The House Beneath the Cliffs

by Sharon Gosling

  Anna shook her head. ‘Honestly? The sensible thing to do is move before the baby gets here, try to get settled somewhere else. But…’

  ‘But?’ There was a hopeful look on Pat’s face.

  Anna raised her hands, palm up, a ‘What can I do?’ gesture. ‘A big part of me wants to have the baby here. I honestly don’t know how to make that work, but this place… everyone here…’

  Pat smiled beatifically. ‘We’ve got under your skin, eh?’

  Anna laughed, though there were tears threatening, too. ‘I suppose you have. You told me you would, didn’t you?’

  ‘A crib,’ Frank announced arbitrarily. ‘That’s what the Fishergirl’s Luck needs. A custom-built crib that’ll be a perfect fit. I can do that. Will you let me?’

  The tears kept coming. ‘Of course I will,’ Anna said. ‘I’m so glad you’re both happy about it. I think I’m going to need you. I’m going to need you both.’

  Pat hugged her again. ‘We’ll be here, love.’

  ‘You know what they say,’ Frank said with a grin. ‘It takes a village to raise a child.’

  Anna laughed through her tears. ‘Yes! And do you know what? This is home now. I don’t really know when it happened, but I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I don’t want to, either. I miss the Usual Suspects. It’s been too long since we had a get-together, and it’s my fault because I’ve been so busy.’

  ‘Don’t you worry about that, love,’ Frank said. ‘None of us are going anywhere, either.’

  My own selkie lass,

  If I bought you flowers, yellow ones, every single one I could find between Inverness and Cromarty, if I filled the house with them, all for you, would I feel better?

  I bought beetroot. It was deliberate. It was a penance, and it isn’t enough.

  I love you. I love the memory of you, so much that I wish it were more than a memory. But it isn’t.

  I never expected her. I never did.

  Twenty-Seven

  Anna had thought her escapade with Young Robbie beneath the cliff had been the second shoe she’d been waiting to drop, but she was wrong. That came a few days later on Thursday, when Anna was about to begin service at the Fishergirl’s Luck. Seeing her baby and then being able to talk to Pat and Frank about it had lifted a weight from Anna’s shoulders that she hadn’t known she’d been carrying. As a result she floated through the week, still tired but with a new happiness that made her buoyant.

  ‘Enjoy it,’ Cathy told her. ‘I’m so glad you’re surrounded by good people, Anna. I hate that I’m not closer.’

  ‘I know,’ Anna said. ‘Me too. But I know you’ll visit when you can. It would be so good to see you.’

  The frequency of her phone calls to Cathy had lessened, and Anna realized that this was an indication of how close her newer friendships were becoming. Roots, she thought to herself, as she shaped gnocchi with a swift, practised twist of her thumb. I’ve put them down here. They’re taking, despite the rock.

  She prepared for service with a sense of confidence that had only developed since she’d been in Crovie. This was her place. Maybe she didn’t know it as well as someone like Douglas McKean or Robert MacKenzie, but she had the rest of her life to learn it, and she had decided that was exactly what she wanted to do.

  The six successful guests had been seated – there were always still a lot of people who hung around, as if she might miraculously be able to produce another table for them to eat at – and she was inside organizing drinks when Anna heard a commotion outside. It began as a loud murmur followed by a storm of clapping, over which she could hear a voice speaking. She went to see what was happening and stopped dead on the step.

  ‘Well, well, well, here she is,’ said Geoff Rowcliffe, his television smile firmly in place. ‘Anna Campbell, the girl of the moment.’

  Anna could feel the blood draining from her face. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Geoff turned to the gathered crowd, spreading his arms and widening his smile. There was a smattering of laughter. ‘I wanted to see first-hand how my protégé was getting on, of course!’ he said.

  Anna could feel her throat seizing up. She felt cold. ‘Your protégé?’

  The celebrity chef turned back to her. His smile was still in place, but she knew him well enough to read the knife-edge in his eyes. ‘Twenty years in my kitchens has obviously stood you well, hasn’t it? Thought I’d come and show my support.’

  She swallowed. ‘I’m afraid the table’s full for today,’ Anna said. ‘There’s no more room.’

  ‘Oh no – please join us,’ said one of the women that Anna had seated at the bench. She was leaning out over the fence, her face bursting with excitement. ‘We can all squeeze up!’

  Anna shook her head. ‘No, I really don’t think—’

  ‘We don’t mind,’ the woman insisted, turning to gather support from her fellow diners. ‘Do we?’

  Geoff looked pointedly at Anna. She briefly considered lying and saying that she only had enough ingredients for six meals, but knew he’d never believe that. She gave in. ‘I’ll bring an extra chair.’

  He smiled, showing her all his teeth. ‘Great. I can’t wait to taste this food of yours. The reviews make it sound as if you should already have a Michelin star.’

  At that he turned his back on her and went towards the woman, who was chattering excitedly about what an honour it was to share a table with such a renowned chef. Anna went back inside and grabbed an extra chair. When she took it out, Geoff was standing at the end of the table with his arms crossed. He barely even looked at her as he took the chair and positioned it right at the head of the bench.

  Anna went back into the Fishergirl’s Luck again and pushed the door shut. She was shaking and her fingers felt numb. All of her confidence had vanished and now she was reduced once more to that minion in Geoff’s kitchen, waiting for him to criticize her food. She felt sick.

  She grabbed the phone and dialled Cathy’s number. Her friend answered on the first ring.

  ‘Hello – what are you doing? Shouldn’t you be in service? Is everything all right?’

  ‘He’s here. Geoff’s here.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He turned up out of the blue. The guests – they’ve made room for him. He’s sitting at the bench, waiting to eat. I’m not going to be able to plate, my hands are shaking too much.’

  ‘Hey,’ Cathy said, her voice snapping over from shocked to strong. ‘You listen to me. You can do this. I know you can. You know you can. You are not in his kitchen anymore. This is your table, your food. Take a moment. Drink a glass of water. Breathe. Then do what you were born to do. He can’t take this away from you, because he did not give it to you in the first place. Got it?’

  Anna shut her eyes and sucked in a breath. ‘Yes. I can do this. I can.’

  ‘Damn straight, sister. I love you. Now go and do your job. Call me later.’

  Anna hung up the phone and went into the kitchen. She poured a pint of water and drank it down in one go, staring at the sea beyond her window. Then she put the glass down and took a series of deep breaths. As she did so she realized that her panic was being subsumed by rage.

  Protégé? As if they hadn’t trained in the same place, at the same time! As if she was only able to cook because of Geoff bloody Rowcliffe!

  Anna blew out one last breath. She’d make this the best service she’d ever delivered. She was a better cook than Geoff had ever been. She knew it, and so did he, because why else would he be here? Why else would he care? Why else would he have spent twenty years making sure she’d never thought enough of herself to realize it?

  Well, he was on her turf now.

  Screw you, Geoff Rowcliffe, she thought. Screw you and the spatula you strode in with.

  Then she squared her shoulders and went into battle.

  * * *

  ‘I have to admit, it wasn’t bad. Maybe not as refined as I’d expected, given the reviews, but a good show of potential nonetheless.’


  Anna was collecting the last items from the bench. Her other diners had finally left, though only because the wind was beginning to get up again. Otherwise they probably would have sat there for another three hours, listening to Geoff giving them the benefit of his wisdom. As it was, only Anna was left to hear her ex downplay the success of the meal as he watched her clear.

  ‘How generous of you to say so,’ Anna said, as she walked past him to the door of the Fishergirl’s Luck.

  ‘No need to be snippy. I’m offering a few thoughts, that’s all. We all need them if we’re going to improve, don’t we?’

  She didn’t invite him in, but that didn’t stop him following her. Anna went to the sink and stacked the cups for washing. She knew the meal had been outstanding, which was why he had tried to find fault with her ‘refinement’ instead. He couldn’t be negative about the food itself, because it had been perfect, and he knew it. So did she. She didn’t need him to say so, which was fortunate, because she knew he never would. Anna turned to face him.

  ‘What do you want, Geoff?’ she asked. ‘Why are you here?’

  He didn’t answer her immediately, pausing instead to look around her home with a barely disguised expression of disdain.

  ‘I’m here to offer you a shot at the big time. A proper shot. A chance to turn your dabble here into something with an actual future.’

  The rage Anna had felt earlier began to bubble in her veins again. She crossed her arms. ‘Oh yes? And what chance would that be?’

  ‘I’ve got a new restaurant opening in Manchester next year. I want you to be the executive chef. I’m offering you your own kitchen, Anna – a real kitchen.’

  Anna stared at him. ‘You… What?’

  Geoff smiled, sliding his hands into his pockets. ‘That’s right. I’m willing to give you a kitchen. And with it a glittering future.’

  She was so stunned she could barely speak. ‘Why?’

  He shrugged. ‘I need someone who will shape up. It’s going to have the Rowcliffe name over the door, it’s my rep on the line.’

  ‘And you think you can “shape me up”, do you?’

  He took one hand out of his pocket and pointed a finger at her. ‘Don’t get cocky, Anna. Don’t believe your own hype. Look at where you are, for God’s sake. You think serving six covers a couple of days a week out of the arse end of civilization makes you a real chef? It’s ridiculous. Look at yourself. No one else in their right mind would offer you this.’

  Anna turned away. He was right. No one walked straight into their own commercial kitchen, especially not one that was guaranteed to be on the Michelin radar before it even opened.

  ‘When are you planning to open?’

  ‘Next December. I don’t want to rush it. I’m determined that this will be a success, and so are my investors. We’re more than a year out – I’m keen for you to be in right at the beginning of the planning. The kitchen and dining room would be built to your specs – with me overseeing, obviously. We’d develop the menu together.’

  December, Anna thought. She’d imagined he would want to open in summer, but by December the baby would be eleven months old. Even if she had six months of maternity leave after the birth, that would still leave five months before opening where she would be fully involved.

  ‘Anna?’ Geoff asked, into her silence. ‘How are you not biting my hand off to take this offer?’

  Anna swallowed, hard, and turned to face him. ‘Because by then, I’ll have a child to think about. I’m pregnant.’

  The shocked look on his face might have been comical if it hadn’t quickly transformed into a smirking leer. ‘Wow. You didn’t hang around. I know that once women get to a certain age they can’t hear anything but their body clock, but even so—’

  ‘I’m due in January,’ Anna said, to shut him up.

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘Well then. The messy stuff will all be out of the way in plenty of time, won’t it?’ Geoff looked around the Fishergirl’s Luck again. ‘What are you planning to do? Keep the baby in a box under the table? This place is small enough to be a garden playhouse. Who’s the father?’

  ‘None of that is any of your business.’

  He turned back to her with another smirk. ‘Knocked you up and did a runner then, did he? Smart man.’

  Anna bit her lip and tried to tamp down on her anger. ‘It’s time you were going,’ she told him. ‘I’ve got to clean down.’

  ‘We need to start discussing arrangements,’ Geoff said. ‘I’ll need you to sign a contract and an NDA. There’ll be a non-compete clause, so you’ll have to stop serving out there, and—’

  ‘I won’t be doing any of that,’ Anna said.

  Geoff crossed his arms. ‘You’ll have to, or no deal.’

  ‘No problem. No deal. Goodbye, Geoff.’

  He stared at her. ‘What?’

  ‘I’m saying no to your offer,’ Anna said. ‘You can go now.’

  ‘You can’t be serious,’ Geoff said. ‘Not even you could be that—’

  There was a sudden sound at the door. Geoff had left it open, only bothering to partially close the inner vestibule door as he’d come in. It opened now and Robert MacKenzie backed through it, carrying two buckets that looked heavy and sloshed with water.

  ‘Sorry to burst in,’ he said, ‘but—’ He looked up and saw Geoff. ‘Damn, sorry. I only wanted to drop the razor clams off for tomorrow.’

  Anna went to Robert and took one of the buckets, which was full of both razor clams and seawater. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘that’s really good of you.’

  Geoff crossed his arms, watching. ‘Delivery straight to the door, eh? That’s service indeed.’

  Robert gave him an easy smile as he straightened up. ‘Oh, Anna deserves the best for her kitchen. Have you tried her food? Hands down the best I’ve ever had.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Geoff said. ‘We’ve been discussing it, actually.’ He seemed to decide something and stuck out a hand for Robert to shake. ‘Geoff Rowcliffe.’

  ‘Robert MacKenzie,’ Robert glanced at Anna with a smile. ‘You’re one of Anna’s friends from down south? It’s nice to meet you.’

  Anna’s heart sank. Robert clearly didn’t know who Geoff was, and from experience she knew there was no surer way to insult her ex than be ignorant of his stardom. Geoff smiled tightly.

  ‘And I’m guessing you must be the father,’ he said smoothly. ‘Congratulations. Due in January, I believe?’

  The smile dropped from Robert’s face.

  ‘Oh, sorry, did I say something out of turn?’ Geoff asked, with a studied innocence that Anna knew far better than to believe.

  ‘It’s fine,’ Anna said, refusing to let him see how he’d riled her. ‘No, Robert is not the father of my baby. He’s just a very good friend. He’s the person I bought this place from.’

  Geoff nodded, losing interest. ‘Well, I’ve got to go.’ He gave Anna a pointed look. ‘My number hasn’t changed. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.’

  Anna ignored that. ‘Goodbye, Geoff.’

  Geoff flicked a glance at Robert. ‘Nice to meet you.’

  Robert stepped aside to let him out. ‘And you.’

  Anna closed the door behind Geoff and turned back to Robert. They were silent for a moment.

  ‘I’m sorry I hadn’t told you yet,’ Anna said.

  He held up a hand. ‘No need, it’s not…’ He shook his head slightly as he trailed off. ‘You’re okay? The baby’s okay? After everything—’

  ‘Yes. We’re both fine. Thank you.’

  ‘Good. And you’re happy?’

  Anna smiled. ‘Yes. A bit scared, maybe. But very happy.’

  He smiled back. ‘Then so am I.’

  They lapsed into silence again. ‘I’d better go,’ Robert said, after a moment. ‘Fraser and Emma are dropping the wee boy off soon.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks again for the clams.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he said. And then, ‘If you need anything, you let me know
. Anything. Any time. Okay?’

  Anna smiled again as something in her chest swelled and then contracted, leaving an ache she couldn’t quite explain. ‘Thank you. That means a lot.’

  Robert MacKenzie nodded again, frowned a little, smiled a little. Then he was gone, into the twilight wind.

  * * *

  ‘That bastard,’ Cathy said immediately, when Anna told her of Geoff’s offer. ‘He’s looking for a way to be able to say that your success is down to him. He wants you somewhere he can control you, Anna. You’d develop the menu together, sure – but we both know what that means. You’ll come up with it, and he’d be the one who cooks it on TV. His name will be three times bigger than yours whenever they appear together, and that will only be when he can’t ditch your name completely.’

  Anna fiddled absently with the hem of her shirt. It felt tighter than usual. ‘I know. I know. And that’s why I told him to get lost.’

  ‘Good,’ Cathy said, the relief clear in her voice. ‘I hate the way that sorry excuse for a man can get into your head.’

  ‘I won’t ever let that happen again,’ Anna assured her. ‘But I can’t help but think…’ She sighed. ‘Cathy, with the baby I’m going to need work sooner rather than later now. And I’m never going to get another offer like that one.’

  ‘You don’t know that,’ her friend insisted. ‘Look what you’ve achieved in just a few months!’

  ‘What I’ve achieved?’ Anna repeated, with a slight laugh. ‘Come on – he’s not exactly wrong about that, either, is he? All I’ve actually managed to do is serve six covers three days a week and get myself knocked up.’

  ‘This is him talking,’ Cathy said, irritated. ‘He has got inside your head!’

  ‘He hasn’t,’ Anna assured her. ‘Not really. I know my worth now. I know I could run my own kitchen. If I could do it at the Inn here, I would. But I can’t.’

  ‘I can’t believe Geoff Rowcliffe is the only person who would offer you a job if you went looking for one,’ Cathy said. ‘You’ve got a reputation now. A body of work that has nothing to do with him. That has to count for something. Doesn’t it?’