by Jenny Kane
‘But he didn’t come and tell us, did he? I had to find out by overhearing!’
Kit winced. ‘That might be my fault.’
‘What? You as well? Do any of my friends have an ounce of loyalty?’
‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Peggy! Think! The reason you overheard about the bistro in the first place was because Jack was telling me what he’d done. And if you remember, I was in the middle of telling him he was insane!’
Peggy sagged slightly as she sat down. ‘Oh. Sorry, Kit. I’m just so bloody cross. We really need this place to do better than ever right now.’
‘Why? What’s happening?’
Embarrassed, Megan didn’t know where to put herself. She felt she should say something, but what? ‘I’m so sorry, Peggy, Scott, I didn’t want to cause trouble, and Jack said he’d sort it, and...’
Scott gave his waitress a kind smile, ‘I know. Tell you what, go and get yourself a drink, wash your hands, take a deep breath, and then go into waitress mode – that sound OK?’
Megan was puzzled. ‘You aren’t going to sack me, then?’
Peggy shook her head. ‘Why would we do that? You’re going to be our new manageress.’ Peggy gave a reassuring nod. ‘Scott, why don’t you get that cuppa and take Megan out the back for some air?’
As she watched her husband usher their shell-shocked waitress away, Peggy turned to Kit. ‘Time I told you a few things.’
‘Have you been holding out on me as well, Peggy?’
‘Only because I was scared it would all go wrong.’
‘What would go wrong?’
Peggy picked up the coffee that she’d poured for Jack, and began to tell Kit the full story behind their expansion plans and how they hoped it would earn them enough money to be able to retire early to a bungalow.
‘I had no idea. Poor Scott, although not surprising after his accident, I suppose.’
‘Exactly. That’s why we want to save up for a bungalow, so stairs aren’t a problem in the future.’ Peggy shrugged sadly. ‘Suddenly that dream doesn’t seem quite so realistic, although Scott’s arthritis is becoming as real as it gets.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Kit was beginning to wonder how many other secrets her friends were harbouring.
‘It was all going so right we didn’t want to jinx it.’ Peggy crashed her cup back into its saucer. ‘Well, so much for that!’
JULY
In which the champagne looks as though it might have to go back in the fridge...
...
Chapter Nineteen
Monday 4th July
Jack blew on the tomato sauce he’d scooped from the pan bubbling away on the hob, cooling it before he gave it an exploratory taste. Working it around his taste buds, he decided it was a better blend of ingredients that the previous batch he’d made, but wasn’t as good as his initial tomato and basil sauce base.
With a feeling of satisfaction, Jack made a note in his recipe book – a book he fully intended to write up properly and publish one day – and, pouring the remains of the mixture into a lidded pot so he could eat it for his own dinner later, sat down to plan out the next stage of his own spin on pasta sauce.
He was aware of his mobile vibrating in his pocket. It was probably Kit or Amy. They’d been calling almost non-stop since he’d been thrown out of Pickwicks, but as he was expecting Amy to tell him he could no longer be godfather to her child, nor host their naming celebration now he’d upset Peggy, and that Kit would only be calling to tell him off, then he couldn’t face answering it. Anyway, he’d convinced himself that perfecting his menu was far more important than anything else right now. If he had no menu, then he would have hurt his friends for nothing, and that would make everything even worse.
On her almost daily visits to the mini art studio upstairs, Megan hadn’t said much about life at work. Jack assumed that Pickwicks 2 was going full steam ahead, and that she was still going to be running it, but he didn’t dare ask. Instead they kept to safe subjects, like her art, his flat’s decor now he’d moved in properly, and the new menu.
He hadn’t told anyone, but Jack needed the bistro to work as much as Peggy and Scott needed Pickwicks 2. His inheritance, which had kept him living the easy life for so long, was virtually gone. His grandfather’s money had acquired him Reading Nature and a house; both of which he’d sold. He’d travelled a good deal after Amy’s wedding, treated his friends, and helped his family, paid to do a horticultural course, invested in Kennedy’s – money he knew he’d never see again – and now he’d used the last of it to buy his bistro and the adjoining flat. This was it. This time he had to stick to his plan, and make it work. He knew avoiding his friends and concentrating solely on the bistro would have consequences of its own, but Jack couldn’t think of anything else he could do
Even though Rob was still talking to him, Jack was also keeping away from Reading Nature and Kew, taking the frequent walks he needed to clear his head around Richmond Park instead. He told himself this decision was nothing to do with avoiding bumping into Rupert; but he also knew that was a lie.
Groaning through gritted teeth as he brainstormed ideas of dishes to compliment the goat’s cheese and chilli bread that had become his signature starter at Kennedy’s, Jack found himself thinking about the young photographer. Rupert was creeping into his mind far too often to be ignored. Determined not to complicate things further, Jack tried not to remember how impressed he’d been by Rupert’s photographs, and how much in common they had. They even had the same friends.
Or they’d had the same friends...
The recent incident at Pickwicks had further underlined for Jack that he never wanted to hurt anyone ever again. It was that feeling that had led him to decide on a name for his bistro. He could only hope that, once the dust had settled, and he’d proved that he wasn’t aiming to poach Pickwicks trade, that they’d accept it as a peace offering. In the meantime, he was going to keep his bistro’s name a secret.
‘You glad you agreed to this then?’ Scott’s usual toothy smile flashed at Megan as she dipped a sponge into a bucket of water with soda crystals so she could help scrub the walls of the new café.
‘Definitely.’ Megan paused to wring out her sponge. ‘I feel much better now a decision’s been made. Jack didn’t mind me staying with you guys, you know. I do wish Peggy would calm down and go and see him. I know it seems like he’s encroaching on your territory, but I can’t see our usual afternoon crowd being swayed by Jack’s fancy nouvelle cuisine stuff, not when they like your food so much.’
‘I know.’ Scott pulled out a tray rack from the oven and carried it to the sink for a thorough scrub before it had a blasting in the dishwasher. ‘I can’t budge her right now, but she’ll come round. And before you ask me again, no, she doesn’t blame you. Not for a minute.’
Continuing to work, Megan said, ‘I know it would be naive to say it won’t make any difference to Pickwicks having another restaurant nearby, but I can’t help thinking it might be rather nice to have a place we could all go together after work. Be good to have Jack serve us food rather than Peggy serving him, for a change.’
The image of Jack waiting on them made Scott laugh. ‘I doubt he’d leave his kitchen to wait on tables. He seems more addicted to his cooking than I am to mine! I have to admit, I am curious. I’d like to try his menu.’
‘Well, if it’s anything like as good as the food I’ve sampled while I’ve been round there painting, then it is going to be good.’
Scott feigned shock. ‘What! Better than my cheese scones?’
‘Don’t you go fishing for compliments, Mr McIntyre! Your scone and sandwich supremacy is assured!’
‘So I should hope!’ Scott put the last piece of the oven into the dishwasher, and clicked it into life. ‘How goes the art anyway? You enjoying getting back to it?’
‘I’m loving it.’ Megan’s face broke into a happy smile. ‘I’ve been so lucky.’
‘You don’t regret staying with us, then
? I mean, you could have more time for your art if you worked for Jack, couldn’t you?’
‘Not at all. Once Jack assured me that he would buy my artwork with no hard feelings if I stayed with you, my decision was made. That was before I knew where his bistro was, of course. After I found that out I couldn’t work for him anyway – but you know about all that.’
Washing his hands, Scott turned to look at his waitress. ‘Do you mind me asking, are you much out of pocket because of your loyalty? We know you and Nick are saving up for a place of your own, so Peggy and I were thinking, we’d like to offer you higher wages, but...’
Megan held up her hand to stop the conversation in its tracks. ‘You are very kind, but with the money Jack has offered me for my pictures, Nick and I suddenly have the deposit we need for the terrace we want to rent. Now I just need to earn a better wage so we can pay the rent and save for a place to buy in the future.’
‘So, Jack’s still loaded then?’
‘I’m not sure he is any more. He hasn’t said anything, but I get the impression he’s sinking everything he has into this venture.’
‘Has he found anyone for his staff yet?’
‘He has an apprentice chef lined up from one of the local catering colleges, but otherwise I don’t think so. I know he designed an advert, but I’m not sure if he’s done anything with it yet. I haven’t liked to ask him.’ Stepping back from the clean wall with an air of satisfaction, Megan dried her hands and surveyed her new domain. ‘How about us? Have we got a shortlist of staff to interview yet?’
‘Three potential waitresses and two lunchtime cooks are in the running at the moment. The advert has another couple of days to run, and then we’ll sort the interviews. Will you be alright doing those?’
‘What?’ Megan blanched. ‘Me?’
‘Of course, you’ll be their manager. Peggy will be with you, and I’ll sit in for the cooks, but you’ll have the last word. After all, you’re the one who’ll have to work with them.’
Taking off her wet apron, Megan surveyed the kitchen. ‘This is all so grown up!’
‘Tell me about it!’
Kit re-read the page she’d managed to force out of her fingertips. This was better. It wasn’t very good, but it was a real improvement on the nothing she was producing a fortnight ago.
Over the past few days, she had managed to fulfil her new small goal of completing two hundred words a day, rather than her usual two thousand. It was a far cry from the volume of words she was supposed to be creating, and she was still a month behind in her schedule, but it was something. Phil’s patience and kindness, his DVD, his insistence that they make plans for just the two of them, and his constant unconditional love, were more than she thought she deserved, but had really helped.
Yet her frustration at not being able to churn out the words at breakneck speed was still simmering beneath the surface, ready to erupt at any moment. With Megan often over at the new café in Mortlake, Helena was working longer hours in Pickwicks, and Kit suspected one of the reasons she couldn’t quite get back to her old levels of efficiency and concentration was because her daughter was around all the time.
Her regular café spot wasn’t her retreat anymore, and while she was proud of Helena for sticking at the job and earning herself some money, she couldn’t shift the feeling of being checked up on. Surely it should be Helena that feels like that, not me.
Deleting a line of text that was far from her usual standard, Kit was sighing quietly as Peggy arrived at her side.
Sitting down with a large black coffee and a cheese scone for her friend, Peggy pulled a wrapped-up object from her large apron pocket.
‘What’s this?’
Peggy nodded at the parcel. ‘It’s a present. Open it.’
‘But it isn’t my birthday or anything.’
‘Don’t be awkward, open it.’
Kit unwrapped the spotty blue and white paper, puzzlement crossing her face as she pulled out a black biro and a brand new fancy coloured notebook.
‘If I remember rightly, these were your implements of choice before you got all successful. Remember?’
Tears filmed over Kit’s eyes. She whispered, ‘Yes. Yes they were. I wrote everything out in longhand first, didn’t I.’
‘Well then, hun. My old mum, bless her, used to say if you were stuck in the now you should go back to the then. So back you go. Write some short stories. Just for fun. Just because you enjoy the process. Get the flow back.’
Kit threw her arms around her friend, making Helena look across the café in concern for a second before Peggy shook her head to assure her waitress that her mother was alright.
‘Oh, Peggy, thank you.’
‘No need to thank me, just remember that you do this job because it’s fun.’ Peggy straightened herself up. ‘Now, you be a good girl and sit there and write me something saucy, woman, I’ve got tea and cake to serve.’
Chapter Twenty
Thursday 7th July
Amy glanced at the clock on her computer screen for the third time in as many minutes. How could time be moving so slowly? She loved her job, and usually the days flew by. For the last few weeks, however, the hours and minutes dragged at an ever slower pace.
Moving in general was becoming more awkward, and Amy was finding the act of walking to the office physically difficult. The plush leather swivel chair that her co-manager Chris had ordered especially for her, after she’d secured her first international deal for Home Hunters, was no longer comfortable at her increased size, and there didn’t seem to be any position she could assume at her desk that was anything other than awkward.
Over the past two weeks, Chris had been working extra hours so Amy could reduce her own to three-quarter time, but as she ended a call with a particularly difficult client, a wave of utter exhaustion overtook her. They really needed to get her some maternity cover sorted. She was beginning to see that her original plan of working right up until the week before the baby was due was optimistic to say the least.
Amy flicked through her emails. There were only two applicants for the job so far. Interviews had been set up for the following week, but having read the applicants’ CVs and cover letters, she wasn’t hopeful for either of them.
Glancing over at her co-manager, Amy saw Chris was looking almost as tired as she was. Although he was being very understanding, she knew he couldn’t carry the business on his own for long. She didn’t dare tell Chris that she was already beginning to reconsider her decision to return to work full-time after the baby was born.
Switching back to the spreadsheet of the week’s property viewings that still had to be booked, Amy couldn’t contain a yawn.
‘You alright, boss?’
Amy smiled as Lauren put a fruit tea of unrecognisable flavour in front of her. ‘Thank you. Your timing, as ever, is perfect.’
Her PA laughed. ‘One of the first things you told me after you hired me was that there was never a bad time to bring you a cup of coffee. I’m assuming that the principle still holds now you’re drinking a different beverage?’
‘Bless you. That principle will always hold! Although,’ Amy shifted in her seat to offset the heartburn that had become her constant companion over the last a couple days, ‘the increased trips to the bathroom as a consequence are less welcome.’
Leaning against the wall, her own coffee in hand, Lauren said, ‘You can’t have that long to go now, can you? I’ve lost track.’
‘Too long for comfort.’ She rubbed her bump affectionately. ‘This one’s due on the twenty-sixth of August.’
‘I’ve been meaning to ask, did your friend find you in the end? The guy who popped in the other week.’
‘Jack? Yes, thanks.’ Amy grinned at the recollection of her friend’s face at seeing her pregnant state. ‘It was quite a shock for him. He didn’t know I was expecting.’
Lauren smirked. ‘He was a bit of alright. Easy on the eye. How come you know him?’
Amy raised her eyebrows
playfully. ‘Are you implying that it’s out of character for me to know good-looking men?’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean...’
‘It’s OK, I was teasing, and yes, Jack is very gentle on the vision. It’s easy to see why the boys like him so much.’
‘Boys? Oh.’
‘Afraid so, so I’d save your fantasies in that direction if I was you.’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Lauren winked. ‘Nothing wrong with a bit of male-on-male action! Love that in a naughty book.’
‘Lauren!’ Amy was genuinely shocked, and then realised she shouldn’t be. As Kit kept telling her, this was the age of erotica, and anything went.
Thoughtfully she said, ‘Tell me, Lauren, why haven’t you applied for my job? You’d be perfect for it. You already know my job inside-out, and it would be great experience for you.’
‘Me? You think I could?’ Lauren looked uncertain as she flicked a stray section of brown fringe from her face, reminding Amy of herself before she’d forced herself to get to grips with her confidence issues.
‘I have no doubt at all. I can’t imagine why I haven’t asked you before, but as you say, we’ve been so busy. And to be honest, I haven’t been thinking terribly straight lately!’
‘I’m not sure I’m good enough ... I mean, what if I lost a client? And then there’s Chris...’
‘What about Chris?’
‘Well ...’ Lauren shuffled her feet. ‘He’s a bit daunting, isn’t he.’
‘Don’t you worry about that. Now listen...’
Having been waiting impatiently for his wife’s return from work, Paul swung the front door open as Amy reached it.
‘You look happy, what’s happened?’
Kissing her on the nose, he took her bag and steered her to the sofa. ‘That’s because I am happy. I’ve managed to swing an extra two weeks of paternity leave! I’ll be able to stay at home and look after you and baby for a whole month. Isn’t that the best news?’
‘Yes, yes it is! But a month ... are you sure the British Museum can cope for that long without you?’