Take A Look At Me Now

by Miranda Dickinson

  When the taxi arrived, Aidan held my coat for me as I put it on, trying not to notice how his hands lingered on my shoulders and the closeness of his body to mine.

  ‘Well, goodnight,’ he said, opening the door.

  I looked up at him, catching the old familiar look of longing in his eyes and for a moment I considered what it would be like to kiss him again. He bent down and kissed my cheek and I hurried away to the safety of the waiting car.

  In the back seat, as the cab sped me away from an important step forward, I felt tired and emotional, but I knew I’d made the right decision. For the diner to work, I needed to focus solely upon it. Complications with Aidan could derail the whole project and I needed his friendship more than anything else – even if that night my dreams were peppered with images of what might have happened …

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Moving the goalposts

  Dear S-O-S Club

  Hello from England!

  It’s our fall here, but we call it autumn. All of the leaves on the trees are changing colour and it looks very pretty. There is a big park near where I live and the leaves have turned from green to gold, red and orange.

  Are you still enjoying your baking? I hope so! I’m sending Lizzie lots more recipes to show you. I hope you enjoy them!

  I wanted to send you all a present from London, where I live, so Lizzie will give them to you for me.

  Take care, have fun at S-O-S Club and I’ll write again soon.

  Lots of love

  Nell xxx

  In a shop near Richmond station I found some pencil sharpeners shaped like London black cabs, red Routemaster buses and royal crowns for the S-O-S Club children. But I wanted to get something special for Eva, so I also sent a postcard of St Paul’s Cathedral and a tiny snowstorm with Buckingham Palace at its centre. As I packaged them up I thought about Eva – and inevitably Max. The memory of Max stung. I hated that my thoughts of the little girl were now inextricably linked with him. Even when I tried to think about the good things I’d shared with Max, the memory of how it all ended obliterated everything else. I wished that he’d told me about Eva, that he had trusted me enough to share the most important thing in his life with me. But wishing wasn’t enough to compensate for what he had done and I knew I had to put it behind me.

  I arrived in Acton just after eleven, waiting alone in the freshly plastered shell of the diner and surprised again at how different it was from the old greasy spoon café that had been here before. Just as I was starting to wonder if I’d got the wrong day, I heard the painters’ van pull up in the car park behind the unit. At the same time, my mobile buzzed with a text message.

  Hey Nell, Dad’s called me into a meeting about another tenant. Can’t get out of it – sorry. Good job you didn’t stay last night! Speak soon, A x

  I was relieved that he was joking about last night. At least that was one less thing to worry about.

  Gary, Bill and Adrian muttered their apologies as they entered. Their gaffer, Bill, asked if there was any chance of a cuppa before they started, his question supported by the hopeful nods of his brother and younger apprentice. I suggested they start right away considering they were nearly an hour late but offered to make them tea as they worked, which seemed like an acceptable compromise.

  Listen to workmen but don’t let them take advantage, Annie had written in a Facebook message to me last week. Believe me, they’ll try to. Get the upper hand and they’ll do anything for you. Be kind, be respectful but remember it’s your money and it’s your business.

  Inspired by her words, I handed out mugs of tea from the old kettle plugged into the single electrical socket still working, and passed around a packet of chocolate Hobnobs. The gesture was warmly received and paved the way to a fruitful conversation about plans for the walls and suitable times for the electricians to come in.

  Later, I left them working and walked to the station. It amused me to think that Annie would have loved to see me putting her advice into practice. I hoped she would be proud.

  I was on my way to a meeting with John Matthews, trying to ignore the butterflies attacking my stomach at the prospect of his questions, when my thoughts drifted back to San Francisco. I thought about Eva and the children receiving their presents from England soon, and pictured Eva’s face when she saw the real life St Paul’s Cathedral on the postcard I had sent. When I thought of Eva, I couldn’t wish her anything but the blessing of two parents who loved her. I had so wanted to be a part of Max’s life but Eva still was. All I could hope for, I decided, was that Max would stay true to his family and not be tempted away again. Eva clearly idolised her father – for her sake he owed it to her to never repeat the mistake he had made with me …

  On the Underground I turned my attention to my list of new suppliers I had found, each one of which had the potential to give the diner a real edge in the marketplace. By identifying and using a small number of specialist ingredients and a simple range of food options we could ensure quality without building too much cost, hopefully extending the menu as the popularity of the diner increased.

  Aidan had told me that John was impressed with my thoroughness and attention to quality. He felt the diner would be in good hands – a fantastic compliment and a great boost to my confidence. While I knew he still had tough questions for me, I was looking forward to presenting the fruits of my considerable labours this afternoon.

  Arriving at the expensive Marylebone High Street offices of Matthews Investments Ltd it was impossible not to be impressed by the beautifully lit, classically styled offices. Elegant glass chandeliers hung from the high ceilings in reception and John’s office. Expensive brocade curtains hung from the large sash windows and every room was painted in a soft primrose yellow, which contrasted with the black ash of the furniture and desks.

  John’s PA escorted me into his office and returned moments later with a cafetiere of coffee and two slender silver and glass latte mugs.

  ‘You’ve been working very hard,’ John observed, handing me a mug of coffee. ‘Aidan’s been telling me about everything you’ve achieved. I must say I’m impressed. I don’t usually get such commitment from prospective tenants.’

  I flushed with pride. Coming from such an influential businessman this was a wonderful compliment. ‘Thank you. I believe in this venture and I’m determined to make it succeed.’

  ‘Good.’ John’s smile was warm and I could see where Aidan had inherited his from. ‘You know, you’ve surprised me, Nell. And that rarely happens in this business. When you and Aidan were together I never had you down as a confident businesswoman. I always liked you, of course, and I confess I was disappointed when the two of you broke up. But I didn’t realise you could be this driven.’

  Hearing this from someone who had known me before was heartening to say the least. ‘I think I’ve always had it in me. It was waiting for something to bring it out.’

  ‘Quite. Sometimes we need life to give us a swift kick up the backside to push us out of our comfortable situations.’ He picked up a stapled stack of papers from his desk. ‘So, to business. I’ve looked at the list of suppliers you’ve put together. It’s very good …’

  ‘Thank you.’ I was relieved to hear this.

  ‘… but not for this business.’

  His last sentence hit me like a boulder.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I appreciate your vision, Nell, and I understand how much this means to you. But we’re not operating in Knightsbridge: this is Acton. It might be an up-and-coming area, but you have to remember what the diner will be taking the place of. The greasy spoon café wasn’t pretty but it did solid business and gave the people what they wanted.’ He flicked through the pages of my carefully prepared document and pointed at an item listed on it. ‘I mean, artisan breads are all very well, but the cost is prohibitive. And sourcing eggs from another county when we have a perfectly good cash and carry five minutes up the road from the premises doesn’t make sense.’

&
nbsp; My pulse rate had increased, the work suit I had chosen for this meeting becoming uncomfortably hot. ‘But I believe carefully sourced items can be great selling points,’ I argued. ‘The changing demographic in the area means young professionals are moving in with increasing expectations of quality, ethics and value for money. Nobody else in the area is doing this …’

  ‘My point exactly.’ John’s expression was one of quiet patience and it made me feel utterly patronised. ‘Nobody else is doing it. Times are tough, Nell, even for young professionals with their ethics and expectations. I bought the café because it was a good, honest investment offering a valued service for a large client base. I didn’t want to turn it into a novelty business.’

  Anger was beginning to pump adrenalin through my body. ‘With respect, John, this diner wouldn’t be a novelty. It would be a community hub …’

  ‘I’ve heard that kind of rhetoric before, Nell. I’m not looking to build a community service. I’m looking to make money.’

  ‘But it will!’

  John let out a sigh. ‘I didn’t ask you here to argue. I’m telling you, we need to cut costs to make this a viable concern. It’s my business, my premises, my investment. You’re the person who will make this work. I appreciate your vision but you’ve never run a business before. I have. Maybe in five years when the place is a success and you have the option to buy it from me you can do all of these noble things. But for now I need you to be more realistic. Work with what works, not what your ideal is.’

  I couldn’t believe what he was asking me to do. ‘But I’ve worked so hard making this something that will be different.’

  ‘I appreciate your efforts. Of course I do. But you’re going to have to change how you see this business or else it won’t be viable. I’m sorry for being blunt, but that’s the deal.’

  Slumped on the District Line tube train on the slow journey home, I stared at the list in my hand. How could I cut costs without sacrificing quality? I shoved the papers in my bag, feeling utterly deflated. John Matthews had been patronising and rude. I felt as if he’d taken something precious that I had invested hours in creating and attacked it with a chisel until it was reduced to its lowest common denominator, regardless of the character and quality that had been sacrificed in the process. Of course there needed to be compromise; of course not all of my plans would prove financially viable. I’d expected that. But to have the whole premise of my business destroyed in the name of a fast buck was devastating.

  I had given so much already to making this diner a reality. But was I still willing to do it if it was somebody else’s cheap imitation of my dream?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Compromise or die

  ‘Are you OK, Nellie?’

  ‘I’m fine, Dad.’

  Dad threw a handful of bread scraps to the excited ducks floating in the shallows of the Thames and watched them bicker and fight. ‘You don’t seem very OK, sweetheart.’

  Feeding the ducks with my parents was always fun as a child but as I grew up it became a by-word for important conversations when one or other of us had a crisis and needed to talk it through. ‘Fancy feeding the ducks?’ meant, ‘I know you have something on your mind. Shall we go somewhere and talk about it?’ When Dad had suggested it this morning I accepted immediately, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to discuss the cautiousness I was feeling about the diner-that-wasn’t-my-diner.

  I let out a sigh as a large swan waddled out of the water towards us to claim the best crusts. ‘I’m just not sure about the diner.’

  ‘Oh?’ Dad tried not to stare at me, his attempt about as successful as the small white duck that was quacking belligerently at the swan five times its size. ‘How come, darling? I thought you were riding high with all guns blazing?’

  ‘I was, but – now I just don’t know.’

  ‘What’s happened, Nelliegirl?’ The compassion in my dad’s voice almost brought me to tears.

  ‘I’m being asked to make changes to my plans. Which I expected, of course. But what I’m being asked to do changes the place so much that it bears no resemblance to my vision.’

  ‘Can’t you dig your heels in? Surely if they’re asking you to compromise there’s room for them to do likewise?’

  ‘I don’t think it works that way, Dad.’ I tore off more pieces of bread for the greedy waterfowl and looked at the traffic crossing Richmond Bridge above us.

  ‘Well, it should. You’ve worked so hard to make this happen. They should recognise the effort you’ve put in.’

  ‘Thanks Dad.’ A couple of courageous pigeons descended, risking the wrath of swans and ducks to claim some of the feast. Suddenly remembering my promise to Eva to ‘feed the birds’, I emptied the last of the scraps from the bread bag for them to take.

  ‘Nell, at the end of the day you have to remember that this is your dream,’ Dad said. ‘Nobody has the right to dictate what that should be. And if you decide this opportunity isn’t right – even at this stage – you know your mother and I will support you.’

  I linked my arm through his and hugged him. ‘I love you.’

  ‘Feeling’s entirely mutual,’ he replied nonchalantly, his pride glowing as brightly as the carved stone of Richmond Bridge in the Saturday morning sunshine.

  ‘Patronising git!’ As usual, Vicky’s summation of the current state of affairs was simple yet effective. ‘What does John Matthews expect you to do? Put in all the donkey work so he can claim the profits?’

  I laughed. ‘That’s kind of the point of the owner–tenant agreement. If he wanted to put the work in he wouldn’t need me to manage the place.’

  Vicky gave a loud tut as she held a striped t-shirt on a tiny coat hanger against Ruby’s chest. ‘Well it stinks. The bloke should be on his bended knees worshipping you for all the effort you’ve put into his project.’

  ‘Hardly, Vix. John’s a businessman. It’s only natural he’s going to be thinking of profit first. I’m just going to have to compromise, that’s all. I was naive to think I wouldn’t have to.’

  Ruby was chatting to her teddy as Vicky steered her pushchair around the narrow gaps between the clothes rails in Next’s children’s section. ‘So how are you going to do that?’

  ‘I’ve already revised the supplier list and found three companies who can match the prices of the cash and carry near the diner. He has to be happy with that.’ I held up two cute t-shirts, both of which Vicky dismissed.

  ‘Maybe. But are you happy with that?’

  It was a question I had asked myself over and over since my meeting with Aidan’s father. If I wanted to be running the diner by Christmas I would have to be happy with it. ‘I’m getting there.’

  ‘Well, make sure you aren’t just saying that, Nell. Because it’s a heck of a commitment if you’re not sure.’

  ‘I know. I’ll be fine,’ I assured her, hoping with all my heart that I would be.

  On Monday morning I met Aidan in the Richmond coffee shop to go over the changes I had made to the supplier list. He was looking tired, dark circles beginning to appear beneath the blue of his eyes.

  ‘This is great work, Nell,’ he said, running his fingers down my list of revised costings. ‘Dad’s going to be much happier with that. Oh, I meant to tell you there’s been a problem with the flat-top hotplate you wanted for the kitchen.’

  I didn’t want to hear this now. ‘What’s happened?’

  He smiled with weary sympathy but I already knew the news wasn’t going to be good. ‘We can’t find a company to provide it within budget. Seriously, Nell, these guys are charging an arm and a leg for the things. Said there’s been a rise in demand for them in the last twelve months and that’s pushed the prices up. I’ve tried telling Dad this is a non-negotiable, but he won’t budge. We’re going to have to think of something else.’

  ‘We could do without the burners,’ I suggested, grasping at straws. ‘At Annie’s the chefs did most of the meals on the flat-top.’

  ‘Like I
said, Dad isn’t going to go for that. We’ve already overspent on new fridges to replace the others and the construction work was more than the original estimate. If we’re going to open in December we have to cut corners now.’

  Frustrated, I threw my copy of the costings sheet on the table and sank back into my armchair. ‘What else are we going to have to sacrifice to make this thing happen? I’ve worked and reworked the details so many times I can hardly remember what it is we’re actually doing. I’m going to turn up on opening day and not know a thing about the diner I’m meant to be running.’

  Aidan reached across and put his hand on my knee. ‘I know you’re annoyed, but this is the reality of business. Trust me, when this diner opens with your name over the door you’ll forget all of this crap stuff. It’ll be your dream and your achievement. I promise.’

  Maybe he was right. Maybe all this frustration was necessary in the final stages before my business came into being. ‘I’ll take your word for it.’

  ‘You should. I’m very good with words.’ He considered me for a moment. ‘And I’m also good at knowing when you need cheering up. What do you say we sack off the diner talk for the rest of the day and go and have some fun?’

  The suggestion was just what I needed to hear. I was sick of battling lists and just wanted to be myself for a couple of hours. ‘What do you have in mind?’

  He grinned. ‘You’ll see.’

  The very last thing I was expecting was a day trip to the seaside, but stepping off the train in Brighton that afternoon was a perfect antidote to the stress of recent weeks.

  ‘I can’t believe we’re doing this,’ I grinned as we headed down towards the sea.