by Fay Keenan
‘Are you accusing me of deliberately sabotaging the food?’ Caroline flared up. That the crayfish tails might have been off was one thing, but the suggestion that she’d poisoned them was completely out of order.
‘Did you?’ Jonathan asked flatly. Caroline was jolted by the directness of both his gaze and the question. ‘I need to know, Caroline.’
‘No, Jonathan. No, I didn’t. And the fact that you might think that makes me so angry.’ Caroline clattered her mug down on its saucer and stood up. ‘I would never, never put the health of my customers at risk. Or their animals.’
Jonathan kept looking at her, considering. ‘No.’ He said finally. ‘I don’t think you would. But then what other explanation could there be? The hounds didn’t eat anything unusual before the meet, and they wouldn’t have had time to stop once the run started. Rob just doesn’t get it.’
Caroline’s heart sank. ‘There’s something you should know.’
‘What?’
‘The crayfish have been the cause of the upset, but I would never have poisoned them. They were left out on the side in the kitchen overnight, though.’ She dropped her gaze from Jonathan’s. ‘It was a complete oversight.’
Jonathan let out a long, tired sigh. ‘And you let them go out anyway? What the hell were you thinking?’
‘I didn’t intend to!’ Caroline snapped. ‘I was about to throw them out when the phone rang for a booking and I forgot all about them. It wasn’t until Sasha brought them out that I realised. I tried to get to her to divert her but didn’t manage it before the tray went up and the hounds got them.’
‘Didn’t you check the kitchen before you turned in last night?’
‘I’m sure I did…’ then she remembered; she’d been detained by a customer and by the time she’d cashed up, Gino had left and the lights were out in the kitchen. She’d staggered up to bed without performing her usual checks. She could blame Gino, but really she had the final responsibility.
‘What would have happened if any of them had actually been eaten by the people at the meet?’ Jonathan shook his head. ‘They must have been crawling with bugs if they affected the hounds, but there were older children and teenagers out there this morning. Christ, Caroline, Ellie and Merry were there, as well as half the village kids. Not to mention Anna, who’d have been seriously affected if she’d eaten them in her condition. We’re only lucky that the dogs knocked Sasha’s tray out of her hands before she had a chance to hand them around.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I should have got rid of them as soon as I saw them.’
‘Christ, Caroline, that was too close a call. Please try to be more careful.’
Caroline opened her mouth to argue, but she knew Jonathan was right; and besides, he looked ridiculously sexy when his blood was up. She took a deep breath. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. It was a stupid mistake. Hopefully no-one had any before Sasha dropped them.’
‘You can’t run a business on hopefully,’ Jonathan ran a hand through his hair.
‘I know.’ Caroline tried to smile. ‘I guess we’ll soon know if anyone got sick today, too, won’t we, given what the village grapevine is like.’
Jonathan regarded Caroline intently. ‘Are you sure it wasn’t deliberate?’
‘Of course not!’ Caroline replied. ‘I might still disagree fundamentally with having them here, but I actually did like Rob, and I certainly wouldn’t play Russian Roulette with this place’s future.’
Jonathan kept looking at her for a moment, and Caroline could feel her face growing warmer under his scrutiny. ‘I believe you,’ he said softly.
Caroline was lightheaded with relief. ‘Never, ever again. Guides honour.’
‘The thought of you in a Girl Guide uniform is enough to make me forgive you on the spot,’ Jonathan said, a somewhat husky note in his voice.
‘Hold it right there,’ Caroline said. ‘I might be feeling contrite but not enough for you to cross professional lines.’
Jonathan held up his hands. ‘As if I would.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Anyway, I’m all in. I doubt I’d be much use to you or anyone else tonight. And I need my beauty sleep for tomorrow, anyway.’
‘Really?’ Caroline arched an eyebrow.
‘Yup,’ Jonathan replied. ‘I’ve got a busy evening.’
‘Anyone I know?’
‘You do, actually,’ Jonathan said, a glint in his eye. ‘And she’ll do her nut if I don’t give her my full attention, so I’d better get some rest.’ With that, he gave her a grin, turned on his heel and sauntered out of the door. ‘See you later.’
Caroline felt a combination of irritation and jealousy watching him leave. She realised she’d got off lightly, but she couldn’t help wondering who Jonathan’s plans were with tomorrow night. Cursing herself for the thought, she set to locking up.
25
The next morning, feeling exhausted after a late night and fitful sleep, Caroline pulled on a cosy jade green jumper and headed down to check over the restaurant. She’d stayed up for a long time after Jonathan had left, checking and double checking the dates on stock in the fridge, making sure everything perishable had been properly labelled and put away. To her immense relief the kitchen staff had done an excellent job of tidying up, but she needed to be sure. She’d got off lightly with the crayfish tails but she was determined not to make the same mistake again. Crashing into bed eventually, she’d then been tortured by incredibly erotic dreams about Jonathan. She wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but he’d looked even more desirable than usual last night, tired and ever so slightly scruffy. Now that she knew no serious harm had been done by the off seafood she had to admit that she’d quite enjoyed being told off by Jonathan. Christ, she wondered, was she turning into Ana Steele? Perish the thought.
As she entered the restaurant, she realised with a lurch that she’d forgotten to lock the takings in the safe the night before and the till still needed floating. Bugger Jonathan! Every time he showed up he sent her off balance. She was befuddled with tiredness. Thankfully, the restaurant only opened on Sunday lunchtimes, so she’d be spared an evening service. Opening the till, she reached for the stack of larger notes and then tapped out the command to print the receipt. Before she could do so, however, something caught her eye on the door mat.
It was Sunday, so there would be no post today. It was a little late for a good luck card, she thought. Stepping out from behind the counter once more, she strode over to the front door and picked up the small brown envelope. There was no address on it, so no handwriting to take a guess at. She swiftly opened it and pulled out the white notepaper inside. As she did so, something else from the envelope fluttered to the floor. Glancing down, before she’d even unfolded the paper, her heart stopped.
There on the doormat was a tiny plastic packet of crystallised white powder. With trembling hands, Caroline unfolded the note. In bold blue handwriting was written two words:
Remember me?
26
That evening, exactly as he’d told Caroline, Jonathan’s companion for dinner was someone she knew well. He’d taken to buying her dinner regularly since his return to the village; mostly because he really enjoyed her company and partly because he still felt he owed her. He’d walked out of her life without any warning a long time ago and now that he was back he wanted to make amends. In fact, Meredith, his niece, was the only female Jonathan could say that he’d ever truly loved, apart from his mother. She’d turned seventeen recently, and he was aware that in a year’s time she’d be heading off to university, so he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could.
They’d taken to trying out a few of the restaurants in the surrounding villages after tiring of the menu at The Stationmaster, although they did still occasionally end up there. Jonathan had avoided The Cider Kitchen so far as, with the company’s financial interest and Meredith’s job there, it was a bit close to home.
Tonight, they were going to try out a place in Cleeve, a few miles from Little Somerby. Formerly the vi
llage Post Office, the small restaurant had been a startup two years ago and had gained phenomenally successful reviews. It was one of the few places that did open for one sitting on a Sunday evening. Jonathan always had one eye open for an opportunity and he wanted to see what the place had achieved that The Cider Kitchen could emulate. Picking Meredith up just after seven, they were seated and chatting half an hour later.
‘How’s school?’ Jonathan asked.
Meredith rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. Did Dad tell you to ask?’ Since Meredith, Matthew and Anna had been out to dinner, Meredith had been much happier at home, but she knew that her father and stepmother were keeping a closer eye on her.
‘No, darling, but as the future hope of the family firm, I have to make sure you’re doing your duty.’
‘Of course,’ Meredith tossed her hair impatiently. ‘Dad’s so paranoid I’ll go off the rails and cock up my A Levels he’s barely letting me out with anyone except you these days.’
‘He just wants what’s best for you,’ Jonathan replied patiently. ‘You’ll always be his little girl, you know.’
‘I know.’ Meredith scanned the menu. ‘But I don’t want to talk about school. It’s fine. The work’s fine and my teachers are happy.’ She raised an eyebrow over the menu. ‘I want to talk about you. And Caroline.’ After their conversation about Anna’s new baby a few weeks back, Meredith had been growing closer to Caroline and was finding that she liked her. In Meredith’s mind, she’d make the perfect match for her uncle.
‘Unprofessional, darling,’ Jonathan replied. ‘She’s your boss and employed by the family firm to run the restaurant. Can’t discuss her.’
‘Oh, come on. You’ve been hanging around The Cider Kitchen more than is strictly professional, and Anna said Caroline had caught you playing that out of tune baby grand piano the other night. You wouldn’t be doing that if you didn’t at least fancy her.’
‘Haven’t you heard? I’m a cad and a bounder and I fancy anything that moves. You know that.’ Jonathan’s smile was genuine but his eyes were serious. Joking about his relationships was one thing, but he’d made a terrible mistake with Meredith’s mother, his brother’s first wife, and he still felt deeply uneasy about discussing it with her at all, let alone joking about it.
‘It’s OK, Uncle Jonathan,’ Meredith said softly. ‘We’ve talked about all this before, remember. I forgive you for… that.’ She smiled at him. ‘And I want you to be as happy as Anna’s made Dad. Do you think you’ll ever find anyone to do that for you?’
Jonathan’s thoughts flitted back to Caroline. She was so difficult to read, and that intrigued him. There was something about her, he knew; something she was holding back from him. He’d sent her an email this morning, asking if he could come over to discuss an offer he’d had from a potential new supplier, but she’d not answered it. It wasn’t like Caroline to ignore work emails; she was usually an efficient communicator, even at the weekends. He wondered if something had come up to distract her.
‘Uncle Jonno? Are you listening to me?’ Meredith had clearly clocked the look on his face, and he struggled to focus back on his niece.
‘Sorry, darling, I was miles away.’
‘I was just saying that I’m going to see Flynn next weekend in Oxford. I’ll probably check out a few more of the colleges when I’m down there.’ Meredith smirked. ‘But something tells me your mind was a bit closer to home.’
Jonathan smiled apologetically. ‘I’ve got a lot on. Your Dad and I are trying to get our heads around this Buckthorn takeover proposal – I’m sure he’s mentioned it, and Granddad’s not been in the best way, as you know. So you see I really don’t have time to think about my love life as well.’
‘Hmmm,’ Meredith murmured. ‘Now that, coming from you, I don’t believe.’ But she turned her attention back to the menu. ‘I’m starving. What are we going to eat?’ Her appetite was legendary and Jonathan had often wondered where all the food she consumed went. Love and teenage hormones, he thought in amusement. You could get away with a lot more at that age. Growing up, he was beginning to realise, came with a whole lot more to think about. He wondered if perhaps Meredith was realising that faster than he was.
27
Caroline couldn’t stop thinking about the note she’d received, with that plastic packet of white powder which she’d flushed down the toilet in her flat immediately, afraid to keep it anywhere near her. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t be tempted by it, but having Class A drugs on the premises was a frightening thought.
What scared her the most, and she was amazed that she’d only realised it later, was that the envelope had no address written on it. That meant it had been delivered by hand. The location of her new job hadn’t been a secret; virtually everyone she’d worked with at the events management company knew she was going to Somerset to run a restaurant. But if the writer of the note had hand delivered it, that meant he was now in the West Country, which could only mean trouble. She was lucky, in one sense, that she was living and working in a place that was always busy, except, she thought, in those dark hours between closing and opening. Surely that would give her some protection? But protection from what? What did he want from her? She had the horrible feeling she was going to find out sooner rather than later. The question was, what damage could he do to her and her new job in the mean time?
But life had to go on. She had two choices; either lock herself away on her nights off and worry, or get out and make some friends in the village. Deciding that Thursdays would be her night off from The Cider Kitchen, she looked around for things to do. At first, she spent her free evenings over at Cowslip Barn with Anna and Ellie, but then an advertisement in Somerset Life caught her eye, and she signed up for a six week course of life drawing classes. She found the sketchbook again, and now that she had a little more time and a definite reason to get out of the restaurant, she decided to take the course. She also hoped it would allow her to meet more people. She’d met plenty as they came through the door of the restaurant, but none she could really call friends, Jonathan’s late night visits notwithstanding.
And friends were definitely a way to fight back against whatever that note and the packet of white powder meant. With difficulty, she forced these thoughts from her mind. The whole point of the life drawing class was to get her away from the restaurant and into Little Somerby village life, where she’d be visible. Not even he would follow her into an art class, she figured. As she walked along the High Street, heading for the hall, she noticed that there were quite a few people still about, either going to the pub or the local store, and she was reassured by their presence. Nothing could happen to her here, surely.
The class was held at the village hall which was a red bricked building erected by the Temperance Movement at the turn of the century. From the outside it looked austere and decidedly chilly, and Caroline wondered who would be brave enough to strip off on a cold autumn night in such a place. However, as she entered the hall she could feel, to her own relief and no doubt the model’s, that someone had turned the heating up to tropical to compensate.
Feeling slightly self-conscious, Caroline opened the double doors to the main hall and saw a group of around ten people of various ages sitting by easels arranged in a rough circle. The model, seated on a rattan backed chair with a large shawl draped over the rough edges, had her back to the doors. As Caroline smiled at the course leader, who motioned to her to take a seat at one of the easels to one side of the model, she felt the tingle of anticipation that she always got when she started a new drawing.
Caroline crossed the hall and took her seat. Fumbling in her bag for her artists’ pencils, it was only after she’d laid them out, noting with pleasure the thick paper that had been placed on the easel itself, that she looked up to make her first observations of the model. She felt only the briefest surprise when she realised that she was looking at the voluptuous, naked form of Anna’s best friend, Charlotte. Her long auburn hair was piled up on the top of her head, reve
aling an elegant neck that curved down to broad shoulders. Her face was turned in profile in Caroline’s direction, so Caroline could see the swell of Charlotte’s breasts curving down to a slim waist and rather plump thighs. One arm was draped over the back of the chair, the other resting with a hand in her lap. She was utterly at home in the chair, and Caroline, after musing for a moment on the oddness of seeing Anna’s best friend without a stitch of clothing on, marvelled at her confidence.
‘Hello,’ she mouthed as Charlotte caught her eye and gave the briefest, subtlest wink.
It was amazing how quickly Caroline’s artist’s eye took over. In no time at all she was sketching the lines of Charlotte’s body, putting in light and shade and enjoying trying to capture the texture of her hair. When she drew, it was as if everything else in the world melted away and it was just her and the subject in front of her. Nothing could touch her; not even him.
The two hours of the class passed, it seemed, in the blink of an eye, and Caroline was about to take down her picture from the easel. After some brief feedback from the course leader, she began to pack her pencils away.
Charlotte, who’d wrapped herself in the shawl before heading off to put her clothes back on, stopped at Caroline’s easel.
‘Christ, that’s good,’ Charlotte observed. Then, in an undertone, so as not to offend the assembled students, ‘better than anything else that’s been produced tonight! I don’t suppose I could buy it off you as a wedding anniversary present for Simon, could I?’
Caroline blushed. She hardly ever showed anyone her sketches and it was incredibly strange now the spell of concentration was broken, to be discussing what she’d drawn. ‘Let me put some finishing touches to it first,’ she said, starting to unfasten the drawing from the easel. ‘I’m not completely sure I’ve got your eyes right.’
‘OK,’ Charlotte said. ‘And let me know what you want, cash wise, for it when it’s done. I can have it framed at that place in Shipham – Folly Framer’s, I think it’s called. I wonder if they’ve done a local nude before!’ Charlotte’s eyes flashed mischievously. She readjusted the shawl as it threatened to slip off again. ‘I suppose I’d better get my kit back on before they turn the heating off,’ she said. ‘Do you fancy a drink at The Stationmaster, or have you got to dash back to the restaurant?’