by Janet Pywell
I glance at the mess oozing out of the paper bag—the sticky eggs leaking over the doorstep. Molly stands looking hopefully at the lamb, so I nudge her away with my knee and pick it up.
I glance back into the quiet London street. It’s a haven of peace in the busy metropolis, and I’m wondering if I’m on some reality show. A celebrity set-up where a reporter suddenly appears laughing saying, ‘we fooled you’, and you feel an absolute idiot while trying to smile for the cameras.
‘Ronda? Are you there?’
‘Yes, I am. Sorry.’
‘I did see you on Masterchef. How many years ago was that?’
‘Almost three.’
‘My goodness, was it really?’
I close my eyes and rub my temple as flashing images of my life fill my head: the fame, the recognition, the media attention, the fun and laughter. Then the best part – the hard work – the challenge and the success when I was recognised for my skill and artistry in the kitchen. I was happy then, but that was before James and his betrayal—
‘Have I caught you at a bad time, Ronda?’
Inside, waiting at the end of the hallway, Molly is now in her downward dog pose, tail wagging, waiting for her breakfast. She barks. It’s a small yap to remind me she’s had a long walk and she’s hungry.
‘No, it’s fine.’
He hesitates, and then he gives a small embarrassed laugh.
‘Um, well. Perhaps it’s not something you’d like to do then?’
I’d be crazy to turn him down. It’s the chance of a lifetime, to work with one of the most well-known, and revered masters of television. It’s also the opportunity of a lifetime to resurrect my flailing career. Apart from catering for a wealthy German businessman a few months ago in Scotland, I can’t seem to get my business kick-started again – or my confidence. This is what I need.
‘I’m sorry I bothered you, Ronda. It’s just that—’
‘Sorry, no, no. Daniel, I’d love to. It would be a pleasure.’
Did I really call him Daniel with such familiarity?
‘Great, that’s fantastic.’ He sounds genuinely pleased.
‘Yes, I’m sorry. I know I should sound far more enthusiastic, less star-struck,’ I admit with a smile that I wish he could see, and I’m rewarded with his throaty laugh. I warm to the theme and add, ‘It’s very kind of you to think of me. Let me check my calendar.’
I slam the front door with my foot, leaving the mess of the uncooked scrambled eggs on the step and I lean with my back against the front door. It’s beginning to dawn on me, I’m speaking to Daniel Clarkson, and he wants me to cook in his famous pub.
‘When is it for?’ I ask.
‘Well, unfortunately, it is short notice. It’s for this Wednesday.’
I push past Molly who can’t believe I’m doing something more important than feeding her. She jumps up and puts her muddy paws on my jacket. I push her off, throw the lamb on the kitchen counter and reach for my diary. I check the date knowing my diary is empty.
‘The first Wednesday in November?’ I ask.
‘Yes.’
‘Um, I think I could juggle that around ….’ I pretend. ‘That would be fine, Daniel. I’ll pop it in my diary.’
He breathes a solemn and dramatic sigh.
‘Thank goodness for that,’ he gushes. ‘I thought you were going to turn me down, Ronda. You certainly know how to keep a man on his toes.’
I hear the smile in his voice, and I realise it’s what makes him successful. It’s what they call charisma, and it’s what I’m lacking. After ten years in the British Army, I haven’t developed these skills. Fortunately, in the kitchen, I can be monosyllabic and grumpy if I want to be, so long as I work in a team. I can lose myself in my profession as a chef. How I won Masterchef, or why I was so popular still remains a mystery to me.
‘It’s all pretty straightforward,’ he explains. ‘The guests are arriving at midday. They’ll have coffee or aperitifs and then lunch at one-thirty.’
‘That’s fine.’ I make a note in my diary.
‘Erm, they’re an international crowd. There are a few people you may recognise, you know, a few celebrities, a politician and even a prince but I’m sure you will be discreet.’
‘Of course.’
I don’t add that fame or the celebrity lifestyle doesn’t interest me and that I’m more into good manners and kindness.
‘The thing is, Ronda, no one must know about this meeting, this gathering. You will have to sign a waiver, a declaration, not to speak about it. It’s standard practice in this situation. These people don’t want to have their lives splashed all over the press.’
Unless it suits them and you want the Hello! magazine all over your pub, I want to add, but I say aloud, ‘That’s fine.’
‘I guess you’ve signed something before when you’ve cooked for royalty?’
‘Yes, something similar,’ I reply.
That’s why he wants me. He’s heard that I’ve cooked for Charles and Camilla on several occasions. It’s something I never speak about, but the word does get out, and I’m not complaining. After winning Masterchef, I’d been very successful; jetting all over the world to cook for private functions in exotic locations, for pop stars, billionaires, philanthropists, business people and even royalty. It had been thrilling, exciting and fun; however, that was over a year ago – before I lost everything – before James took everything, including my confidence.
‘Good. Good. I’m delighted, Ronda. Well, I won’t take up any more of your time. I’m sure you’re a very busy woman. I’ll send you an email confirming it all, your remuneration and, of course, the disclosure document.’
‘Perfect.’
‘If you have any questions just email me.’
‘What about the menu?’
‘It will be straightforward, very low key.’
‘How many guests?’
‘Eight.’
I stare at Molly, who sits watching me patiently. She’s giving me her Paddington hard stare, to get me off the phone quickly.
‘Eight?’ I scribble down the number in my empty diary. I know that afterwards, in my excitement, I won’t remember a word of what Daniel’s said and I suddenly can’t wait to tell Tina.
He continues, ‘I’ll send you the menu suggestions. I’ll purchase everything fresh the day before, and I’ll send you a list. If you come down early on Wednesday morning and there’s anything else you need, I can always get someone to pop out and get it for you. Does that sound, alright?’
‘You don’t want me to suggest a menu?’
‘No, not at all. The host is quite particular. I’ll email you now with the details, and I’ll see you on Wednesday. I’ll send you directions to my place. It should only take an hour from your home.’
‘You know where I live?’ He doesn’t answer so I say, ‘Can I ask how you got my phone number and who recommended me?’
He pauses before answering.
‘A very good friend, someone who thinks very highly of you.’
Tina, my best friend, is an international criminal lawyer but she would have warned me. She’d have given me the heads up that Daniel was going to phone me, besides, she’s probably never even met Daniel Clarkson. So, who else could it be? I wonder if it’s any of my old army companions, but I doubt it would be anyone who wouldn’t forewarn me.
Molly sits at my feet, looking hopeful.
‘Thinks highly of me,’ I reply automatically.
‘Yes, James Frampton recommended you,’ Daniel says softly in my ear.
‘James?’ I whisper.
‘Yes, he speaks very highly of you. He said that you were the one.’
My knees give way, and I slump onto the kitchen chair. My mouth is dry, and my hands are shaking. My stomach turns and lifts as if I’m on a rollercoaster and I think I may be sick.
Molly regards me warily, pads closer and then places her head on my knee, as if she’s aware of my sudden distress.
‘Jame
s?’ I mumble.
‘He’ll be thrilled to know you’ve agreed.’
James. I feel my anger igniting. My shock has turned to fire and outrage. How dare James speak about me? I never want to see or hear from him again. I don’t want anything to do with him, but I do want my money back. My money that he stole from me last February – almost nine months ago.
‘But, he won’t be as delighted as me,’ Daniel purrs. ‘I’m looking forward to it already.’
Janet Pywell’s Books
Ronda George Thrillers:
The Concealers
The Influencers
The Manipulators
The Ronda George Thriller Boxset - books 1-3
Mikky dos Santos Thrillers:
Golden Icon – The Prequel
Masterpiece
Book of Hours
Stolen Script
Faking Game
Truthful Lies
Broken Windows
Boxsets
Volume 1 – Masterpiece, Book of Hours & Stolen Script
Volume 2 – Faking Game, Truthful Lies & Broken Windows
Other Books by Janet Pywell:
Red Shoes and Other Short Stories
Bedtime Reads
Ellie Bravo
For more information visit:
website: www.janetpywell.com
blog: janetpywellauthor.wordpress.com
All books are available online and can be ordered through major book stores.
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About the Author
Author Janet Pywell’s storytelling is as mesmerizing and complex as her characters.
In the Mikky dos Santos international crime thriller series - art forger, artist and photographer Mikky is a uniquely lovable female: a tough, tattooed, yet vulnerable protagonist who will steal your heart. Each book is a stand-alone exciting action-adventure novel, set in three uniquely different countries/ locations.
In the first series of domestic crime thrillers, Ronda George is a kickboxing Masterchef. After ten years in the British Army assigned to some of the world’s most dangerous places, Ronda is enlisted by Inspector Joachin García Abascal to infiltrate the murky underworld of greed, corruption and betrayal.
These books are a must-read for devotees of complex female sleuths.
Janet has a background in travel and tourism and she writes using her knowledge of foreign places gained from living abroad and travelling extensively. She currently lives on the Kent coast.
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