Recipe for Disaster (25 page)

'I remember that the language you used when you tried
my first attempt nearly had me in tears,' said Jake.

'Well, you should have wept. It was an abomination. But
the question is, what did you learn from that débâcle?
Recite to me, please, the herbs you are planning to use.'

'Citronella, coriander, rosebuds, lavender seeds, fennel
and juniper,' Jake reeled off meekly and grinned at Maria.

'White or black pepper?'

'White, of course.'

'That's good.' Then triumphantly: 'But you forget the
lime flowers, do you not? What have you got against these
inoffensive little leaves?'

Jake shrugged his shoulders in sorrow and looked at his
feet. 'I couldn't get any, Chef,' he murmured.

'Couldn't get any? What sort of answer is that?
Unacceptable, I say,' said Louis. 'Anyway, what do you
expect, trying to run a restaurant in the middle of
nowhere?' He ran a suspicious finger along the work
benches looking for drips, tested the sharpness of Jake's
knife against his finger and helped himself to a clean apron.

'So why are you here?' asked Jake, hoping to deflect his
former boss's attention from his work, which he was
instantly sure would not bear scrutiny.

'We are supposed to be on a short break, but how funny
– we find ourselves in a kitchen,' Maria said in the
resigned tone of voice of a woman to whom this often
happened.

'I will make you some tea.'

'Come here,' growled Louis. 'She can make her own.
Now tell me what you are doing here.'

It was as if the past had melted away. Jake could even feel
a familiar film of sweat beading his brow. He had forgotten
what it was like to stand with sweaty palms waiting for the
great god Chef to pass judgement on his work. He
promised himself he would be very kind to Godfrey when
he came in that evening, a resolve which was forgotten half
a minute after he actually walked into the kitchen.

Louis tasted the salmon, hake and sole mousses, which
Jake had already made, and pronounced them edible,
which was high praise, but decided that the puff pastry that
Jake had rolled out was far too thick.

'This you could use to line a loft with. Your diners will be
dead of exhaustion by the time they have waded through all
this,' he complained.

Jake looked pleadingly at Maria, a look that would have
melted many a woman's heart, but Maria, as she had done
quite a few times in the past, just patted his shoulder
reassuringly and took herself off for an unguided tour of his
restaurant.

By the time the pastry shells were chilling in the fridge,
the mousses were baking in the oven and a sauce containing
oysters and double cream was simmering on the hob, Jake
felt quite exhausted. But this was why Louis had three
Michelin stars and why every young chef in the business
wanted to work with him.

Maria came back and put the kettle on just as Louis was
saying: 'Not bad, I suppose, for an Englishman who dares
to think he can cook.' Louis was of the old school that
believed that cooking had started in France and had never
really left. 'Now, if you had stayed with me,' he wiped an
imaginary tear from his eye, 'I might have made something
of you.'

'This is a very nice little restaurant and anyway you told
him it was time he spread his wings,' retorted Maria. Louis
might be one of the greatest chefs in the business, but he
was still a contrary old boot who needed to be put in his
place from time to time.

Louis reasserted himself by snatching the tea leaves
from her. 'None of us wants tea, woman! Why do you
think I removed this excellent Pouilly Fumé from my own
cellar?'

'How are things down in London?' asked Jake, getting
glasses.

Louis sniffed. 'New restaurants opening up everywhere
and then closing down again because the cooks cannot cook
or they think they can make a fortune by shoving out
gimmicky food. They all think they are Harry Potter and
can magic people in through the door. We see them come,
we see them go.' He opened the wine with a flourish,
poured it and gave Jake a nudge. 'She misses you, you
know,' he said in a loud whisper, gesturing towards his wife.

Maria gave him a look.

'All right, all right. We both miss you, I suppose. You are
inept, of course, but you have a touch others lack.'

Jake accepted this for what it was: an enormous
compliment.

Because he had been in the business for forty-five years,
Louis knew everything that was going on in the cooking
world, sometimes before it happened. Framed on his
kitchen wall was an interview he had given when the
nouvelle cuisine fad was at its height, in which he said 'this
will never last'. 'I said this was rubbish then and I was right.
I know everything.' Now he leaned forward. 'I hear you are
expecting an important visitor.'

Jake nodded and his throat went dry with fear. The
Restaurant Club. Maria patted his arm comfortingly.
Sometimes she dreamed he was the son she had never had.
'This club man was in for a meal a few weeks ago. They were
talking about you. Inept indeed! Louis says you are one of
the best young chefs in the country and this man will be
delighted with your food.'

Louis glared at his wife. 'Stop talking nonsense. I just put
in a kind word, that is all. This man will present himself as
a Mr Blair. He is tall, with a beard and glasses. He looks
more like he inspects the taxes than the food, but he is no
fool and will be fair. You, of course, will sweat blood before
he eats and be ready to kill yourself by the time he has
finished, but you have been trained by me so things may
turn out all right.'

Jake raised his glass. 'I'll drink to that.'

At that moment, Kate came in, her arms full of fresh
flowers for the tables. She stopped dead and sniffed the air
with deep suspicion.

'Phwoar, what is that smell?'

'Cheese, but it went in the cold room hours ago.'

'Its presence lingers, believe me. But that's a relief. I was
wondering how to tell you that you really need to wash your
socks. Back in a minute, but I really must put these in
water.'

Louis pretended to look hurt. 'Your girlfriend, the lovely
model? It seems she no longer recognises me.'

'See! I keep telling you that you need glasses, you old
fool! How long before you start mistaking frozen mushrooms
for truffles. This is a completely different woman,'
snapped Maria.

'Frozen mushrooms! I have never used one in my
restaurant ever!' said Louis, who had spotted Georgia two
days ago, coming out of a restaurant with a man who
certainly wasn't Jake. Ever since, Louis had been wondering
what the hell was going on.

'Kate is my mistress – I mean waitress,' said Jake, choking
on his wine. He really wasn't up to par if he was coming out
with Freudian slips like that. He looked up and met two
curious, but kind, stares. 'You can guess how busy I've been
here. Georgia hates it, and frankly I don't blame her. I feel
a bit like a juggler who's developed a squint. I'm keeping
some of the plates in the air, but others are crashing down
behind me.'

They nodded understandingly. Chefs' partners were
often casualties of ambition and obsession.

'Well, it has been obvious for a long time that men can
only use one part of their brain at a time and their women
must supply the rest,' said Maria. From what she knew of
Georgia, she doubted she could supply anyone with
anything. It had also always seemed to her that Jake had
taken her on as if she was a particularly difficult dish he was
determined to master.

Louis must have been thinking along the same lines,
because he asked now: 'Do you recall the first time you
made
poulet fermier aux escargots
?'

Jake winced. 'You tasted it, pulled a horrible face, then
threw it in the bin.'

Louis nodded. 'Sometimes you just have to ditch things
and start again.'

'I can't dispose of Georgia like she's something nasty at
the bottom of a saucepan,' said Jake, outraged.

'Of course not. You do not have it in you to be so ruthless.
But you are not married and therefore you must ask
yourself some difficult questions,' said Maria. 'A woman is
not a dish you can keep trying to get right. If there is a good
understanding between you it will work out anyway. A good
relationship is not about two people being joined at the hip.
But you must ask yourself, are you both travelling the same
road together?'

Jake was silent. If he was honest with himself, he would
have to say that he didn't even know which road Georgia
was on.

'Maria is right, as usual,' said Louis. 'This is an important
question. But Jake, I must ask others, possibly even more
important. What in God's name are you going to serve this
man from the Restaurant Club?' He looked round the
kitchen, as if there might be spies hiding in the pan
cupboard, and he lowered his voice. 'It is not a well-known
fact, but I have it on very good authority that he is not
partial to tuna.' He leaned back, satisfied, as if he had just
passed on the meaning to Life, the Universe and
Everything.

And maybe he had, thought Jake.

Georgia wasn't at her mother's house. At this moment she
was lying naked on Harry's king-size bed, admiring her
reflection in the mirror he had put up on the ceiling.

'Naff, isn't it?' he said lazily. 'The thing is, we are both so
astonishingly good-looking, the tackiness is redeemed,
don't you think?'

'Yes, you're right,' she agreed. 'But how many women
have you said that to?'

He leaned over on one elbow to look at her. There was
still sweat on his brow. 'Plenty. But I only really meant it
about you.'

She nodded, satisfied. He was right. Whenever she had
glanced up during their very busy night, there they were, a
tangle of limbs, muscular and soft skin perfectly complementing
each other. It was like watching a living
painting, thought Georgia. 'Jake would be in fits of laughter
if he could see it,' she said. If there was a rule that you
shouldn't talk about a previous love to your new love,
Georgia certainly didn't know it. But Harry wasn't
offended. He liked hearing about his rivals – it gave him
more opportunity to put the boot in.

He lay on his back, legs splayed. Then he took her hand
almost casually and put it on his cock. 'He's got a weird
sense of humour. I'm sure he wouldn't have been able to
understand half the things we got up to last night.'

'No. He simply does not get why I cannot have carbs for
dinner. Oh – I see what you mean.'

He reached over and pulled her on top of him so he
could stroke her arse and look at it in the mirror at the same
time. He was already more than satisfied and not at all put
off by her dimness. Only one of them needed the brains,
after all.

Jake was on the phone, trying to talk to Tess. He had asked
for her three times already, in increasing desperation, but
Angelica was determined to take him through a step-by-step
account of her day at school.

'Mrs Parkinson wears big, round shiny earrings.'

'Does she? Is that the name of your teacher? Is she
nice?'

'I tried to pull one off and she told me to sit in the Quiet
Corner.'

'Well, anyway –'

'I had rice pudding for my lunch and Emily fell over and
hurt her knee.'

'Oh dear. Is Emily your friend?'

'I don't know yet,' said Angelica, thoughtfully. 'Kevin
Brady is my friend.'

'That's nice. Now –'

'I drew a picture of him in the kitchen with you. Do you
know Kevin has a tiny willy all of his own?'

'Er, no. Well, yes, but –'

'I want one. Have you got one?'

'Please, Angelica, get your mummy!'

'Round and round the garden, like a teddy bear –'

'That's enough, Angel. Now give me the phone. Hi, Jake,
what did you want?'

'I haven't the faintest idea now. I mean, I did, when I
rang you, but then everything went a bit surreal. Is it
normal for small girls to have a fixation with willies?'

'Yes. They usually grow out of it, though.'

'Oh hell – there's someone at the door. I'll get back to
you.'

He was expecting three boxes of vegetables so he was a
bit taken aback to find Georgia on the doorstep, looking
distraught and pale, eyes hidden by enormous dark glasses
even though the day was overcast. Although he didn't know
it, she was wearing her full complement of make-up, but it
was cunningly muted to give the impression she wasn't. A
tiny touch of blusher round the eyes would make it look as
if she had been crying.

'Goodness, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were due back
today. Why didn't you ring me? I would have met you at the
station.'

'You didn't answer any of my messages,' she said
reproachfully. She hadn't actually sent any but she was
correctly assuming he had been too busy to check his
phone. She was right. Jake immediately looked guilt stricken,
which was how she had planned to set the tone of
the ensuing conversation.

'Jake, we have to talk.'

He instantly felt a jolting moment of
déjà vu
.

'Oh hell, Georgy. I can't begin to tell you how much I
hate that phrase.'

Having got him feeling slightly sick with apprehension,
she then made it even worse by having him wait while they
went upstairs, where she disappeared into the bathroom for
what seemed like ages.

It was like waiting for his head to be lopped off while the
executioner picked his nose and polished his sword. Jake
wasn't very good at waiting for anything.

'For fuck's sake, what are you doing? Come out at
once,' he shouted, banging on the door, driven beyond
endurance.

When Georgia emerged, she was holding a tissue to her
nose, delicately. 'I've just had the worst two days of my life,'
she announced.

'What happened? Have you been binge-eating on half a
chocolate biscuit again?'

She looked at him sadly. 'Let's sit down.'

'Only if you take those ridiculous glasses off and stop
acting as if this is a scene out of a second-rate film noir.'

As soon as he sat down, she got up and began pacing up
and down the room. Unfortunately, she automatically
adopted the strutting and silly catwalk stride, which always
made Jake want to laugh. He bit his lip and tried to focus.

'What happened to me in the last two days was a crisis. I
really think I've had some sort of emotional breakdown.'

'Well, I'm sure your mother is used to coping.'

'I wasn't at home. I wasn't with mother.' She stared at
him and he just looked back her, uncomprehending. 'Oh,
for goodness' sake, don't be so dim, Jake! Our relationship
would have worked so much better if you'd been a bit more
jealous, like other men!'

'Would it?' he said quietly. 'I thought one of the reasons
you loved me was because I trusted you.'

'Yes, well; there can be too much trust.' She was cross
now and couldn't remember which bit came next. 'Anyway
I suddenly realised how much you have changed. There
are three of us in this relationship now and one of them is
this stupid restaurant. I went to some very dark places,
Jake –'

'I keep telling you not to wear your sunglasses indoors,'
he muttered before he could stop himself. She glared at
him.

'But I finally came to the conclusion, after a great deal of
suffering, that our dreams are no longer the same. This is
very painful for me, but I know I have to set you free.' As
she said this, Georgia really believed it and started to cry in
earnest.

'I don't think I've changed that much,' he said slowly,
'well, not in that way. Work is an important part of my life,
but it always has been.'

'But it's taken you over, Jake! You think about food all
day; you dream about it at night, and even when we make
love you compare me to food. That is seriously weird and
kinky, especially when you know how I feel about food,
Jake!' Her voice rose hysterically.

Jake felt better at once. He had been sure she had
realised he had fallen for Kate. But this was just Georgia
having one of her episodes. She was needy and insecure,
and he had probably been neglecting her. She lived in such
a fragile little world. Something petty had sparked this off –
an unflattering photo of her, perhaps, or a bitchy comment
in the press, which he hadn't read because he never had
time to read crap like that. But these things were important
to her and who was he to judge? He too depended upon the
kindness of others.

He looked at her tenderly with affection. Then his eyes
narrowed. There was something different about her today.
As he looked closer he saw that she radiated a sort of guilty
energy. Having experienced it himself, he recognised it
instantly for what it was and, belatedly, the penny dropped.

'You've been seeing someone else, haven't you?'

She was furious. How typical of Jake to describe thus her
life-changing affair. Also, she wanted to be the one to drop
the bombshell. This was her show and she had planned
some really good stuff still to come, mostly variations on
how much she had been suffering. Now she would have to
fast-forward a whole range of feelings that were designed to
illustrate how none of this was her fault.

'I have met someone else. We have known each other for
a while now and our feelings for each other have deepened.
For a long time we really fought this – it's been terrible, you
can't imagine the stress I've been under. We had this
instant connection from almost the first time we met. He
really understands me,' she continued and although she
tried to look sorrowful, she just ended up looking smug.

Jake wasn't listening. It was glaringly obvious to him that
neither of them had been honest with the other. OK,
Georgia had slept with this bloke, whoever he was – that
wasn't important. How guilty was he for thinking the same
things about Kate? OK, thinking wasn't the same thing as
doing, but the principle was the same, he reasoned, being
hard on himself, but somehow that felt better than blaming
Georgia. He probably had been neglecting her a little.

'I'm sorry,' he said humbly. 'Maybe you need more from
me than I can ever give. At the end of the day I'm always
going to be a scruffy workaholic with no money and big
dreams. We were happy together once and I take some of
the responsibility for the fact that we aren't now. But I hope
we can always be friends?'

Georgia stopped pacing in irritation. This wasn't what
she wanted at all. OK, it looked like parting was going to be
painless, but surely he should care a lot more? He really
wasn't as broken up about this as he bloody should be. It
was all rather galling. She was easily the most beautiful
thing he had ever had in his life. Did he not know just what
he was losing? Apparently not, because he just carried on
sitting opposite her, smiling sadly but not even fraying
slightly round the edges.

'I hope you will be happy,' he said.

'I'm sure we will. And we will take every care to stay out
of your way.'

'Oh, I don't think that will be a problem,' said Jake easily.
Whoever he was, he was probably based in London and
part of her fashion world. He doubted their paths would
ever cross. It was probably someone he had never heard of,
a rival rendered insignificant by the fact that he was an
unknown.

'Well, I am glad you can say that. We were both worried
that you were going to find this very difficult,' said Georgia
importantly. Actually, what Harry had said was: 'He is
going to be mad with rage, hopefully. I shall probably have
to hire bodyguards.'

'You don't know who I am talking about, do you?'

'Well, of course I don't. I'm not a mind-reader. I don't
know half the people you hang around with at work, do I?'
said Jake, tetchily.

God, he was stupid, she thought crossly. 'Jake, I know
you are not going to want to hear this, but . . . the person I
have fallen in love with is Harry Hunter.'