth would only heighten her humiliation,
and