by Wendy Reakes
She missed her single life, the freedom of being alone, socialising with her friends and not being obligated to anyone or anything. But most of all she missed how she’d always felt about the Savoy; the adoration and the undying pride. Suddenly her job was no longer a priority and that worried her. It worried her about where the loyalty had gone, and if she’d ever get it back.
She arrived at the entrance of Charing Cross tube station and looked at her watch. There wasn’t another train for twenty minutes and she felt like she needed to sit down for a while. She looked across the road to the glass fronted café on the corner; its coffee aromas beckoning her. But before she crossed the road, she turned about and looked back. She couldn’t help feeling someone was watching her. It was the oddest thing, but she blamed it on her ever-vivid imagination.
Inside the cafe she ordered a cappuccino and sat down at a table by the window. She slipped off her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair, and as she stirred the chocolate through the creamy froth, the café door opened and a dark haired woman stepped inside. She gazed at Katherine as if she knew her, but then she looked away as she approached the counter.
Katherine sipped her coffee as she stared out of the window. Her thoughts turned to her grandmother, as she tried to recall when she’s last seen her. She usually telephoned her twice a week, but each time they spoke, both of them ended up talking about Annie and how much they missed her. Now, she felt guilty about not going home more often. Maybe she could go down next week, when she had a couple of days off.
A voice disturbed her thoughts. “May I sit here?” The dark haired woman who’d just walked into the café, stood on the opposite side of the table with her hand on the back of the chair.
“Help yourself,” Katherine looked around and sees two empty tables, and wonders why the woman hadn’t taken one of them.
The woman sat down and leaned forward as if she was engaging in private conversation. “I was wondering if you could do me a favour?” She held out a piece of paper. “I have forgotten my glasses and I need to read this telephone number.” She spoke with un petit accent français.
Katherine took the paper from her outstretched hand. It was an estate agent's property details. Partridge & Perry’s, City Real Estate was written on the top with a picture of an old shabby looking café and its specifications listed below. She glanced at the number at the bottom and read it aloud as the woman opposite her scribbled it down in larger print.
“Thank you, I really appreciate it. I can’t see a damn thing these days without my reading specs. It must be old age.” She rolled her eyes and Katherine handed the paper back to her. She thought the matter was over until the woman continued with her -frankly annoying- chatter. “Well, I suppose I’d better give them a ring and tell them I can’t take it, but it’s a shame.” Katherine turned her head once more to gaze outside, but the woman was relentless. “I was looking at taking the lease on.” She held the property details in her hand. “I had plans to open a restaurant. This place would be ideal, but I have problems at home and I can no longer stay in London.”
“Where are you from?” Katherine asked politely.
“I am French, but I’ve spent a lot of my life in England. I heard about this deal to take a ten-year lease on a property in Ealing. I only needed to put up the money to upgrade it and then it was just a question of paying a monthly rent.” She sipped her coffee. “I really am sorry to let it go. The site would make an excellent upmarket restaurant. I even had a marketing analysis done on it. It could be a little gold mine. Ah well, family comes first, I suppose.”
“That’s the trouble with families, they have a habit of messing up plans.” She wondered why she’d said that and instantly regreted the remark. She didn’t feel that way at all.
“I don’t suppose you know anyone who may be interested in it. It really is a shame to let it go?” the woman said.
Katherine watched her for a moment. The woman was overly friendly and chatty, telling her…a stranger…all about her life. Suddenly a notion popped into her head. That sneaky..! “Did Ben Corner send you?” It must have something to do with him. She was sure of it.
“What? Who? Um, no! Nobody sent me, as you put it. I don’t know what you mean.”
Katherine ran her hands through her hair and pushed it back off her face. She shook her head with exasperation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound rude. I’m a bit paranoid these days. I’m seeing this guy who’s in the restaurant business and I thought perhaps he had something to do with you talking to me like this.”
“No…I was just being friendly. I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong idea.”
“No, it’s me who should be sorry. I was rude and there’s no need for it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She turned the wedding band on her finger. It was her mother’s. Rose had given it to her after the funeral and instead of putting it away she wore it always.
“What do you do?” the woman asked. “For a living I mean. If you don’t mind me asking”
“I’m a chef. I work at the Savoy.”
“The Savoy! I’ve never met a lady chef before.”
“There aren’t many of us about.”
“Well in that case, why don’t you think about the restaurant?” she offers.
“What restaurant?”
“The one in Ealing.” She laid the sheet of paper on the table. “It really is too good a deal to miss.”
“Me! Own a restaurant! Oh I don’t think so. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“You already have. You know about food, that’s a really good place to start.”
“Yes, but I don’t know anything about running my own business. Besides, I don’t have much money.” She was beginning to wonder why she was sharing so much private information with the woman. If Ben Corner didn’t set the whole thing up, the woman could be a trickster.
“Borrow some. You wouldn’t need a great deal. The kitchen needs upgrading and the place needs decorating and perhaps some new signage out front, but apart from that, you could probably turn it around on a shoe string.”
She looked again at the picture of the cafe on the property details. No, ridiculous! She wouldn’t know where to start. Impossible. She looked at her watch. Time to go. “I really don’t think so.” She smiled politely as she pulled her jacket from the back of the chair. She stood up and tucked the chair back under the table.
“If you change your mind…here are the details.” The woman held the paper towards her. “The number is on the bottom. All you have to do is ring them. Have a chat.” She took it from her outstretched hand, just to appease her. Persistent was surely her middle name. “Bonne chance and bon voyage.” Katherine said. She’d always wanted to learn French.
“What...? Oh yes… thanks.” Then, taking one final stab, she pointed to Katherine’s coat pocket. “Really! Call them!”
Bridget Garineau called Gordon Bentley from a phone box in Charing Cross station.
He wa anxious to hear how the first stage of his scheme had panned out. “How did it go? Did she take the bait?”
“No. She didn’t. I wish you hadn’t asked me to do this, Gordon. I feel like a fraud. That poor girl didn’t know what hit her.”
“Well, how did you leave it?”
“She’s got the number to ring. It’s really up to fate now.”
“Jeeze, Bridget,” he snapped. “There’s no such thing as fate. We’re not going to get another chance now. Not without her getting suspicious anyway.”
“There’s no ‘we’ about it. I’m a secretary not a private eye. Next time, get someone else to do your dirty work.”
“Okay. I’m sorry, Bridge’. You did your best I’m sure. It’s just that this project means a lot to me.”
“The restaurant project or the Killa girl project?” Gordon remained silent. “Well, before I hang up, let me say just one thing to you, Gordon. There is such a thing as fate, but you’re not it.”
Chapter 26
&nb
sp; The following day, after the evening shift, Katherine walked over to Covent Garden to see Ben at the Corner. She’d changed her shift at the last minute, so when she finished early at nine, she decided to surprise him.
She entered the restaurant from the back of the building, as she always did. She was the manager’s girlfriend. She could do what she liked. She walked through the kitchen where Taffy was flicking a wet tea-towel at one of the other chefs. He saw her walk in. “What you doing 'ere?” He glanced at the clock on the wall above the door. “Finished early ‘ave yew?” She missed Taffy working at the Savoy, but it was good being able to see him at the Corner.
“Is Ben here?” She walked past him, pushing the double swing doors to the stillroom.
“All right for some!” he shouted after her with his usual playful tone. “Bloody Savoy staff doin’ short shifts. You don’t know what ‘ard graft is.”
In the still-room behind the bar, a waiter looked up from the bottle of wine he was uncorking. Katherine smiled and hardly noticed the look in his eyes when he saw her. She shrugged off the feeling of a building atmosphere, and walked through to the restaurant as the waiter’s gaze went to a table at the back where Ben was sitting with three people she didn’t recognise; a man and two women.
They seemed a jovial bunch. They’d just finished their meal and now they were sipping cocktails as Ben and the other man smoked fat cigars. They were lost in conversation when she approached the table. The blonde next to Ben leaned towards him and whispered in his ear.
“Hello, Ben,” Katherine said.
Taken by surprise, Ben jumped up to greet her. He looked scared stiff. He took a chair from the next table and planted a kiss on her cheek as she sat in the place next to him. He introduced the others as old friends. The blonde watched Katherine with a cat’s glint in her eyes.
“Why don’t we all mosey-on over to Stringfellow’s for a bit of a boogie,” Ben said with his arm around the back of Katherine’s chair.
The outing to the nightclub didn’t go well. Ben’s female friends ignored her all night and Ben was on tenterhooks the whole time, no doubt praying he wouldn’t be caught in a cat fight.
Katherine bided her time, while perversely enjoying his discomfort. The relief she felt when she realised she didn’t love him had been a revelation. Now she had an excuse to get Ben Corner out of her life so that she could move on and start afresh without the restriction of a man in my life, tying her down.
At the end of the evening as Ben hailed a cab, she confronted him. “Have you been sleeping with her, Ben?”
“What? No…Of course not!”
“I think we’d better cool things for a while,” Katherine said.
He pulled her towards him roughly. “Why? Not because of tonight?” He looked towards the club. “She’s nothing to me. She’s just a friend… Look! I’ve been a bit distracted lately. I’ve had an issue with the restaurant. Nothing I can’t handle, but I realised I haven’t been giving you much attention. Come on, Kath, this is nothing to break-up over. We’re good you and me. You know it as well as I do.”
“It’s not just tonight, Ben, and it’s not just you. I need something else. You know I still haven’t got over losing my mother.”
“That will come with time.”
“Maybe, but I need to pick myself up. She wouldn’t want me to be like this. I feel like I’m stagnating and it’s not good for me. Let’s just have a break for a while. We can talk about it again in a couple of weeks.” For all her suspicions, she couldn’t hate him. He’d given her something she’d needed when they’d met, but now she needed something else.
When the cab pulled up she was anxious to get in and go straight home. “I’ll call you in the morning,” he said. “We’ll work this out. I promise.”
The next day Katherine dialed a number.
“Hello,” the voice said “Partridge and Perry’s. Can I help you?”
“Can you give me some information on the property in Ealing?”
“I’m sorry. We don’t have anything on that side of London. We don’t cover Ealing.” She heard a muffled pause and then the girl came back on the line. “Could you hold on? I’m transferring you to my colleague.”
“This is David Partridge. Can I help you?”
She was surprised to get one of the partners. “Yes, I’d like to enquire about a property in Ealing. It’s currently trading as a café.”
“I know the one. Would you like to view it?”
Again, he took her by surprise. “Uh. Well yes I suppose I would.”
“When would be convenient for you?”
She was impressed. This guy didn’t mess about. “Tomorrow afternoon, if that’s all right. I finish work at three, so if I get a tube from Charing Cross I could be there for, say four o’clock.” She half expected him to turn her down.
“Don’t worry about the tube. I’ll pick you up.”
David Partridge seemed very accommodating…Wait! Maybe it was because the place was a dump and they’d do anything to get rid of it.
David Partridge was still speaking. “I’ll be coming through that way. Our offices are in Whitehall, so I can meet you outside Charing Cross at, say three-thirty. I’ll pull over. I’ve got a black Audi.”
“Well, if you’re sure. Thank you.”
“See you at three-thirty then.”
“Wait! I haven’t told you my name.”
“What? Oh, yes of course,” he muttered. “What name is it, please?”
“It’s Katherine Killa.”
“Very well, see you tomorrow.”
Before she put the phone down, it occured to her that it was odd he hadn’t made reference to her name. Normally, everyone did, and they all asked how it was spelled. “That’s K.I.L.L.A.” she said.
Chapter 27
At precisely three-thirty the next day, a sleek black chauffeur-driven car pulled up alongside the curb where Katherine was waiting outside Charing Cross station. The back door swung open and she bent down to peer inside. The man was leaning over the seat towards her. “I’m David Partridge. Are you getting in or would you like us to get a ticket?”
She put her hand on the door and peered around the inside of the car. She was feeling nervous…unsure if she was doing the right thing. Her caution was merely the result of living in the big city for the past two-years. “Do you have some I.D?” She felt awkward for asking, but frankly, there she was being ushered into a stranger’s car. She needed caution.
“What? Oh, christ!” He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flicked it open, drew out a white business card and handed it to her. Partridge & Perry’s it read, City Real Estates. “And here’s my driving licence just for good measure,” he barked.
She kept hold of the card and stepped into the car. The chauffeur was sitting at the front, watching the traffic out of his side mirror, waiting to pull away. “Edwards would have gotten out and opened the door for you, but he hasn’t any I.D on him.”
“I’m sorry for being so cautious,” she said. “I didn’t expect you to turn up in a chauffeur-driven car.”
“Drive myself around London? You must be joking,” he said, misinterpreting her meaning. He adjusted the front of his jacket. He wasn’t wearing a seat belt.
She suddenly realised she didn’t like David Partridge much. He was too assertive. Too busy! He was wearing an expensive looking suit and he had a large gold watch peeking out from below white linen cuffs. His nails were manicured and he smelled of aftershave; a mild aroma she wasn’t familiar with. She started to wonder if there had been a mistake, that maybe he’d gotten the wrong end of the stick. She held out the crumpled sheet of paper with the café’s picture on. “You do know it’s this place I want to look at?”
He glanced sideways. “Yes, that’s the one. Nice little place. The rent’s quite low so it’s a good deal for a girl like you,” he said.
A girl like me! “What do you mean by that? A girl like me?”
“Oh, wel
l, um, you know…. young…. looking for a place to start up your own restaurant.”
She was feeling nervous about the whole set-up. Maybe it was a scam, but he didn’t strike her as the type. “I don’t even know if I have the money yet.” She was seriously considering forgetting the whole thing. Honestly! She didn’t even know why she was there. Start her own restaurant! She must be crazy!
“You’ll only need about ten grand.” He referred to the sum as if it was loose change! He reached inside his breast-pocket and pulled out his wallet again. He slid a card from a pocket inside. “Here! Give these people a ring. They finance small ventures like yours.”
She took the card and looked it over. “What about the legalities? Who owns the place?”
“Here!” He handed her another card, that said Baker & Sons, Kensington Legal. “They are handling the property on behalf of the client.”
She saw a sign. Ealing! They were almost there and Katherine was wondering if she should make a run for it. The car turned down a back street off Ealing Broadway. The first building on the corner was the side façade of a shop facing the main high street, and next to that was the café. It was a part-rendered two-story building, with two giant windows covered in white paint, blocking the view of the inside. An alcove on the left, housed two doors, one leading into the café itself and the other with a door knocker and post box leading to the flat above. A sign above the shop read ‘Benny’s Bites’.
Edwards opened the door and they stepped out of the car. David Partridge pulled some labelled keys out of his pocket and rummaged for the correct one. He opened up the café door and kicked all the junk mail and free local papers piled up on the floor to one side. Formica topped tables had odd wooden chairs stacked on top of them. Dirty multi-coloured lino covered the floor, and wallpaper with a bamboo and green leaf pattern adorned the walls. The back wall was covered with imitation wood vinyl and white shelves held coloured cardboard star shapes, advertising the soup of the day and ‘tasty nibbles’. At the front was a counter with a glass hot-display cabinet to hold sausage rolls, pasties and pies.
