He was laughing when he picked up the phone to find his sister on the other end of the line in tears, begging him to come to their parents’ house, where she was now heading from work. She wasn’t making much sense on the phone. All he could ascertain was that no one was ill, it wasn’t a medical emergency.
Guy dashed into his parents’ house to see Alberto Masserati crammed into Perry’s giant armchair with Stripies on his knee. He was stroking the cat with one hand, and the giant fingers of his other were holding a dainty china cup of tea. Although he wasn’t a tall man, Alberto looked as if he had swallowed a wardrobe and always wore his trademark leather coat which seemed to double that width. He was a fearsome animal in the ring, but sitting in Guy’s mum and dad’s front room, he looked rather as if he was about to cry.
‘The bloody Oak Leaf has gone into liquidation!’ sobbed Juliet, throwing herself on her brother. ‘Where the hell can I have my wedding reception now?’
‘Alberto’s daughter is supposed to be having her reception there tomorrow,’ added Grainne. ‘He just went up there to pay the balance and found it closed up. He can’t even get to the wedding cake that they took up at the beginning of the week.’
‘I knew that Steve was having his reception there as well,’ said Alberto. ‘The long and the short of it is there’s no place free.’
‘Why don’t you have it in the pub?’ asked Guy. Alberto ran a tiny inn in Little Cawthorpe: the Grapevine.
‘I’ve got one hundred and twenty guests coming. I can’t seat that lot in my gaffe. Our Lulu’s in a right state.’
‘There must be somewhere free,’ said Guy.
‘Me and the missus have rung everywhere. Which means Juliet and Guy are probably stuffed as well.’
‘What the hell’s going on?’ Steve crashed into the room, still in his plastering whites. He’d driven like a nutter over to the Millers’ house after Juliet rang him in tears and told him to meet her there.
‘I’ve a good mind to go round to that bloody landlord at the Oak Leaf and smash his face in,’ said Juliet.
‘Trust me, if that had been an option, I’d have done it,’ said Alberto. ‘But he’s nicked the stock and done a runner. No doubt our deposits have filled up his petrol tank.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Guy, hunting around in his brain for a solution.
‘I do. I had an idea,’ said Alberto. ‘Guy, if you can arrange the catering for me at your restaurant, I’ll do it for your sister at my pub. You can even have the beer garden for fireworks at night.’
‘I would, Alberto, but one, I’ve no staff and two, the place has just been plastered. It looks a right mess.’
‘My son has a textile shop,’ said Alberto. ‘We were going to drape all the walls in the Oak Leaf with black net. My daughter’s one of them Goths, hence the Hallowe’en theme.’
‘That’s doable,’ nodded Guy. ‘The old kitchen hasn’t been completely stripped out yet, thank goodness, but I’ve still got the problem of no staff.’
‘I can give you a couple of waitresses,’ said Alberto, visibly sweating. ‘I can’t give you the chef because he’s the bloody groom.’
‘You’ve got us,’ piped up Grainne with a grin. ‘I can be a waitress, if not a cook.’
‘I can help in the kitchen,’ said Perry. ‘And I’m sure Steve will.’
‘And I will,’ said Juliet. ‘And I’m sure Floz will as well.’
‘I’ll ring around the wrestling lads, see if any of them are free. Oh please, Guy,’ begged Alberto, as Stripies reached up and rubbed his head against Alberto’s stubbly face, finding it as desirable as a central-heated scratching post.
‘Gina will help, I’m sure,’ Guy decided. He looked up to see a crescent of dear expectant faces. His sister’s wedding, as well as Alberto’s daughter’s, depended on this. Then he clicked into action. ‘Right, Alberto, we’re on.’
‘So you’ve given me paid leave but you’ve changed your mind and want me to come in and work instead. I don’t know!’ said Gina with mock-annoyance.
‘Trust me, this is a big emergency and if you turn around and say no, I won’t hold it against you,’ said Guy on the other end of the phone. ‘Obviously I’ll pay you for that as well.’
‘Of course I will,’ said Gina, who would probably have given Guy that answer if he had asked her to sever her own head and stick it on a pikestaff outside Buck House.
‘Thank you so, so much,’ Guy said gratefully. ‘I owe you.’
‘Owe me what?’ tried Gina, seizing her big chance. ‘I should insist on dinner at Four Trees for this.’
Guy swallowed, because he didn’t know how to get out of that one without hurting her feelings. But then, was the thought of taking Gina out on a date so bad? Floz couldn’t have made it clearer that she didn’t want him; Gina was crazy about him. Maybe he should move on and forget Floz and accept that it wasn’t to be, after all. Maybe if he and Gina went out, his feelings might start to grow in her direction. A sea-change had happened to Steve and Juliet, so it wasn’t that far-fetched an idea – and really, how convenient would that be?
‘Okay. How about a couple of days after Alberto’s daughter’s wedding, say the second of November? I know the maître d’hôte. I’m sure he can squeeze us in.’
‘Lovely!’ said Gina, sighing in the manner of someone who couldn’t believe her luck and would have fainted had she said more.
Guy put down the phone but, try as he might, he couldn’t find an image in his brain of Gina and him making love in front of that log fire in Hallow’s Cottage.
Chapter 89
Within the hour, Burgerov was full of people. Jeff Leppard had arrived with a truck full of lads to make some temporary frames to hang the black drapes from. The Miller family and Floz were ripping the packaging off the hired tables and chairs, and Guy was ringing around suppliers trying to order stocks. Saturday afternoon was not the best time to do this.
‘I don’t care if we have to have fish and chips,’ said Alberto. ‘Just do your best, mate. It doesn’t have to be the full beef dinner shebang.’
Just then, Big Bad Davy walked into the madness. ‘Oy, ugly,’ he called at Alberto. ‘I’ve got a vanload of fruit and veg here for you if you want it. I heard on the grapevine, if you’ll excuse the pun, that you were in the shit.’
‘You legend,’ said Alberto, encasing him in a bone-crushing hug that had him screaming for mercy.
‘It’s going to be a bit of a squash on some tables, Alberto,’ said Guy.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Alberto. ‘The wife’s side are all skinny bleeders. You can fit twenty of them on the end of a pin.’
‘Do you need meat?’ asked Davy. ‘My brother’s a butcher. Stay away from me, Alberto,’ he warned, seeing the wide man’s arms come out again. ‘I’ll ring him, if you don’t come any closer.’
The moon was out by the time all the temporary drapes had been hung, the tables arranged, the tablecloths, cutlery and glasses put out, the serviettes folded and place-names distributed.
‘I won’t forget this,’ said Alberto, giving Guy a tearful man-hug, though Guy’s solid bones were only slightly bruised. ‘I’ll make sure your sister’s day is as special as my girl’s will be tomorrow.’
Guy waved everyone off. He had an early start in the morning so he would sleep on the sofa in his office. But before he could call it a night, he had a cake to make.
Chapter 90
When the motley crew of kitchen staff arrived early that Sunday morning, Guy had already had two espressos. Not that he needed the extra kick because the adrenalin coursing through his arteries could have generated all the electricity for the ovens.
The kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of beef. Guy was just putting the finishing touches to a four-tiered black-iced wedding cake with some sugar-spun cobwebs. It was a bizarre concept for a wedding cake, but stunning. There was a collective ‘ahhh’ from everyone when they entered the kitchen and saw it.
‘Morning
,’ smiled Guy. ‘Help yourself to aprons, Gina will show you where they are.’
‘Morning, everyone,’ chirped Gina, who had arrived an hour before. For all that delicious time she and Guy had been in the kitchen alone together. He had broken off icing the cake to make her a coffee. From the way she had melted at the attention, it was as though he had presented her with an engagement ring.
Gina had been walking on air since talking to Guy the previous day. Her feet hadn’t touched the ground and she had gone to sleep imagining the date to come, then the wedding to come, then the children and grandchildren who would follow.
She knew better than to mention anything about the date that morning though, because when he had his whites on, he was no longer Guy, he was ‘Chef’ and focused on food and service and nothing else. And GOD was he sexy when he locked into his duties.
Floz, Juliet, Perry, Steve, Grainne, Coco and Gideon all fastened on their aprons. They had just started on peeling vegetables when Jeff Leppard’s wife and daughter arrived, then Alberto’s two waitresses turned up with the flower arrangements which Tarzan, who by day was Dave Ward the florist, had been up since the crack of dawn arranging, surprisingly daintily, with his big fingers.
It was the first time Floz had been in contact with Guy since the day they had driven out to Hallow’s. She had tried so hard to put him out of her mind, because she couldn’t be the woman he wanted. But thoughts of him and that cottage had kept pushing through – especially in her dreams, when her defensive barriers were down.
Now they were here in the same room and she could barely look at him, because every time her eyes fell on him, her heart started quickening. But other than a brief nod of greeting, he had totally ignored her, and that hurt more than she could have imagined. She really should have told him the truth. Seeing him now made her realize that. She owed him that at least, then he would see why he shouldn’t get involved with her.
This Guy in whites, creator of the Hallowe’en cake, was a different man to the clumsy, shy Guy she knew. He was assured and in control, and so very sexy.
‘Gina, check the beef will you, please.’
‘Yes, Chef.’
He even sounded different. The TV chefs, including the smouldering Spanish Raul Cruz, weren’t anything as desirable as Guy Miller in his chef’s outfit.
Guy swore under his breath as the tiny fondant black cat which he was moulding tumbled to the floor. Focus, you idiot, focus. It was the first time he had been in the same room as Floz since they had driven out to Hallow’s, when she had pulled up her drawbridge. He had thrown every bit of energy and thought into the restaurant, and drawing up plans for the cottage. He had tried not to think of her, but she kept breaking through, especially at night in his dreams.
He couldn’t look at her without his heart cracking just a little bit more. She didn’t want what he had to offer, a heart brimming with love. He growled and told himself to concentrate on the job in hand.
With the cake finished, he strutted around his kitchen-kingdom checking on all the preparations.
‘Floz, who told you to slice those carrots like that? I don’t want them sliced, I want them roasted whole,’ he barked at her.
‘Sorry, Chef,’ said Floz. ‘Shall I start again?’
‘Of course. Unless you have some magic carrot glue and can join them back together again.’
‘No, Chef.’
Gina’s eyes jerked to the short red-haired woman. One Floz equals all of my back catalogue and yours put together – that’s what she had overheard Guy say to his friend that day when he visited. So this was her. This was Floz.
There was something about that little interchange that intrigued Gina. Chef wasn’t usually that snipey, not even with Varto. And he hadn’t made eye-contact with this Floz person when he told her off. Nor had she lifted her eyes to him.
Floz tipped the carrots she had sliced into the bin. Gina watched Chef’s eyes follow her across the kitchen, a look so warm and soft and totally at odds with the way he had just spoken to her. And her intuition clicked on and she knew that Guy liked this woman a lot. And he wouldn’t have needed to be put on the spot to ask her out to dinner. She blinked away the tears that prickled at the back of her eyes. She knew she was being ridiculous, imagining all this from a few seconds of watching Guy’s expression, but still, she also knew she was right.
Gina picked up another bag of carrots and delivered them to Floz’s workspace. ‘Don’t mind him, he’s a pussycat really.’
‘Thanks,’ said Floz. ‘I know he’s under pressure.’
‘He eats and drinks pressure,’ said Gina sweetly. ‘Are you a friend of the family?’
‘I’m Juliet’s flat-mate.’ Floz ran her scraper quickly down the side of a carrot.
‘Ah. So all this madness is going to be repeated in a few days’ time again,’ laughed Gina. ‘Seems like romance is in the air.’
‘For some anyway.’ Floz’s eyes lifted when Guy shouted for assistance to move the cake.
Gina leaned in closer to Floz. ‘I hope he doesn’t bawl like that in Four Trees when we go out to dinner. I’ll die of embarrassment.’
Gina watched Floz momentarily freeze. Yes, she had been right, there was something between Floz and Guy. Something that she wanted to smash into smithereens. Chef was as good as Gina’s; she couldn’t get so close to him after all this time and not totally snare him.
‘It’s supposed to be very nice there,’ said Floz, the trace of a tremor in her voice.
‘We’ve held off the date for so long with all the restaurant and wedding stress because he’s been too busy. I’m sure it’ll be worth waiting for. Call me over if you need any help, won’t you?’
Gina saw again that wounded look in Floz’s eyes before she turned and strolled back to the dessert station. She just had to hold on for two more days then she would make Guy hers. Once she was under his skin, she would drive ‘Floz’ totally and utterly out.
Chapter 91
Lulu Masserati was one inch taller in her heels and only marginally less wide than her father. Not that it stopped her from choosing a black meringue of a dress, against all the rules of what a woman with her shape should wear. She was big, bouncy and milkmaid-bonny and had a huge bright-red smile when she walked into Burgerov with her groom who, in his top hat, looked more like an undertaker than a newly-wedded spouse. Steve hoped he’d make Lulu happy. He wouldn’t have liked to have been Alberto’s son-in-law if he ever messed her about. The short, wide man was a sweetheart outside the ring, but he had the potential to be truly terrifying.
They were greeted by Grainne and the waitresses bearing glasses of Buck’s Fizz, with a splash of green food colouring in as instructed. Whilst they were mingling, Floz and Coco circulated with trays of canapés: dates stuffed with cream cheese, smoked salmon and dill on tiny peppered crackers, crostini with chorizo and bean pâté, sticky king prawns, curry-filled pastries – to name but a few.
‘Is the wine on the table? Are the pumpkins lit?’ barked Guy.
‘Yes, Chef,’ replied Perry, cheerfully relishing his role as Commis Chef.
‘Everyone’s nearly seated, Chef,’ said Steve, who was now wearing a suit and operating front of house.
‘Then let’s get these starters out!’
One hundred and twenty red-pepper soups were delivered to the tables, then one hundred and twenty empty bowls were collected and washed and dried by hand, seeing as the dishwashers had all been stripped out during the refurb. Meanwhile the miniature Coquilles St Jacques were served in scallop shells.
‘Are those sorbets finished? If they are, get them out now, please!’ yelled Guy, watching his team of total amateurs somehow work together in a harmony he wished he’d been able to see in Varto, Antonin and the rest of his ex-staff. One hundred and twenty champagne sorbets were ferried out.
The main was roast beef, horseradish mash, roasted maple carrots, creamed parsnip, cauliflower in a Stilton and white wine sauce, red onion and port gravy, ‘a m
énage à trois’ of green vegetables and the crispest, puffiest Yorkshire puddings that it was possible to imagine.
Guy had no time to listen to the praising comments that the waitresses and Steve brought back. He was too busy checking the towers of heart-shaped raspberry shortcakes and chocolate mousse trifles that were lined up for dessert.
Floz watched how he checked every single one, rejecting one for having a misshaped swirl of cream on it, another for having a deformed heart shape drawn around the plate rim in raspberry coulis.
The waitresses marched out with hands full of dessert plates. As the last one was set on the table, everyone in the kitchen dared to let out a sigh of relief.
‘I don’t know how you bloody did it, but you did, lad,’ said Perry, with a beaming smile of pride on his face.
‘Because he’s a genius,’ said Gina. She put her arm around Guy’s waist and hugged him, and saw Floz turn away as if the sight of her touching Guy burned her eyes.
She’d been an idiot, Floz could see that now. And she’d missed her chance because now Gina had claimed him and he was taking her out – to Four Trees of all places. Leggy, blonde Gina, whom he was bound to fall in love with because she was so golden and pretty and more than likely able to give him what he most wanted. So Floz didn’t see how quickly Guy pulled away from Gina, only heard that he clapped his hands.
‘Come on, we haven’t finished yet. Don’t rest on your laurels. Where are those home-made mints? Where’s the cake-knife? Didn’t I ask someone to tie that black ribbon around the handle? Sharon, Janice, put the water through the coffee machines, please.’
Over coffee, the wedding speeches were made. Alberto delivered his with so many tears that people who didn’t know him might have been fooled into thinking he was soft. At least he could take the Mick out of himself and warned his new son-in-law never to climb in a wrestling ring with him, not even as a joke. Alberto made Guy come out and take a round of applause. Guy was followed into the restaurant by his impromptu kitchen staff to see him take his moment of glory.
An Autumn Crush Page 31