‘Wouldn’t it be easier for him just to leave her?’ said Kylie.
‘Don’t I wish,’ Tasha sighed. ‘But he has to play this very carefully, or he could end up financially screwed, again.’
‘So how’s this gonna help?’
‘Well, you see, the courts have to divide up Ross’s assets according to her future income. While she’s doing nothing but working in a shop, she gets a big chunk of everything to make up for her “loss of lifestyle”.’ Tasha rolled her eyes.
‘Seriously? They do that here? I thought you only have to pay alimony in America.’
‘It’s not alimony, it’s just the way they divide up everything when you divorce. That’s why we have to be patient. If things work out at the restaurant, she’ll be less dependent on him. Then Ross said it’ll be our time. You know, he’s really a decent guy, he wants her to be okay.’
She lifted one of the hangers off the rack. ‘Some of the baby dolls look a bit, well, baby doll. I don’t want to be cute, I want to be hot. Maybe I should go for a corset.’ She walked over to another rack and started flicking through. ‘Have you ever worn one of these?’ she asked Kylie.
‘Nuh.’
‘I wonder how hard they are to get off?’ she mused, picking up a black corset laced all the way up the front. She checked the price tag. ‘O-M-G!’
Kylie looked over her shoulder and gasped. ‘You’re not going to pay that just for undies, are you?’
‘I think of it as an investment,’ Tasha said with a sly grin, but Kylie was frowning. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Okay, I’m just gonna say it, I’m worried about you, Tash.’
‘Oh, Kyles, you’re the best. But you don’t have to worry, I know what I’m doing.’
‘But what if he decides to stay with his wife after all this?’ Kylie persisted. ‘Married guys do that all the time.’
‘That’s a myth,’ Tasha returned. ‘More people get divorced than get married these days.’
‘Really?’
‘Ye-ah,’ she said, as though the word had two syllables. ‘It’s in the statistics. I told you, I know what I’m doing. If we can hold out just a bit longer, well, we can have it all.’
‘Do you need it all but? I mean, as long as you’re together . . .’
Tasha looked at her. ‘Okay, Kyles, I’m going to explain something to you. Ross is rich because he’s smart and he’s powerful and he works hard. That is who he is, it’s his appeal. I’m not saying I love him for his money, but it’s part of the package, and I love the whole package. It’s, like, I don’t think Ross loves me for my body, but I know he really loves my body, and if I got fat, I wouldn’t expect him to feel the same way about me.’
‘Hm, that’s true.’
‘And what do you think I’m doing here?’ she added. ‘Enhancing my assets. I know what Ross likes, and I give it to him. Don’t you think I deserve the same in return?’
‘Totes.’
‘See Kyles, we’re both bringing something to the table. Ross gets this,’ she said, picking up another corset that was almost entirely see-through. ‘And I get everything that comes with Ross. It’s only fair.’
Friday night
‘I’m so not looking forward to this.’
Donna sighed. ‘Toby, we’re five minutes from the restaurant, buck up, okay?’
When Andie asked them out to dinner to celebrate her new job, Donna knew it wasn’t going to play well with Toby. But Andie was so excited that Donna went ahead and made all the arrangements, lining up Max’s favourite babysitter before she even mentioned it to Toby. And when she did mention it, she tried to do it by stealth. In the middle of a conversation she casually dropped, ‘Oh and we have dinner with Andie and everyone that weekend.’
Toby had not missed her trick, unfortunately. The number of times things went in one ear and out the other with that man, but not this time.
‘Who’s everyone?’ he’d asked immediately.
‘Oh, Jess . . . Ross, of course.’
It went down like a lead balloon then, and he was still grizzling now.
‘And you’re absolutely sure Jess is coming?’
‘As sure as I was last time you asked,’ said Donna. ‘And if she can put on a good face for Andie’s sake, then so can you.’
He shrugged. ‘I guess.’
‘This is for Andie, Toby. Don’t you want to celebrate her new job with her?’
‘Yeah, of course I do. Just not with Ross.’
‘Well, Ross is the one who got her the job,’ Donna reminded him. ‘It’s a really great thing he’s done for her. She’s so excited, she’s going to be working at Viande. This is a fantastic opportunity for her.’
‘There has to be something in it for him.’
‘What could be in it for Ross?’ said Donna. ‘She’s going to have to work most nights —’
‘Maybe that’s it,’ said Toby, as though he’d just hit on something.
‘What’s it?’
‘Maybe he wants to keep her busy at nights.’
‘Toby!’ she groaned.
‘What can I say? I just don’t trust the guy.’
‘Well, you’re way off base. The whole reason Andie gave up being a chef in the first place was that Ross didn’t want her to work nights, because they wouldn’t get enough time together.’
‘Then why is it okay now?’ Toby put to her.
Donna didn’t know how to answer that. ‘You have such a devious mind,’ she said finally as they turned a corner. The restaurant was on the next block. ‘Please, Toby, you will behave yourself tonight, won’t you?’
‘When do I ever not behave myself?’ he said, as he manoeuvred the car into place for a reverse park.
He had a point. Toby did always behave himself, he was wonderful company when they went out, charming and affable . . . with other people. But Ross just rubbed him the wrong way. Always had, and, Donna feared, always would.
‘Don’t worry,’ he tried to assure her. ‘Jess’ll be there to share the pain. We can get drunk together.’
They were shown to their table, where they found Andie and Ross already seated, waiting. Toby was happy to see Andie at least, he was always happy to see Andie. Though it was bittersweet as well, she reminded him so much of Brendan. When they were kids, people often thought the two of them were twins. They were only a year apart, and physically they shared the same features, the blond hair, the striking green eyes. But it was the mannerisms that always got Toby – they laughed the same, at the same kind of jokes, they had the same expressions. Whenever he was around Andie, Toby was catapulted back to when the three of them would hang out together. As kids Andie was always included. Brendan never made a thing about it, but if they were going to kick a ball down at the local oval, Andie came too; if they caught a bus to the beach in the holidays, she was always with them. As they grew older, Toby and Brendan were her unofficial escorts to every school dance – or maybe bodyguards was more appropriate. With Brendan around, no guy would dare approach Andie, though there were plenty who wanted to. They shared their first illicit drink together, tried their first cigarettes, which they all found disgusting and promptly gave up. But as much as Brendan was protective of Andie, she was just as protective of her brother, in a different way, keeping a watchful eye on proceedings and always knowing the best time to leave. She’d tried to get him to leave the club the night he died, and she was devastated, blaming herself for not being there. But Toby had been there, and yet Andie had never blamed him. Despite her own grief she comforted him more than anyone else could. They drew together, trying to close the gap where Brendan had been. She was part of Brendan that would be with him always.
Andie jumped to her feet, her face lighting up as soon as she saw them coming. Then Ross stood up behind her, the trademark smarmy smile planted across his face. Toby wished he could like the guy, for Andie’s sake, but he knew in his heart that Brendan would never have approved of Ross. And he felt certain that Andie wouldn’t have ended up with
him had Brendan still been here. But all he could do was watch over her now, and be there for her if – or when – it all fell apart.
‘Hi guys,’ Andie beamed. ‘I’m so glad you could make it!’
She threw her arms around Toby’s neck, and he gave her a warm hug, glancing at the table settings over her shoulder.
‘Jess on her way?’ he asked, drawing back.
‘Ah no, unfortunately,’ said Andie. ‘She phoned earlier, she’s been asked to stand in at Dalgety’s. She could hardly refuse.’
‘You don’t turn down Dalgety’s,’ Donna agreed with a nervous laugh. She glanced sideways at Toby – his jaw was clenched so tightly a vein was pulsing in his neck.
Ross reached across the table to shake Toby’s hand. ‘So it’s just the four of us,’ he said, smiling broadly as he beckoned the waiter. ‘How about we start with champagne?’
Toby felt Donna’s hand on his arm, applying gentle downward pressure, in case he bolted. As if he’d do that to Andie. He was just going to have to make the most of this, focus on Andie, it was her night, after all. Ross always made a show about wanting to pay, so this time Toby would let him, and he’d order the most expensive dishes on the menu. He turned to Andie as they took their seats. ‘So, tell me about the new job.’
‘Well, I guess you’ve heard of Viande?’ she said, bubbling over.
‘Everyone’s heard of Viande,’ said Toby. ‘Even a pleb like me.’
Viande was a longstanding Sydney establishment, like the grand old dame of fine dining. But over the last decade or so it had been usurped by all the new kids on the block, and it had gone from three hats down to one, and was in danger of dropping off the list altogether. There’d been some hullabaloo a few years ago when management had brought in a new executive chef at great expense; apparently the guy had been working in some of the most famous restaurants across Europe. Last year Viande had its three hats restored, and management was vindicated.
‘So how did you land the job?’ Toby asked, as the waiter returned with a bottle of champagne and proceeded to open it.
Andie turned to look at Ross, smiling. ‘It was all his doing.’
‘The owner is a client of mine, we’ve been handling his business for years,’ Ross said, taking the floor, like he always did. ‘He has a substantial portfolio of restaurants and hotels across the country, so I gave him a call, asked if he couldn’t find something here in Sydney for Andie. The kitchen at Viande is big enough that they can certainly give someone a tryout.’
‘So this isn’t an actual job?’ Toby asked. He hated to think Andie was getting her hopes up and this was just a furphy Ross had created, so that he could say, well, you tried . . .
‘You don’t just hand someone a job in a prestigious restaurant like this, Toby,’ said Andie. ‘Particularly when I have hardly any experience – I’m going to have to earn it.’
‘Oh, you’ll do great,’ he said, giving her hand a squeeze.
‘I don’t know, it feels like it’s going to be a very long interview.’
‘That’s exactly what it is, darling,’ said Ross, taking her other hand possessively. ‘The owner told me the executive chef likes to try people out on the job. He feels that just because someone’s good in an interview doesn’t make them good in a kitchen. So his philosophy is to throw them in at the deep end.’
‘The deep end?’ said Donna. ‘That sounds ominous.’
‘I know,’ Andie agreed with a grimace.
‘Nup,’ Toby declared. ‘You’re going to knock ’em dead,’ he said, raising his glass. ‘To Andie!’
‘To Andie!’ everyone echoed.
‘So when’s your first shift?’ Toby asked her.
‘Thursday.’
Thursday
Andie couldn’t remember the last time she felt this nervous. But that was the whole problem – she didn’t do anything that made her nervous any more, her life was devoid of challenges, and that was not a good thing. She had to keep telling herself that, because right now she would have done anything to get out of this particular challenge.
Ross had offered to drive her to the restaurant but she refused; he’d have to leave work early, and he’d have to come out late to pick her up. Besides, there was really no need. She was perfectly capable of driving herself, there was parking for staff, it was easy. And she needed the time in the car, on her own, to compose herself.
But Andie had a feeling she could have driven to Melbourne and back and she still wouldn’t have felt composed when she turned into the staff carpark at the back of Viande. She glanced at her new chef’s kit on the passenger seat; a gift from Ross when she’d despaired that her apprentice kit from her TAFE days would not be up to scratch. So yesterday he’d presented her with a top-of-the-range professional kit, and now Andie didn’t feel up to scratch. But she was dressed in a new, double-breasted white chef’s jacket and fine-checked pants, so at least she looked the part. She stepped out of the car and pressed the remote lock as she walked across the carpark to the rear entrance of the restaurant. She was to report to the executive chef, Dominic Gerou. Andie just wished she’d had a chance to talk to the man at least; she didn’t even know what he looked like. When she’d googled his name she discovered a formidable reputation – which made it even more daunting – and a few indistinct images where he was just one in a group, standing at the back, usually looking away. He never appeared on MasterChef or any of the cooking shows – though rumour was he’d been invited repeatedly – and he flatly refused to have anyone from the media visit his kitchen. He was therefore described as rather prickly. The couple of direct quotes Andie did come across stated that he was not a celebrity, he was a chef; as far as he was concerned those two words did not belong together. He took his work seriously, and he expected others to do the same. Prickly indeed. Andie had to wonder what it was going to be like to work in his kitchen.
No, enough of that, she had to think positively. It was going to be amazing. She would finally get the kind of experience she used to dream about. And it wasn’t as though she was an indentured servant; if she didn’t like it, she could always move on.
Andie walked up to what looked like a fire exit door with a plaque: Viande. Staff Entry Only. She smoothed down her jacket, took a deep breath and pressed a large red button on the adjacent wall. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the corresponding buzz emanating from inside. This was it. Presently the door opened and a small-statured man of Asian appearance was standing on the other side, dressed in full chef’s regalia. Andie hated referring to people as ‘Asians’, she was sure it must sound racist, but she could never tell exactly where someone was from.
‘Hello?’ he prompted her. ‘Can I help you?’
He spoke in a broad Australian accent, so that was no help. Not that Andie could distinguish Asian accents either. She really ought to work on that.
‘Oh, hi,’ she said. ‘I’m here for a tryout. I’m supposed to report to Dominic Gerou.’
She noticed a slight lift of his eyebrows. ‘All right. Well, I’m Tang,’ he said. ‘Please follow me.’
He led Andie down a long, dimly lit corridor, past a couple of storerooms, and on towards the familiar cacophony of a commercial kitchen. Suddenly they were on the threshold. Andie paused in the doorway, taking it all in: row upon row of gleaming stainless-steel benches and shelves, pots and pans and utensils hanging from their racks; the banks of double ovens, deep-frying vats, grills and hotplates; the sizzling, hissing and clattering, the roar of exhaust fans, voices snapping orders; the smells, too many to differentiate right now. Andie felt the adrenalin pumping through her veins. She was at once excited and scared as hell.
‘This way,’ Tang said over his shoulder. They weaved their way around a veritable army of chefs at work, Andie counted at least a dozen. No one so much as glanced in her direction, they all appeared to be completely engrossed in whatever they were doing. And deadly serious.
Tang finally came to a halt at the pass, where the meal
s were plated up and passed over to the waiters to be served. There was a small group of chefs and waitstaff gathered around another chef – Andie assumed this had to be Dominic Gerou – as he bent over the bench doing . . . something, she couldn’t see past everyone. But he had the group in his thrall.
‘Excuse me, Chef?’ Tang said tentatively.
‘Not now, Tang,’ the man said without looking around.
Tang stood very still, like a soldier at attention. Andie followed suit as Chef proceeded to explain how to plate up a dish.
‘And so the confit of duck rests on the bed of almond nut soil,’ he was saying, ‘and is topped with the glazed quince. Carefully spoon the jus of red wine and port, star anise and juniper berries. With a light hand, please, don’t drown it. The sour cherries, three precisely, are placed to one side, like so.’
Andie detected a slight plum in his mouth – she couldn’t decide if it was the remnants of an English accent, or if he was just pretentious. She’d expected him to be French with that name.
‘And there it is,’ he said, straightening up. ‘Is everyone clear? Come close, take a good look. It’s fiddly and I want you to get it right.’
He stepped back out of the way as the assembled group drew in closer to inspect the dish.
‘What is it, Tang?’ he asked, finally turning to him.
‘Sorry, Chef, this lady was told to report to you.’
He glanced beyond Tang to Andie, the irritation plain on his face.
She cleared her throat. ‘My name is Andie Corcoran. I’m starting —’
‘I can’t deal with this now,’ he cut her off. ‘Just set her up, would you, Tang?’
‘Yes, Chef.’
Tang turned to Andie and ushered her back through the kitchen and up the corridor again, to one of the storerooms they had passed on the way in. A row of lockers lined one wall, and Tang walked along beside them, checking for one that would open.
‘Here you go,’ he said, turning to look at her. ‘What did you say your name was? Sandy?’
The Secret Ingredient Page 7