Maura felt her stress levels rise. “Can we make room for them?”
Gemma had the bookings register with her. “Let’s see – we’ve got a twenty-first birthday party, two work dinners, a few smaller parties and lots of couples . . .”
“Where do we put them, out in the winery with the vats?”
“Calm down, darl –” Gemma said under her breath, as she looked closely at the bookings. “I’ve got it – we can move all the cosy couples inside so they’ll be very cosy indeed and like magic your VIPs get the best table in the house, out on the verandah under the moonlight.”
Maura glanced over the list. Gemma was right, that would work well. Luckily, it was a balmy March evening. The table on the end of the verandah would be one of the nicest spots in the café. She looked at her friend. “Now I know why you’re called Gemma. Because you’re an absolute gem, do you know that?”
Gemma gave a flamboyant bow. “Here at your service, ma’am.”
Chapter Thirty-six
By eight o’clock the mood in the kitchen was one of controlled mayhem. The twenty-first party had arrived half an hour earlier than expected, already full of champagne and hungry as hounds.
Maura switched completely into professional mode, overseeing the preparations her assistants were making and methodically working her way through the orders.
She and Gemma had decided on a limited menu for the evenings. It was easier to keep a quality control on all the ingredients, and also allowed for smooth running of the preparations. As a large order of ten came in from one table, she was glad of their decision.
From the kitchen, she could hear Gemma greeting each group warmly and professionally. Gemma was a terrific cook, but her real skill was as front of house, Maura had always thought. She had a real knack for relaxing all the diners, helping everyone slip into a mood receptive to good food and wine.
Maura was relieved to just stay in the kitchen and concentrate on cooking the food as close to perfection as she could. This was the ideal situation. She sometimes found it a strain managing both roles of chef and front of house.
Gemma had assembled a good team while Maura had been away. Annie had gone back to her studies, and Rob had set off on a round Australia trip, but Maura was very impressed with the two new waiters working the tables tonight. Gemma could run this place in a second, she thought.
Gemma walked into the kitchen at that moment, with the order from a table of six celebrating a silver wedding anniversary.
“It’s past eight o’clock, our guests of honour will be here any moment,” she said in a doom-filled voice.
Maura pursed her lips. “Don’t fall for that hype, Gemma,” she said mock-primly. “They are all our guests of honour – you know what they taught us at cooking school.”
Gemma winked back at her, the reception bell stopping her cheeky reply. Maura could hear her effusively greeting another party of diners.
Five minutes later she was back in the kitchen.
“They’re here, they’re here! I’m a bag of nerves,” she said dramatically.
Maura looked up from where she was gently ladling sauce onto an array of large white plates. She smiled at her friend. “Well? What are they like?”
“Three men, one lady. The woman is tiny and nervous-looking. One of the men looks like he’s closer to the grave than his dinner. The second man looks like he wants to forget the food and go straight for the wine, and the third one’s a real dish. If it wasn’t for Keith I’d be in full flirt mode tonight.” Gemma laughed at Maura’s expression.
Maura knew she was joking. Keith had been around almost every night since she had been back, smitten with Gemma and enjoying every outrageous piece of behaviour she came up with. Maura was pleased to see Gemma so happy, and Keith was great for supplies, she admitted to herself. His farm produced some of the highest quality lamb in the district, and the best of it had suddenly become readily available to Lorikeet Hill for a very reasonable price indeed.
“I’ll have a look at them later, once the rush has passed,” Maura said, handing the plates to her assistant to finish the preparation. “Go give them that Gemma charm, my friend.”
The orders came in a flurry for the next hour. The new wine waiter was rushed off her feet, but very impressed with the range the guests were ordering. She reported breathlessly to Maura each time any of the tables ordered one of the more expensive wines. The Award judges’ table seemed to be topping the lot.
“That’s their second bottle of Nick’s special Shiraz,” she said in amazement. “They know their stuff.”
“More compliments to the chef,” Gemma said, coming into the kitchen with six more empty plates. “This group’s from Adelaide – they read all about you and your Irish trip in that newspaper article and said they just had to drive up and try it for themselves. Well done!”
Maura smiled. The Irish trip was well and truly paying off, and that was before the glossy magazine article came out, or the export orders for the wine were confirmed. Nick would be very happy.
Gemma was in high spirits, happily exchanging cheeky remarks with all the guests and keeping the orders bubbling along. Maura thanked her stars she was on hand for this sudden rush of bookings, and wondered if Gemma would be interested in staying on permanently. If this quantity of bookings kept up, and it looked like it would, there would certainly be enough work for her. She had mentioned several times that she was tired of Sydney, and now there was the Keith factor as well . . .
Gemma came into the kitchen again, carrying empty plates from the judging table. “Extravagant compliments to the chef, my dear,” she said. “And one sends special compliments on the wonderful bread. He wants to know if it’s a house specialty.”
Maura laughed. It was made from the recipe she had got from Bernadette earlier that day. “What did you say?” she asked Gemma.
“I said I thought it was an old Irish recipe, that it went back years in your family.”
“Well, eight hours, at least.”
An hour later, all the main courses were served and being enjoyed. Only the desserts were still to go out and her two kitchen assistants had those well in hand.
Maura followed her usual ritual, and poured herself a glass of wine, the one drink she allowed herself on the nights she was cooking. She relaxed back against the counter. Her assistants were still in a flurry, but she knew her work was really over for another night.
Gemma popped in again with another update on the happenings in the café. Maura loved hearing her impressions of all the diners. It was like sending a spy out into a battlefield and getting an hourly report.
“The twenty-first birthday party family is having a ball, though I’d say a fight is brewing. The father’s just made an emotional speech, which has made the mother and the birthday girl cry, but the older daughter is furious and hissing to everyone that he never said those nice things about her at her birthday party.
“The romantic couple in the corner celebrating their engagement are now having a full-on row. I heard him say, ‘It wasn’t love, it was just for the sex, it’s you I want to marry,’ but I reckon he’s about to get his ring shoved down his throat, so that’s probably the last time we’ll see them here, I’d say.”
“And the judges?” Maura asked.
Gemma grinned widely. “They’re having the time of their life. Lots of wine and chat, and now they’re getting excited about their desserts. They even saw a possum run across the lawn, which the woman judge went mad for – what did she say? Oh yes – ‘Look, we’re dining in a rustic wonderland.’”
Maura groaned. “She said that about a possum? I should have arranged for a flock of sheep to run past.”
“I asked them if all this high praise meant you had the Award in the bag.”
“Gem, you didn’t!”
“Of course I did. There’s no point skirting around the issue, or treating them like heads of state.”
“I suppose I should go out and meet them now the rush is over.
”
Gemma agreed. “They really want to meet you. And like I said, one of them’s especially worth a look. He could be just what you need to get rid of all those Irish memories.”
Maura glanced around the kitchen. Everything was under control. “I’ll just freshen up and then I’ll be out in two ticks.”
She slipped into the staff bathroom, brushed out her hair and quickly applied a little bit of make-up. Was she the only one who could see the sad look in her eyes? Gemma said she was looking well again, that she had lost the haunted look she’d had when she first returned, but Maura felt not all of her had come back yet.
She walked out of the kitchen into the main dining-room. As she moved from table to table, exchanging a quick word with the diners, she could tell it had been a good night. Except for the couple in the corner, who were very obviously still in the middle of an extremely angry conversation. She diplomatically avoided them.
She accepted a glass of champagne from the twenty-first party, and walked out the front door onto the verandah. If anything, it was hotter outside than in the kitchen. The usual evening coolness hadn’t arrived, and a strange dry heat was still in the air.
The table at the very end of the verandah was easily the best in the café, and she was glad they had been able to adjust the bookings to let the judges sit there. From the hum of conversation coming from them, they too were having a good night. Gemma had obviously done a great job keeping their wineglasses filled. She’d made sure they were going back to their hotel in the sole local taxi, so there were no restraints on them at all, by the looks of things.
Maura thought she recognised the two people facing her as she moved toward their table. The older man was from the tourism association and had dined at Lorikeet Hill a number of times before. The man beside him was vaguely familiar too, and she realised she had seen his face in photographs illustrating food articles. So he was one of the judges. That was good, she liked his writing.
She was about to walk up to their table and introduce herself, when the man with his back to her suddenly laughed. It was a very familiar sound. Even as she stopped dead still, and looked closely at the back of his head, she knew the answer.
It was Dominic.
Chapter Thirty-seven
“You can’t stay in here, Maura, for God’s sake.”
“Well, I’m not going out there again.” Maura’s voice was muffled from her hiding-place in the wine laboratory. One sight of Dominic and she had hightailed it back through the café and out into the dark winery.
“Are you sure it’s him? I thought you said he was in America,” Gemma asked in a confused voice.
“That’s what Bernadette said. Of course I’m sure it’s him. And I’m not going out there, I can’t talk to him like this.”
“No, not if you’re hiding under a laboratory table,” Gemma said mildly. “But they are expecting to meet you and you can’t stay in here all night.”
Maura was shaking. “Gem, I just can’t. What the hell is he doing here anyway? Is Carla with him?”
“The American model? No, he seems to be on his own, and he certainly didn’t mention that he’d left someone back in his hotel room. Call it a mad hunch, but I’d say he’s here because he wants to talk to you, wouldn’t you?”
Maura was obstinate. “I’m not going out there. I’m too tired. I look a mess. I’m not ready for this.”
Gemma suddenly became serious. “Quite apart from the fact that the love of your life is sitting twenty metres away . . .” she ignored Maura’s protests about her turn of phrase, “quite apart from that minor matter, they are the Award judges. It’s important you talk to them.”
“You’ve already charmed them and it’s my food they’re judging, not my personality. Tell them I’ve got a migraine all of a sudden. Tell them I’ve been abducted by aliens.”
Gemma laughed at her. “Maura, you’re behaving like a fourteen-year-old.”
“I don’t care if I’m behaving like an eight-year-old. I swear, Gem, I can’t go back out there tonight. Please, will you handle it?”
Gemma turned the laboratory light on. Maura looked genuinely in shock.
“You know that you should talk to them? And especially to him?” she said, but Maura could tell she was softening.
“I know what I should do, but please, I just can’t.”
“He’s gorgeous,” Gemma said, as if that made it all okay.
“I know that,” Maura said in exasperation. “But I’m still not coming in.” She had a brainwave. “Tell him I’ve had to go back to Adelaide suddenly.”
“In the middle of the night? No way.”
Maura thought for a moment. “Then tell them one of the staff has collapsed and I’ve had to take them home. I’ll come back later if I can.”
“And will you?”
Maura looked at her friend. “I might.”
Gemma shook her head at her and then laughed. “Who ever said country life was quiet, hey? I’ll see you at home.”
Maura waited until Gemma had gone back into the restaurant, before using the cover of the trees to skirt around the edge of the garden, taking the long way via the main road back down to her cottage.
Letting herself in, she decided against turning on any lights – her cottage was too clearly visible from the café verandah.
Her mind was a whirl. Dominic was here. Less than 500 metres away. She kept imagining she could hear his voice. He was so close, yet she just couldn’t make herself go back to the café.
If only she’d had some warning.
She imagined herself, calmly taking the news he was part of the judging party. She would have dressed smartly and sophisticatedly, slicked her hair back into an elegant style, found a long cigarette holder and a cigarette from somewhere, and strolled sensually up the lawn toward him. “Oh, hello, Dominic, what a charming surprise,” she would have purred.
As if. She didn’t need a mirror to know the reality was a long way from that. Her hair was a tumbled mess. She could smell cooking scents on her skin. And she was probably still white with shock.
It was far, far better she stayed at the cottage, out of harm’s way, and waited for Gemma to come home with the whole story.
She sat at the kitchen table.
Hummed a tune.
Drummed her fingers.
Poured a glass of wine.
Drank half of it.
It was no good. She had to have another look at him.
Tiptoeing through the dark house, she found a pair of binoculars in the cupboard under the kitchen sink. She’d never tested them, but remembered the saleswoman’s pitch that they could work at night.
Maura slowly crept out onto the verandah, nervous that Dominic and the other guests would choose that moment to look across the vineyard to her cottage. She moved into the garden, keeping close to the trees, feeling her heart beating.
Reaching the spot where she expected to have a clear view of the café verandah, with the advantage of a large bush to hide behind, she nearly cursed aloud. The bush had grown so much that she couldn’t see over it any more. She’d have to go up higher.
She looked around, still clutching the binoculars, when the rainwater tank beside the house caught her eye. Perfect. It was about two metres high, but perhaps if she swung herself over from the fence beside it, she could land on top of it. Holding the binoculars’ strap in her teeth, she prayed she was still agile enough. She climbed the fence and propelled herself into the air.
The sound she made as she landed on the top of the tank sounded to her ears like a thousand car crashes. She lay very still, willing the others not to have heard. The night seemed deathly silent for a moment, and then she heard the sound of conversation and light laughter drift over again.
Releasing a breath, she settled herself across the top of the tank, thankful the drought meant the tank was practically empty and she wasn’t lying in a puddle. She held up the binoculars, straining to get a sharp image. It seemed like minutes passed before
her eyes adjusted enough. A sharp image of the man from the tourism association suddenly came into view. He looked like he was finishing his coffee. They were obviously about to leave.
Holding her breath in anticipation, she carefully moved the eyepiece until she was focused on Dominic. It was him. Absolutely, positively. Her gaze lingered on his face.
As she watched, Gemma came into the picture. Maura could hear light sounds of laughter as they obviously reacted to something Gemma had said. Then to her horror, she saw Gemma turn and point in what seemed exactly in her direction. They all turned, and for a moment it felt as though Dominic was looking directly at her.
She dropped flat onto her front, horrified, and felt the binoculars slip from her fingers as she did so. She heard a little tinkle, as they bumped into something on the way down. Then a smash as they hit the ground.
The noise brought her to her senses. She suddenly realised how ridiculous she was being. Twenty-eight years old, and she was hiding on top of a tank, spying on a man. “Maura Carmody, you ought to be ashamed of yourself,” she groaned.
She prayed that Gemma wouldn’t suddenly come home and catch her up here. She quickly slid her way down and scampered across the garden back into the house.
It was nearly midnight before Gemma arrived back. Turning on the kitchen light, she jumped at the sight of Maura sitting at the kitchen table, a half empty bottle of wine beside her.
“You frightened the life out of me! Have you been lurking in the dark all this time?” Gemma said.
Maura could see she was trying not to laugh. “Don’t tease me, Gem,” she warned, her expression serious. She quickly poured her friend a glass of wine. “Well?”
Gemma cheerfully accepted the glass. “Really, if my performance tonight doesn’t win you the Award and me a whopping great pay-rise, I don’t know what will.”
“Gemma, to hell with the Award, what happened with Dominic after I left?” Maura asked. She had prudently decided not to mention her own tank-climbing episode.
A Taste for It Page 29