Nice Work (If You Can Get It)

by Celia Imrie

  Sally was glad of the diversion. ‘Sal darling, Cathy has been telling me what a wonderful time she had at your friends’ restaurant. Now look, could you approach them for me? She tells me they’re looking for backers. I am willing to put in some capital, but also to pay the wages and taxes or whatever for an apprenticeship, for a waitress/kitchen assistant, anything that would be useful to them.’

  ‘Oh, Diana, how kind.’ Sally was delighted she could go to her pals with such news. ‘I’ll go right down and let them know.’

  ‘There is only one condition. Cathy will be the apprentice.’

  Sally glanced across at the girl, and foresaw problems. She said, ‘How lovely. But won’t you both be heading back to the UK soon?’

  ‘There’s the thing, Sal. You know how this business goes. It’s all so random. I’ve just been offered a movie, which is shooting a little way along the coast in Liguria, and I thought it would be nice if I rented somewhere in Bellevue-Sur-Mer to come home to at weekends, and Cathy could stay there full-time.’

  ‘Cathy wouldn’t go to Liguria with you?’

  ‘No, darling. You know what those location shoots are like. Different hotel every night. We’re all over the place: Genoa, San Remo, La Spezia. I think we even go up to Turin for a few days. Then there’s the four-thirty a.m. calls, don’t get back till nine p.m., have to learn the sides for the next day. It’s hell for me, and she’d be bored out of her mind. She said she adored the place and the people there. Much nicer if she could be busy in a lovely place and earning a little pin money for herself.’

  Marianne came over to Sally and mimed that she was going out. Sally tried to gesture at her to stay.

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Sally said absently into the phone. Diana was talking, but Sally had stopped listening. She was trying to communicate with her own daughter, who just waved and left, slamming the door behind her.

  ‘It’s so kind of you, darling. I’ll owe you a big one.’

  Sally’s attention was right back on the call as Diana continued: ‘And most important of all, Sal, I’m so glad it’s someone like you keeping an eye on her for me. I do adore her, but, as daughters go, she is very innocent.’

  Theresa brought in a box of sample ingredients and moved into the kitchen. While Carol finished decorating – putting up curtains, arranging the table linen and deciding on the place settings – and William was off getting Benjamin some air, Theresa used the small time she had left to work on some of the recipes and dishes which, so far, she had only created on paper.

  Although Marcel had offered them a table this evening at the brasserie, Theresa knew that she had to do this, and it would be better if they all sat in the dining room here, tasted, and then offered her a critique, so that she could improve everything in time for the dress rehearsal on Saturday – when they had invited a few friends in to try everything out.

  Sunday was D-day, the official opening; for the general public, if they turned up, and hopefully with local papers covering the event.

  Theresa spent half an hour or so laying out the preparation tables: working out where she would chop and plotting where to keep things like sieves, which would be needed at an instant’s notice. It was only when everything seemed perfect that she realised she had forgotten to leave a workspace where the plates would be dressed.

  She started again.

  Once things looked good, she started washing, peeling and preparing the ingredients for several different dishes, which she would serve to the others this evening.

  She had just finished chopping a large onion when Imogen appeared in the kitchen. She had heard voices but was so involved in her work she hadn’t realised it wasn’t William and Benjamin returning after his little dizzy spell.

  ‘Thank God I found you in time,’ said Imogen, flopping into one of the dining chairs, while Chloe, Lola and Cressida, Theresa’s grandchildren, streamed into the kitchen. ‘I’ve managed to get myself an appointment at this wonderful hairdresser’s in Nice and I have nowhere to leave the children.’

  ‘But Imogen . . . ’ Theresa noticed Cressida pulling at a saucepan handle, and reached out to prevent the heavy pan tumbling down on her head. ‘I really have too much on my plate . . . ’

  ‘Do you have any of those chocolate yums that you made for us before?’ asked Lola, pulling open the fridge door.

  ‘You’ve too much on your plate?’ said Imogen, running her fingers through her hair. ‘Do you know what it’s like waiting twenty-four hours a day on your miserable whining geriatric ex-husband?’

  ‘He’s your father, Imogen.’

  Chloe had pulled open the pantry steps and used them to clamber up to peer at the prepared pots of ingredients. ‘What are these, Grandma?’ she asked, putting her fingers into the bowl of whipped egg yolks.

  ‘I’ll pay you back, Mum. Don’t worry. And I won’t be long.’ Imogen was up and backing in the direction of the door as she spoke, heading towards the way out. ‘You know how the kids love you, Mummy, and adore all this cooking stuff you do.’

  ‘Imogen . . . ’ she called.

  But Imogen was already gone.

  Theresa raced around trying to corral her grandchildren, who were now running about, laughing and playing tag.

  She had to rush to stop a bowl full of prepared strawberries crashing to the floor.

  Carol arrived at the pass, and peered through.

  ‘Oh my!’ she said. ‘How will this work out?’

  ‘Grandma?’ asked Lola. ‘Will you take us to see the fat lady’s bare bottom?’

  ‘Please, Brandma,’ echoed Cressida.

  ‘I won’t even ask,’ said Carol, stepping into the kitchen and shooting a wink at Theresa. ‘Now, you little renegades like chocolate, I gather?’

  All three children put on winsome smiles and looked up at Carol.

  ‘We like making tiffin with Brandma,’ said Cressida, with a coy chuckle.

  ‘If you stay very quiet and help me do a bit of napkin folding and leave Grandma to do some cooking, I promise to buy you some tasty chocolate. Deal?’

  She held her hand out to shake.

  Chloe shook first, then Lola.

  Cressida, looking up, stepped forward and said: ‘You’re funny. You’ve got a voice just like Brandad’s.’

  ‘Brandade!’ Theresa rubbed her hands together. ‘Now there’s an idea.’

  Sally phoned William with Diana’s proposal.

  ‘Diana Sparks?’ he said, excited. ‘Then she’ll come to the opening?’ He squealed then said quietly: ‘Oh, but God, the daughter is that ghastly girl. I cannot let a frump like that appear front of house.’

  Sally tried to talk over him. It was difficult to explain that Cathy was standing only a few feet away.

  ‘I’ll leave it with you, William, and I’ll phone you again this evening.’

  ‘Let me have a think and talk it over with the others,’ he said. ‘On second thoughts, what the hell. If it’s free, what’s the problem?’

  Before he had hung up, Sally heard a key turn in the front-door lock.

  Jackie appeared, mouse-like, cringing before Sally.

  ‘How will I ever deserve your forgiveness, old bean?’ she said, holding out a small bouquet of flowers. ‘It really was a bad show, wasn’t it? I genuinely didn’t notice how much I was drinking. And then there was that awful kerfuffle when the men went doolally. I mean, they shouldn’t just keep refilling your glass like that. I blame the waiters.’

  ‘How’s your head?’ asked Sally, moving towards the kitchen. ‘Fancy a cup of tea?’

  Cathy took the bouquet from Sally and went into the shower room to arrange the new flowers in another vase.

  ‘I’m a bit peckish,’ said Jackie. ‘I could murder some toast, if you don’t mind. They don’t give you anything except coffee in the police station.’

  ‘You were arrested?’

  ‘Not exactly. It’s because it was such a high-powered event, I suppose. They took us all away and left us to sober up
in a waiting room at the gendarmerie. You should have seen the place. Thirty or more people in evening dress, all out of their mind on drink and drugs. It was there that I realised that Ted isn’t quite so much fun as he first appears. He’s quite the womaniser, isn’t he?’

  ‘Here in Bellevue-Sur-Mer he is known as the Lizard of Oz,’ said Sally. ‘He’s a big kid.’

  ‘Oh, I picked that up. A maudlin boozer too. He went on and on and on about some woman who he was in love with. He was like a broken record. Apparently this woman is very ambitious.’

  Marianne, thought Sally.

  ‘And there’s someone else on the scene too, but she’s a non-starter, now. Rather sharp-tongued, I got the picture.’

  And that would be Sian. It was really quite interesting to hear. Sally had no intention of interrupting Jackie’s spiel with any information about Marianne.

  ‘And she has a mother who’s dried up with disappointment.’

  Sally was amazed that while banged up for drunkenness Ted would find the time to moan about Sian’s mother. Incredible how booze loosens the tongue.

  ‘My daughter has arrived unexpectedly to stay with me—’ Sally was unsure how much Jackie knew and how much detail she should pass on. ‘So I wondered how long you’re thinking of being here.’

  Jackie hung her head.

  ‘I know I deserve you to chuck me out to sleep in the gutter, Sally. I really do. But I like you so much. I always admired you as an actress. Your marriage and giving up the biz was the world’s loss. That Russkie fellow, by the way . . . ’

  ‘You mean Stanislav.’

  Jackie laughed. ‘Yes, I kept calling him Stanislavski by mistake! Force of habit – all those years pretending to be trees! Anyhow, he’s putting money into my project – sight unseen. How about that!’

  ‘Congratulations!’ Sally handed Jackie a tray with a plate of toast and a mug of tea.

  ‘Thanks, sweetie. And thank you so much for introducing me to Stanislavski.’ She took a bite of toast. ‘I have to say, I do think he’s rather keen on you, Sally. To tell the truth, I think that’s the only reason he’s backing me. He wants your favour. He kept telling me what a lovely woman you are.’

  Sally glowed inside. But hesitated at letting herself believe it. Maybe it had been the drink talking, and he was having a Slavic moment of sentiment.

  ‘I know you have a tendency to exaggerate, Jackie. So I’ll take it all, but with a generous pinch of salt.’

  ‘Seriously, Sally. He’s keen as mustard. Why else did he go on and on and on about you? Honestly, my old darling, I was rather jealous.’

  Sally purred inside but still chose to keep her distance. It might not be what Stanislav thought at all. Perhaps Sally reminded him of his mother or something awful like that.

  Jackie sipped at the tea, hastily putting the too-hot mug down again. ‘Do you know what he said?’

  ‘No,’ said Sally, dreading the reply.

  ‘He said he’d give up all his wealth if he could find a wife exactly like you.’ Jackie paused and looked Sally in the eye. ‘How about that for a result? “Exactly like you”.’

  Oddly, on hearing this information, Sally felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach.

  Jackie was looking rather sorry for herself.

  ‘So, it’s OK, old girl. I know I have to go. I do know where I’m not wanted. I’m prepared for the worst. But if you’re chucking me out, please do it quickly. My bags are all but packed.’

  Sally knew that it would be very difficult to put Jackie out without feeling really terrible about it.

  ‘It is problematic, Jackie . . . My daughter . . . ’

  ‘But, old bean, if you could be so sweet and just let me stay on till the Brits in Film party on Sunday night. I promise I’ll vanish like a wraith on Monday morning. But it really is important for me to be seen at that party . . . You can come too, if you like. I can get you invited. I mean, even though it’s been years, you never know.’

  Against her better judgement, and in a whoosh of excitement thanks to the news about Stanislav, Sally found herself saying yes to everything without thinking. After all, Marianne might never get to know the details of Ted cavorting with Jackie, and Sally supposed she should be quite glad to hear what Ted was saying about her to almost total strangers.

  While Theresa was making tiffin with the children, William arrived in the kitchen. She had decided that it was worth trying anything to keep them quiet so that she could get on with the job in hand. But William didn’t see it that way.

  ‘Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?’

  Theresa put down her wooden spoon and wiped her hands down her apron.

  ‘I’m just babysitting the grandchildren for a little while.’

  ‘This is not a nursery, Theresa.’

  ‘I know that, William, and I am continuing to prepare the dishes for tonight’s tasting, as agreed.’

  ‘Theresa, this is not a crèche or a playgroup. It’s not Theatre in Education or Watch the Kiddies Go A-Cooking. This is supposed to be a restaurant. We open in two days, for God’s sake. There is absolutely no time for messing about.’

  Little Cressida grabbed him by the trouser leg. Her hands were smeared with chocolate fudge; William’s trousers were pale blue, now with brown patches.

  ‘We like it here,’ she said. ‘There’s a nice tall lady with great big feet.’

  William wiped the child’s hands away.

  ‘This, Theresa, is the final straw. Absolutely the last. I am sorry to have to say it, but you have really not been pulling your weight.’

  Theresa was shocked to hear him doubting her efforts. She’d worked like a trooper. What hadn’t she done?

  ‘William, I’ve given this place every moment of my waking life. I’ve been in cleaning, clearing, painting, overseeing plumbing and electricals all hours of the day and night. I’ve gone through phone books for advertisers. I’ve had no life at all except this place.’

  ‘None of us have, Theresa. The difference being that you have done all those other things but, until now, have given no thought at all to the one and only job that is yours and yours alone, and in fact the only job that is vital in a restaurant – the preparation of the food.’

  ‘But I . . . ’

  ‘No buts. Without food we are not a restaurant at all, are we?’ He turned on his heels. ‘Now pull your finger out. Get rid of these brawling brats and get on with it.’

  ‘Mummy!’ Lola started crying. ‘I want my mummy!’

  ‘The nasty man called us brats,’ said Chloe, running through to Carol. ‘He’s a bad man.’

  ‘I planned to give us all a tasting session this evening,’ said Theresa, wiping the sweat from her brow. ‘But as you see, things went awry.’

  William stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room. ‘Regardless of your familial complications and however “awry” things might be, Theresa, we have no option but to continue with the tasting session tonight.’

  Carol came up close behind him and leaned against the doorframe.

  ‘He’s right, Theresa. It’s always been a race against time. And we’re coming up to the finishing line. No one in a race slows down when they’re coming into the home straight. That’s when they really put a spurt on. Have you never watched the Kentucky Derby? It’s the final seconds that clinch it.’

  Before Theresa had a chance to reply, the restaurant door burst open and then slammed shut.

  Everyone turned to see Ted emerge round the screen. He stood at the welcome desk, a hat pulled down low over his forehead.

  ‘Hi everyone! Lovely day out there!’ he called. ‘Any room in here for a refugee? Preferably at the back where no one can find me.’

  ‘And that is it!’ shouted William, pushing past Ted. ‘I’m off. It’s like a Carry On film in here. I will see you later, Theresa, for the tasting session. I’ll send Benjamin to help.’

  He was gone.

  ‘No time to waste.’ Ted scamp
ered into the kitchen. ‘I’m up a gum tree with three women braying for my blood. I tell you, Theresa, they’re mad as cut snakes.’

  Theresa’s three grandchildren were huddled in a corner of the kitchen, sobbing. Ted’s arrival silenced them.

  ‘What have we here? A trio of blubbering ankle-biters.’

  They stared up at him in wonder.

  Theresa realised her prayers had been answered.

  ‘OK, Ted. I’ll make a deal with you. There’s a small yard out there. You will entertain these three darlings for the rest of the afternoon, leaving me to get on with the cooking.’

  ‘My stomach thinks me throat’s cut.’ Ted looked around the messy tops. ‘Can we take the chocolate stuff out there with us?’

  Theresa looked at the earnest expressions on the children’s faces and saw that they were already colluding with the Australian. She handed him the pan of tiffin.

  ‘Now, Theresa, my old mucker, you promise you won’t lag on me if Marianne, or my wife, or that limey bird off the telly-box turn up, will you?’

  ‘I really don’t want to know the details of your private life, Ted.’ Theresa gave him a wink and held the back door open. ‘But you are definitely not in this restaurant. Now, shoo, so I don’t have to lie.’

  While Jackie went up to bed for the afternoon, to sleep off the effects of both the Cannes party and her night at the police station, Sally took Cathy down to La Mosaïque to offer her services.

  Carol, aware of Sally’s relationship as mother of one of Ted’s three inamoratas and the perils of letting her know that the guilty party was playing nanny in the yard, explained that Theresa was up to her eyeballs with work and did not want to be disturbed, which was the truth.

  She sat them down at a table in the centre of the dining room while Sally went through Diana’s offer to subsidise Cathy’s apprenticeship.

  ‘I would be so happy here,’ said Cathy, ‘working among normal people.’

  Carol exchanged a look with Sally.

  ‘The truth is that today, Cathy, there’s not an awful lot to do out here.’ Carol stacked the pile of plastic menus into which she had been inserting the changeable paper pages and put them on an adjacent table. ‘However, if you are serious in this endeavour, I can explain how things will work. And later Theresa can show you round the kitchen. Another thing you could join in with will be tonight’s sampling of the dishes we hope to have on the menu this week.’