by Fabian Black
“I wouldn't put anything past Kenny. He'd muff dive if he thought it would up his ratings and further his career.” He clutched at David's hand, his eyes feverishly bright. "You’ve still got interests in the group that publishes Finest Food, you could call her and demand to know why she dropped my article. Make her apologise.”
“No, Lin, I couldn’t. You know I don’t have any influence on editorial policy." Curving his hand he caressed Lin's hot flushed face. "Try and keep this in proportion, love. It could be your article didn’t fit the final format of this months issue and is being held over for a later issue. You'll still get paid for it.”
"The money isn't important." Crumpling the torn page Lin dropped it on the floor. "You don’t care I’ve been stuffed yet again by Kenny." Anger made him reckless. "You always did fancy blonde tarts like him. You must be thrilled to see his bleached highlights and smarmy face leering from every television set and magazine cover. I bet you can’t wait for the start of his new series. It’ll be real wank off stuff. Let's hope he makes cakes, you'll be able to cream along with him. You should have stuck to dating him instead of a fucking loser like me."
"Enough," David's brows pulled together. "That's enough, Lin." He gestured at the floor. "Get this mess tidied up. We'll discuss this properly when you more in control and able to talk rather than shout."
"Lucy will be here soon." Lin pushed his specs up his sweat-moistened nose then sulkily smoothed his t-shirt. "She can clean it up."
“Lucy,” said David sharply, “is not employed to clear up after your tantrums. Pick the papers up and make sure they're put back into a readable sequence. Come into the kitchen when you're done and make sure you're in more civil temper or I'll put you over my knee and wallop your backside.” He walked out of the room.
Taking off his glasses Lin dropped them on the table, overcoming an urge to slam his fist down on them.
Storm In A Teacup
Four
Picking up the kettle David took it across to the sink to fill, his jaw tensed. It looked like the heat wasn't going to be the only trying aspect of the day. Curse Jeff and curse Kenny too for upsetting Lin's equilibrium. He plugged the kettle in, but didn't switch it on, his desire for tea suddenly evaporating.
He folded his arms, leaning back against the worktop. What he hadn't told Lin was that he knew Sara Teal. She'd worked for several of the magazine brands produced by a Company he owned. He'd approved of her appointment as editor of Finest Food to replace Marcus.
He'd make a discreet call to her later and ask why Lin's article had been dropped, though he suspected he already knew. It was as he'd said. It probably didn't fit the theme of the issue, which seemed to be about all things Kenny Steen. He was flavour of the moment. The public couldn't get enough of him. A magazine's duty was to sell as much copy as possible and they did so by giving the public what they wanted, just as television shows thrived by pandering to popular tastes.
David closed his eyes for a moment, pinching fingers to the bridge of his nose. Lin couldn't bear that Kenny's celebrity star was still in the ascendancy while his had faded. It would have been bad enough ordinarily, but Kenny had once been a protégé of Lin's. He had guided and advised him.
He jumped as a hand thumped the back door and then pushed it open.
"Morning, Mr Jordan.” Lucy Rowat, general help to house and restaurant, stepped inside the kitchen. “Hot one today,” she hurled the door closed with customary vigour. “Old Henry reckons his bees are mumbling about storms building.” She plonked a bulky brown paper bag down on the worktop.
They don’t know the half of it, thought David wryly, but kept details of his domestic storm to himself. He smiled instead. “I wouldn’t be surprised, Lucy, not with this heat, it’s oppressive." He picked the bag up and looked inside. “Peapods?”
“Dad sent them over." She unhooked an apron from the peg on the back of the door and put it on over her Emily Strange t-shirt and jeans. "Got a glut. Lovely they are, sweet as can be. Go a treat with a bit of battered cod.”
“Tell him thank you.” David knew the peas were payment for the gooseberries and raspberries Lucy had taken home from Sandstones' garden a few days earlier. "How is he today?"
"Not so bad thanks. I think he's starting to get his head round things. He's finally agreed to let me arrange for someone from the MS society to come and have a chat with him."
"That's good, Lucy, well done." David gestured at her head, smiling. “Cool hair colour today by the way. You suit purple.”
“Ta, Mr Jordan.” She patted her purple spikes proudly. “Dad was a bit mardy about it, but like I said, it’s my hair and I’m entitled to have it whatever colour I like. He’s jealous cos he hasn’t got any hair left to play with. Jeff’s been then.” She nodded towards the vase of sunflowers standing on the worktop.
David nodded, touching the yellow petals with a gentle finger. “Nice aren’t they, cheerful.”
“They’ve got black fly.” Lin appeared, dumping the pile of papers and the fractured candlestick on the kitchen table.
“Morning, Mr Larkin.” Lucy viewed the torn and rumpled magazines and broken china with a speculative eye. Looked like someone was in one of his moods. Shame about the candlestick, it had been pretty, and expensive too. She glanced at Mr Jordan. The smile had left his face to be replaced with a darker look. There was a bit of a fratch brewing if she was any judge.
“I’ll start in The Venus this morning. Give it a good going over.” She began a brisk gathering of materials from under the sink. “I see the old chapel’s been sold at last. I saw lads putting up a sign as I came down the hill this morning, got whistled at by one of them. The cheeky sod even asked me out.” Her tone was indignant but the look on her face was a hundred miles away from insulted.
Lin felt his stomach turn at this snippet of news. He shot a ‘so much for unsubstantiated gossip’ look at David. “So Jeff was saying this morning. Who’s bought it, Lucy, do you know?” He scraped his hair back from his face with his fingers, hooking it behind his ears. It was getting on his nerves, feeling lank and dirty in the humid atmosphere. “Is it those people who catered for Gail Crooks' wedding? Jeff reckons they’re after opening a fancy new restaurant here?”
“Haven’t got a clue, Mr Larkin,” said Lucy, blissfully unaware that her over-easy, under-bothered reply wasn’t what one of her employer’s wanted to hear. “Time will tell.” She clumped out of the kitchen, her Madfish shoes clattering on the kitchen tiles.
Lin shouted after her. “I've told you to wear lighter shoes to work, those things scuff the floors."
"Don't you worry, Mr Larkin, I'll tek 'em off."
"You shouldn't have worn them in the first place and the hall mirror needs cleaning properly. You left it streaky last time.” He turned to David, but didn't get chance to speak.
“Subject’s closed, Lin.” David raised a warning finger. “Do you understand me, it's closed. I don’t care who’s bought the old chapel or why or what it’s going to be turned into. As Lucy said time will tell. There’s nothing we can do about it anyway, so stop winding up.”
“I’m not winding up." Lin tried to sound casual. "I’m curious, there's nothing wrong in taking an interest. I think I’ll walk along and see what Estate Agent finally handled the sale. There were a few of them involved. The place had more placards outside it than you see at an animal activist rally.”
“No.”
“I'll ring them.” Lin acted like he hadn’t heard the negative response to his idea. “They might be able to tell me who the buyer is and what they have in mind for the premises. Forewarned is forearmed.
David felt his patience slide in the face of Lin’s stubborn determination. “There's no point. They wouldn’t tell you anything because it’s unethical to do so. Buyer information is confidential. All that will happen is you’ll get more and more agitated, so let it rest. I mean it, Lin, pursuing this will lead nowhere good. I don't want to hear another word about the chapel, not one.�
�
Lin flapped a hand at the vase of sunflowers, choosing them as a means to vent his frustration. “Get those bug infested things out of my kitchen. They're unhygienic."
“They're not infested at all." Picking up the vase David carried it into the hall and placed it on the sideboard, carrying the vase of faded larkspur back into the kitchen with him, setting it on the table. "Happy now?"
"No, you can get rid of them as well." Lin pointed at the bucket of flowers. “I’m not suffering the stinking stocks YOU chose in my dining room tonight. They'll overpower the aroma and taste of the food. I'll have customers complaining. They come here for an eating experience not a bloody hay fever attack. Get rid of them all. I don't like the colours anyway."
David was silent for a moment and then said gravely, “You won’t have to suffer anything tonight because The Venus will be closed, so there'll be no danger of customer complaints. I think it might be a good idea if we take a little drive out into the countryside this afternoon, somewhere restful.”
“Oh yes,” spat Lin, “and what makes you think I’ve got time to be gallivanting about the countryside. What do you expect me to serve up in the restaurant this evening, beans on bloody toast? That isn't going to earn me a Michelin star."
"You're not listening to me, Linval. The Venus isn't opening tonight."
Lin’s temper tinged complexion progressed from pink to crimson as the words fully registered. "WHAT?"
“You heard me, darling, no opening tonight, not while you’re in this mood.”
“And what mood would that be, darling?”
“Nasty, not to put too fine a point on it, and overwrought.” David hooked his thumbs into the front belt tabs on his jeans, not enjoying the situation anymore than Lin. “It isn’t a punishment as such, it’s a safety measure, for you, me, for everyone. You’re too uptight to cook. You’ll get more and more stressed and I’ll end up dodging any missiles you choose to hurl around the kitchen. You’ll be foul with the customers, foul with Lucy and I’m not having it.”
Lin lost what little composure he had left. “Well isn't that just fucking wonderful," he yelled. "You must have been taking backstabbing lessons from that swine Steen on the sly. Competition is moving in on my doorstep so you decide now is the time to close the restaurant and start giving people a reason to look elsewhere. Fucking genius!"
"Go upstairs, Lin. Have a cool shower and then lie down for a while, rest. I'll bring you some tea up and we'll talk this over." He made to lay a hand on Lin's upper arm.
Lin jerked away from the touch. "This is your fault. I always said the chapel was ideal for a restaurant conversion. If you'd allowed me to put in a bid for it like I wanted to then I wouldn't have this to worry about. It would be my name on the chapel deeds. You can expand your business interests whenever and wherever you choose, but not me. Everything has to be done your way. Well fuck you, you arrogant pig!"
Storm In A Teacup
Five
Lucy paused her polishing of a table, pulling a face as she heard Mr Larkin start shouting. The shouts were followed by an almighty crash. It sounded like he'd flung something in temper, wouldn't be the first time. She stood twisting her duster uncertain of what to do that wouldn’t look like she was sticking her oar in. Best to stay out of the way she decided, let them sort themselves out.
She felt a bit sorry for David Jordan, nice man he was, a real looker too, and always polite and friendly, not like his maungy boyfriend who only chatted to you when he felt like it. Moody bugger to work for he was, always spitting out orders like tacks and getting shitty if you didn't work at a pace to suit him.
She polished the table with an extra burst of vigour, making the surface gleam. Streaky mirror indeed, probably streaky from all the preening he did in it, always combing his hair and inspecting his face. Rumour had it that he was older than Mr Jordan, didn't act it though, always stropping and stamping.
Spraying polish lavishly onto another table she set back to work, keeping her ears open for further ructions, but all had gone quiet.
She did a thorough job of cleaning the bistro. It wouldn't do to cut corners, not with his lordship in a snarly mood. She turned her attention to the hall next polishing the antique sideboard and making sure the mirror above it was sparkling. She then headed for the kitchen to gather more materials ready for cleaning upstairs. She paused in the doorway.
Mr Larkin was squatting on the floor gathering up stalks of larkspur from a watery mosaic of broken glass, putting them in a plastic carrier bag. He then began to carefully pick up the shattered remains of the vase, dropping them in with the dead blooms.
Lucy's kind heart was moved by his forlorn appearance. He looked suspiciously red-eyed, like he’d been crying, probably because of the fratch he’d had with his boyfriend. His hands were trembling too, bless, sensitive some of these gay blokes were.
He obviously hadn't her approach in her stocking feet because he almost jumped out of his skin when she spoke to him.
“Let me do that, Mr Larkin, won’t take me a minute. Those big glass vases are dead easy to drop, bloody slippery heavy things.”
Lin shook his head, “it’s all right, Lucy, thank you. I can manage. I don't want you cutting yourself.” He swallowed, “by the way, The Venus will be closed this evening so we won’t need you to work. We’ll still pay you of course, seeing as its short notice.”
“Thanks, that's more than fair of you, kind too. I'm saving up for driving lessons and I want to buy a car, so I need the money.” Lucy smiled, not sure what to say next. “I’ve finished The Venus and the hall, just got your bedroom and bathroom to do. Shall I make you some tea or coffee, Mr Larkin?”
“Not for me, but you go ahead and I’m sure Mr Jordan would appreciate a cup of tea. You know what an addict he is. He’s out in the garden. Put your shoes back on before you come in here though." He got to his feet. "I think I've picked up most of the glass, but there might be some stray fragments.” He put the bag in the bin and then opened the utility cupboard, reaching for a mop and bucket.
"You leave the floor, Mr Larkin. I was going to sweep and mop it over before I left anyway. I'll make sure it's properly clean.”
"Thank you." Lin set the mop aside. “Don’t bother with our bedroom today, Lucy. I’m going for a lie down. I've got a bad headache. You can do it tomorrow.”
“Right you are, Mr Larkin.”
He walked past her, pausing to say, “there’s some fresh lemon shortbread in the tin, help yourself, Lucy, take David a piece too, and if there's any left take it home for your father. It's best eaten the day it's made.”
"That's my favourite that is, thanks. I hope you feel better soon."
He nodded and headed for the stairs and she went back into the hall to recover her clumpy shoes from beneath the coat rack.
The long garden was ablaze with colour. Lin gazed down at it from the bedroom window. The sumptuous scent of stargazer lilies drifted in through the open casement, along with the hum of insects and the incessant squawk of the seagulls.
He watched as Lucy appeared bearing a cup of tea and a plate of shortbread, walking towards David who was sitting on a bench at the end of the garden, his right ankle resting lightly on his left knee. Jasmine and white roses spilled over the red brick wall behind him.
He was reading, sunshine glinting on the rims of his sunglasses. Dressed in light olive cargo shorts and a cream t-shirt, which complimented his light summer tan, he looked at ease. He always did, no matter where he was or what he wore, whether it was a business suit, shorts or jeans.
He set aside the book as Lucy approached, patting the bench beside him, a smile on his face. He took the cup and plate and she sat down, laughing at something he said, her youthful face aglow. He suspected she fancied him, most women did, and some men too, like that bastard Kenny.
Pulling up his t-shirt Lin wiped runny secretions from his eyes and nose with the hem. David was good with people. He could talk to anyone of any age, master or
servant and all in between. He'd been brought up to be at ease in social situations, sure of his own place and confident of his worth. A millionaire by the time he was twenty-five he had nothing to prove to anyone.
Closing the blinds against the glare of the sun Lin stripped off, going into the ensuite and getting under the shower. The tepid water felt good running over his skin, rinsing away sweat and soothing the horrible prickling heat in his buttocks.
He winced as he massaged shower gel over his tender bottom. His outburst of temper in the kitchen had resulted in a harsh dose of discipline. To add insult to injury David had used one of Lin's own beach shoes as a substitute for the slipper or paddle he would normally use when he considered a hand spanking to be insufficient.
Storm In A Teacup
Six
“Thank you, Lucy.” David patted the bench beside him. "Have a sit down for a minute, rest your legs." He reached for the cup and plate. “I was just thinking about making some tea and then you appear like an angel bearing a cup of the heavenly brew.”
Lucy laughed and sat down. “Mr Larkin said you’d be glad of a cuppa. He’s gone for a lie down. Looked proper peaky he did, white as a ghost and shaky with it.”
David sipped the tea. “This heat doesn't agree with him, gives him a headache. A rest will do him the world of good. Did he tell you we’ve decided to close The Venus this evening? He's not well enough to cope with a busy session.”
She nodded and then grinned. “I'm sorry he's poorly, but it's nice to have a free night. I told the cheeky sod who whistled at me this morning I couldn’t go out with him when I come down the hill, but looks like I can after all.”
