The Little Cafe in Copenhagen

by Julie Caplin

  ‘Can we order some extra?’ asked Sophie as everyone mused out loud about what they might choose when we sat down at our table, which had been reserved. The place was almost full, it was very popular. ‘Everyone needs to try something new.’

  ‘Hmm, I’m not sure that I fancy pickled herring, thank you very much,’ said Avril turning up her patrician nose as she read the menu.

  ‘Ah, but you must for your food education. What if you discovered you loved it?’ said Sophie waving her hands towards the displays.

  Avril winced and went back to her menu.

  ‘There are some amazing ideas here. I think I can do a whole recipe feature on open sandwiches for the magazine.’

  ‘That would be good,’ I said, my brain clicking into action. ‘Maybe you could do a cookery demonstration, a reader event for the magazine at the store.’

  ‘Won’t it have a café or restaurant?’

  ‘No, apparently that’s a very English thing.’

  ‘Shame, but I’m sure we could definitely do a cookery demo,’ said Sophie, bubbling with immediate enthusiasm. ‘My editor would love that. We’re always looking for subscriber events. I could talk about the types of bread. Rye bread. The toppings, traditional and modern twists. Pickled herring and somersalat, smoked cheese and radish, corned beef and Danish pickles.’

  ‘Sounds great. And we could tweet about it. Take lots of pictures and run them on Instagram.’

  ‘And Facebook,’ Sophie chipped in.

  I whipped out my notebook.

  ‘God, do you ever switch off?’ asked Ben from across the table. For most of the morning he’d had little to say and seemed far more interested in his phone. As soon as we’d sat down he’d asked the waitress for the WiFi code.

  ‘It’s my job,’ I said pointedly. Since we’d arrived he’d barely joined in, focussing on his own emails.

  ‘Some job,’ he muttered, going back to his phone again.

  The group dynamic splintered into two main conversations, Sophie, David and I chatting with Mads, while Conrad and Avril had discovered a rich vein of gossip about an editor they both knew on a celebrity gossip magazine. Fiona scuttled around the table when we’d arrived, selecting the furthermost chair, tucked back in the shadows as if hoping to fade into them. She sat fiddling with her camera and I wasn’t sure how to involve her without blatantly pointing out her isolation.

  Ben seemed equally reticent but at that moment, looked up and caught me surreptitiously studying him.

  He straightened and leaned across the table and spoke to Fiona.

  ‘Any good shots?’

  Her head lifted with her usual startled fawn look of alarm and she froze for a second.

  But the others were busy talking, so she handed her camera over to Ben. Head bent he pored over the images, holding the camera between careful fingers, nodding every now and then.

  ‘These are great, Fiona,’ he said quietly about to hand the camera back but unfortunately Avril heard him.

  ‘Oooh let’s have a look.’

  I saw the pained expression on Fiona’s face and the apologetic one on Ben’s as everyone crowded around behind his chair for a closer look.

  ‘Wow, these are really quite good,’ said Avril. ‘Great shot of the Little Mermaid. I love that picture of the palace in the foreground and the sea in the background. I took one and posted it on Twitter but it’s nowhere near as good as that one.’

  Ben scrolled through them. ‘I’m not sure about that one,’ he teased pausing at a blurry shot of David and Conrad in front of one of the soldiers outside the palace.

  ‘For the love of Jesus, Mary and Joseph, please delete that shocker. I look like a geriatric drag queen after a nine-day bender,’ drawled Conrad with dramatic weariness. Instead of ducking her head and blushing, Fiona let out a small giggle.

  ‘I’ll delete that one for you.’

  ‘I should bloody well hope so,’ said Conrad. ‘Any chance of a glass of wine with lunch? I’ve built up a rare thirst.’

  Ben passed the camera down to Sophie and I who were on the opposite side of the table and we flipped through the digital shots. Fiona was a very talented photographer. She’d captured a few of the group and I was struck by the pictures of Avril. No wonder she thought they were so good; she looked like some Hollywood starlet, although clearly conscious of the camera as there was a posed quality to a lot of the shots. There was one exception. It had been taken while we were at the Little Mermaid statue and Avril was gazing out beyond the statue to sea, lost in thought. Fiona had captured Avril bathed in a sunbeam, totally unaware of being photographed, her beautiful face filled with haunting sadness and her hunched shoulders bowed as if they carried the weight of the world. It was so different to the face she normally let the world see, it made me wonder what was on her mind.

  When I handed back the camera to Fiona, she tucked it away, her face pink with pleasure.

  ‘I think you might just have got yourself a job as official photographer,’ I said. ‘I wonder if we might buy some of them for the campaign.’

  ‘No, I’ll send them to you.’

  ‘No,’ interjected Ben, shooting me an unfriendly scowl, ‘You charge for them. They’re bloody good and it’s business. You own the copyright. Don’t let anyone take advantage of you.’

  Everyone was diverted by the arrival of the coffee and I gave into temptation and kicked him under the table, not quite as hard as I would have liked to.

  I glared at him and said in a low voice ‘I offered to buy them.’

  ‘Touchy, aren’t we?’ His superior smile wound me up even more.

  ‘I didn’t like the insinuation that I might take advantage.’

  ‘Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?’

  I rolled my eyes at him. ‘God, you’re like a dog with a bone. Bear a grudge much? When are you going to let it go?’

  He grinned like a small boy in the playground, which is exactly how he was bloody behaving.

  ‘Never?’

  ‘Guys, what’s everyone having?’ asked Sophie in an overloud voice as the very pretty Danish waitress finally came to take our order.

  Sophie waved her fork at me. ‘Kate, this herring is delicious. Do you want to try some? Come on everyone, you’ve got to try something. It’s good for your food education.’

  I had a feeling we were going to become well acquainted with that phrase over the next few days.

  In the end, spoilt for choice, we’d ordered a selection to share, although Sophie insisted that everyone try the four types of herring despite their reservations.

  Like everyone else, I didn’t fancy herring, not being a big fish lover but the expression of eager expectation on Sophie’s face, made me lead the charge and grab a fork to poke at the nearest thing on the plate, a piece of rye and caraway bread with a herring, carrot and ginger mix on top.

  ‘Wow,’ I said as the flavours hit my tastebuds with a satisfying zing, ‘That’s gorgeous.’ I went back for a second bite, eyeing the concoction with far more enthusiasm. ‘Really,’ I looked around at the others, ‘you should try it.’

  Sophie beamed like a proud mama as everyone else, even Avril, took forkfuls from the dishes she’d pushed into the middle of the table.

  ‘Really rather good,’ said Conrad, reaching out for a second larger portion and wolfing it down as if he hadn’t had a good meal in days. ‘Who knew herring could be so versatile?’

  We all burst out laughing and soon everyone was sharing tasters with each other, as Sophie with Mads’ help explained what everything was.

  ‘So what’s next on the agenda?’ asked Ben looking at his watch as Mads paid the bill and everyone rose to their feet, their chairs scraping and elbows bumping with convivial cheer engendered by good food, satisfied stomachs and a two hour lunch. ‘I need to make a few phone calls. Get an article finished off.’

  Ignoring the weary tone, or maybe he was oblivious to the nuances, Mads beamed. ‘The rest of the afternoon is yours to relax and enjoy.
Tonight, we will eat at the hotel restaurant and then everyone can have an early night ready for a busy day. Tomorrow morning, we will start the day with a trip to Varme to meet Eva Wilder and she will demonstrate how to make Danish pastries for you.’

  Ben pulled a face. ‘Great.’

  Sophie rubbed her hands with glee. ‘It is great, you miserable oaf.’

  I could have kissed her even though she said it in a teasing, cheery manner that robbed the words of any offence and I think he almost smiled at her.

  Even though I knew it was absolutely the wrong thing to do, I couldn’t resist adding, ‘Just think, you can impress your girlfriend with your baking skills, Benedict.’

  He shot me a sour look as he pulled on his coat. ‘It’s Ben and I don’t have a girlfriend. I don’t need to impress anyone.’

  ‘How about your family then?’ I persisted, pushed on by some little demon. ‘I bet they’d love you to cook for them.’

  A grim line touched his mouth and like a shutter coming down all animation left his face, leaving a cool blank expression and he gazed past me through the window. ‘Perhaps.’

  Maybe if I hadn’t been studying him surreptitiously throughout the trip, I might not have noticed it, but I blurted out, ‘I’m sorry,’ realising that I’d touched something raw.

  Surprise echoed in the startled flick of his glance back my way, a second of distrust as his eyes narrowed and then an inscrutable expression descended as he held my gaze before nodding in silent acknowledgement and then turning away. For a moment, he looked so isolated and solitary. Recognition tugged in my chest. Everyone else was oblivious to the barely-there exchange as they busied themselves gathering up bags and buttoning up coats. I stared at his broad back, feeling as if I’d intruded on something when I should have known better. Families were complicated. For a minute, I fought against the urge to go and lay a hand on his sleeve. I wasn’t sure he would thank me but some part of me just wanted to let him know I understood and he wasn’t alone.

  Chapter 11

  ‘I’m knackered,’ said Avril looking at her watch as we walked into the hotel foyer.

  ‘And my feet are bloody killing me.’ She slipped off her leather Russell and Bromley tasselled loafers and stood in her dainty stockinged feet, before whipping out her phone and photographing them.

  ‘I’m going to post on Twitter … Weary feet, hashtag Wonderful Copenhagen, Smorebrod, Amelieberg. All ace. Hashtag press trip antics.’

  I knew exactly how she felt; I’d been on the go since five that morning.

  A hot bath in the gorgeously decadent hotel bathroom and a nice cup of tea would go down a storm.

  ‘A drink will sort you out,’ said Conrad. ‘It’s well past the yard arm. How about the hotel bar, Kate, my love?’

  ‘I think people are probably a bit tired.’ And some of us still had work to do. Last time I checked my email there were a stack of messages demanding my attention.

  ‘I don’t mind,’ said David, who seemed quite keen on the idea. ‘Sounds like a good idea.’

  ‘Will that leave us enough time to get ready?’ asked Avril, tucking her shoes under her arm, pulling a mirror from her bag and checking her make-up.

  ‘Bags of time. Besides you’re gorgeous as you are,’ said Conrad with his old-school charm, before adding, with a mock lascivious leer that had everyone laughing, ‘No one’s going to kick you out of bed, darling.’

  Avril, standing next to me, responded with a tight smile and I think only I heard her quiet words hidden under the burst of laughter, ‘Not sure my husband would agree.’

  Unfortunately, after a quick confab everyone but Avril and Ben decided to go to the hotel bar and they both headed to the lifts. I watched them go, rather enviously.

  This was exactly what I’d feared. Not being able to control everyone.

  ‘What’s everyone having?’ asked Conrad gaily. ‘Shall we put it on your room tab, Kate?’

  I gave him a tight smile. Oh God, the bill could be huge. Megan would kill me.

  ‘Just a water, thanks Conrad,’ I said hoping that everyone would follow my abstemious suit. No such luck. Three beers, and a large red wine later, an astronomic bar bill was presented to me.

  Despite craving a break from being on duty and having to be ‘on it’, when I finally retreated from the bar, I found the quiet luxury of the room a little bit disconcerting. The silence had a deadness to it that wasn’t so comforting. I’d already unpacked and wasn’t quite ready to tackle my emails yet. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. Flicking through the channels on the TV, everything was in Danish apart from BBC News.

  I put it on for some background noise.

  It was so rare for me to have time to do nothing. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself.

  Picking up my phone I WhatsApped Connie a picture of the open sandwiches at lunch, with the caption Smorrebrod.

  Tough life, babe, but someone’s got to do it. While some of us are up to our arses in frigging frogspawn – Springwatch time again in reception class.

  She sent me a selfie of her lower trouser leg with a jelly sweet stuck to it and the caption, Harribrod, which made me laugh out loud. She always managed to make me feel better, although she’d be furious with me if she thought I wasn’t making the most of this plush hotel room, the fabulous bathroom and the chance to luxuriate in a lovely deep bath for a change.

  I plugged in my Bluetooth speaker, selecting my favourite playlist on my phone, a selection of indie rock tracks and ran a bath.

  After wallowing in the hotel’s Sage and Seaspray foaming bath wash, singing along to the Kings of Leon, I felt a whole lot better. A lot of which had to do with the rare exercising of my vocal chords. As a kid I used to sing all the time, school productions, university reviews and amateur productions – as I got older I’d got out of the habit. I’d forgotten how uplifting it could be.

  Gathering together make-up and tonight’s outfit, I remembered I needed to recharge my phone. I could pop it on quickly before I went down. Rooting around in my suitcase, I hunted for the cable. There was no sign of it.

  Mentally I retraced my steps yesterday as I packed picturing it on the side in the kitchen where I’d left it. Damn I’d have to ask if I could borrow one.

  The hotel’s dining room, the last word in elegance and luxury, was situated on the top floor with a misty grey view of the sea and sky in the distance. Heavy damask cloths covered each table and more flowers decorated the room, with vases of grape hyacinths on each table.

  Only Ben and Avril were missing when I arrived and I slipped into the chair beside David. Conrad had already ordered a bottle of red wine and held court waving his wine glass about. I winced as I picked up the menu. There were about eight kroner to a pound which made the expensive prices look even more eye-watering. The cheapest bottle was a scary four hundred and fifty kroner, thankfully, I calculated that was a mere fifty quid.

  ‘Evening Kate,’ he called. ‘To our hostess.’

  ‘Did he leave the bar?’ I asked David under my breath.

  ‘No, I popped back to my room and when I came back down, he was still in the bar, I had to drag him in here to dinner.’ We both studied Conrad’s wiry frame.

  ‘I don’t know where he puts it.’ I shook my head. ‘He never seems to get drunk.’

  David tilted his head. ‘He doesn’t drink quite as much as you think. He never empties a glass before he tops it up. Although the amount he does put away would still fell a couple of rugby players.’

  Avril arrived looking stunning in a figure hugging red dress which turned several heads as she sauntered into the restaurant. She made a big fuss of not wanting to sit at the end of the table, so I swapped with her so that she could be in the middle next to Sophie and Conrad and opposite Mads and David. Fiona quite happily settled into the seat next to David.

  I looked at my watch. Still no sign of Ben.

  The waitress came to take our order.

  I went around the table and whispered to
Mads, ‘Should we wait for Ben?’

  Mads shook his head. ‘No, I’ve learned on these trips, you carry on otherwise your whole schedule goes out the window. It’s ten minutes after we arranged to meet. When he comes, he can order then.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll give him a call.’ Personally, I’d quite happily let him starve, ungrateful sod.

  I slipped out of the dining room and the barman caught my eye and beckoned me over.

  ‘Could you sign your bar bill? Room three-two-one?’

  I gulped at the cost of Conrad’s additional drinks after I’d left.

  Signing the slip, I turned and called Ben’s phone. There was only one bar left on my battery. It clicked straight through to answerphone. I waited for a minute, checking my emails quickly and then called again. Still no answer. I sent a quick text as polite as I could manage.

  We’re waiting for you to order. What time do you think you’ll be here? Kind regards Kate.

  By the time our second course had arrived, Ben still hadn’t turned up and there’d been no response to my text. My fists clenched underneath the table. He was determined to follow through and be a pain in the arse.

  There was still no sign of him when the waitress gathered up our plates.

  ‘What about you, Kate?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Do you want some cheese? Or a dessert?’

  ‘Er … what’s everyone else having?’

  I’d glanced down at my phone and seen a text from Megan.

  How’s it going? Everyone behaving themselves?

  Oh shit, what would she say if she knew Ben was already doing his own thing?

  ‘I don’t know anything about Danish cheese, apart from Danish Blue,’ said Sophie. ‘I’d like to see what else they have.’ Conrad agreed to join her although I’m not sure that he knew anything about cheese. He seemed incapable of turning down anything that was going free. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d produced a couple of sandwich bags and loaded them up with the left-over bread at the table.

  I checked my phone again and then saw that it had now died. It forced my hand.