“So why were you so shocked that she approached me?”
“Because I didn’t know she knew about you,” he answers quietly.
I chew my bottom lip as an image of his beautiful sister rises into my mind. Something about her, I don’t exactly know what, makes me feel very wary. “I don’t want to be dragged into any family feud.”
He smiles tightly. “Of course. I will tell her to keep away from you.”
“Good.”
“Shall we resume our meal?”
I nod and we move towards the table.
As soon as we are seated again, two waiters carrying plates come into the room. As they put the plates down in front of us, I see that it is exactly the same dish as before.
“What a waste. Our food was almost untouched and perfectly good to eat,” I remark.
“From the moment a living being dies, the fungus that has lived inside it all its life, begins the rotting process. If one must eat dead things then they must be freshly killed and consumed immediately.”
I take a deep breath. I have never given the food I eat much thought. Everything I put into my mouth has been bought in a supermarket, café, or restaurant and I have never pondered where it has come from, let alone how freshly killed it is. In fact, I hate the idea that it was alive and happily living its little life only a little while ago, and it was killed just to feed me. I look down at the lobster flesh nestled amongst the green leaves. Oh dear!
“Buon appetito,” Rocco murmurs.
“I don’t think I can eat this,” I mutter.
“Why not?”
I look at him and he appears genuinely puzzled. “I know this is really hypocritical of me,” I begin, “but it makes me feel terrible to connect my food to living, breathing creatures. I’ve always bought my raw meat, poultry, or fish cut, cleaned and laid out on a polystyrene tray and wrapped in see-through plastic.”
“And unrecognizable as an animal,” he finished.
“Exactly”
He leans back. “It is the nature of this world, Autumn. All living things are food to something else.”
“If you don’t eat your lobster, one of the dogs will eat it, if dogs don’t, some wild creature searching the dustbins will, if they don’t get it, the maggots will. In the end, we are all maggot food anyway.”
“Now, you’re really putting me off,” I mumble.
“Have you ever seen a pride of lions bringing down a buffalo on TV?”
“Yes, once. And I didn’t like it.”
“I have seen it unfold in real life.”
My eyes widen. “You have? What was it like”
“More than once. It’s always a fierce battle, the very air fizzes with their adrenaline. The enormous buffalo in the prime of his life does not want to die. He fights back valiantly. He snorts and bucks when he feels the sharp claws of one of the lionesses tears into his rump. He shakes her off as blood pours down his hide. In desperation, he turns and gores one of the male lions in the face. The lion falls to the dust with a thump, but with a growl of fury he springs back. Blood pouring from his wound, he grabs the bull by the neck, and sinks his teeth into his prey’s windpipe. The weight of the fully grown adult male lion forces the two-thousand-pound beast to his knees.
“The other three lionesses circle the choking buffalo. The buffalo’s eyes are enormous and wild with terror. He already knows he does not stand a chance, but even then, the majestic beast does not go quietly. He kicks hard and tries his best to throw off the lion. The other younger lions start pouncing on him. Their combined weight brings him completely down.
“The felled beast screams for its long dead mother, but his windpipe is obstructed and only a dull, sad moan comes out. The heartbreaking sound carries in the still night of the savannah. The other buffalo hear the awful gouts of sound from one of their own, but they can do nothing. They don’t see well in the dark. The herd moves restlessly away from the smell of the lions and the blood.
“It takes at least ten minutes for the great beast to die. His eyes fill with an incoherent, mad appeal. As it dies the crazy animal tries to reason with its hungry enemy, to beg silently for mercy. But there is no pity. No, no pity at all. The last minutes of his life sees the lions begin to feast on him while he is still alive.
“They always start with the belly. Tearing it open and eating its smoking innards. The buffalo surrenders and dies, but his death is not a gift to the lions, but to his own kind and the land itself. It is the chase and the battle that breaks open the hard earth so when the rains come they absorb into the soil and allow the grasses to grow so his sons and grandsons can feed on it. In the distance, hyenas are already beginning to gather. Their teeth are big and very white because they are used for crunching bones.”