Another Glass of Champagne

by Jenny Kane

  ‘Well of course I am! Why exactly am I of the shiny and pointy persuasion today, though?’

  ‘Because that erotic story you made me write...’

  ‘I hardly made you write it. I thought it would be a good way of shaking off the final traces of the writer’s block.’

  ‘And a damn good idea it was too. Once I’d done it, I thought I might as well see if I could sell it.’

  ‘It got taken?’

  ‘It did! I’d forgotten what a massive rush getting a short story taken for an anthology gives you!’

  ‘Katrina Penny rides again! If that doesn’t deserve a toast then I don’t know what does!’

  ‘Thanks, Peggy, although I’d better stick to toasting with coffee today. I rather overdid the champagne at the weekend when Amy and I were trying to cheer up Helena.’

  ‘Hangover?’

  ‘Not so much a hangover as an inability to wake up properly! Caffeine in slow regular injections is very much called for today!’

  ‘No comment!’ Peggy winked, ‘So, the words are flowing again then?’

  ‘Yes. My editor is delighted. She was beginning to panic, and I can’t say I blame her! The novel is churning itself out again, sometimes into the notebook, and sometimes on the laptop.’ Kit lifted her coffee cup in salute to her friend. ‘Thanks, Peggy. Thanks ever so much.’

  ‘You are more than welcome. Um ... there is one price for my assistance, however.’

  Kit pulled a stapled set of printed pages from her bag and passed it across to her friend. ‘Yes, Peggy, you can have a copy of the story.’

  ‘Young Rupert looks a lot happier,’ Rob said to Phil once their colleague had left for Kew, ‘but how’s Helena doing?’

  ‘Sheepish is the word for my daughter at the moment.’ Phil knocked a pile of pound coins together and started counting out another handful from the till. ‘I know it sounds a bit harsh, but I think it was a lesson she was overdue learning. I love her to bits, but I am well aware that Helena has always been a bit too confident for her own good.’

  ‘Funny, really, because you and Kit aren’t like that.’

  ‘Probably too much reality TV.’

  ‘Probably.’

  Phil started stacking a third pile of coins. ‘Has our plan worked or not, do you think?’

  Rob shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but Jack was in the kitchen with Rupert a long time.’

  ‘And he came over quickly when I called, didn’t he?’

  Rob gave Phil a thoughtful look. ‘You’re convinced those two would be good for each other, aren’t you? I mean, why don’t you think Jack would screw Rupert up like he has all the rest?’

  ‘Call it a hunch.’

  ‘And...’

  ‘They have heaps in common. They both love nature, art, photography and all that. Plus, Rupert comes from a well-off family, so he’ll never be after Jack for his money, and Jack has always been young for his age, whereas Rupert has an old head on young shoulders. They meet in the middle.’

  ‘If I didn’t know better, mate, I’d say you were turning into an old romantic!’

  ‘Or I might just want Jack off the market for all our sakes!’

  ‘Good point.’ Rob nodded. ‘Very wise, just in case your Helena gets another crush, huh?’

  Phil threw the receipt book at Rob. ‘That is not remotely funny! For that, you can call Debbie and see if you’re allowed out for a pint tonight. I thought we should get Paul out for a pub trip. Might be his last chance for a while.’

  ‘You have a deal.’

  Megan took the man’s rain-soaked jacket. ‘Really, it’s no problem.’

  ‘I didn’t bring an umbrella. The weather was so lovely when I left home this morning.’ His grey eyes shone at the waitress as he spoke.

  ‘It was lovely here as well. That summer cloudburst seems to have caught us all on the hop. We have a number of our guests’ jackets and jumpers drying out in the yard. I’ll just put yours with the others and come back to take your order.’

  When Megan returned to the evidently wealthy man – if his designer clothes, genuine Rolex, and confident air were anything to go by – she couldn’t stop herself from thinking that the phrase ‘silver fox’ suited him perfectly. His grey-flecked brown hair was short, his tight short-sleeved shirt revealed him to be fit, and there was more than a little twinkle in his eye. She’d have been making serious George Clooney comparisons if she was into older men.

  ‘What can I get you, sir?’

  ‘A cup of your finest coffee would be great, and a tuna and mature cheddar panini, please. And some local information, if you can?

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘I have an appointment this afternoon at a local restaurant; a new place opening soon. The owner’s a Jack Brown. Like an idiot, I’ve left my iPad with all the info on in my hotel room and my phone absolutely refuses to find a signal. You don’t happen to know the place, do you?’

  It was only after the George Clooney man had gone, his suave charm disappearing with him, that Megan began to wonder about his story. It was all a bit implausible ... he didn’t seem the sort of man to be disorganised enough to ever leave home without his iPad, nor did Megan know of any phone networks that didn’t work around here ... Oh well, Megan thought to herself, I don’t suppose it’ll matter. Jack is hardly going to complain that I’ve sent a good-looking man to his door. And, anyway, it could all have been true.

  ‘How the hell did you find me?’

  ‘Come off it, Jack, it wasn’t exactly difficult. The removal men you hired to empty the bungalow had a Richmond address on the side of their van.’

  ‘So what? I could simply have been moving my stuff to a friend’s place before going travelling again.’

  ‘Don’t give me that crap. You have the cooking bug badly, and I already knew that you planned to open your own place one day. You told me – if you remember.’

  Groaning inwardly as he recalled their post-coital conversation, Jack merely said, ‘More fool me.’ He folded his arms over his chest, ‘Tell me then, Sherlock, how did you find this place?’

  ‘There aren’t many fledgling restaurants in the area. And I asked someone.’

  ‘Asked who?’

  ‘A very sweet thing at Pickwicks, that café you used to go on about.’

  Jack went cold. Turning up here was bad enough, but for Gareth to have gone to Pickwicks somehow felt like a personal invasion. ‘And I assume you told the young lady in question that you had a legitimate reason to see me?’

  ‘I told her I had an appointment to see you regarding your restaurant.’

  ‘You lied to my friend.’

  ‘Yes. And a very pretty friend she was too. Young, blonde, petite.’

  Must have been Megan. Jack didn’t say anything for a moment, before walking to the front door, ‘I’d like you to leave now, please.’ He was trying hard not to shout. He’d be damned if he’d give Gareth the satisfaction of seeing him lose control. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you wanted me to be, but you treated me like shit over those last few weeks. When I left, I had no desire to ever set eyes on you again. I would rather that had remained the case.’

  Gareth flashed his self-assured smile and stood up. He surveyed the restaurant as he did so. ‘This could be a nice place, Jack. I love the artwork. I’ve been looking for someone to do some new pictures for Kennedy’s. I’m giving the whole place a facelift.’

  ‘Goodbye, Gareth.’

  ‘If you feel like passing on the artist’s name to me, I’d pay the proper rate.’

  ‘Goodbye, Gareth.’

  Pushing a card into Jack’s hand, Gareth walked away without a backward glance.

  It was a business card for Claridges.

  Gareth had written his room number on the back.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Saturday 16th July

  ‘Jack did say he was coming, didn’t he?’ Phil placed a fresh round of beer and lager on the small wooden table in between himself Rob and
Paul. ‘Not like him to be late if alcohol is involved.’

  Phil checked his phone. ‘He did, and I haven’t had a text saying he’d be late. Maybe he’s got a date?’

  Paul lifted his pint of beer in salute to Phil as thanks for the purchase. ‘Amy was so sure he’d settled down a bit. She’d be disappointed if he’s given up on his resolution to be a good boy and hit the clubs.’

  ‘Actually, I was thinking that he might be out on a proper date. With a nice bloke for a change.’ Phil and Rob exchanged glances.

  Paul looked from one friend to another. ‘Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What have you been up to? Matchmaking, by any chance?’

  Jack’s concentration had been all over the place since his former boss had disappeared out of the bistro. Gareth hadn’t even said what he wanted or what he was doing in London. Was he just passing – or had he come specifically to turn up at the bistro? If the whole point of his visit had been to unsettle Jack, then it had worked.

  Standing before the fourth in the series of paintings that Megan had done for him, Jack stared hard. They were exquisite. Fine details of architecture from around the bistro, all in close-up, were alive with flashes of terracotta and yellow. The more he looked, the more he could see a larger spectrum of warm colours, and the more drawn into the details of the art he became. No wonder Gareth had liked them.

  Megan had been so nervous when she’d presented Jack with her completed pictures. They were the fastest pieces of art she’d ever produced in her life. She need not have worried though, because Jack had loved them instantly.

  He’d been looking forward to showing the artwork, and the bistro in general, to Rupert. He had – he hoped – managed to make the invitation to come and see the place before it opened sound like a friendly gesture rather than a date-like one. Now, with Gareth unexpectedly sniffing around, he wished he’d asked Rupert out on a date there and then. If he was off the market, Gareth might take the hint and bugger off back to Kent.

  As soon as he’d had the thought, Jack felt ashamed of himself. Rupert was far too nice a guy to be used like that. If he wanted to go out with him, Jack knew the only way on earth it could work for either of them was to develop a friendship first.

  Jack had tried the mutual lust thing before. It never lasted. All of his friends’ longstanding relationships, whether straight or gay, were the products of friendship and mutual respect. ‘Face it,’ Jack spoke to the empty restaurant, ‘you’re in your forties, and suddenly you want what you’re friends have got.’

  The spectre of Gareth grew in his head again, and Jack could visualise the two of them together in Kennedy’s kitchen, breaking every rule in the health, safety and hygiene book... Damn! Jack’s body instantly reacted to the memory. Damn that man.

  Grabbing his coat, the invitation to the pub with his friends wiped from his mind, Jack slammed out into the London night...

  Monday 18th July

  Jack had got as far as the club door on Saturday night, but he hadn’t gone inside. He’d been in the queue for only two minutes when an image of Amy’s disapproving face had filled his mind. She’d forgiven him for upsetting Peggy, but if he went back on his resolution to behave better, she’d be so disappointed in him. It wasn’t, he knew, as if he was going to the club because he fancied a dance.

  Instead he’d gone for a walk, then, suddenly remembering the pub meeting, had texted Rob to apologise, explaining that his ex had turned up and he wasn’t in the mood for company. Then, not entirely sure if he was doing the right thing or not, he had called Rupert to rearrange his bistro visit from next week to today.

  Now, as he waited for Rupert to arrive, Jack found he was nervous. This was new territory for him. When he’d first begun seeing Toby he’d felt apprehensive, and his body had fizzed with expectation, but he knew now that had been nothing beyond wanting Toby to fancy him as much as he did in return. At no point had it mattered that Toby respected him, or approved of his choices. It had been quite a shock to find it really mattered to him that Rupert liked his bistro. He wanted Rupert to love Megan’s art, and approve of his menu choices. He wanted Rupert to feel at home here, to sense that this was a good place to come for a meal – or at least it would be once everything had been finalised.

  Having dressed with rather more care than usual, Jack closed the door on Megan’s faintly paint-smelling studio, and checked his appearance in the mirror before heading downstairs to get ready for the courier to arrive with a delivery of menu holders, napkins, and heavy-duty table clothes.

  Jack was counting a pile of exquisitely made cream linen napkins when there was a tentative knock at the door. His pulse accelerated a fraction as he saw Rupert, looking equally apprehensive, come into his bistro.

  Smiling a welcome, he said, ‘What do you think?’

  ‘It’s fantastic.’ Rupert walked straight to the first of Megan’s pictures, as though drawn to them by an invisible force. ‘Where did you get these? They’re stunning.’

  As Rupert moved from one painting to the next, Jack explained about Megan’s artwork, and how it was her dream to make art her living one day.

  Thoughtful, Rupert had to restrain himself from caressing the canvases with his fingertips. ‘Don’t you find you want to reach out and touch them?’

  Swelling with pride for Megan, and relieved beyond description that Rupert liked what he’d seen of his restaurant so far, Jack beamed. ‘That is exactly it. They are tangible things, aren’t they? Megan is one talented young lady.’

  ‘Does she take commissions?’

  ‘I’m sure she would if you asked her.’ Jack felt a twinge of guilt. He’d been wondering if he should have told Megan that Gareth liked her work. Gareth was many things, but he wasn’t given to saying he liked something if he didn’t. He would never have commented on wanting some art like his if he hadn’t meant it, and Jack knew that Megan and Nick could do with the sort of money Gareth could afford to pay.

  Rupert shoved his hands in his trouser pockets to prevent himself from touching the canvas before him. ‘Has Megan considered setting up an art website? That would make taking commissions much easier. I could help her do that if she’d be interested. I’ve been considering setting one up for my photos, but my work isn’t quite good enough yet.’

  ‘Are you kidding me? Your stuff is totally good enough!’ Jack shook his head. ‘Maybe you and Megan should set a joint site up – after all, you’re as lacking in confidence as each other, at least where your art is concerned. And, frankly, you’re both excellent at what you do.’

  ‘Oh,’ Rupert blushed, ‘um, thanks, Jack.’ He looked around the dining room, not daring to meet Jack’s eye. ‘You know, doing a combined website with Megan could actually work well – if you think we’d get on.’

  ‘I’m sure you would. Would you like me to invite her over to meet you? I’m sure she’d be keen.’

  ‘That would be good, but perhaps don’t tell her about the website idea until I’ve seen if we do get along? Maybe tell her I’m interested in a commission, for the time being.’

  ‘And are you?’

  ‘I might be, actually. My mother would love the detail in these.’

  Jack sent a text to Megan, before asking Rupert if he fancied a complete tour of the bistro.

  With a pile of sample menus in one hand, and a heap of ideas scribbled in his notebook on the table before them, Jack sat with Rupert on the cosy sofa that he’d placed in the reception area of the restaurant. ‘What do you think? Too pretentious or about right?’

  He sipped his coffee anxiously as Rupert ran an eye over the first two sample menus. He seemed to be taking for ever to scan the A4 sheets of paper.

  ‘When do you open?’

  ‘Mid-August. I’m planning a critic’s launch first, and then I’ll open properly.’ Jack felt more anxious by the second. Why didn’t Rupert just say if he liked the look of the meal choices or not?

  ‘And you have all your staff in place?’

  ‘Almost. I ha
ve an interview set up for a front of house manager and receptionist tomorrow. I have some students from the local catering college hired to work in the kitchen, and a waitress booked. I need a pot washer as well; although I’ve got an idea about who’d be suitable for that job, so as long as the food is OK, then I’m good to go.’

  Rupert laid the menus on his lap. ‘I’ll be honest, Jack, because I can tell how important this is to you.’

  Jack felt his heart sink. ‘Does that mean I should change the menus?’

  ‘No. It means you should invite me over again very soon and cook me a meal from this list. It’s perfect. It’s balanced, and provides something for everyone.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. I have been to a lot of restaurants. Trust me.’

  ‘You have?’

  ‘My father is something of a gourmet. He has been on Michelin star panels in his time.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Seriously.’ Rupert nodded at the menu he held. ‘I promise you, Jack, if I didn’t think this looked right, I would tell you.’

  Fighting the urge to kiss the man sat next to him, Jack simply said, ‘Thank you, Rupert. That means a lot to me.’

  Asking a more personal question than he normally would, Rupert said, ‘I get the impression that this is a more important project to you than any that have gone before. I am right?’

  ‘You are.’ Jack met Rupert’s eyes for a moment, before dropping his gaze back to his menus. ‘I haven’t told the others, well, apart from Amy, but I have to run this business properly. In the past I’ve always had my inheritance to fall back on, but that is no longer possible after paying for all my travels, a chef’s course, and buying the bistro outright. This is the biggest gamble I’ve ever taken.’

  ‘And it will pay off.’

  ‘Will it?’ This time Jack did meet Rupert’s eyes, and the younger man didn’t move away.