It was the third Wednesday of the month again. That means it was the night for Dave to have the monthly evening dinner with Jim, his colleague from work.

That evening, it was Dave’s turn to cook. Dave adored cooking. There was nothing he enjoyed more - well, almost nothing. Dave was in the kitchen cooking steaks on the pan, whilst singing along to Otis Reading’s, “The Dock of the Bay”.

“Those smell amazing Dave. No need to go showing off” said Jim with a wry smile.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Jim.” Replied Dave without taking his eyes off the pan.

“Just getting the wine from the rack.” Said Jim reaching for Malbec and 2 glasses.

“Not too big a glass for me - not like last time. Don’t want to get carried away again. I’ll bring the steaks through in 5 minutes.” Said Dave,

“A maestro at work creating his masterpiece.” Said Jim walking away chuckling quietly.

Five minutes later, Dave brought through 2 plates lavished with steaks, tomatoes and potatoes. Dave sat one plate on his side of the table and the other on Jim’s side before sitting in front of his plate.

“Don’t you ever think about leaving the butcher shop? You’d make one hell of a chef” Asked Jim whilst beginning to make cuts into the steak, blood oozing out.

“Not really given it much thought actually. I’m happy there. I get access to all the best meats.” Replied Dave. Both men starting to laugh.

“Who was this one?” Asked Jim.

“Frank” replied Dave, without bothering to look up from his meal, continuing to cut his steak with knife and fork.

“Which one was he?” Asked Jim, whilst looking at Jim and pointing the fork at the steak on his plate.

Dave hesitated for a brief moment with a puzzled look on his face, before answering,

“I think he was… the gardener.”