IN THE SHADOW OF STRANGERS: A wealthy man is about to change her destiny …but it’s a secret.

by Wendy Reakes

  “What! Are you serious? It’s practically in the town centre and she wants it going to Ealing. We’d be mad to take it on. We’d never make any money on it.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Billy can take it on his Bristol load on Tuesday.”

  “Oh yeah!” Paula whispered. “He’ll love that…a short detour to Ealing,”

  “I’ll clear it with Billy, you just make the arrangements with the lady,” Jack says.

  “Well, all right, but I hope you let Keith know about this. He won’t be very happy. He won’t be very happy at all. How much do I charge her?”

  “Thirty quid. Tell her we’re going that way anyway so it won’t matter about putting it on the back of the lorry. Tell her it’s some sort of promotion or something. Damn it, Paula, just make something up.”

  Jack watched her return to the desk on reception. She picked up a pen and a delivery note and passed it over to Katherine for her to fill out. He saw Katherine’s face light up as Paula told her the good news, and his heart missed another beat.

  Chapter 32

  When she gotback to London, she was amazed at how much work had been done in the shop in such a short space of time. She’d been away for just over a week, but already the space had been transformed. The wooden floor she’d found when she’d ripped up the old lino, had been stripped beautifully, stained a dark oak and coated with varnish. She could hear the sound of her heels click-clacking over it as she crossed the room; sounding like opportunity knocking on the door. The walls were now painted plain white. The smooth plaster had wires protruding at intervals awaiting the light fittings. The ceiling had been covered in a deep embossed paper before the decorators used a rag to apply thinned wood stain over it, achieving an aged effect. She couldn’t be more pleased. The dark coloured stain had caught on the embossed edges of the pattern, giving it a 3D effect. In the centre of the ceiling hung an enormous chandelier with sixteen brass branches and white opaque shades. She’d picked it up in a second-hand shop in Nottinghill, along with matching wall lights, yet to be hung, and an assortment of old pictures with some wooden and some painted ornate frames. They were currently stored upstairs in her flat and she’d planned on hanging them at the very last.

  The small corridor at the back leading to the kitchen was freshly decorated with plain white walls. She pushed open the doors to the toilets and went inside, running her hand over the new dark-red tiles.

  A voice behind her made her jump. “What do you think?”

  “Ben! I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I had to come and see my girl on her first day back,” he said wrapping his arms around her.

  She pushed him off. His affection at this hour on business premises was distasteful to her. “What did you do that for?”

  “I missed you, of course.” he said, “In fact…Kath’, I want us to get back together.”

  She was not in the mood to discuss their relationship or lack thereof. All she could concentrate on was her grandmother and the restaurant. The last thing she wanted was to get tied to Ben Corner again. “I don’t think so, Ben. We did all that and it didn’t work. I’ve got a different life now.”

  “And I can help you with that. We’re both in the restaurant business now. We could help each other.”

  He was trying to make her feel guilty. He usually succeeded on that score. “I’ll have to think about it, Ben. I’m not sure.”

  “I’ll tell you what. We’ll take things slow and when the restaurant's up and running, we can talk about it then.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, referring to the refurbishments. “Well?” he asked.

  “I’m really pleased.” She was glad to change the subject. “I’m amazed it’s this far on.”

  “Well, you left me with a job to do, and I made sure it got done. I had to grease a few palms but we got there in the end.”

  She was hesitant when she asked. “What do you mean?”

  “I told you everything comes at a price, Kathy.”

  “How much more has it cost me?”

  “Don’t worry about that. It’s all been taken care of.”

  “No Ben, I don’t think so. It’s not right that you should be out of pocket.” Her attempt at diplomacy was weak to say the least. She didn’t want any more favours from him. She didn’t want to be obligated.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, “I won’t hear another word about it.”

  Over the next couple of weeks, everything moved fast at the restaurant, especially when she began putting a team together. Her first recruit was a head chef, who was to act as her number one, back and front of house. Peter Blue came very well recommended by the Dorchester. He was a professional, lived locally and he seemed keen to see the restaurant succeed, which was all she could hope for. Alongside Peter Blue, she employed two very capable and ambitious female kitchen assistants and four waiters - two boys and two girls, working on a rota system. Then, one day near the end, close to the opening of the restaurant, an elderly lady came into the shop and asked Katherine if she had a cleaning job going.

  She was on her hands and knees, trying to clean up a bottle of red wine she’d just dropped on the floor. Without pause the old lady, Hilda, whizzed past her and collected a bucket of hot soapy water from the kitchen. She whipped off her coat and got down on the floor, and while she told Katherine all about herself, she mopped up the spilled wine with an old floor cloth. She hired her on the spot. Hilda became a treasure; a mum to them all, as she made cups of tea and bacon baps when they all stopped for a break. She was just what Katherine needed, to keep all their feet on the ground.

  The target date for the restaurant’s launch was set for the 10th of December. A hospitality evening was planned and they were opening to the general public the day after. Katherine took care of the publicity for the opening herself. She wanted the launch to reflect the unique ambience of the restaurant, so she acquired some artwork of a simple scrolled logo and placed an advert in the local press. She figured if she tried too hard with the advertising, she would seem desperate. That wasn’t how she wanted to come across, even though it was exactly how she felt. Desperate not to fail.

  The invitations for the hospitality evening, embossed with the logo, were sent to an exclusive list of one hundred people; local businesses, neighbours and her closest friends. She guessed maybe eighty would show and that unnerved her every time she thought about it.

  On the night before the reception, when the restaurant was finished, she sent the staff home. “Bright and early in the morning everyone,” she said as they left. “Tomorrow is make or break!”

  Katherine turned down the lights and poured herself a glass of wine. Pulling an old woolly cardigan over her shoulders, she sat on the floor and leaned her back against the wall with her glass resting on her lap.

  The restaurant looked elegant and inviting, rich and warm. Thirteen tables appeared to lie randomly around the room with a large round one placed in the centre of the floor, directly under the chandelier. Her rule was for the table to remain empty unless it was booked for eight people. As the best table in the house, she figured if six people wanted it, they’d invite two more guests just to secure it. When it wasn’t in use, it was to stay bare, without a table cover, displaying only the polished wood of the table top that broke the monotony of white linen around the room. She was determined to make it a talking point, just to instigate interest. She remembered an old tradition of the Savoy whereby, if a party of thirteen people booked a table, the waiters would place the hotel’s cat on a fourteenth chair to avoid the unlucky number and thus deterring any mishaps. Whether it was true or not didn’t matter; the story got them publicity just by word of mouth alone, which was the cheapest and most effective form of advertising.

  The other tables were a mixture of rectangle and round, all covered in white linen cloths with white slip covers above. She considered the possibility of using a different colour but in the end she decided white was the only colour that spoke to the customer; clea
n, elegant and sophisticated. Silver cutlery marked the covers around the table, and glasses, overturned for now to prevent dust settling inside, sat tall at the tip of each knife. Tiny cut-glass cruets with silver tops rested in the centre, with glass vases holding short-stemmed white daisies. She’d chosen high-back chairs to add height to the room. They’d cost her a bit more, but she thought it would be worth it for the effect alone.

  Her pièce de résistance was the counter she’d rescued from Swansea, which fitted perfectly in proportion to the room. Standing at the back, it acted as a service station for the waiters with its matching back drop fixed to the wall behind it. The day it was delivered, she remembered a sob catching in her throat. It had been a symbolic moment for her, unable to describe how she felt, like it was part of her family, her heritage coming to Ealing to watch over her while she turned a tired old café into her dream. When the driver, Billy, had removed it from the back of the lorry and she signed the delivery note, he called her a lucky girl. A lucky girl!

  In its raw form, her decorator suggested she stripped it, but she didn’t have the heart to strip away years of history and the memory of herself as a little girl, running her fingers through its swirls. Instead, she spent the next five days lovingly restoring it herself, using just beeswax, a yellow duster and an old tooth brush within the grooves to grind out the dirt.

  The bar was hollow on its other side. She’d imagined it would have had shelves under it, but instead there was nothing. She wanted it to be of practical use so she had a local carpenter make a counter to slot inside, out of sight from the customer but of essential and practical use for herself and the staff. The inner counter now held everything they needed to function: the till, a credit card runner, a coffee machine, cups and saucers, menus, cruets and cutlery. The only thing displayed on top was a clear glass vase with long stemmed white lilies; simple and elegant. On the back shelves her bottles of wine were displayed and in-between them, to break the monotony and to add to the décor, she’d placed clear crystal glasses, twinkling from the reflection of the concealed diacroic lights.

  She got up from the floor and opened the front door. It was dark outside and icy cold. She wrapped her sweater around her shoulders, burying her hands in its sleeves as she crossed over to the other side of the road. Then she turned about.

  The restaurant glowed like a beacon in the darkness. The lights inside were dimmed, yet the whiteness of the tablecloths, the glassware and the silver, reflected the warming shine, inviting in strangers and offering them sustenance. Outside, spotlights threw light on the handwritten sign above the large windows. Kathy’s, it read simply; a tribute to Annie and Rose, the only two people she ever allowed to call her by that name.

  As Katherine clutched her sweater tighter around her body, she stayed for a moment looking at what she’d achieved. Finally, she crossed the road, went back inside and turned off the lights.

  She was a lucky girl after all.

  Chapter 33

  The reception was a huge success. Katherine provided champagne and free wine all night, compliments of a local wine supplier. The chefs prepared elaborate petit fours and her staff, dressed in plain black with white collars and cuffs, serve them from silver salvers on loan from the Savoy, compliments of Heinrich.

  The room looked incredible with glass shaded candles on the table and a six tiered silver candelabra on the counter, which she’d lit three days before, purposely allowing the melted wax to cascade over it. She’d given the counter another coat of polish and buffed it to a shine so that the candlelight bounced all over it, bringing out the elaborate carving in the wood.

  The counter became a major talking point. She told its story to anyone who asked and somehow, the tale added another piece of life to the restaurant, giving it charm and an already established history.

  Katherine wandered around the room dressed in a plain black fitted dress with just a gold and white pendant and low heeled black court shoes. She had tied her hair back demurely from her face and put on the minimum amount of makeup. Her intention was to look professional and efficient, hospitable, with a little aloofness. Some of the guests watched her admiringly as she worked the room, telling them about her plans for the restaurant and how she hoped they’d honour her by returning another day. Some had already booked their office Christmas party and she’d already gained thirty covers for New Year’s Eve.

  She approached four businessmen standing at the back of the room. She noticed one of them deep in thought, looking at the counter and running his hand across the top. “Do you like it?” she asked.

  He seemed unbalanced by her question. She didn’t know why. “Um...”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I felt that way about it when I first saw it as a little girl in a shop in Swansea. I saw it again a few weeks ago, just by chance. It was going to get thrown on a skip so I brought it home with me.” She placed her hand on the edge. “I didn’t pay anything for it but I would have given anything just to have it.”

  The man smiled as one of the other men in the group introduced him as Michael Lawson. Even though she didn’t recognise the name, she could have sworn she’d met him somewhere before. It was the way he looked at her, with a familiar manner. He shook her hand, and held it for a little longer than necessary, as his gaze lingered on the bracelet she wore on her wrist.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  He was hiding a welsh accent. She knew that because it was how she spoke, with a just a hint of welsh tongue. “Have we met somewhere before?” She couldn’t shake off the feeling of deja-vous. “You seem familiar.”

  “Um! No! At least I don’t think so.” His eyes darted around the room and then came back to meet hers. “You’ve done a great job of the place. It was a café before this I believe?”

  “Yes it was, but not a very nice one.” She pouted her lips. “It was called Benny’s Bites”

  “Why’d you change it?”

  She chuckled. She liked him. She didn’t know why. “You know I could swear I’ve met you before. Have you been on the TV or something?”

  “Yes. The Benny Hill show. I’ve been told I’m a bit of a comedian!”

  She laughed again but she still felt he was trying to cover up something, and it wasn’t just his accent. It was odd, she….

  Then she remembered.

  Katherine stopped and stared right at him. She was taken back in time, to a police station, on a night after a fair. “Mr. Bentley!”

  “What?” he spluttered. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, my name’s Michael, but you can call me Mike or anything else you can think of. Believe me, I’ve been called a lot of things in the past…”

  Katherine shook her head. She felt like she’d been in a stupor of sorts. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m very rude. Please ignore me. It's first night nerves.” She was embarrassed but he looked relieved that she’d dropped the subject. Besides, if had been Gordon Bentley why would he pretend he was anyone else?

  “So, who’s this Gordon fellow?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Just someone I knew once, a long time ago. He came to collect his daughter after...well, anyway...but of course you can’t be him because he was a lot taller than you and he had black hair and bushy black eyebrows.” She tried to remember, but it was so long ago. “He didn’t wear glasses either.”

  “That’s a fine bracelet,” he said.

  She fingered the gold chain with intermediate diamonds set in gold knots. “Thank you.” Strange how he should mention…

  One of the staff interrupted their conversation. They needed more champagne. Katherine excused herself and hurried away, promising to be back directly so that they could finish their conversation.

  Ten minutes later, when she returned, Michael Lawson had gone.

  “I told you not to go,” Jack said to Gordon the day after the reception at Kathy’s. “You never listen to me.”

  “It’s okay, I got away with it. She soon
forgot about me.”

  “From what you tell me, she hasn’t forgotten you at all.”

  “Can you believe it, Jack, that she still remembers me after all these years?”

  “Except she remembers you as she saw you then. Young!” Jack laughs.

  “I know,” Gordon said. “She didn’t seem to realise that I would have gotten older and changed somewhat.”

  “Yeah, a lot greyer and thinner on top,” Jack teased.

  “Yeah, well. You’ll be old one day, Jack my boy. Then you’ll know what it’s like.”

  “Well, you are fifty-eight. I suppose it happens to us all in the end.”

  Gordon grinned. “You should have seen her, Jack. She was where she belonged at the reception. Everyone was admiring her and the place looked incredible. I can’t believe how she made it look that way. She’s very talented you know.” He was a proud father.

  “So, Mister Fix-it, is that it now? Have you paid your debt to the Killa girl?”

  “You know what, Jack. I think I have. That Ben Corner is keeping his distance and she’s happy…and financially secure! Well, I suppose she doesn’t need me looking out for her anymore,” he finished.

  “You know what, Gordon?” Jack answered. “She never did, my old mate. She never did!”

  End of Part One

  PART TWO

  Chapter 34

  1987

  “I want to see you.” Frank Warner was speaking on the telephone. “We need to have a talk.”

  “What about?” Ben Corner snapped.

  “The business, of course! What the ‘ell do you think I need to talk to you about?” Frank said spitting saliva into the mouth piece.

  “All right then, tomorrow. After the lunch-time session! I’m free all afternoon.”