Recipe for Disaster (34 page)

'Frankly, it was a mystery to me to, even before I got
knocked on the head.'

'Yes, you seem to enjoy a rather turbulent relationship
with other chefs as well.'

'I don't know why. All I ever wanted to do was to be left
alone to cook.'

'That is a wise plan. Good brandy, by the way. I take it
your mentor, Louis, passed on the secret of where he gets it
from?'

'He was kind enough to let me in on it.'

'He thinks highly of you.' Mr Blair sighed, rather plaintively.
'People who know nothing envy me this job. I don't
know why. I have had to eat more revolting meals than
anyone I know. Of course, they don't cost me anything, but
believe me, I pay.' He patted his stomach sadly.

'All I wanted to do tonight was sit on some lonely crag
with only the sunset and a cheese baguette for company. I
still think you are completely crazy, but I am glad I came.
There was no view, but the food more than made up for it.
Generally, the restaurants I visit have to wait some time
before hearing my opinion. I once ate what I considered a
reasonably pleasant meal only to be rushed to hospital later
that evening with food poisoning.

'Genius is unmistakable, however, and you are certainly
in need of a good night's sleep. There is nothing to weigh
up. I can tell you now that the award the Club will be giving
you will be the first of many in what I hope will be, if your
private life permits, a long and successful career.

'Wow,' said Jake faintly. It had been a long and hard road
to this moment, and he knew exactly why people blubbed
when they got Oscars. He wanted to pinch himself to check
that this wasn't a concussion-induced hallucination.

Mr Blair downed the last of his brandy, looked at the
bottle longingly, but shook his head and stood up. 'I should
go. It has been a tiring and confusing day. It will be quite a
relief to return to London, where chefs have normal
tantrums, but I am sure I will return. Congratulations,
young man.'

He shook Jake's hand and gave a thumbs-up salute.
When Jake turned round he realised why. Everyone's noses
were pressed up against the door to the restaurant.

'You have a very loyal crew. Goodbye.'

As soon as the critic had gone, they all burst in, cheering
and patting Jake on the back, but carefully, in case he fell
over.

'You've completely smudged the glass in the door. I
expect someone to polish it tomorrow first thing,' he
grumbled, but he was smiling so widely he thought his face
would split.

'So, does this award thingy mean you are going to
become rich and famous?' asked Kirsty.

'God, I hope not.'

Her face fell.

'The people who matter, people who are passionate
about food, will hear about it and want to try the food for
themselves, so, if we carry on working incredibly hard and
try not to fuck up too often, this place should become quite
successful.'

'So all your troubles are over,' Kirsty persisted. She did
like a happy ending.

Jake looked at his crew. At Hans, who had slipped out for
a spliff, which had been much stronger than he intended
and was now imagining he could smell sherbet. At Kirsty,
who was sulking slightly because she had appeared on telly
and wanted more. At Tess, who was talking to Angelica on
the phone, saying: 'I don't care if you do know the number
for Childline, you are not coming down here in your
jimjams to give Jake a kiss.' At Godfrey, who was picking his
nose thoughtfully and trying to drum up support for
opening several bottles of champagne.

'Hell, no. With you lot, I have a feeling they've only just
started.'

But he said it absent-mindedly, because he was now
looking over at Kate, who was standing on her own in the
corner. She was looking at him with a mixture of love and
terror. He loved his crew but he wanted them all to go
home so he could talk to Kate in private, but before he
could say this, the phone rang.

'I don't care who you are – go away. Oh, no – not you,
Louis! I am really pleased you called. . . . Yes, tonight. . . .
Well, one or two small problems. . . . No, well, some of it
doesn't make any sense to me either. . . . Thank you, that
means everything, coming from you. . . . Oh, you did – you
had faith in me when no one else could give a damn.'

'Who is he talking to? It's about as difficult to make out
as one of Kirsty's stories,' said Godfrey.

'Well, I think the whole world has gone crazy,' said Hans.

'Shut up, the lot of you,' said Tess, who was listening
intently.

'What sort of an idea? . . . Oh, I see. . . . Blimey, I don't
know what to say – I never expected that, and pretty much
everything that could have happened has happened today.
. . . Yes, of course I will sleep on it. . . . And, Louis, thank
you; I am really honoured.' He put the phone down. 'Well,
it never rains but it's a bloody great downpour.'

'Nice of him to ring up and congratulate you. What else
did he say?' asked Tess.

'Do you ever take a rest from being so sharp?' said Jake
wryly.

'No. Wish I could, but really, there's never a good time.'

Godfrey was looking from one to the other, bewildered.
'Well, I don't mind admitting I'm stupid, so will someone
please tell me out loud what the hell is going on?'

Jake sighed. 'This is not a good time. That was Louis. I
used to work for him in London. He rang to congratulate
me. And . . . to offer me a partnership in his business.'

'In London?'

'Well, yes, Godfrey.'

'Oh. So that's why Tess is looking so . . . well, like that.'

No one dared look at Kate, not even Jake, she noticed.

After that, they all just seemed to melt away. No one really
knew what to say. Obviously, congratulations were in order,
but seeing as this might leave them without a job, no one
even wanted to pretend.

'What do you think is going to happen?' asked Godfrey
outside.

'What do you think I am – a bleeding oracle?'

'I think – sorry, Kate – but I think he will take that guy
up on his offer,' said Kirsty.

They all looked at Kate. 'Yeah, I think so too, she said
dully. 'That guy, as you call him, happens to own one of
London's top restaurants. It's the place where top chefs
go for a meal on their nights off. Gordon Ramsay had
his birthday bash there. So, yeah, it's the chance of a lifetime
and it would send his career into the stratosphere. There is
no way he would turn that down for – what? – a woman who
lied to him and a little place like this.'

'Bugger. Sorry, Kate. I'd better get me CV out when I get
home,' said Godfrey and clumped off, head down. No one
had ever seen him looking so low.

Kate drove off fast, without looking back. It was her first
step towards severing her ties with the restaurant. With
Cuisine. Maybe Jake would forgive her in time. When they
were both back to living their separate lives.

When she got back to her cold and empty flat, there was
still so much adrenalin swilling round her system, she knew
there wasn't even the faintest hope of sleep, so she picked
up the phone.

'No, sweetie, it's fine. Jim doesn't mind waiting, do you,
honey?'

'Oh God! I am so sorry! I forgot for a minute that you
have a life too.' To Kate's horror Jim then came on the line.

'Carry on – take as long as you want – I could do with a
break!'

'That's really more information than I need,' said Kate
sternly. She was furious with herself, though, for feeling a
sharp stab of jealousy. Lydia and Jim had got it right and
sounded so happy. As she might have done if she'd played
it straight.

Lydia came back on the line and Kate gave her a quick
summary. 'Well, you have had a busy day. So he's got his
award – and you've got a hell of a story.'

'Yes. And it feels like I've got nothing.'

'You do sound low.'

'Oh, I'll get over it!' said Kate, making a huge effort to
sound more cheerful. She didn't want Lydia coming round
– which she would, she was that sort of a friend – when she
really ought be with Jim. 'Look, you're busy, and I've got a
story to write. Have fun – I'll talk soon!' She put the phone
down. What was her mantra? When all else failed, there was
always work? It didn't feel like it was going to comfort her
this time, but it was worth a try.

*

Back at the restaurant, Jake couldn't remember saying
goodbye to anyone. One minute they were all there and the
next time he looked up, he was on his own. He didn't blame
them. That was a hell of a bombshell to land at his feet at the
end of this ridiculous day. But then, hardly thinking about
what he was doing, he reached over for the phone to call
Kate. She was different. He needed to talk to her. How dare
she just run off like that? He hesitated, then drew his hand
back slowly. Exactly where would they start? Surely he
needed to get a few things sorted in his head before he
could have a sensible conversation with anyone? He pulled
a handful of cushions off chairs and sat down on the carpet.
There was no point in going upstairs to think. He needed
to do it down here, in his restaurant. This was where he did
his real living. He looked round, soothed by its familiarity.
Thanks to the intensive cleaning sessions post-flood, he
knew every inch of it, intimately, like it was a lover. And he
did love it. This was his place and the people who had just
left were his people.

But he had just been offered an opportunity that had
him quite dazzled by its implications. Surely only a
complete moron would turn down the chance to go into
partnership with one of the country's leading chefs? It
would be like cooking in Heaven but without having to go
through all the bother of dying first. At a stroke all his
worries would be over.
Heat
magazine would probably start
taking his picture again. Hell, even Georgia would want
him back and, more to the point, this would be the move
that would ensure once and for all that he would never have
to cross swords with Harry again. He closed his eyes so he
could savour this blissful vision. He imagined his car, all
packed up and ready to go, him at the wheel saying
jubilantly: 'I'm off! This is it! I will never have to see you
again!'

But then Harry bent down and was banging on the
window. He was shouting something . . . 'Jake! Jake!'

Jake woke with a start. His first thought was: this is a hell
of a headache. His second was: why is Harry shouting at
me?

He blinked. It was early morning and, unfortunately, he
wasn't dreaming. Harry was standing outside at the
window, banging on it and shouting. He actually, for
Harry, looked quite anxious. Jake got up slowly. It hadn't
been the best place to spend the night, but he grinned.
Harry must have looked in and panicked, thinking that he
had collapsed, maybe even died. He hoped Harry had had
a few visions himself, hideous ones of being carted off to
gaol for manslaughter.

'It's all right – I'm still alive,' he grumbled, going to the
door. 'What the hell do you want? Not to hit me again, I
hope?'

'Don't be ridiculous! I came to see how you were. Things
got rather out of control yesterday. It was all most
unfortunate.'

'Is that your idea of an apology?' asked Jake icily.
'Because if it is, it's crap, frankly. You really need to do
much better than that to have even a fighting chance of me
believing you. Actually, scrap that. From now on, I am
never going to believe a word you say – it will save a lot of
time.'

'I certainly did not want to cause you lasting harm,' said
Harry, mendaciously. For a nasty moment there he had
thought Jake was dead and that was going to be a tricky one
to get out of. 'I admit I lost my temper, but I felt it was with
just cause. Georgia and I are together now and nothing you
can do will change that.'

'Dear God – you are really stupid! Ow! OK, shouting
hurts. Bad for head. Listen very carefully, you moron,
because I am only going to say this once. Much as it might
dent her ego to hear this, but since we split up I haven't
given Georgia another thought. I have no bloody idea what
your fevered brain imagined I was getting up to, but I can
assure you I wasn't. I don't love her any more. You can
have her. With pleasure. Because she is definitely the last
girlfriend of mine you will ever nick.'

'Oh, I'm going to marry Georgia!' said Harry confidently.
'I've netted the big one this time. She was always
way out of your league, you know.'

'Whatever. Oh dear, how am I going to get this through
to you? –
I don't care
.'

'Just don't come sniffing round at the reception!'

Jake couldn't resist it. 'Harry, I've just been offered a
partnership with Louis Challon down in London. I guess
I'll have better things to do than boycott your wedding!'

Jake wasn't a vindictive man, but the next few seconds
gave him intense pleasure. Harry's face, shorn of subterfuge,
was a picture of shock and naked envy. He tried to
cover his tracks, but it was too late. Jake watched as Harry
mentally staggered back from this crippling blow. He was
outraged. The god of good luck should serve only him! He
tried to fight it, but his head filled with awful pictures of
Jake driving off to the bright lights and leaving him behind.
He would be forgotten. Their feud would fizzle out simply
because Jake had better things to do. It was unthinkable!

He suddenly felt like he was floundering in a quicksand,
and flailed around in search of solid ground. 'Well, you are
very welcome to the noise and pollution.' He took a deep
breath of the crisp morning air to prove his point, but he
knew this was pathetically weak stuff. 'Let's face it, Jake,' he
said kindly, 'you've tried to take the city out of the boy and
put the country in, but it's never really worked, has it?
Admit it – you've never really felt at home here. You don't
understand our ways. You've tried to copy them, but
they've never really sat comfortably on you. And your life
here has always been a struggle, hasn't it? Big ideas but not
quite enough wherewithal or talent to make them work.'

He glanced up and Jake followed his gaze – dammit, the
bloody windowsills needed painting again. Oh. It probably
wouldn't be his problem. Someone else would have this
place. Probably paint them pukey green again. Why did he
care?

Harry carried on more confidently, aware that he was
hitting home. 'I know you have found it difficult to settle
and make friends – it's so much easier in the city, where,
let's face it, things are more superficial –'

'Let me know when you finally run out of this garbage
you are spewing out!' said Jake furiously. 'You don't half
talk a lot of crap when you get going. I am just as much a
part of this place now as you are. My staff are all local and
so are a great many of my customers, even the ones who
don't share my views on fox-hunting. I've got a standing
invitation to go for tea at the Tomlinson farm any time I
want. I like it here and the people like me!'

Despite the fact that his head was now beating out a very
strange tattoo, he had never felt more clear-headed and
calm. In a way he was grateful to Harry. He'd made him see
where his priorities were.

No, he'd done more than that. He had made him see
where his heart was.

'Listen to me, dumb-arse!' Jake grinned. He was going to
enjoy this. 'This is my home now, as well as yours, so you are
just going to have to shove over and let me in. I'm not going
anywhere. You are going to have to get up for work every
morning and know that there is an award-winning
restaurant just down the road from you, pulling in all the
most discerning punters and thinking up the best menus.'

'Yah! Putting on some poncy dish that you'll have no
hope of ever shifting! You have no idea of what I've got
planned for the autumn, but I'm telling you, it'll blow this
place out of the water!' blustered Harry. He hadn't got
anything planned, but he was absolutely sure he'd be able
to come up with something.

Jake faked a yawn.

'You really are too old to believe in fairy tales, you know!
But, seeing as I am feeling in quite a good mood this
morning, I'll give you a little warning – you won't ever have
to watch your back from now on, because I won't be there.
I'll be out front – so far ahead of you, I'll probably be out of
sight!' And he slammed the door, leaving Harry outside,
gibbering with rage.

Jake leaned against the door and smiled to himself.
Despite his headache he suddenly felt strong and confident.
He liked what he had said so much, he said it again, so he
could get used to it. 'This is my home. I belong here now.'
Then he added, because he was always a realist: 'If I have
to, I will meet trouble head on. There will be trouble, no
doubt about that, because Harry will be here. But that's
tough. For him.'

So what was he doing just standing here? There were
things to do, phone calls to make, windowsills to paint. But
first he had to have it out with Kate. There were things that
needed to be said. Things would probably change for ever
as a result and he would have to take the consequences. He
thought about those for a minute, then he squared his
shoulders. This was a day for making tough decisions.

Kate was very nervous as she walked into the restaurant.
Jake had sounded quite curt on the phone when he asked
her to come over, which didn't bode well for what he was
obviously going to say to her. She would let him get it all out
of his system, but then she would say a few things too. There
was no way he was going to walk out of her life before then.

He was sitting in the office just like he had on the day she
had gone for her hangover interview. That seemed an
awfully long time ago now. So much had happened since
then. She absolutely had to tell him that, whatever
happened next, being with him had changed her for ever
and she wasn't going to regret this for a minute.

She took a deep breath and walked in.

'So – who are you this morning?'

'Jake, please listen –'

'No. I am going to talk first. I have to. I have to tell you
how awful it felt to be lied to, by you of all people. You see,
I fell in love with you. It's going to sound really trite, but I
felt connected to you in a way I never have with anyone
before, so the fact that you lied to me made it much, much
worse.'

'I know. There isn't a name you could call me that I
haven't already called myself. It wasn't meant to be like this.
I've fallen in love with you too. Look at me, Jake. I can say
I'm sorry in a thousand different ways – I am bloody good
with words, after all. But can't you see the truth of it in my
face?'

He looked. She did look terrible. Her hair was a mess;
her nose was red and her cheeks were splotchy from too
many salty tears, but it was her eyes that held him.

'At least,' she faltered, 'I know I've got no right to ask
anything of you, but please, please, whatever else you need
to say to me – please read this first.' She handed him a sheaf
of papers. 'This is the article that's going in the
Easedale
Gazette
next week.' She took a deep breath. 'It wasn't what I
thought I was going to write. But real life is like that – it
doesn't follow a neat plan. Sometimes you have to get things
very messily wrong so you can see how to get them right.
Oh, and I would have written this article even if I hadn't
fallen, totally, catastrophically, irrevocably in love with you.
Please. You have to read it. Give me that much at least.'