Recipe for Disaster (22 page)

Ronnie's hair was standing on end, his eyes were
bloodshot and his face looked haggard. He had lost over a
stone since coming to work here.

'It all suddenly got out of hand,' he said later, after two
cups of tea. 'I had a really strong joint in the afternoon to
help me sleep before the shift, but then when I got to work
everything went a bit weird. I couldn't seem to control the
knives – it was a bit like they had a life of their own, you
know. I was worried they might make me do something
awful, so I decided to go somewhere dark and quiet and
stay there until I felt better.'

'In the circumstances, that was probably a wise move. Do
you feel better?' asked Jake.

'Yeah, sure. I'm fine now.'

'Don't be stupid,' said Jake. 'You've got over tonight's
crisis, but unless you really sort your head out, there will be
others.'

'What would you do if I was in your kitchen?' asked
Ronnie.

'I would sack you,' said Jake brutally. But then he
explained, more gently: 'Listen, man, you are no use to
yourself or anyone else in this state. You keep taking drugs
and there will be a major accident in the kitchen, and then
you will never forgive yourself. Look upon tonight as a
warning and an opportunity to get out now, in one piece.
Get the drugs out of your system and find someone nicer to
work for – there are plenty of them around, you know.'

'So, are you going to tell him what happened?'

'I won't have to. The waiting staff are going to spill the
beans as soon as they can.'

'Oh shit, I'll get the sack!'

'Not if you resign first, then go to your doctor and be
honest with him so he can help you.'

'I'm beyond help,' said Ronnie.

'Don't talk bollocks – of course you're not! Look, do you
still want to cook?'

Ronnie was silent for a long time, thinking. Then: 'I
remember what it was like when I was starting out. I wanted
to learn to cook so I could have my own pub, somewhere in
Yorkshire – I'm from there. I used to go to bed and plan
what I was going to put on the menu.' He sighed.

'You've still got that fire somewhere, even though it's
burned pretty low. For God's sake – Harry could douse
anyone's ambitions! You just got in with the wrong crowd,
as my grandmother would say. Listen to me. I believe in
you, but you have to get clean first.'

Inwardly, Jake breathed a sigh of relief. Ronnie's eyes
had brightened up, only very slightly, but it was enough.
He even managed a faint grin.

'This has been the worst job of my life. Now I know I can
walk away it even seems a bit funny, but it wasn't then. He
was always bawling me out. It didn't seem to matter how
hard I tried – nothing pleased him. The coke made it all feel
like it didn't matter and I could manage, you know.'

'Well, if you find somewhere decent to work, all you will
need in the future is commitment,' said Jake, and gave a
huge yawn.

'You can sleep on my floor tonight, and tomorrow
morning, early, I will hand in your resignation for you and
you can go home,' said Hans.

'Fine. I'll just tell one of Harry's slaves next door that we
are going,' said Jake.

'I heard that!' said Annabelle, bouncing into the kitchen
so smartly Jake knew she had been eavesdropping the
whole time. 'I shall be ringing Harry the moment I've
locked the door on you.'

'Do what you like, I don't care.'

But as he was driving the guys home he had a moment's
unease, which was stupid, wasn't it? Of course he had the
upper hand here. Harry wouldn't want any of this being
broadcast, because it wouldn't do his reputation any good
at all, and reputation was important in a small town like
this. The only thing Harry could do now was grind his teeth
down to the gums and thank Jake nicely. Right?

It was early morning by the time Jake got to bed and his
whole body protested when the alarm rang, a ridiculously
short time later. He had spent the night in fitful dreams,
none of them very pleasant, and for a minute he just lay
there, thinking longingly of holidays (when was the last
time he had actually had one?), or even jobs where you got
the weekend off. Then with a groan, he got up.

With the Restaurant Club award looming, there was no
time to lie in bed feeling faint-hearted. He was convinced,
despite what his customers were saying, that there was a
huge amount of work still to be done before his cooking
skills were up to standard.

Coming to the conclusion he would go mad if he thought
about it any more, he decided to cheer himself up by putting
sautéed veal kidneys with a puree of potato on the menu.

Meanwhile, several thousand feet above him, a stewardess
was jumping back in fright when she discovered that a
croissant could be used as an offensive weapon. At least it
could be in Harry's hands.

'There is no need to wave your breakfast at me in a
threatening manner, sir,' she said.

'Well don't try and tell me this crap is edible!' he roared.

'Everyone else is eating it quite happily. Perhaps you just
want coffee?'

Harry subsided with ill grace. He was in a stormingly bad
temper and there was no one to vent it on. He sipped coffee
and brooded.

Up until a few hours ago he had been having a wonderful
time. It had been brilliant to see the look on Georgia's face
when she strutted down the catwalk and realised he was
sitting in the front row. A true professional, she didn't lose
her stride, but her eyes had widened in surprise and
unmistakable pleasure.

After the show he had somehow managed to blag his way
backstage. He cut a swathe through the giggling, naked
models without even casting a glance in their direction. He
walked straight up to her and held out his hand. In it was a
single long-stemmed rose. It was corny but Harry could
pull it off.

'I have a table booked for two. I'd rather you came as you
were,' he dropped his eyes to her bare breasts, 'but I guess
people will stare.' He bent his head and lightly kissed one
nipple. 'I'm saving the other for later.'

All the girls and some of the men sighed with envy. It
was just like a scene out of a really cool film, thought
Georgia.

They went to a little restaurant he knew that was discreet
and served superb food and wine. He kept the conversation
light and casual, though he insisted on serving her little
morsels of his fillet steak to go with her salad. Then they
walked back to her hotel, because it wasn't far and Paris at
night was a lovers' dream. Outside the door to her room,
they stopped, Georgia quivering with anticipation.

'I've got unfinished business with your body,' said Harry.

'Yes, yes,' breathed Georgia, who had completely forgotten
that Jake even existed.

'But not tonight.'

'What?'

'You think you know yourself, but I know you better.
You think you're ready for this, but you aren't. Yet. I am
sad, but I can wait.' He kissed her hand and turned.

'Really – I am sooo ready,' wailed Georgia in frustration,
but it was too late. He had gone. One of the secrets of
Harry's success with women was that he always knew
exactly the right moment to take them to bed, when they
were panting with desire and would do anything he asked.
He was grinning to himself at the thought of pleasure to
come, when his mobile rang.

He was very calm to begin with. There was no point in
having a tantrum until you were in possession of all the facts
and had assessed the situation coolly. That done, he swore
quietly to himself to begin with, which then built up to a
crescendo of oaths that culminated in him flinging the
phone onto the pavement, where it bounced twice and
broke into four pieces. The cab driver he had summoned
took one look at this and sped off. Some fares just weren't
worth it.

'Pick up the pieces and put it back together,' he ordered
the concierge, who was staring at him. And he went inside
to book a flight home.

He wanted to kill two people. Ronnie, for having fucked
up in such a spectacular way and brought his restaurant
into disrepute, and Jake, who had dared to play the white
knight and would now be expecting Harry's gratitude.
God! The thought of having to do that really hurt! Was it
actually possible to say thank you to the man he hated more
than anyone else? Sitting in the plane, he practised the
smile he would have to give, which obviously needed some
work, as it made a small child cry.

You can do this, he told himself. You can do this because
what that stupid prick doesn't know is that you are in the
middle of a very successful campaign to seduce his
girlfriend. Jake may have won a minor and insignificant
skirmish, but he has no idea how to win a war. You will have
the last laugh, Harry my boy.

Everyone liked the kidneys, except Kirsty, who refused
flatly even to try them, on the grounds that things like that
were disgusting.

'Things like what?' demanded Jake.

'You know perfectly well what I mean.'

'No I don't! If you will eat an animal's legs, or its breasts,
you might as well eat everything else. It's dead anyway so
it's not going to complain, is it?'

'I don't care. I am quite capable of lying to the customers
and telling them it's absolutely delicious, so it doesn't
matter, does it?'

'I just want to broaden your eating horizons.'

'They don't need to be broadened. They are quite happy
where they are, thank you,' she retorted and went off to
answer the phone.

'It's whatsername, that posh tart from Café Anglais,' she
hissed, coming back. Jake took the phone. Annabelle said
Harry would be delighted if Jake could come over for a
coffee that afternoon. 'He would like to thank you for the
very great kindness you did for poor Ronnie,' she said,
almost managing to sound like she believed it.

'It was nothing,' said Jake, and pretended to go off and
look in his diary, which he knew was quite empty, apart
from a blob of gravy.

'Yes, I think I can manage half an hour,' he said,
enjoying all this tremendously.

Everyone was against him going, though.

'I know you think you have all the power here –' began
Kate.

'I do. If I was a nasty sort, I could spread this story all
round town. It wouldn't put him out of business, but it
would do a lot of damage. Of course, I'm not going to do
anything of the sort, though I must say, it is tempting. I just
don't intend to use poor Ronnie to score a cheap trick. But
Harry doesn't know that.'

Kate sighed. 'Jake, you are just a novice in deviousness
compared to people like Harry. He'll beat you hands down
every time,' she said.

'Well I don't see how he can, this time,' said Jake, and
went off to get changed.

Harry's flat was also above the shop, as it were, but there
any resemblance to Jake's flat ended. Like Georgia had,
before him, he couldn't help but compare their horribly
different lifestyles. The two flats looked like the before and
after on a television makeover show, he thought, as
Annabelle showed him in, saying Harry wouldn't be a
minute.

Jake sank down onto a sofa so soft and comfortable it
practically begged him to put his feet up and doze off.
There was a huge, plasma-screen television in the corner,
antique ornaments on the shelves and some rather nice
watercolours on the walls. Jake wanted to hate it all, but he
couldn't. It was the sort of flat he would love to have for
himself.

Harry made him wait ten minutes and, despite his earlier
comments, Jake started to get nervous. He now couldn't
make up his mind whether Harry would be furious with
him for interfering or grateful for his help. He got up and
stood nearer the door. That way he could just walk out if he
had to.

But when Harry entered, he was exuding friendliness
and bonhomie.

'Sorry to keep you. I've been on the phone to the agency,
getting another chef,' he said, smiling and looking over at
Jake in what he hoped was a 'gosh, this is a bit of a pickle
but we are all going to get through it like gentlemen' sort of
a way.

Jake smiled back, but warily. 'Have you heard from
Ronnie?' he asked carefully.

'Nothing, apart from the letter of resignation that was
waiting for me when I got back. I don't expect to hear any
more and I don't care, frankly.'

'Well, he has certainly got a lot of work to do before he
can return to cooking,' said Jake.

Harry gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. 'Yes, he
has. Thank you for coming in and helping out. I am
extremely grateful.' There, it was over.

But Jake wasn't looking entirely convinced. 'I got
involved only to help a fellow chef in trouble and I am sure
you know I don't mean you. Nothing would give me more
pleasure than to see you in deep shit but, unlike you, I have
standards.'

How dare he look so contemptuously at me? thought
Harry, furiously, and a plan that had been half-forming in
his mind crystallised.

'Yes, I appreciate that. There is a lot of bad blood
between us, isn't there?'

'Yeah, a whole river full, Harry. Do I look stupid enough
to want to jump across?'

This was going to be harder than Harry had anticipated.
'Look, let's sit down, shall we?' He rested his chin on his
hands and took his time before speaking. Jake had to
believe this was coming from the heart. 'I can't go back and
change the past but I can help to change how we behave in
the future. Like it or not, we are both running businesses in
a town so small we are bound to bump into each other.
Now, I am a realist – we are not going to be friends. But
maybe we need to learn how to behave in a civilised manner
towards each other. I would really like to do that, Jake,
because I can only benefit in the long run.' This was
perfectly true. Harry was going to take Georgia from Jake
and he was going to do it right under Jake's nose – not
because it was better that way, but because he could. The
only thing Harry liked better than winning was winning
with style. He put on a slightly awkward, self-conscious
grin. 'I know it's up to me to set the ball rolling and so I
would like to invite you and your staff to a little party I'm
throwing next week at the family home. And no, I don't
envisage us ending up with our arms round each other's
shoulders, but if we could drink a glass of wine together, it
might be a start.' Harry sat back and looked down at his
knees modestly. He was fairly sure his eyes had radiated
sincerity, but it wouldn't do to be too cocky.

As Harry had hoped, Jake was completely taken aback by
this. He had expected a number of things, but not this calm
reasonableness. But after all, at some point everyone had to
grow up, even Harry. Maybe the realities of running his
own business had brought him maturity. No, they certainly
wouldn't ever become friends, but how pleasant life would
be if they could learn to deal with each other amicably. He
took a deep breath. He had to respond properly to this
overture because it might not happen again.

'OK, let's give it a go.'

Harry nodded soberly, the picture of a man who was
ready for some serious fence-mending. God, he was good at
this!

Later, back in his own kitchen, Jake said: 'I thought
about it and I really can't come up with any reason why
Harry would be saying these things if he wasn't genuine.'

Tess looked at him. She couldn't either, but she would
bet next week's wages that there was one.

'Look, we are adults now – we've got more important
things to do than fight!'

Yeah, you have, thought Tess. That's because you're a
decent guy. But Harry isn't and I would love to know what
he's playing at. 'Well, OK, we'll go to this bloody party, if we
have to.' That way, at least we can watch your back for you.

Harry's house stood in its own grounds. Like an A-list star
at a party, it was far too important to mingle with anyone
else. It simply flaunted money, like a celebrity on a shopping
spree. Gleaming brilliant white in the sunshine, it was
ringed by trees, which clustered round the building like a
bunch of tough bodyguards.

An intercom on the gate buzzed Jake's party through.

'It's like going into a prison, though I can't imagine
anyone wanting to visit Harry's family if they are all like
him,' grumbled Jake.

As they drove slowly up the winding driveway they
realised they were joining the cream of Lake District society
– to judge by the other cars. He reckoned none of them had
cost less than £30,000, which made his battered Ford Fiesta
look just a mite conspicuous, for all the wrong reasons.

'Someone's bound to come out and tell us to park round
the back with the other tradesmen.'

'Oh, for goodness' sake, stop being so touchy!' Georgia
was trying to apply lipstick with a hand that was distinctly
nervous. She was excited and scared at the thought of
seeing Harry again, and guilty because she really shouldn't
be looking forward to it and then angry with Jake for
making her feel guilty. Jake could feel the waves of energy
rising from her but was at a loss to know why, but he
supposed that this sort of party mattered much more to her
than him. She would, understandably, be keen to make a
good impression, but he couldn't work out why this should
be making her so cross.

'You look perfect, as always,' he reassured her, slightly
puzzled as to why she hadn't ticked him off for dressing so
casually.

Georgia hadn't commented on the jeans because she
simply hadn't noticed them. She had been far too preoccupied
choosing her own outfit. Harry, unlike Jake, was
very aware of clothes and she was determined to make a
stunning impression. Her long floaty Chloé dress certainly
did that. It tucked itself neatly round her pert breasts and
sidled down her long legs in a coy but very suggestive
manner. She barely acknowledged Jake's compliments
because they had long since ceased to mean anything to her.