‘We want to show that preparing and cooking fish from scratch can be fun, quick and easy. Just as good for a simple family supper as for an elegant dinner. We aim to be the number-one fish brand in the UK within five years.’
‘Very ambitious.’ I thought briefly of my box of Birds Eye fish fingers languishing at the back of my freezer back in Nottingham. My ultimate comfort food, as it had been since I was knee high to a prawn. I didn’t fancy Rachel’s chances of success, but I liked her optimism.
Leon was laying out a whole side of salmon at the teaching station. He coughed, stood up straight and laid his palms flat either side of his chopping board.
‘Ooh, excuse me.’ Rachel widened her eyes. ‘Looks like Leon’s ready. Wish me luck!’
‘Good luck!’ I said, holding up crossed fingers.
I moved to the back of the room to get out of the way and Pixie came to join me while Rachel beckoned everyone to the waiting chairs set out around the teaching station.
‘I’ve got all the recipes in this pack for you,’ she said, holding up a pile of plastic wallets with her company logo on them. ‘And Leon is going to start by demonstrating how to slice a whole side of smoked salmon.’
‘You’ll each have one of these at your workstation,’ said Leon in a gruff Scottish accent. He held up a long thin knife with a rounded end. He waggled his eyebrows. ‘Ingeniously known as a salmon slicing knife.’
‘Once he’s done that, you can all have a go at slicing your own salmon,’ Rachel chimed in.
‘And I’ll come round to assist those that need it,’ said Leon.
Tom raised a hand. ‘I’ll be hanging around to give anyone a helping hand too. I’ve sharpened my knives especially.’
His eyes sought mine across the seated crowd and my heart gave a little squeeze. He dropped his gaze instantly to the floor and my spirits dived with it. He looked as sad as I felt. What a crazy situation to be in. I could kick myself for letting this misunderstanding continue between us, but there never seemed to be enough time to clear the air. I’d do it this evening, I resolved. I’d wait until the Fresh from the Sea party had left and then nab him when he was on his own . . .
‘Tom and I have met several times,’ said Rachel as an aside. ‘And it’s always a pleasure to work with such a talented man.’
‘What’s that got to do with the price of fish,’ I muttered to Pixie, folding my arms.
She polished her glasses on her T-shirt and snorted. ‘Very good.’
‘I think she’s got a soft spot for Tom. Do you think it’s mutual?’ I whispered, as the two of them enjoyed a bit of banter for the amusement of the bloggers.
‘Nah.’ She wrinkled her nose, popping her glasses back on. ‘I think there’s only a place in his heart for one woman. Plaice.’ She nudged me in the ribs. ‘Do you get it?’
I grinned at her and nodded. ‘Very good,’ I said, mirroring her comment.
‘And I think you’re the woman,’ she added. ‘You’ve tamed him; he’s loads nicer since he fell for you. Long may it continue.’
I felt my face heat up. ‘Enough already. I wasn’t fishing for compliments.’
‘Oh, you are good,’ she giggled.
Rachel was in luck; the morning session went swimmingly. No one sliced themselves on the extremely sharp knives, or felt ill after lunch, or choked on a fish bone, and at three o’clock she felt confident enough to leave the group in Leon’s care and join me in the office for a chat.
‘I don’t want to count my chickens,’ she said, crossing her fingers and beaming at me, ‘but today is going very well. And I’m so excited about working on future events together.’
She took a seat next to me at my desk and wriggled to pull her dress down over her thighs.
‘Glad to hear it.’
I grinned at her. Despite her crush on Tom I couldn’t help but like her; she was brimming with enthusiasm and she was a breath of fresh air after the grotty couple of weeks we’d all had. And listening to her talk about the aims of Fresh from the Sea had highlighted how lacking in direction we were here at the cookery school. The whole business had been a little spontaneous ever since we opened. Take the Plumberry Bake Off, for example, and the Challenge Chester filming and the Plumberry Signature Dish competition. What were we actually trying to achieve here?
I supposed our scattergun approach was partly down to Gloria’s unfortunate accident and since she died . . . Tears sprang to my eyes, an occupational hazard at the moment.
Rachel leaned over and touched my leg. ‘Oops! Are you OK? I didn’t mean . . . What did I say?’
I brushed away the tears and smiled.
‘You’ve said exactly the right thing; I’m excited for the future too.’ I patted her hand. ‘I’ve been bumping along worrying about whether we should re-open for business and how I can run the cookery school without Gloria and whether—’ I broke off, not wanting to explain about my sudden inheritance and about Gabe being a co-owner and all the baggage that went with it.
I took a deep breath. ‘And you’ve made me realize that I need to dive right into it and start making plans.’
She blinked at me earnestly. ‘Well, if it’s plans you need, how about this . . .?’
An hour later our diaries had several exciting ideas pencilled in, including a fish course exclusively for Fresh from the Sea newsletter subscribers, a fish-themed Supper Club night in the autumn and a ‘money off a cookery course’ voucher when customers spent over fifty pounds on the Fresh from the Sea website.
I beamed at Rachel. ‘Thanks, I feel better already.’
It was early days, only a matter of days since Gloria’s funeral – even profit-and-loss-focused Dave would forgive me for not being completely on the ball, business-wise – but I couldn’t mooch around Plumberry endlessly waiting for something to happen, I had to make it happen. And now at least I felt like I’d made a start.
It felt weird to be organizing stuff for the months ahead, especially as I was now the new co-owner, and I didn’t yet know whether either Tom or Gabe were planning on being part of the new team. But at the same time it felt cathartic, too. Maybe Tom would leave – my stomach flipped at the thought – and perhaps Gabe would decide to move up here permanently – there were definite advantages to that, namely one small tousle-haired boy — although I still had to have a chat with Gabe about his proposal yesterday.
And yes, my personal life was in total chaos; everything might change in the next month or so. But at least if we had plans for the cookery school, I would have something to anchor myself to. That had to be better than floating rudderless towards the future, didn’t it?
‘They’ll be breaking for afternoon tea soon, shall we go and mingle?’ Rachel suggested.
At that moment Tom and one of the male bloggers shared a raucous laugh about something and Rachel and I looked across at him.
A small sigh escaped before I had a chance to curtail it and Rachel glanced at me slyly.
‘Tom is a quite a catch, isn’t he?’
I cleared my throat. ‘Absolutely. He’s so talented and such an inspiration in the kitchen and—’
‘And hot,’ she said with a smirk.
‘Oh, it’s strictly professional between us,’ I said, shaking my head.
Rachel’s eyes danced with amusement. ‘Oh yeah?’
My gaze was drawn back to Tom and I watched as he twirled the little leather strap round his wrist.
If I ever took it off a fairy would lose her wings.
I heaved a sigh. Oh sod it. ‘He’s adorable,’ I admitted.
Rachel made a moue with her lips. ‘Pity.’ She got to her feet. ‘I was going to invite him to dinner.’ She caught my expression and held her hands up in defence. ‘Hey, don’t worry. I’ll invite you both as a thank-you for today instead.’
I smiled and she gestured towards the door. ‘Come on, let’s charm those bloggers into writing us glowing reviews.’
Rachel skipped off to charm people, while I wandered round
the room chatting to those I hadn’t yet had a chance to meet.
The pregnant woman was sitting on a chair at the workstation near the windows. She’d pinned her hair up and had opened the window, but she still looked a bit warm and frazzled.
‘Can you eat prawns when you’re pregnant?’ I asked, looking at the layered dish that she was constructing from avocadoes, tomatoes and prawns.
‘I can if it’s free.’ She grinned at me, her mischievous eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘I haven’t seen so much luxury since I won a Fortnum and Mason hamper at my works do. I mean, a tian of prawns, how posh is that?’
‘Very,’ I agreed, never having even heard of one before.
‘Until today, I used to think I was la-di-da if I had a prawn salad sandwich,’ she confided with a wink, wiping what looked like a streak of mayonnaise from her hot cheek. ‘I tell you, lunchtimes in the office will never be the same again. I’m Kylie, by the way.’
‘Verity,’ I said. ‘But you are OK to eat all this?’ I asked again nervously. I could see the headlines: pregnant mum in Plumberry prawn poisoning . . .
‘Oh yeah.’ Kylie wrinkled her nose. ‘The current advice is no pâté and stuff. Seafood is fine if cooked. So no raw oysters for me. What a shame. Not.’
We pulled a face at each other and laughed.
‘Do you know what you’re having?’ I asked, looking at her quite considerable baby bump.
‘Yeah, twins,’ she laughed. ‘Want to swap places in about . . . ooh, seven weeks?’
‘Let me think about that.’ I pretended to ponder the prospect. ‘That’ll be a no. So I’m guessing you’re writing a baby and pregnancy blog?’
Kylie wiped her hands on a cloth and began to rub the base of her spine. ‘Actually, no. I write a blog about my experiences as a kid growing up in care.’
‘That’s different,’ I said, surprised.
‘Growing up in a children’s home was tough,’ she said, taking a sip of water. ‘But I came through it. In fact, I think I’m stronger for it. I went to uni, got a good job and now I’m married and expecting twins.’
‘Wow.’ I nodded. ‘Good for you.’
‘You’re surprised,’ she said bluntly but with a hint of a smile. ‘And the reason for that is that I’ve beaten the odds. So I thought I’d write a blog about my life to inspire young people in the position I was in, educate others who make snap judgements about kids in care—’
I couldn’t help but go pink at this.
‘And now I’m going to be a mother myself, I thought it might help me to be a better mother if I connected with the blogging community to find out how it’s done.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be a great mum,’ I said, meaning it. Kylie was such a warm and open character with bags of personality.
‘But will I know how?’ She shrugged. ‘A mum is someone who tucks you in at night with a kiss and a cuddle and tells you how special you are to her. That never happened to me so I don’t know how it feels. She shows you how to do all the little things. The important things that they don’t teach you in school. Never had that either.’
She sighed, picked up a prawn and began picking the shell off.
‘Tying your shoelaces, learning to ride a bike, to swim . . .’ She gave me a sad smile. ‘Even how to cook . . . I had to teach myself all those things. Except the cooking part. That’s still ongoing.’
I thought of Noah suddenly, growing up without a mother. He had Gabe, of course, and no one could wish for a more devoted dad. And he did have me.
‘I know this is crazy, because I just met you,’ I began.
‘If you say, “but here’s my number”, I shall cram prawn shells down the neck of your dress,’ she said, chuckling.
‘I honestly believe that you’ll do great.’ I squeezed her arm. ‘Mums come in all shapes and sizes. There’s no job specification. There’s no checklist on how to be a perfect mother. But I can tell what a good heart you’ve got, and what a huge capacity for love you’ve got too. The fact that your blog is there to inspire other kids says it all. All your babies need is someone who loves them unconditionally.’
Kylie pressed both hands to her stomach. Her eyes glistened as she grinned at me. ‘I already do love them with all my heart. Thanks for the pep talk. I needed to hear that.’
I hugged her impulsively and laughed. ‘Funnily enough, so did I.’
By five o’clock, the teaching kitchen was clean and sparkling again and the only hint that Fresh from the Sea and their bloggers had paid us a visit was the faint aroma of fish in the air.
Mags, Pixie and I went out to the car park to wave off Rachel and Leon in their van. Tom had a quick job to do, he’d said, so had shaken hands with them both in reception.
‘It was great to see the place buzzing again,’ Mags said as we turned to go back inside.
‘Wasn’t it just?’ I agreed.
‘So are we opening up soon?’ Pixie asked, twisting the bottom of her T-shirt into a knot. ‘Only I don’t mean to be pushy, but I’ll have to find another job if not.’
I stopped and took their hands. ‘I know it hasn’t been easy on any of us, these last couple of weeks. But I’ve started to make plans and I’m feeling really confident about the cookery school’s future.’
‘That’s brilliant news!’ exclaimed Mags, pressing a noisy kiss to my cheek.
‘But before I rush into anything,’ I said, feeling my stomach churn, ‘I need to talk to Gabe. There are a few things I need to deal with.’
Like his plan for the three of us to be a proper family and all that it entailed.
The conversation was halted by Tom’s rapid footsteps as he ran down the stairs. ‘See you all . . . er, soon,’ he called over his shoulder as he left the building.
‘Where’s the fire?’ muttered Pixie, raising her eyebrows.
‘Tell him,’ Mags urged, elbowing me sharply. ‘Tell him what you told us, that we’re opening up again. He needs to know where he stands.’
‘Really?’ I hovered indecisively, watching him leave.
‘Yes,’ they both agreed, shoving me in Tom’s direction.
Hmm, I thought, running after him. They don’t know the half of it . . .
‘Tom!’ I panted, catching up with him as he unlocked his car.
He turned and smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Hi.’
‘I was hoping to have a word with you tonight,’ I said.
He shifted uncomfortably. ‘Sorry. Got to dash.’
‘Look.’ I reached a hand out to touch his arm. He had taken off his chef whites and was wearing a crumpled linen shirt and soft worn jeans. The temptation to step closer until I was in his arms was overpowering but after the row we’d had earlier, I kept my distance.
‘That silly argument this morning . . . Can we put that behind us and be friends again?’ I attempted a cheeky smile.
He glanced at the cookery school and then down at the floor. ‘That’s just the problem, I’m not sure I can.’
‘Oh.’ I swallowed. My pulse was throbbing anxiously in my neck. ‘But what about working together?’
‘Verity, I—’ Tom held my gaze as a flurry of emotions crossed his face and then he sighed helplessly. ‘I’ve left you a note on your desk. I should go.’
My heart sank. ‘OK,’ I said, removing my hand from his arm.
He opened the car door, began to climb in and looked over his shoulder at me one last time. ‘You’re a great girl, you know that?’
A note? My stomach clenched as he shut the door.
I turned and ran back inside with his words ringing in my ears. I’m not sure I can . . .
‘Is everything all right?’ Mags enquired from behind her desk.
‘I don’t know,’ I replied, frowning as I ran up the stairs to the office.
Sitting on my desk, propped up against my laptop, was an envelope with my name on it.
I dropped into my chair and picked it up. My heart was pounding and my chest felt tight.
&nb
sp; Please say this isn’t what I think it is.
Chapter 38
My hands trembled as I tore open the envelope and read Tom’s message.
Dear Verity,
It is with sadness and regret that I tender my resignation with immediate effect. We have been through quite a lot together in the last few weeks, which perhaps explains why my feelings for you run as deep as they do.
But I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s in no one’s best interests if I stay.
I am happy to pass on details of a couple of chefs who might be able to help you out when you re-open the cookery school. For now, I wish you and Gabe every success for the future.
Love
Tom
A huge lump formed in my throat. Resign? How could that possibly be the best thing to do? Everything about Tom’s letter was wrong except that last bit about love. That was unbearably sweet. This was crazy. How had I let our relationship get into this state? What an idiot.
And now I’d probably lost him for good and what’s more, the cookery school had lost an incredibly talented chef.
Oh God, Gloria, I’m sorry. I only inherited your baby yesterday and I’ve already messed it up.
I chewed my lip. He’d said ‘with immediate effect’. Perhaps he’d already found another job, or a venue for a new restaurant? Maybe he was using this as an excuse to leave for a better offer. Deep down I’d always known that the cookery school wasn’t enough of a challenge for him, but I guess I’d hoped that he’d stay at least until we found our feet again.
I lowered my head in my hands and closed my eyes.
I just wanted to rewind time, go back to this morning when he’d stood close to me, guiding my hands as he showed me how to sharpen the knife.
I forced my eyes open and stood up.
Don’t give up so easily, Verity, I thought, pacing the room. All was not yet lost. It wasn’t as if he’d left the country or anything. He’d probably just gone back to the flat in Pudston. He wouldn’t be far.
Right. OK.
I took a calming breath. This situation was easy enough to sort out. I’d simply tell him how much he meant to me, how I felt about him, explain the thing with Gabe and Noah, everything . . . I had made a promise to Mimi, but the circumstances had changed. She wouldn’t want me to be unhappy or lose out on the love of someone who really cared for me because of her.
The Plumberry School of Comfort Food Page 36