Recipe for Disaster (26 page)

'You stupid woman,' he said.

This didn't go down well at all. Georgia wouldn't have
particularly minded being called a heartless bitch, or
something dramatic like that, but no one likes to be called
stupid, especially when they are.

Jake stood up and looked down at her coldly. 'I have
never wanted to say this before but you really are a
complete fool. Have you listened to nothing I have told you
about this man? He is a complete bastard and he is just
using you to get at me. He really is that pathetic. When he
thinks he's scored enough points – because that's how sad
he is – he'll dump you.'

'Why are you smiling? None of this is funny,' she
cried.

'No, you are right – it's not,' he said, and thought wryly
to himself: he nearly had me there. I was eighty per cent
sure he wanted to bury the hatchet.

'This is not about you! This is about me and my needs.
Anyway, you're wrong about Harry. He has told me the
whole story and it sounds very different the way he says it.'

'I don't doubt that for a minute,' snarled Jake. 'He's
made a career out of thinking of ways to twist the truth.
He's got so many faces he probably has to keep checking the
mirror to see which one he has got on.'

'He said you would react like this. He knows you've
always been insanely jealous of him –'

'I have not!'

'He says he seriously thinks there's something wrong
with your personality because you've never been able to
accept competition. He says it's not his fault that he's so
talented and that things have happened more easily for him
than for you. He says you might even do better when you
stop blaming him for things that are really your own
responsibility. You've got to face the facts, he –'

'Oh, spare me any more of the garbage thoughts of
Chairman Harry!'

'And he's an absolutely brilliant lover, Jake. He could
teach you a thing or two!'

'I really couldn't give a shit!'

'And his restaurant's so full he's had to turn people away,
and he was kind enough to send them up to you, which I
think is really nice of him, considering the way you always
talk about him.'

Now that hurt. Jake had instantly dismissed the sex jibe
because it wasn't about acrobatics; it was about communicating
love, and he no longer had any for Georgia. But
recently he had been feeling more and more confident that
the Harry threat was fading. He thought they could talk to
each other civilly. He thought he could just get on with his
own life. But now he could feel Harry's malevolence coiling
around him like one of those giant snakes that squashes you
before eating you. Jake had a sudden hideous vision of
Harry squeezing tighter and tighter until he was just a pile
of dust. He shook his head to clear it. That way, madness
lay.

'Just go, Georgia. Take yourself and your stupid
fantasies, but don't think you can come crawling back when
he drops you.'

'Oh, he won't do that. I wasn't going to tell you this, but
you'll have to know soon. We're engaged. I might as well
wear this now.' Out of her bag she took a ring covered with
enough diamonds to pay all of Jake's bills until he was an
old, old man.

As she clattered down the stairs, he thought, well, this
really is the last time I'll ever have to listen to that. He sat
down and put his head in his hands, but when he looked
up, the room was still dark. Outside, as well as in here, the
clouds had been gathering, and just as he heard the door
slam shut it started to rain. She'll get soaked, he thought
with satisfaction and then chided himself for being mean.
She hadn't broken his heart – to be truthful, it wasn't even
dented – but once he'd cleared that up in his head he found
he had to face the thing that was really gnawing away at
him. It was pathetic to be so disturbed by the spiteful things
she had said about him but he couldn't seem to shake them
off, he thought, looking out of the window and watching
the tourists clearing the street to find shelter from the rain,
which was turning into one of those downpours that the
Lake District in the summer so enjoyed.

He would find his own refuge in the kitchen, he decided.
Work was the only way to stop his mind dwelling pointlessly
on stupid things. Halfway down, he stopped. But what if
they were true? Rubbish. Who cared how people found
their way to his restaurant? Once they were there he made
damn sure they had an unforgettable experience. And
there was nothing wrong with his personality that a really
nasty prep list for Godfrey wouldn't cure.

By stages, his staff arrived for work, all soaking wet, even
if, like Kate, they just had to make a quick sprint from car
to door.

'It's bloody wet out there,' remarked Godfrey, shaking
himself like a dog.

Jake looked up. He hadn't been paying attention to the
weather, but now he noticed that it wasn't just raining.
Water was hammering against the windowpanes like a mob
of angry creditors desperately trying to get in.

Kirsty came back from answering the phone. 'The
Thomases, the table for six, have just cancelled. They got
caught in this weather coming off a hill and they've decided
to stay put in their hotel tonight.'

There were another three phone calls in quick succession,
all with the same bad news. Great, thought Jake.
Tonight of all nights he could have done with a really busy
shift to keep his mind occupied. Also, his bank manager
wasn't likely to be sympathetic to the fact that he couldn't
make any money because the weather was bad. 'If it seems
like it's too quiet out there, put some music on. Let's make
sure that the people who do brave this weather have a great
evening,' he told Kirsty.

He hoped there was enough rain to make the lake rise
and flood Harry's restaurant. He was to regret this thought
later on that evening.

Two or three couples did make their bookings, though
Kirsty kept having to turn the music up to drown out the
weather. As the evening wore on Jake noticed that Godfrey
was getting increasingly twitchy.

'Ok, this check says two salads, so why have you made
three?'

'Sorry, Chef. I'm just a bit worried. My dad will be out in
this and he's all on his own because my brother's away.'

'I thought sheep liked the rain.'

'They might get waterlogged because they haven't been
sheared yet.'

'Oh, for goodness' sake! Well, you are no use to me, and
I suppose it's quiet enough – you'd better go home and
make sure they are all wrung out.'

Godfrey must have been worried, because he didn't even
stop to change out of his cooking gear. He had only been
gone for a couple of minutes when all the lights went out.
Jake swore freely but he had a good stock of candles and all
his cookers were powered by gas. The hot water would run
out but Godfrey could do all the washing up when he came
in tomorrow. It would serve him right for opting to spend
the night with a load of soggy sheep.

Candlelight worked very well in the restaurant, but it cast
strange shadows in the kitchen. It made everyone clumsy,
even Jake. Twice he dropped his knife and had to scrabble
around the floor feeling for it and hoping he didn't put his
hand round the sharp edge. Everyone was fed and happy,
though Kate had a hard time explaining to an American
couple why the espresso machine wasn't working.

'At home we have generators for this sort of eventuality.'

'Well, we don't. We have candles.'

'How quaint!'

Back in the kitchen Jake looked out of the window
sombrely. 'I've never seen rain like this. In London it falls
in a straight line and you just get very wet. But this stuff – it
hits you in the face, like a fist. It's like the weather has a
grudge against us.'

He was doing some desultory tidying up, trying and
failing to summon his usual end of shift energy, when Hans
rushed into the kitchen. One look at his face told Jake his
barman was the bearer of some seriously shit tidings.

'Boss, there is water coming in through the door of the
restaurant.'

Jake dropped his cloth and ran through, hoping Hans
was having a drug-induced hallucination. But he wasn't.
Water was indeed trickling slowly but steadily through the
door. Peering through the wall of water that was still
pouring down the windowpanes he could see that the drain
outside was no longer taking the rain away. A small lake was
forming in the road and it didn't look like it had anywhere
to ebb away to except through his door.

'Fuck,' said Jake, forgetting his customers for the first
time in his life, and shouted for somebody to get a brush.

'We need sandbags,' said Hans.

'Great idea, but who the hell do we get them from? I
don't think the corner shop stocks them somehow! Kirsty,
get Kate and start moving everything off the floor and then
we'll try and pull the carpet back.'

Kate jumped guiltily when Kirsty came into the kitchen.
She had been listening to the local news on the radio. There
was severe flooding everywhere; a man had nearly
drowned trying to cross a stream (she hoped it wasn't
Godfrey or his dad) and the local theatre, which was in a
basement in town, was being evacuated. There was mass
panic going on there, with tales of people being trampled in
the rush to get out, explained the reporter, who was
standing outside. A river had also risen and had found a
new route down the motorway, causing a mass pile-up. It
was all very dreadful, but Kate's nose was twitching at the
thought of several good stories going to waste while she was
here. She was just wondering if she could escape when
Kirsty came in, told her to come and help, and rushed out
again. Kate was completely torn. She needed to find out
what was happening out on the streets. This was a compulsion
as strong as Jake's urge to cook. But she couldn't
go, could she? He was down one member of staff already.
Damn Godfrey! He was probably sitting at home now,
drinking Horlicks and watching his bloody sheep dry out
on the Aga.

Hans was standing by the door, frantically trying to
sweep the water back faster than it was coming in, like a
crazed Canute. The last few customers had already rushed
off to higher ground. She and Kirsty scrambled to lift tables
and chairs onto any surface more than three feet high.
They were working like mad when they heard a cry from
the kitchen.

'It's coming in through the back door now!' called Tess,
despair in her voice.

Jake called a halt when he realised that water was now
sloshing round his ankles. 'We've done all we can; go home
now while you still can. Angelica is bound to be awake and
she might be worried, and so might your parents,' he said
to Tess.

'My room is on a ground floor. I need to inspect the
damage,' said Hans mournfully.

'My flat is on the first floor, so I am fine,' said Kate. She
was resigned to staying now. Jake would need help moving
all the things that were piled up on his stairs. His eyes were
like black holes in his white face. He looked done in. Having
worked faster and more efficiently than anyone else, he
looked like he might just lie down and let the water lap over
him if he was left on his own.

Between them they grimly and silently unblocked the
stairs, passing things to each other and occasionally grunting
with the effort. As soon as their access was clear Jake
made her go and wash her hands.

'We've no way of knowing what's in that water, but I
doubt they will be bottling it for the tourists,' he said.

When Kate came back into the sitting room he was
peering out of the window. 'It's still coming down. I hope
we don't have to be rescued by boat. I get terribly seasick.'
His tone was light, but Kate knew it was gallows humour.

'Remember, you are insured.'

'Oh, yes. But there's going to be a lot of claims. Who
knows how long it will take them to get round to me? We
certainly can't cook and serve food to customers who might
have to paddle through sewage to get to it. What are you
doing?'

Kate was groping around in cupboards. 'You must have
some alcohol up here.'

'Only a horrible bottle of whisky a supplier gave me as a
bribe. It didn't work.'

'It'll be fine. This is emergency drinking.'

'It might not be a good idea to get drunk, though I am
tempted. We might need to keep our wits about us.'

'No, apparently that's just what we shouldn't do. The
man on the
Titanic
didn't.'

'What?'

'Well, I can't remember all the details, but when he
saw the boat was going down he got pissed, fell overboard
and paddled about quite happily until he spotted a lifeboat.
Or something like that. If we have to swim for it, I'd rather
you were singing rugby songs than clutching me and
looking green.'

'I'd clutch you
and
sing, though I admit it wouldn't be
easy listening. Even when sober, I tend to sing off key. To
tell the truth, I don't think my heart can go on much
longer. It feels like it's been through the dishwasher several
times today.'

'All the more need for alcohol-induced fortitude, then.
Cheers, anyway. To the end of a really bad day.'

'You could say that. I've been dumped, had a character
assassination and everything I own is soaking wet.'

'I'm sorry. Georgia has really bad timing.'

'She certainly has.'

'I wouldn't take anything to heart that she said during
the dumping. People will say anything so they can go off
and screw someone else,' she said awkwardly. She wanted
to comfort him, but she wasn't really sorry at all.

'Especially when the someone else is Harry Hunter.'

'Ah.' She looked at him more closely. 'I don't know what
was said, but you look as if she really stuck the knife in. I bet
it was something to do with your cooking.'

Jake grinned slightly. 'I don't give a shit about the
personal stuff,' he agreed.