The Worst Case Scenario Cookery Club

by Chrissie Manby

  ‘Then I suppose I’m coming with you,’ she said.

  The unlikely trio walked out of the station together. Jimmy seemed especially excited.

  ‘I’ve got to go on ahead,’ he said. He sprinted off into the night.

  ‘We’ll catch him up,’ said Sergeant Mellor.

  ‘I have to admit I’m a little bit concerned,’ said Bella. ‘Where exactly are you taking me?’

  ‘No need to worry, Miss B. I’m a policeman.’

  Bella chuckled. ‘You know, I find that no comfort whatsoever.’

  ‘We just wanted to make sure your last night on call was a memorable one,’ said Sergeant Mellor. ‘Jez from your office is covering for you.’

  ‘And you’re taking me out on the beat? I don’t think I’ll be much use to you if anything kicks off,’ she said.

  They turned up East Hill Road, the one that led to the railway station. Bella knew the road well, of course, though she rarely went up there any more. If she was ever going out of Newbay, she drove. It usually worked out cheaper apart from anything else. But there were other reasons why she rarely took the train unless she had to. Station Parade was a street full of ghosts for her. She turned to Sergeant Mellor but he was texting someone.

  ‘Just letting them know we’re on our way.’

  ‘Them?’ Bella echoed.

  ‘I’m not saying any more,’ Sergeant Mellor said. ‘But you need to put this on now.’

  He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a cat-shaped eye mask.

  ‘It’s my wife’s,’ he said by way of explanation.

  ‘I don’t know if I want to put this on.’

  ‘I’ll make sure you don’t fall over,’ said Sergeant Mellor. ‘There isn’t far to go.’

  Slowly, Bella placed the mask over her hair and wore it like a visor for a second. She tipped her head on one side.

  ‘Bella,’ said Sergeant Mellor, ‘how long have you known me?’

  ‘OK,’ said Bella, pulling the mask over her eyes. ‘I trust you.’

  Sergeant Mellor lent Bella his arm and they continued on their journey. Though Bella did trust her friend and former colleague, she walked slowly. This was all so surreal. Where was he taking her? Why had Jimmy gone on ahead? Were they really heading for the train station?

  Sergeant Mellor turned Bella around a couple of times and it made her less certain of their direction. There was nothing near the train station. Not really. A few of the less illustrious hotels. No restaurants. No pubs where people might be waiting to send her off with a well-deserved drink.

  ‘We’re nearly there,’ said Sergeant Mellor.

  Bella felt the ground beneath her feet change from smooth tarmac to a rougher surface. Gravel. Like the surface of the overspill car park at the railway station perhaps. Yes. They were definitely there.

  Bella stood her ground and refused to move any further. ‘Until you tell me where you’re taking me.’

  ‘Just a few more metres,’ Sergeant Mellor cajoled.

  ‘I’m not moving.’

  ‘You’ll spoil the surprise. I’ve got to get you in exactly the right place. Please,’ he added.

  ‘OK,’ said Bella.

  She let him lead her for about ten more steps, then they stopped and at last he said, ‘Now you can uncover your eyes. When you do, just look straight ahead. And try not to scream.’

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  There was no danger that Bella would scream. The sight that greeted her when she took off the lavender-scented cat mask rendered her speechless.

  It was the café. Her dad’s café. Bella’s. The café where she had spent so many of her happiest times growing up. But it was no longer boarded up as it had been for the past fifteen years. The boards had been taken down and the broken glass they hid had been replaced. Someone had touched up the woodwork in the exact same dark green her father had chosen. Ivy trailed from new window boxes. Candles lit the interior so that it glowed like a fairy cave.

  The name above the door was still hers. The mystery decorators had repainted that too.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ Bella finally breathed.

  ‘This is where I leave you. They’re waiting for you inside,’ Sergeant Mellor told her. ‘Go on in.’

  Jimmy Cricket was by the café door. While Sergeant Mellor had delayed Bella by leading her round the houses on the way from the police station to the railway station, Jimmy had changed from his usual greasy parka into a smart white overall. It had ‘Bella’s’ embroidered on the breast pocket. Jimmy opened the café door and gave Bella a low bow.

  ‘Miss B. I’ve saved you your favourite table.’

  Indeed it was her favourite table – the one right in the window. Bella was about to ask Jimmy how he knew but then remembered he must have seen her there many times. It was where she sat to do her homework when the café was empty as it so often, sadly, was.

  Jimmy pulled out a seat so that Bella could sit down. She took in the rest of the transformation of the café that had been empty for so long. The interior was not quite so polished as the outside. It was still a work in progress. The tiles on the floor were cracked and broken. The paint was peeling. But whoever Jimmy and Sergeant Mellor had been working with had done a pretty good job of clearing up and in the flicker of the candlelight, the place looked shabbily chic rather than just plain shabby. Music was playing from an old cassette player on the counter. Someone had thrown a checked tablecloth over the table in the window and brought blankets too, that Bella could wrap up in as she sat.

  ‘No heating yet, I’m afraid,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘What have you been doing here?’ Bella asked. ‘How did you get inside? Who paid for the glass in the window?’

  ‘Too many questions. You’ll find out all in good time,’ said Jimmy.

  He took the cloth napkin from the table in front of Bella and, with a flourish that looked well practised, he placed it on her lap. Then he handed her a menu. Handwritten.

  ‘Tonight’s special …’ Jimmy began. ‘Well, it’s all special but there isn’t actually a choice.’

  ‘Am I having dinner here?’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Jimmy. ‘The chef’s been working very hard.’

  ‘So there is a chef?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Bella tried to get up to look into the kitchen but the door was shut and Jimmy insisted that she remained seated in any case.

  ‘May I get you an aperitif?’

  ‘What have you got?’ Bella asked.

  ‘Whatever you want,’ said Jimmy. ‘So long as it’s Prosecco.’

  ‘Then Prosecco it is. It’s my favourite anyway.’

  Jimmy returned with a bottle and a glass. He seemed to struggle with the cork. Bella asked if she could help.

  ‘Nah,’ said Jimmy. ‘If anyone can get the cork out of a bottle, it’s me. I’ve had enough practise.’

  He picked up a knife from the table.

  ‘Jimmy!’ Bella protested. ‘You’ll hurt yourself.’

  ‘The French call this the sabre method,’ he told her as he ran the knife along the bottle’s seam before whacking it against the cork which flew out in a fountain of spuma. Jimmy managed to catch a little of the fizz.

  ‘Here’s to your retirement, Miss B,’ he said, as he chinked the half-empty bottle against her full glass and took a swig.

  ‘Thanks, Jimmy,’ said Bella. ‘Though I’m not retiring yet. Just changing direction.’

  Bella heard a loud expletive come from the kitchen. She tried to place the chef’s voice but couldn’t, beyond the fact that it was definitely a man.

  ‘Sounds like the chef needs me,’ said Jimmy, disappearing into the back where Bella’s dad had once been in charge. While he was gone Bella had time to read the menu.

  She didn’t recognise the handwriting but she recognised all the recipes. There was cotechino and lentils as a starter. An aubergine parmigiana. A tiramisu. Bella soon decided she knew exactly who was behind the kitchen door. She stood up.<
br />
  Jimmy returned with a bowl of olives and a plate of antipasti. He put his hand on Bella’s shoulder and gently pushed her back into her chair.

  ‘I’ve got a speech to make. From the foothills of the Italian foothills of some-such and some-such,’ said Jimmy, in a pastiche of a waiter in an altogether smarter establishment.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Bella nibbled at a hunk of parmesan that was as good as any she had tasted. She tried to get more out of Jimmy. How was he involved?

  ‘I’ve got this mate,’ Jimmy said. ‘I want to tell you his story. He was a good bloke but he fell in with a bad crowd.’

  ‘You mean you?’ Bella teased.

  ‘Nah. This was before he met me. It was years ago. When he was a kid. Anyway, he got into trouble for handling stolen goods and he did a spell inside. Six months. Turned out to be the best thing for him. He got clean, he got straight and he got a qualification in cooking skills.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘When he got released he moved to Exeter and started looking for work. He stayed at the hostel where I was for a while. He made us some fantastic grub. About six months ago, I bumped into him again here in Newbay. Small world, I said. Only he’s doing much better for himself than I am now. Then last month, I told him about this place. I told him how your dad used to run it and how he would bring any spare food down to the bus shelter at night. I told him it was probably your dad’s generosity that sunk the place as well.’

  Bella smiled a little sadly.

  ‘He said he was looking to open a restaurant so he got in touch with the freeholders and they let him have a two-year lease. Now he’s going to reopen it and give me a job.’

  ‘Who is this foolish person?’ Bella asked.

  ‘I think he’s going to join you after dinner. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.’

  Jimmy disappeared into the kitchen again.

  Bella chewed her lip as she considered what Jimmy had just told her. If the chef was who she thought it was, had he really been inside? It didn’t seem possible. Yet, Bella knew that all sorts of people fell foul of the law. They weren’t all bad to the bone. Far from it. Take Jimmy for a start. And so many of those people, given a second chance, gave their very best in return. What was the story here?

  Jimmy returned with the cotechino. Bella struggled to keep the tears from her eyes as she ate one of her father’s signature dishes in the restaurant that had been his life’s dream. She could see herself as a young teen again, leaning against the fridge in the kitchen while he cooked. The contentment in his face as he turned towards her and asked her to taste the lentils. He cupped his hand under her chin as she ate.

  ‘Not too salty?’

  ‘Always perfect,’ she assured him.

  ‘Like you, my favourite girl.’

  ‘Your only girl!’

  She thought of her grandmother, promising her that every lentil eaten would mean a coin on New Year’s Day. She thought of her mother, worrying they would end up penniless.

  Next Jimmy brought out the aubergine parmigiana. Perfect food for a damp November night. The dish she always asked for when she was off school because she was unwell. The cheese on the top was her favourite part. Her father would let her have the cheese from his portion as well.

  The cheese on top of this parmigiana was perfectly cooked. The aubergine was sliced so finely as to be transparent. Bella could see the effort that had gone into every stage of this recipe. The tomato sauce was as good as her grandmother’s.

  ‘Tell the chef that the food is really excellent,’ Bella said to Jimmy.

  ‘He’ll be glad to hear that.’

  ‘Tell him I’d like to tell him in person!’

  ‘All in good time,’ Jimmy promised.

  ‘I don’t think I can wait,’ Bella called, wanting the man in the kitchen to hear her.

  To accompany the food, the chef had chosen a wonderful wine. It wasn’t Italian but it complemented the food very well. And it had her name on it. It was from the Bella vineyard in the Napa Valley.

  ‘Leave as much as you like,’ said Jimmy, when Bella seemed to be slowing down. ‘None of it will go to waste.’

  Bella noticed Jimmy taking a forkful of the parmigiana for himself as he carried her half-finished dish back to the kitchen. Whoever it was that was planning to take Jimmy on as a waiter was going to have his work cut out explaining the finer points of working in a restaurant, but she thought he would be popular with the guests so long as he could stay out of trouble.

  ‘Would madam like a moment or two to reflect and digest before dessert?’ Jimmy asked.

  Madam thought she probably should but she was too keen to find out whether the chef was who she thought it was. It had to be him. It had to be Alex. She would have put money on it. If he was waiting until the end of the meal to come out of the kitchen, Bella saw no point in delaying.

  ‘I’ll have it now,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you want to knock off.’

  ‘I’m washing up once you’re done,’ Jimmy explained.

  He brought out the tiramisu, carefully layered perfection in a stubby glass, like the ones in which they used to serve water in the school canteen. There were no Smarties decorating this one but in the hint of Cointreau Bella saw the unmistakeable mark of her teacher.

  ‘Tell Alex this is my favourite,’ she said.

  ‘How do you know it’s him?’ Jimmy asked. His face told her she’d hit the mark.

  ‘He gave himself away in every mouthful,’ she said. ‘Tell him that it’s all been wonderful and I can’t wait to thank him in person.’

  She had a sense that he was listening at the door.

  ‘In fact, I’d like to share this tiramisu with him.’

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Behind the kitchen door, Alex was indeed listening to the conversation going on in the dining room and he was every bit as nervous as a chef in a starred restaurant knowing there’s a critic from The New York Times at the best table. More nervous. For Alex the stakes were much higher. He’d asked Jimmy how Bella had reacted when he told the story about how he came to be in the café that night. How had she looked when he mentioned that his new boss had spent time inside?

  ‘She looked how she always looks,’ said Jimmy. ‘Like nothing you say would ever shock her. Like she’s always going to do her best by you, no matter what you’ve done.’

  ‘You mean, she looked how she does when she turns up after you’ve been arrested?’

  Jimmy assured Alex that was a good thing but Alex couldn’t help thinking that the expression Jimmy read as calm and unshockable was actually simply professional and resigned.

  Had he done the wrong thing? When Jimmy told him the history of the boarded-up café by the train station, it had seemed like fate. Fate had brought Bella to his class and it had brought him to the café. It was a sound business proposition too. That was what he had told his backers at the rehabilitation trust. The old warehouses behind the station were being redeveloped as luxury apartments. The people who worked on the building project would need somewhere to eat. The people who moved into the finished flats would appreciate a casual yet stylish local. Everybody liked Italian food.

  But perhaps Alex had overstepped the mark. This place held promise to him but for Bella it must contain melancholy memories as well as happy ones. After all, the original Bella’s had failed.

  ‘Are you sure she doesn’t look sad?’ he quizzed Jimmy.

  ‘Miss B never looks sad,’ Jimmy told him. ‘She puts a brave face on everything.’

  ‘Jimmy,’ said Alex. ‘That doesn’t really help.’

  She’d responded to Jimmy’s suggestion that she wait a little for dessert by telling him that she wanted to eat it straight away. Alex wondered if she was just trying to get out of there as quickly as possible.

  ‘Why don’t you go and ask her?’ Jimmy said at last.

  Alex stepped out of the kitchen and Bella did her best to look surprised, though she was nothing o
f the sort. Of course it was him. She’d been sure almost as soon as she saw the café all lit up with those candles. She’d known for certain when she ate the parmigiana. Alex looked nervous. Bella realised that she was feeling nervous too. She gestured towards the other chair at her table.

  ‘Sit down, chef,’ she said.

  Alex took his seat. Like Jimmy, he was wearing a white jacket with ‘Bella’s’ on the pocket. What Bella didn’t know was quite how significant that single word was to him. When Alex first put the jacket on, he told himself, ‘You really are. Bella’s that is. She’s got your heart in her hands. Let’s hope she wants it.’

  ‘This has all been amazing,’ Bella said. ‘But how did you do it? Is the kitchen reconnected?’

  ‘I’ve got a camping stove out the back. And a freeze box. And a blow torch for doing the cheese on top of the parmigiana.’

  ‘I thought it was especially crispy.’

  ‘It’s amazing what you can do with a blow torch.’

  ‘How did you get in here?’ Bella asked. ‘Jimmy told me some story. Did you really break in?’

  Alex laughed at the idea.

  ‘I didn’t have to. I’m taking over the lease,’ he said. ‘For the next two years. I’m being backed by a charity who are helping with the rent and the set-up costs. I’m going to open a café staffed by ex-offenders. Like Jamie Oliver did.’

  ‘Ex-offenders like you?’

  Alex nodded. ‘I should have told you before.’

  ‘Why would you? It wasn’t any of my business.’

  ‘I thought it would change how you looked at me.’

  ‘I understand that,’ Bella said.

  ‘Has it changed how you look at me?’

  ‘No,’ she assured him. ‘But this has.’ She gestured around the candlelit room.

  Alex held his breath. He still wasn’t sure whether she was happy about it.

  ‘I can’t believe you chose this place. My dad’s old café. And what you’re going to do with it … it’s …’

  ‘Does it upset you?’ Alex asked.

  ‘No. No. Your project is exactly the sort of thing Dad would have done if he’d had the chance. It’s a beautiful idea.’