Taste of Love

by Maria Ling

"My restaurant," Janine corrected -- gently, but with a thread of steel in her voice. Mrs Sutcliffe ignored her.

  "Besides, a son isn't the same thing as a daughter. You ought to be living at home, Stella. I'm not supposed to have to manage without my daughter around. I don't understand how you can be so selfish."

  "She's not," Matthew growled. "Stop picking on her, Mum."

  Mrs Sutcliffe's face was a picture of wounded innocence.

  "I never did. I'm just telling her how much she means to me."

  "No, you're not. You're blaming her for the fact that you're feeling lonely, and that's unfair. It's not her job to keep you entertained. You're not a child."

  Mrs Sutcliffe subsided. In the cold silence that followed, Janine cast about desperately for something to say.

  "How odd that you both went into the food business," she said, and then bit her tongue. The shadow of their dead father seemed to close in on her.

  "I don't know about odd," Stella said. "It was always there, with the shop and Mum's cooking."

  "It was always bad, too," Matthew said. "Wouldn't surprise me if we're both still trying to make it better."

  Janine winced, but none of the others seemed perturbed. Not even Mrs Sutcliffe.

  "I've always liked cooking," Mrs Sutcliffe said in a reflective tone of voice. "You both got that from me."

  "Maybe," was Matthew's only response.

  "Dad never did," Stella said unexpectedly. "He never seemed to enjoy it much."

  "The shop was failing," Matthew said. "That's what was preying on his mind."

  "I don't remember that."

  "You were too little to understand."

  "Well, I'm not now," Stella flared up. "You don't need to talk to me like I'm five years old."

  "Don't talk like you are, then."

  "Children, behave." Mrs Sutcliffe poured oil on the flames. "We have a guest."

  "Guest!" Stella laughed outright -- a nasty tinkling sound. "You can't stand her. You've been telling me so on the phone all week. Now she's suddenly your best friend? Please."

  Janine flushed with anger.

  "I'm sorry to hear that," she said. "I've tried to be useful, that's all. Maybe I haven't managed it very well. But I've enjoyed your company, Mrs Sutcliffe, even if you haven't enjoyed mine."

  "Of course I have," Mrs Sutcliffe said. "You've been very thoughtful." She turned sharp eyes on Stella. "And I won't have you speaking to her in that way."

  ***

  "They're always like that," Matthew told her later, as they were cuddled up on the sofa in his flat. "Always at each other's throats."

  "I thought they were ever so close."

  "They are. That makes it worse. Stella's probably really annoyed at being made to come home. She won't say so, though -- she'll just pretend it was her own idea. Mum hates it when she does that, because it makes Mum feel she's not in control of what Stella does. So then Mum gets angry, and Stella gets angrier still, and off they go." He shrugged and gave her a lopsided grin. "Can you spell dysfunctional?"

  "I can," Janine admitted. "But it sounds to me as if Stella needs to take a harder line. If she doesn't want to come here and look after your Mum, maybe she'd be better off staying in Scarborough. It's not as if your mother can't cope. She's got excellent support from her GP, plus the fact that you are here. That ought to be enough."

  "Not for Mum," Matthew said. "She's got to have everyone dancing attendance on her all the time. If she doesn't, she's convinced nobody loves her."

  "That's so sad," Janine said.

  "I get it, too," Matthew said. "Don't imagine it's just Stella. According to Mum, if I really loved her I wouldn't have gone away to train as a chef, and I wouldn't be working so hard now, and all the rest of it. She can get pretty tiring."

  "It sounds to me as if she's being incredibly selfish."

  "That's just Mum. I don't think she means it personally. It's just one more way to tell us how unhappy and neglected she feels. As long as she's complaining about something, she's contented."

  "I don't think 'contented' is the right word to use," Janine said.

  "Well, you know what I mean." Matthew squeezed her shoulders. "Anyway, she's got you as well now."

  "For a while. I won't be staying here forever. Even if the restaurant is a success -- "

  "It will be."

  "I hope so. But I've still got my clinic in York. Assuming everything works out here, I'll have to think about hiring a restaurant manager. Of course, whether we'll take enough to cover that is anyone's guess."

  "You don't need that at all," Matthew argued. "I could take over responsibility for the day-to-day running. You do need a front-of-house manager, but the Sarah could do that job. She's a bright girl, just needs a bit of training."

  "I'm not sure." Janine pondered the cheerful, dark-haired waitress she'd worked alongside last week. "Isn't she a bit young?"

  "Twenty," Matthew said. "That's young for the responsibility, sure, but she wouldn't be on her own with it. I'll be there. And I don't believe in too much cushioning. If she wants to do the work and she's capable of doing it well, let her. How else will she learn?"

  "You may be right. I suppose I'm still in the mindset of seven years' training before you're allowed out on your own."

  "That's healthcare," Matthew said. "This is food. You learn this by doing."

  "Let's give her a try, then," Janine said. "Provided that the launch goes well."

  ***

  "Coming to our opening night?" Janine kept a smile on her face, despite the blustery wind that numbed her lips, while she handed out leaflets. "We're relaunching as a fish bar. I hope you'll come." She pressed a leaflet into a large outstretched hand, then started back with surprised recognition.

  "I will, dearie." It was the large woman from the bus. "My sister and I were just saying it were a shame for that place to close down."

  "Oh, we're not closing. Just modernising."

  "Not too much, I hope. I liked it before."

  "We'll keep the best of the old," Janine said, hoping she was telling the truth. "We've changed the kitchen staff and done some redecorating, but you should find it just as welcoming."

  "That's nice." The woman peered at the black print. "Friday evening -- I'll still be here then. I'm not leaving till Sunday. Yes, I'll come. Can you keep a table for six for me? I'll bring my sister and her family. We were just saying it would be nice to go out for a meal together before I go home."

  "Of course I can," Janine replied, trying to keep the jubilation in her voice at a sensible level. "Let me jot that down." She dug out the pen and paper she'd tucked into her coat pocket for that purpose. Matthew's idea. He really did know how this business worked. She was more grateful to him than he could possibly know.

  Together, she and Matthew had planned the relaunch in meticulous detail. Even at such short notice, they'd managed to place adverts in several local papers and got a stack of flyers printed up. A board on the pavement outside the restaurant announced the date and time of the launch opening. Now Janine, Matthew, and two of the waitresses were haunting the streets, passing out smiles and leaflets to passers-by. They were generating a lot of interest. A young man from one of the newspapers had come down to do a quick interview that would run over the weekend.

  Janine was awash with excitement. All her fear had been swept away. There was so much at stake here, for her and everyone else at the restaurant, but with the way everything was coming together, she simply couldn't believe they might fail. It would happen. She could feel it. Everything would come out right.

  "I'm glad someone else is taking over." A young woman with a pram gave her a weary smile. The baby, snug in its fleecy cap and mittens, watched Janine in wide-eyed wonder. "We used to go there a lot, but we haven't done recently. The food wasn't very good last time we went."

  Janine had heard that remark or variations on it at least a dozen times during the course of the morning.

  "We have a new head chef in charge of the kitc
hen," Janine reassured her. "The food will be excellent." She smiled at the baby. "You're very welcome, too." She tucked a leaflet into the side of the pram.

  The mother laughed and walked on.

  "How are you doing?" Matthew came up to her. His breath steamed in the crisp air.

  "Pretty well," Janine said. "I've got bookings for twenty-one people in total, and I'm nearly out of leaflets."

  "I've got eighteen," Matthew said. "Sarah's got seven. Let's assume we get another thirty on the night, with all the publicity. That's getting close to what I reckon we can handle."

  "Do you want me to stop?"

  "Not if you're nearly out." He gave her thin sheaf of paper an appraising stare. "Pass those out and call it a day. I'll send Sarah up to the Abbey steps to catch the tourists. They'll give us the rest, I think." He planted a brief kiss on her cheek and disappeared.

  ***

  It was five o'clock on the evening of the relaunch. Janine stood in the middle of her restaurant, surveying the tables, checking for the final time that everything was as it should be.

  The room was in immaculate order. Janine hadn't entirely got used to the new look yet, but she had to admit that the freshly-painted walls and bare wooden tables did give the place a clean and simple look. The atmosphere was less cosy, but more open. She resisted the temptation to break up the table surfaces with some ornament or knicknacks or even just a plate of butter.

  "Leave it alone," she admonished herself. "It looks fine just the way it is." Her voice was low, but it carried conviction. She repeated the instruction five times, and then let the matter go. She made a tour of the room, checking that everything was neat and clean. It was cold in there: she'd left the back windows ajar to let out any hint of paint fumes. The air was crisp and clear, like the day outside. There had been some light showers in the early morning, but they'd stopped a few hours ago. Now there was only a light cloud cover across the sky.

  The room had an expectant look. It would be a great night tonight: Janine could feel it. She bestowed a warm smile on her little domain, then went off to join Matthew in the kitchen.

  ***

  The restaurant was bustling. Filled to the walls, loud with laughter and chattering voices, it no longer looked either bare or bleak. The waitresses zoomed between the tables, taking and delivering one order after another. Janine helped out where needed, but spent most of her time greeting customers and making the rounds to check that everyone was happy and satisfied.

  She was glowing with excitement. This was all she'd ever dreamed of. Nan would have been so proud.

  She laughed now to think how silly she had been. What did it matter whether there were tablecloths or not? She'd been so obsessed with keeping everything exactly the same as she remembered it, she'd forgotten what the purpose of it all was: to have a thriving business. She knew that her Nan would far rather see a bustling restaurant with no tablecloths than an empty mausoleum.

  "Nan," Janine whispered as she glanced out into the street. "Can you see this? Are you happy?" And she felt a sense of warmth all around her, like a loving embrace, strong as a physical presence.

  She wandered happily through her domain, smiling benevolently at the customers, then drifted into the kitchen where Matthew was hard at work.

  At once the scene changed from serene contentment to hectic insanity. Waitresses flew back and forth, carrying plates and order tickets. Matthew sped along the row of prepared dishes, assembling plates and briskly making small adjustments to the various pots on the stove.

  "You're doing great," Janine called out to him. "Fabulous work."

  He glanced up with a vivid grin that stopped her heart. There wasn't time to speak, though. His hands moved like lightning, tipping a fried salmon steak over a mound of steamed lettuce and scattering some chopped dill across it.

  "Service!" He put the place onto the counter and drew a line through the ticket above.

  Janine withdrew. She would have loved to stay and help, but she knew she would only be in the way. Her place was front of house, supporting the waitresses and making sure everything ran smoothly on the service side.

  While she was gone, Table 5 -- a side table for two -- had been taken. Janine felt a cold shiver as she realised Stella and Mrs Sutcliffe were among the guests. She put on her very best smile, squared her shoulders and consciously relaxed her neck, then approached them with an appearance of sublime confidence that she did not feel.

  As it turned out, both of them seemed to be on their best behaviour. They appeared to have made up, too. There were no sulks to be seen, and Stella's voice as she spoke was positively pleasant.

  "We thought we'd come out and support you," she said. "Well, not you so much, but Matthew. How is he doing?"

  "Brilliantly," Janine said. She swallowed the irritation that rose in her in response to Stella's offhand manner. "He's extremely busy, so I doubt he'll have time to see you. But I can let him know you're here, if you like."

  "No, it's all right. We'll just try the food. Mum, what will you have?"

  They ordered Thai stew and fried plaice respectively. Janine watched the plates be carried over, fragrant and steaming. She didn't presume to check on the food -- she was confident that Matthew would ensure his standards would be maintained at all times -- but she couldn't resist peeking at the happy couple now and then. Over the course of the meal, their mood clearly improved. Janine saw them laughing together, talking quietly in soft voices, exchange gentle smile. They were the picture of what a relationship between mother and daughter should be.

  Janine sighed. Sometimes she wished that her relationship with her own mother was a close one. It never had been, and she grieved over that. They were good friends, and liked each other's company, but there was no tenderness.

  She had always intended to make sure things were different with her own children, but now she was almost resigned to never having a family of her own. Her career was the most important thing in the world to her.

  Although she'd had boyfriends, they never lasted. It was probably her fault as much as theirs. Deep in her heart, she admitted to an adolescent fear of settling down.

  It wasn't that she had trouble being faithful. She believed firmly that trust was the most vital basis for any relationship. Nor did it worry her that she would have to settle for one man. Anyone worth having a real relationship with was worth making a commitment to.

  But she feared the loss of control. Not being able to do her own thing. Having to consider someone else's wishes and feelings and views at all times. It wasn't her style. She had always forged her own way, even as a child. She would decide what she wanted and then go for it.

  She knew, because she'd experienced it, that once she fell in love she always wanted to make sure that her man was pleased with everything she did. And although that was a fabulous feeling in the first flush of infatuation, it soon began to feel constricting. She didn't want to be trapped in a situation where she almost felt she had to ask permission for every step she took.

  She wanted to be in charge. It was as simple as that. The trouble was, the kind of man who let her be in charge was too easy-going for her taste, while the man who insisted he had to be in charge simply got on her nerves.

  So in the end, her relationships always broke down. There had been three of them by now, and they had all splintered on the rock of control.

  Of course, it had taken her ten years to work out what the problem was.

  Janine grimaced. At this rate, she'd end up one of those strident old women who always felt they had to tell the world why they refused to get married. She had a couple of patients who were like that, and it tested her sorely.

  But at least she'd have the restaurant. She looked around at the sea of smiling, chattering faces, and her good mood returned.

  "Table five have asked for the bill." Sarah, the head waitress, paused in front of Janine. "And they asked to see the owner. I don't think they want to complain, though. They look really happy."

&n
bsp; "Thanks," Janine said. She wasn't nearly as confident.

  She walked over, wearing her smile. Best to have the matter out at once. But as it turned out, Sarah's assessment had been accurate.

  "That was delicious." Mrs Sutcliffe was positively shining with contentment. "Tell Matthew he did a wonderful job."

  "Thank you," Janine said, a genuine smile replacing the fake one.

  "Likewise," Stella said. "And, Mum. You were going to ask her."

  "Yes. Hmph. I'm going to be fifty-eight next week. Stella says she'd like to celebrate with me on Sunday before she leaves. We'll have Matthew over as well." Mrs Sutcliffe sniffed. "You're welcome to join us if you want to."

  "I'd love to," Janine said slowly. Inwardly, she wondered if Sunday was possible. There would be a lot of work to do in the restaurant. But she resolved to let Matthew handle this decision. It was his mother, after all. And a refusal would be better coming from him.

  "We'll see you then." Mrs Sutcliffe stood up. "Come along, Stella. You've had your way."

  Stella exchanged a significant glance with Janine, but went without complaining.

  ***

  "Are you all right?" It was Janine's turn to ask, for a change. She felt like a wrung-out dishcloth, and probably looked like one, too. The waitresses had already left, red-cheeked and dishevelled but in jubilant spirits. The seating area had been cleared and cleaned, and now rested in darkness.

  Matthew, of course, was still busy scrubbing every last surface of the kitchen.

  He looked deathly tired. Janine felt a sting of concern. She'd never seen him so utterly exhausted. His movements had none of their usual quick grace. They were still brisk, but with a hard forced quality, as if he was operating on fierceness and willpower alone.

  "I'm pretty shattered," he admitted. "You?"

  "Wiped out." Janine flourished the till register. "Do you realise we served over a hundred covers tonight?"

  Matthew's jaw dropped. He straightened up, and stared at her.

  "You're not serious."

  "I am."

  "No wonder I'm tired. That's brilliant." His eyes lit with enthusiasm, though his skin remained tinged grey with exhaustion. "Granted it's launch night, but that's just fabulous. You must be thrilled."