by Emma Davies
She comes over to me and gives me a kiss. ‘Hi, Mum,’ she says. ‘Would you like a hand with dinner?’
I shake my head. ‘You must be exhausted,’ I reply. ‘So no, love, you go and chill for a bit, no more cooking for you. I’m glad you’ve had such a good day though.’
She smiles, running a hand through the coil of her ponytail. ‘I might have a shower, actually, if that’s okay?’
‘Of course. Food will be a while yet.’
I watch as she drops her bag over the back of the chair where I’ve been sitting before and takes out her water bottle. An expectant hush falls over the kitchen as she leaves the room and there are so many things I could say at this point, but I don’t. Just a look at Hugh is enough to make my feelings known.
He clears his throat gently. ‘Right, well… I’ll make a cup of tea, shall I?’
Hugh and I never did finish our discussion last night, if you could call it that. Esme barely spoke two words to him the entire evening and I can’t say I blame her. I didn’t do much better myself, not quite yet prepared to swallow his justifications. He’s left for work now, but not before he had one last shot at trying to convince me I ought to go to work myself, even promising to have a word with Hilary so that there was no awkwardness. I think my glare was sufficient to deter him from saying anything further. I have no idea what I’m going to do now I’m not working but, for today at least, I’m going to enjoy my freedom.
I sip my cup of tea, relishing a more relaxed start to the day, before swinging my legs over the side of the bed, and standing up to finish my drink. I shall be dropping Esme off at work again this morning and I don’t want to make her late; she’s feeling bad enough as it is, for obvious reasons. I did offer to come inside with her and speak to Theo in order to apologise for the things Hugh said last night, but Esme gave me a pained look that was code for don’t be ridiculous, you’ll only make things worse, and so I just smiled and nodded. She’s probably right. It’s bad enough one parent putting their foot in it; two would be unforgivable.
An hour later, she grabs her bag from the footwell and hastens from the car, flashing me a cheery smile. If she’s feeling nervous this morning, she doesn’t show it.
‘Thanks, Mum,’ she says, before rushing across the car park, eager to be inside doing what she loves. I watch her as she goes, the stark contrast between her day and mine occupying my thoughts. I’m about to reluctantly head for home when a bright-red sports car darts into the parking space beside me.
Before I’ve even had a chance to pull forward, there’s a friendly wave in acknowledgement and, almost immediately, the woman driver is out of the car and hurrying towards me. I wind down the window.
‘Hi!’ The smile that greets me is broad, the face animated with laughter lines and bright-red lipstick. ‘You must be Esme’s mum.’ She slaps her forehead. ‘Don’t tell me… Alys?’ A hand is thrust towards me, which I shake despite the awkward angle.
‘Nancy?’ Her hair is even shorter than I’ve seen in recent photographs, but it’s definitely her. She’d be striking anywhere.
She nods several times. ‘It’s very good of you to drop Esme off,’ she says. ‘Especially as it’s so early. I’m sorry about that.’
‘No, it’s fine, honestly. I’m an early bird anyway.’
We smile at one another. ‘That must be where Esme gets it from then,’ she replies. ‘I’ll see if I can get Theo to drop her home again tonight, save you having to come back. As long as you don’t mind, of course. It makes much more sense to try to do this between us, doesn’t it?’
‘I’m hoping that Esme can learn to drive soon… But yes, in the meantime, that would be great.’
‘Good. That’s settled then.’ Nancy beams. ‘Well, it’s lovely to meet you… In fact, would you like to come in for a drink? The kettle will be on.’
I pause, uncertain. ‘I’d better not, but thank you anyway. I’m not sure that Esme would appreciate it.’
‘Oh God, yes, good point. Parents, how embarrassing… What are we like? Another time then?’
I nod. ‘Yes, I’ll let her get a bit settled first.’
Nancy withdraws herself from the window. ‘Right, well I’d better get on, crack the whip and all that.’ She suddenly checks herself. ‘I don’t mean that at all…’ And she holds my look. ‘I’ll take good care of Esme today, don’t worry…’ She gives a little wave, her bright-red lips pulled into a wide smile. ‘Bye for now.’
I’m touched by her words; that was such a lovely thing to say. And, as Hugh’s words from the previous evening come back to me, I realise that I don’t want to let how he feels sour this new working relationship for Esme. Nancy’s not garish at all, far from it. And if I’m going to say anything I need to say it now. ‘Um, actually…’
Nancy turns.
‘Would you mind if I spoke to you about something, just quickly…?’
‘Not at all,’ she replies, coming back to the window. ‘But don’t let’s do it in the car park… I tell you what, I’ll get Theo to take Esme on a tour of our suppliers. It’s one of the things we were planning to do over the next few days, so if it’s today, that won’t hurt at all.’ She grins. ‘And we can have that cup of coffee, after all.’
I climb from the car and follow her to the door. Christ, I feel old. And drab.
So I’ve read about it. I’ve seen photos. But I’ve never actually been inside The Green Room in London, and nothing could have prepared me for what it feels like to walk inside now. It’s alive, literally… Hanging from the stained-glass ceiling, clinging to the walls and standing anywhere there’s a space are plants of every shape and variety. Two enormous monsteras flank the entrance, towering above as you walk into the room but, for all that, the space is huge, airy, and full of the most amazing light. And smells. It’s not unlike walking into a botanical garden.
‘Esme said it was beautiful but… I’ve never seen anything like this.’
‘Good,’ says Nancy, a delighted look on her face. ‘That’s the idea. We want people to be blown away before they even eat the food. Which, we hope, is equally impressive of course.’
‘I’m sure it will be. This is incredible and it looks as if you’re ready to open.’
‘A couple more weeks,’ Nancy replies. ‘We still have some last-minute deliveries of equipment to be made, as well as a few decisions to make. We want to get everything embedded too: all our menus, our suppliers, everything we do and how we’re going to do it. I don’t want anything to go wrong. Mainly for our diners’ sakes, obviously, but also for ours. I want us to be able to enjoy this, not just on the first night, but every night, and stress brought about by needless irritations is not only preventable but soul-destroying too.’
She indicates that I should take a seat at one of the tables just as a peal of laughter echoes from what I take to be the kitchen. ‘That’ll be Theo,’ she says. ‘He’s altogether far too cheerful in the morning, but it gets us all going. Let me grab some coffee and then I can despatch him and Esme on their way and she won’t even know you’re here.’
I sit down gratefully, head about ready to explode from all the sudden thoughts that have rushed in during the last five minutes. Not just how this place looks, but Nancy herself, so different from what I’d expected. I’m thrown. I wasn’t sure what I would feel coming here, but I’m mortified and hugely embarrassed that Hugh, by taking the stance he has, might have made things awkward for Esme. Her employers have already shown themselves to be caring on so many levels and his overbearing attitude is the last thing she needs. I look around me, mildly panicked; I haven’t a clue what to say to Nancy.
And she’s back, much earlier than I expected, bearing a fully loaded tray which includes a plate of biscotti.
‘Now you have to try one of these,’ she says, placing the tray on the table. ‘Or even several. They’re a new recipe, and Theo thinks they’re divine, but then he would. I’m not sure myself.’
‘Oh.’ I stare at the biscuits. ‘I�
��m afraid I’m not much of a connoisseur. In fact, I don’t really ever eat those.’
‘Too crunchy?’ asks Nancy, nodding. ‘The trick is in the dunking. You see, the Italians do it with gusto, only in hot wine actually, not coffee, but we Brits are just too reserved. We think it’s altogether too common, I expect, so we just flirt with the coffee when what’s required is a really good wallow.’ She stops to look at me. ‘I never asked, sorry… Do you even like coffee?’
I laugh. Nancy looks positively distraught. ‘Yes, don’t worry… and I will dunk, I promise.’
She picks up the jug and begins to pour our drinks, the appetising rich aroma of coffee filling the air. She looks at me for a moment, appraising something.
‘I probably should come clean,’ she says. ‘Because I suspect you’re already feeling awkward and I think I know why you’re here.’ She gives me an apologetic smile. ‘Theo mentioned something,’ she says.
‘Yes… I rather wondered if he would. And I feel awful, I really must apologise.’
‘You don’t need to.’
I look at her in surprise.
‘Firstly, because on the basis of what your husband has probably heard, he has a point, and secondly, because if your husband said something out of turn, shouldn’t he be the one apologising?’ She pushes a cup of coffee towards me. ‘Of course, there’s a third point here as well, which is that, unless you share your husband’s opinion, I’m here talking to you, not him, and so anything he said has no bearing on how we’re going to get along.’
‘Oh…’ I reply, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. That’s just the sort of thing you would say. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it like that.’
‘No. We’re not supposed to, are we?’ continues Nancy. ‘We get so used to apologising for other people’s behaviour we just can’t help ourselves.’
I grin. ‘I still feel like I need to apologise.’
Nancy picks up a biscotti. ‘You can recount what he said if you like, explain the context, but I shan’t let you say you’re sorry.’ She waves the biscuit at me. ‘But first… dunk.’
She pauses while I follow suit, nodding slightly with every second that passes until we hit five. ‘Now, eat.’
I bite as instructed, mouth filling with flavour as I chew. Not tough at all.
She’s watching me like a hawk. ‘What do you think? What flavours are you getting?’
‘Umm… well almond, obviously, the coffee… but, something else, not the cherries…’ I nibble a little more. ‘Cinnamon?’
Nancy gives a triumphant smile. ‘Yes… and do you like it?’
‘I do…’
‘But?’
I screw up my face. ‘I think I’m just a bit old-fashioned,’ I say. ‘But I like my biscuits sweeter than this. It’s lovely though.’
‘Hah!’ replies Nancy. ‘I said they should be sweeter. Thank you, Alys, you’ve just made my day.’ She leans forward. ‘A little mother-son rivalry,’ she adds. ‘Occupational hazard. But I’ve interrupted you. You were about to explain?’
I take another mouthful of the delicious coffee and clear my throat. ‘Hugh is a little… protective of Esme,’ I begin. ‘She’s an only child and he finds it difficult to understand that she’s an adult now and can make her own decisions. So I don’t think he was being deliberately provocative, but he sees “doing his homework”, as he calls it, part of his duty as her father. Everyone else sees it as downright annoying.’
I smile. ‘So what Theo heard, taken out of context, was the end of Hugh’s attempt at providing me with some background to your company. He mentioned an interview he’d read, given by a former staff member of yours, that wasn’t exactly complimentary and that therefore Theo’s dad wasn’t someone we should encourage Esme to mix with. That’s when she and Theo walked in.’
These were hard words to say but I was determined to say them. Nancy has already shown herself to be entirely open and honest and I’d like to start as I mean to go on.
To my surprise she laughs. ‘Oh, that’s priceless,’ she says. ‘And Theo agreed, I gather. Although I bet you wanted the ground to swallow you up.’
‘Just a little…’
‘Well then, I should let you know that it was a fair comment,’ she says. ‘And that the bones of what was reported in the article are also true. But of course, not the whole story. It never is, is it?’ She smiles. ‘How much do you know about us, Alys?’
‘Not a lot, I’m afraid.’
‘Don’t apologise,’ she admonishes, grinning. ‘So, The Green Room is me and my husband, Sam. Actually, he’s my ex-husband, but I still can’t quite get used to that.’ She gives a wistful smile. ‘Not because we shouldn’t be divorced, that was absolutely the right thing to do, but because we’re still very close. Although we’ve been divorced for several years now, it’s only recently been made public, partly for Theo’s sake. Sam is the brains behind the business. His idea, concept, marketing, and a whole heap of other stuff besides, while I cook. I’m also the public face of the company, because Sam is categorically not. In fact, he rarely steps foot inside the restaurant.’
She pauses to drink, watching me over the rim of her cup. ‘The interview your husband referred to was given by a young man who worked with us in London for a number of months. To start with we had a good relationship but sadly, over time, he took advantage of the fact that Sam was absent from the restaurant to throw his weight around. He made the mistake of thinking that because Sam wasn’t physically there, he didn’t know what was going on. And when Sam spoke to him about it, he didn’t take it well.’
She pauses again. ‘My husband has a disability and… when he’s in a lot of pain, he can be very… sharp with people. He occasionally loses his temper when things are very bad. So yes, he did shout – although to be fair most of it was at me – but it was overheard just the same. We all accept it wasn’t the way to behave but Sam was disappointed and upset – disappointed because he felt let down by someone he respected taking advantage of a situation, and also upset by the knowledge that he’d been taken as a fool. Too often people see only the feebleness of his body and think his mind is the same. They don’t see the Sam I know – the brilliant entrepreneur, someone who is kind and thoughtful, and yet who also sits and cries with pain some nights. Someone who takes the snide comments and shocked looks in his stride, burying away the hurt.’ She gives a tight smile. ‘It’s a bit of a bugbear of his.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘So I hope you won’t think too badly of us.’
‘I don’t think badly of you at all. You didn’t have to share any of that, Nancy, but I do appreciate it.’
‘I’ve already explained the set-up to Esme and, although Sam is still involved in the running of things in London, we both agreed that this new restaurant was to be a solo venture. In any case it’s time for Theo to take on more responsibility, and although Sam may pop in from time to time, that’s the extent of it. I hope that reassures you that nothing untoward will happen here.’
‘It does, although now I feel even worse about the things Hugh said. You’ve gone out of your way to make Esme feel welcome.’
‘Hugh is a father and Esme’s his little girl. It’s really quite all right. Theo finds his father frustrating as well and theirs is definitely what you’d call a love-hate relationship. But I’ve also heard from Esme how well the two of you get on so, unless there’s anything else you feel you should say, I think we should talk about something far more exciting. A little dickie bird told me that your sister-in-law has just got engaged to Rupert Freedman…’
I put my cup down, astonished. ‘Do you know him?’
‘Oh yes, one of our very good customers.’ Nancy seems to be enjoying herself.
‘Is he? What’s he like? I don’t know much about him.’
She gives a wicked laugh. ‘Utterly gorgeous… we’ve all been chasing him for years. I was devastated to learn he’d been caught.’
‘Well that might explain why my mother-in-
law has gone into total meltdown over the engagement.’
‘It certainly would. But listen, I’m going to be totally open about this, and you can tell me to take a running jump, but Esme mentioned she’s making the cake for their party and so I’ve offered her the use of the kitchen here. It makes perfect sense. But, apart from that, I wondered whether we might be able to provide anything else for the party. As our gift… and the opportunity to bag some truly wonderful publicity of course.’ She’s grinning from ear to ear.
I can’t help but laugh. A sudden vivid image of Angela having an apoplectic fit leaps into my head. She will hate it if I get involved, especially if it’s providing food from somewhere like The Green Room.
‘I have no real idea what the arrangements are,’ I say. ‘But I’d be delighted to find out. I’m sure we can think of something… to our mutual benefit.’
Nancy raises her mug as if to make a toast. ‘Oh I’m so glad you came in this morning, Alys. I’ve a feeling this is all going to work out wonderfully well.’
6
Hugh surveys himself in the full-length mirror in our bedroom, doing up his cufflinks before slipping on his jacket. It’s a new suit, expensive, and beautifully cut. Even if it doesn’t quite hide the softness of his rounded stomach. He has a wardrobe full of suits but Scarlett’s high-profile engagement has obviously necessitated the purchase of a new one. Besides, his brother, Ed, has bought one too and Hugh would never let that go unchallenged.
‘It looks good,’ I say, handing him his tie.
‘I would hope so,’ he grumbles. ‘It cost enough. But we mustn’t let the side down.’ He glances at me before turning back to perfect a full Windsor knot. ‘What happened to the dress you were making?’