Turning Up the Heat

by Ashley Lister

  ‘Not like the pair of cows I’m currently working for?’ She beamed brightly and said, ‘They’re so bad I’ve heard the media calls them the Sweet Temptation Bitches.’

  Charlotte groaned. She shook her head and fixed Trudy with a scowl that suggested she saw no point in arguing her point further.

  ‘OK,’ Charlotte said, ‘I’m clearly fighting a losing battle here.’ She held up a finger and added, ‘If Daryl is OK working with you, we’ll need to take on someone else here. Sweet Temptation is exceeding expectations. At the moment we’re being too successful.’

  Daryl held up a hand. ‘May I suggest a compromise?’

  They both studied her guardedly. Charlotte was the one who gave her permission to speak.

  ‘Why don’t I work as Trudy’s PA and Sweet Temptation’s head of admin?’

  ‘There aren’t enough hours in the day for you to do both,’ Charlotte said.

  ‘I’d make enough hours if you took me on as a partner,’ Daryl told her.

  Charlotte and Trudy exchanged a glance.

  ‘That’s an idea that could work,’ Charlotte said. She stared directly at Trudy. ‘Your celebrity is tied into Sweet Temptation’s success. Taking on Daryl as a partner, expecting her to work with me here and with you in your various roles, would be a sensible way forward.’

  Trudy laughed, surprised that they hadn’t thought of this idea before. It was the perfect win-win situation. Charlotte didn’t have to lose her head of admin; Trudy got the PA she needed; and Daryl was rewarded with a partnership in the company’s continuing success.

  Trudy nodded and said, ‘I love the idea.’ She was struck by the thought that Donny had been threatening and bullying them to obtain a partnership in Sweet Temptation and they had fought him as though they were protecting something sacred and indivisible. Yet Daryl, who simply invested time, effort and ingenuity in the company, was now being rewarded with the prize for which he yearned.

  ‘I’d be happy to have Daryl as a business partner,’ Trudy admitted. She held up a finger and said, ‘Do we need to ratify this or make it official in some way?’

  ‘I’ll draw up a contract,’ Charlotte promised. She leaned across the desk and offered Daryl a hand. ‘Welcome to Sweet Temptation, partner.’

  Daryl put her tablet aside and shook Charlotte’s hand.

  Instead of being so formal, Trudy stood up and hugged Daryl.

  Charlotte pulled a bottle of bourbon and three shot glasses from her desk drawer. She poured out generous measures for each of them and they toasted Daryl’s appointment.

  The glasses chinked musically.

  They each downed their shot in a single smooth swallow.

  It was too early in the day to be drinking spirits, Trudy thought. The alcohol was bitter and dark in flavour. Even though she could detect the oaky and smoky notes of the bourbon she found the taste too overpowering. It scorched her throat on the way down. Nevertheless, she wanted to toast Daryl’s achievement because she was thrilled that the company was taking such a positive shape.

  ‘To Daryl,’ she called.

  Charlotte echoed the toast.

  When Daryl raised her glass and said, ‘To me,’ they all laughed.

  Charlotte refilled the empty shot glasses.

  Trudy sniffed her drink doubtfully and glanced at Charlotte. ‘Before,’ she began, ‘you said the company was currently being too successful. Is that possible?’

  Charlotte glanced at Daryl. ‘What do you think? Is it possible for us to be too successful? Have you got the figures to hand?’

  ‘It’s more than possible,’ Daryl assured her.

  She started fumbling with her tablet to bring up spreadsheets to prove the point. As she waited for the software to load, Charlotte joined them on Trudy’s side of the desk.

  ‘We’ve been ridiculously successful these last few days,’ Charlotte explained. ‘We’ve been so successful I’m beginning to think we should offer Donny a partnership, considering all the free publicity he’s given us.’

  Trudy blinked, not sure she had heard correctly. ‘I hope that’s a joke.’

  Charlotte grinned and Trudy wanted to believe her friend had been making light of the situation. But, given what she had seen at the train station, Trudy couldn’t be one hundred per cent sure.

  ‘Of course it’s a joke,’ Charlotte promised. ‘But you need to see the way our sales have been going over the past week. Since Donny started his payback campaign our figures have been going through the roof. We couldn’t have bought better advertising.’

  Daryl opened a spreadsheet and showed Trudy the figures.

  There was a graph showing a mountain-scape of lines on the page. Reading them from left to right Trudy could see that the peaks of the mountain tops were getting higher and higher. When she saw the numbers that related to the sales figures she had to concede that the numbers were maddeningly impressive. But did that really mean they’d been too successful?

  ‘This looks good,’ she admitted.

  ‘It is good,’ Charlotte admitted. ‘But it’s also an impending disaster.’

  Trudy shook her head, not sure she understood.

  ‘We can only produce a finite number of muffins each day,’ Daryl explained. ‘We only have so many shelves in a limited number of ovens. We can always buy more ingredients. We can always employ more staff. And we can always offer overtime to existing staff. But if our current situation increases only a little more we’ll have to keep the factory running twenty-four-seven to meet all the current orders.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Trudy marvelled. ‘I had no idea we were doing that well.’

  ‘I’ve been researching alternative premises,’ Charlotte explained. ‘And that’s probably the route we’ll have to take at some point in the near future.’

  Bewildered, Trudy shook her head. ‘Is this really all down to Donny and his silly little vendetta?’

  Charlotte reached across the tablet and pointed at the graph. ‘That first major spike is from Donny’s first newspaper article. That second huge spike occurred around the same time you were doing the radio show and Donny made everyone realise that you are the doyen of student cookery.’

  ‘We’re attributing the third spike to this morning’s article,’ Daryl said.

  Trudy nodded and then paused. ‘This morning’s article?’

  What the hell had Donny been saying now? She was amazed that so many newspapers were willing to accept stories from him. How many more lies would he tout before he finally realised they weren’t going to give in to his demands?

  ‘Haven’t you read it?’ Charlotte placed a hand over her mouth as though she was trying to take back the words.

  Daryl flashed a sympathetic smile.

  Charlotte found a copy of the story on her computer and turned the screen so it faced Trudy. The headline was bold, brash and unmissable.

  SEX IN THE BOUI-BOUI KITCHENS

  Daryl raised a finger. ‘I haven’t read the article – just the headline – but I did want to ask about this. Is Bill likely to lose a Michelin star for having sex in his kitchens? Or do you think they might give him an extra one?’

  Trudy was scanning the article for details. For one heart-stopping moment she feared someone had been outside Boui-Boui the previous evening when Bill had tied her arms and legs and taken her on the corner of table thirteen. She closed her eyes, dreading the idea that there would be pictures of her caught in such a compromising position, showing her and Bill engaged in a semi-public act of intimate indecency. The idea was enough to make her cheeks flush crimson with guilt. But, as she read the article, she realised it wasn’t a story about her and Bill.

  This story was worse.

  It looked like Donny had decided to tell everything about the time he’d spent with Imogen. They had worked together in the restaurant’s kitchen. Imogen had been working as a waitress in her father’s restaurant. Donny was claiming that he was a sous chef rather than a plongeur. According to Donny’s version of events
, Imogen was insatiable and had begged him to satisfy her repeatedly. The affair had been a brief one and Donny claimed it had ended when Bill Hart discovered they were using his Michelin-starred restaurant for their liaisons.

  Trudy shook her head in disgust.

  She knew that the affair hadn’t ended like that. The affair had ended when Donny discovered he had got Imogen pregnant.

  Trudy wondered why any newspaper would publish such scandalous gossip and then realised they were only printing the story because Donny’s claims related to Bill and his celebrity. She knew there would be other exaggerated and untrue stories in the future but this one seemed particularly cruel because it was likely to hurt Imogen.

  She curled her hand into a fist and wished she had a chance to use it to punch Donny. She didn’t condone physical violence but she could understand anyone wanting to knock the smug grin off his face. Bill had used the phrase ‘slap him into the middle of next Tuesday’. Trudy smiled at the thought of Bill doing just that.

  ‘We need to stop the bastard,’ she said.

  ‘How?’ Charlotte asked. ‘He says he’ll only back off if we give him a third of the company and we’re resolved not to give that to him.’

  Trudy studied her warily, hoping that Charlotte was genuinely resolved not to let Donny take that from them. Could she really be in a relationship with him?

  ‘Why do we need to stop him?’ Daryl asked. ‘At the moment he seems to be making your company – our company – enormously profitable. Why would we want to stop that?’

  Trudy looked at her in amazement. ‘Are you suggesting we should just let him spread gossip and lies?’

  Daryl shrugged. ‘I’m just pointing out that he’s doing more good than harm at the moment.’

  Trudy pointed at the article and shook her head.

  ‘You haven’t read this one, have you?’

  Daryl shook her head.

  ‘It’s a kiss-and-tell from Donny about how he got Bill’s daughter pregnant.’

  ‘The bastard,’ Daryl muttered.

  Trudy nodded agreement. She wondered if Imogen had read the story, and she made a mental note to call Finlay later and confirm that she was OK. ‘We have to stop Donny before he takes things any further. He’s already gone beyond the realms of decency. This is a step too far even for him. We can’t let him do anything worse.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Charlotte. ‘I’ll consult a couple of contacts and see what can be done.’

  ‘Contacts?’ Trudy raised an eyebrow, encouraging her to continue.

  Charlotte shook her head. ‘I’ll tell you more about it later.’

  ‘Just remember,’ Trudy said. ‘If it involves murdering him in a brutal and sadistic fashion, I’ll happily be your alibi.’

  Chapter 22

  Bill had bought flowers for her when she arrived at Boui-Boui that evening. They were waiting for her in the head chef’s office: a bouquet of a dozen long-stemmed red roses presented with lush green fern and vibrant white baby’s breath. She smiled when she read the card.

  Ms McLaughlin. Never forget I love you x

  Bill walked in as she was admiring them. When she rushed into his arms, embraced him and pressed kisses against his face and neck, he gave a self-deprecatory laugh.

  ‘If I’d known flowers would have you this capped, I’d have subscribed to a florist’s ages ago.’

  She didn’t know what ‘capped’ meant. In that moment it didn’t matter.

  ‘These are beautiful,’ she told him. ‘What’s the special occasion?’

  His gaze shifted to the floor.

  She remembered hearing someone cynical, possibly Charlotte, most likely Donny, saying that men only bought flowers when they wanted something or when they felt guilty. Looking at Bill’s face she thought there was likely some truth in that idea. She didn’t think he wanted anything from her but she had to admit that he did look as though something was causing him concern. He didn’t look his usual, cheerful, confident self. There were lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there when he was tying her up in the restaurant the previous evening. His smile, usually accompanied by a knowing glint in his eye, now looked hollow and strained, as false as it had been when he was being photographed with the topless models.

  ‘There’s no special occasion.’

  ‘Then what’s wrong?’

  He sighed.

  The sound was heavy, a portent of doom. She felt a lump rise in the back of her throat and suddenly realised her pulse was racing. Whatever he was going to say, Trudy felt sure she didn’t want to hear it. They would be words he couldn’t take back.

  ‘We need to talk,’ Bill told her.

  She stiffened. Weren’t those the words that men said before they dumped their girlfriends? Wasn’t ‘We need to talk’ code for ‘Pack your bags, I’ve found someone else’?

  She didn’t want to be so negative but Bill’s obvious distress looked like too damning a clue. Admittedly, he’d given her flowers. True, he’d attached a card that said he loved her. The card even addressed her as Ms McLaughlin, a name that he only used when they were at their closest and most intimate. But he had said, ‘We need to talk,’ and she felt sure that no good ever came after hearing those words.

  She chewed her lower lip. ‘Is it that serious?’

  ‘No,’ he began. He shook his head and said, ‘Well, yes. I suppose it’s serious to some extent. But not really. I mean it’s serious but I don’t want you thinking that the situation is more than it is.’

  She stepped out of his arms and considered him uncertainly. Unable to restrain a stab of sarcasm, she said, ‘Well, thanks for clearing that up, Mr Hart. Next time can you explain things so it sounds a little more cryptic?’

  He shook his head.

  She started to storm away from him but he caught her shoulder and pulled her back into his embrace. His smile looked pained and she hated herself for causing him distress. But she couldn’t see how any of this was her fault. All she’d done was receive a bunch of flowers and hear him say that they had to talk.

  ‘I can’t say anything right now,’ he said quietly. ‘What I need to tell you involves a lot of talking and now isn’t the time. We’ll talk after work, tonight.’

  She stared at the flowers.

  It was horrible to think something so beautiful and romantic had presaged something as awful as the way she currently felt. Her stomach was knotted with tension and anxiety. She could taste an unpleasant reminder of the dinner she’d shared with Daryl. It had been a light salmon salad with chilli dressing from the bistro near HQ. Now the memory of the flavour was bitter, greasy and unpleasant. Her cheeks burnt with unbidden blushes as she said, ‘It is serious, isn’t it?’

  ‘We’ll talk after work tonight,’ he insisted.

  She shook her head. Tears had sprung to her eyes and the movement threatened to make them spill out. ‘That’s not fair. I had plans for tonight.’

  ‘Plans?’ He raised an eyebrow.

  She scrubbed the heel of her hand against her cheeks, wiping the moisture away. ‘After work tonight I wanted you to spend some time with our new waitress.’

  ‘New waitress?’

  ‘Imogen is working here at Boui-Boui. I wanted you to talk with her.’

  He studied her with steely eyes and an inscrutable gaze.

  ‘Of course she’s working here.’

  ‘I wanted you to spend some time talking with her this evening,’ Trudy repeated. ‘I’d asked her to stay on for an extra hour or two tonight so that the pair of you could chat and try to resolve your stupid differences.’

  ‘If that’s what you want, then we will,’ he promised.

  Trudy struggled not to groan.

  He’d capitulated so quickly that her worries grew. She had expected him to say that he had no time to talk with Imogen, or go on about how she would need to make the first move, or that he had nothing to say to her. She had never expected that he would simply acquiesce to her demands and agree to talk with his daughter. W
hatever had necessitated the flowers was clearly of major importance. It was something so bad that it meant the end of their relationship.

  Bill tried to draw her into his embrace. She pulled away.

  ‘Trudy,’ he began. He sounded impatient. She didn’t care.

  ‘Please don’t make this any more difficult than –’

  Her mobile interrupted whatever he’d been about to say. The cheery ringtone seemed tastelessly inappropriate, given the tension and unhappiness that now sat between them. She pulled it out of her pocket, glanced at the caller ID and said a gloomy hello to Harvey. She knew it was rude to interrupt the conversation she was having with Bill to take a telephone call but she was beyond caring.

  ‘Are you sitting down?’ Harvey asked.

  It was difficult to find the enthusiasm to respond.

  ‘Trudy?’ Harvey repeated. ‘Are you sitting down?’

  ‘Do I need to be?’

  ‘Sit down.’

  She glanced around the office. The only place available to sit down was the settee where she and Bill had so often been together. On a regular evening, whenever she sat on the settee, she was touched by the warm memories of the intimate pleasures they had shared there. This was where they had first made love. This was where they often ended their evenings in the restaurant, sitting side by side, kissing and cuddling and preparing for greater intimacies. This evening she wouldn’t allow herself to smile at any of those memories. It was enough that she was sitting on the settee as Harvey had instructed. It was enough that Bill was watching her guardedly.

  She could see the bouquet of pretty, treacherous flowers behind him.

  She turned her head away and glared at the floor.

  ‘OK,’ she told Harvey. ‘I’m sitting.’

  She wondered if he could hear the absence of interest in her voice. It was obvious that he had some news for her: news of such magnitude that she needed to be sitting down to cope. But in that moment she didn’t care what he had to say.

  She just wanted the call to end so she could get on with the remainder of her evening in Boui-Boui, watch Bill reconcile with his daughter and, maybe at some time in the early hours of the morning, listen to Bill explain what it was that had called for a bouquet of flowers and ‘We need to talk’.