by Jenny Kane
Angela was effusive. ‘Thank you, Jack. That was outstanding. And that pudding! Rupert said it was something special, and he wasn’t kidding. You will be doing that at the party, won’t you?’
‘You are very kind, and yes, I’ll be doing the same dessert on Friday.’ Jack, knowing he was taking a risk even asking, turned to Rupert’s father, ‘I’m so glad you came, sir. Did you enjoy the evening?’
Rupert held his breath, and looked at his father. ‘Well, Father, did you like it?’
Mr Ashton dug his hands deep into his suit pockets. ‘It was better than I expected. You’ll do as a chef, Mr Brown; just make sure you keep hold of that manageress. She was superb. Worth two of you.’
Chapter Forty-three
Wednesday 17th August
Megan had just finished washing down the restaurant tables when the phone rang for the fifth time that morning.
‘Good morning, The Olive Branch. How may I help you?’
Pulling the diary towards her, Megan pencilled in another booking for the twenty-seventh of August. At this rate, she thought to herself as she recorded the client’s phone number, we’ll be fully booked for the whole first week.
Returning to the tables, which had been moved into a loose circle, so everyone could sit as close together during the naming party meal as the layout of the bistro would allow, Megan flicked the first of the navy table clothes in place. Then she lay out the mats, cutlery, and a napkin at each setting. Unlike for the critics’ launch, Megan didn’t put the menus on the table. Amy had forbidden Jack to cook more than one choice, as it would be too much work when he was supposed to enjoy the party as well.
Megan was happily putting an extra shine onto the wine glasses, reflecting on how well the critic’s meal had gone, when Rupert burst through the front door, brandishing an envelope.
‘Blimey, Rupert, you gave me a fright, I almost dropped this glass.’
‘Sorry Megan! Is Jack here?’
‘He’s in the kitchen showing Thomas and Craig what’s needed for tomorrow night.’ Noting Rupert’s excitement, Megan said, ‘What is it, what’s happened?’
Calling over his shoulder as he disappeared into the kitchen, Rupert said, ‘Something that’s going to make our website look even better!’
Before Megan could find out what he meant, Rupert came back into the dining area with Jack in hot pursuit.
‘Tell me!’ Jack was staring at the envelope. ‘What is it?’
‘I did it.’
‘Did what?’ Megan and Jack spoke in unison.
‘My photo has reached the final of the competition. You know; the one you picked, Jack. The bumblebee collecting nectar.’
Jack, tea towel in his hands, hugged his boyfriend. ‘That’s fantastic! I’m so proud of you.’
Taking her turn to congratulate Rupert, Megan said, ‘I can see why you said it was good news for the website! Putting National Photography Competition Finalist on the home page isn’t going to do us any harm.’
Sitting on the sofa in reception, Rupert passed the letter to Jack.
As Jack read, Rupert explained to Megan, ‘I assumed I was out of the running because I hadn’t received an email from them, but it seems they do things the old-fashioned way – which I love, because it means I can keep this letter for ever.’
‘We should frame it!’
Rupert laughed. ‘And hang it in the bathroom?’
‘No! In the restaurant reception.’
‘I was joking. The winner is announced at a ceremony at the Randolph Hotel in Oxford in a month. Will you come with me?’
‘I certainly will.’
Megan was thrilled for Rupert, but felt she had to ask. ‘Is it an evening do, Rupert? If it is, and I’m sorry to be a wet blanket here, but unless it’s a Monday night when we’re closed, Jack is going to have to be here cooking.’
Rupert suddenly felt deflated. ‘Ah, of course. I was so excited, I hadn’t stopped to think. It’s on a Friday night.’
‘Oh hell,’ Jack looked disappointed, ‘I’m so sorry, Megan’s right. I won’t be able to leave the restaurant, not so soon after we’ve launched. Damn it.’
‘It’s alright. I’d have loved you to have come, obviously, but I understand. I could ask my mother.’ Once Rupert had had the idea, he began to smile. ‘Actually, that could be a lot of fun! Now she and I are back in regular contact, it would be great to spend more than just the occasional hour together.’
‘You could stay over at the Randolph. Why don’t you give her a quick call?’
‘You sure you don’t mind, Jack?’
‘Of course I don’t. Angela will be as proud of you as I am.’ The chef beamed. ‘We’ll have something else to celebrate tomorrow!’
‘Thanks.’ Rupert couldn’t stop smiling. ‘Although, let’s keep it between ourselves for a minute. We’ll celebrate with the others if I actually win. I don’t really like being the centre of attention, let’s leave that role to Poppy.’
Peggy and her companion stopped next to Kit’s table. ‘And the writer sat here is Kit. Kit is something of a permanent fixture at Pickwicks, and once you get to know her I’m sure she’ll tell you all about her colourful past.’
Kit looked up from her work and stuck her tongue out at Peggy, before smiling at the young woman next to her. ‘You must be Teresa. I’m pleased to meet you. How are you finding Pickwicks?’
The young woman had a nervous smile. ‘There’s lots to remember, but I’m enjoying it so far.’
‘Has the coffee machine fought back at you yet?’
Peggy tutted. ‘Take no notice. Kit here is bitter because I told her she doesn’t make good coffee! You’ll be fine.’
Before Kit could respond, Peggy and Teresa disappeared to serve some new guests. Watching the new waitress, Kit was reminded of both Amy and Megan when they first started working at Pickwicks. Keen and happy, but not quite confident enough to take the lead from Peggy just yet, Kit had a feeling that Teresa, who she judged must be fresh out of university, would fit in perfectly.
It already felt strange without Megan around. Kit sighed quietly into her cup of coffee. It would be stranger still when Helena was gone too. The regulars had taken a shine to her, even though she hadn’t been there long, and though she hadn’t really wanted Helena working there in the first place, she was still going to miss having her daughter around at work as well as home.
Kit looked at the clock in the corner of her computer screen. It was four o’clock in the afternoon. In less than twenty-four hours her children would know if they were going to their chosen universities, or if they were facing the university sorting system in the hunt for an emergency plan if their grades weren’t good enough for their first choices.
The mere idea of them not getting what they’d set their hearts on sent butterflies whizzing around Kit’s stomach. Knowing all she could do was offer tea and sympathy if things didn’t go to plan made her feel rather useless, and yet Kit knew there was nothing she could do. Her children weren’t children anymore. This letting go lark, even though she’d come to terms with the fact it had to happen, wasn’t getting any easier.
Maybe after tomorrow ... maybe once I know for sure they’ve got the results they need and that they’re really going...
Amy hung up the telephone. She’d spent the past ten minutes assuring her mum that they wouldn’t let the naming ceremony at tomorrow’s party start without her or her dad, should they get stuck in the summer holiday traffic on the way into London.
Looking at the tiny white outfit laid out on her bed, Amy felt a pang of emotion. She stroked the soft cotton, and smiled. Despite all the sleepless nights, the constant demands on her to feed, wash, change, and cuddle her child; there were still times when she couldn’t quite get over the fact that she was mother to such a gorgeous little girl.
Poppy was out with Paul and his overjoyed parents, who’d arrived the night before to see their grandchild for the first time. Although they’d invited her to go with them, Am
y had taken the chance to grab some peace and quiet, and get ready for the party. She knew this might be the only chance she’d get to sort out what she and Paul would wear, before all her focus returned to Poppy.
Taking a summer dress out of the wardrobe, which Paul had bought her last year and which Amy was delighted to be able to get back into so soon after pregnancy, she hung it on the outside of the door, alongside a smart pair of summer trousers and shirt for Paul. Then, sitting back on the bed, telling herself she simply didn’t have time to fall asleep, she phoned Jack.
‘How goes the chaos? Anything I can do this end?’
‘Amy! Thanks for calling. I was going to give you a shout later.’
‘I can call back if this is a bad time? I just had a rare moment to myself.’
‘You’ve not sent Poppy out to work already, have you?’
Amy chuckled into her mobile. ‘Not yet! I thought I’d wait until she was at least on solids before I got Peggy to give her a weekend job at Pickwicks.’
Jack laughed. ‘I wouldn’t mind betting she ends up working there eventually!’
‘You’re probably right! Paul and his parents have gone for a walk with Poppy in the hope she’ll have a nap.’
‘Well, we’re on schedule here. Megan has played a blinder getting the restaurant ready, as much food prep as I can do beforehand has been done, Rupert has got in extra champagne and wine, Scott is making a cake the size of Manhattan, and Thomas is up to speed with the dishwasher.’
‘Sounds great. Are you sure I can’t bring anything?’
‘Just yourself, your husband, assorted parents, and my goddaughter.’
‘Thanks, Jack, you’re the best. Twenty years ago I would never have believed you’d be doing this for me.’
‘Twenty years ago I was a total git.’ Jack gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Now for goodness’ sake, stop talking to me and take the chance to have a nap. I’ll see you at one o’clock tomorrow afternoon for the best meal of your life!’
Putting down the phone, Amy closed her eyes. ‘I won’t sleep, I’ll have a quick relax for a few minutes, and then I’ll go and start cooking tonight’s meal.’
Two hours later, she was quietly rocked awake by an apologetic Paul, who had a large glass of orange juice for her in one hand and a hungry baby in the other.
Chapter Forty-four
Thursday 18th August
Amy rubbed her eyes and looked at the bedside clock. She groaned. It was only three o’clock in the morning. ‘Oh, Poppy! You can’t possibly be hungry again.’
Hauling herself out of bed for the third time that night, she picked up her crying child. ‘Alright, alright.’ As she headed to the bedroom door, she was vaguely aware that Paul was mumbling in his half-woken state, asking if she was OK.
Knowing he’d go back to sleep quicker if she left him alone, Amy vowed that, assuming she wasn’t so tired that she slept through the whole thing, that afternoon’s naming ceremony would be the perfect time to introduce Poppy to a bottle. ‘Bottles your Daddy can hold!’
As soon as she’d settled herself into an armchair, and Poppy was feeding as though it had been days rather than only two hours since she’d last feasted, Amy felt bad. It wasn’t Paul’s fault he couldn’t feed his daughter. He’d been amazing during his paternity leave. Everything he could do, he did – bath time had quickly become ‘Daddy time’, and during daylight hours Paul had changed far more nappies than she had.
Resting her head against the chair back, Amy tried not to worry about how she was going to cope when he went back to work. Stroking Poppy’s hair softly, she murmured, ‘Now you will go back to sleep for me properly after this, won’t you, sweetheart, or Mummy is going to be a ratty monster for your party this afternoon.’
Four hours later Paul scooped his daughter off his wife’s lap before covering a sleeping Amy with a blanket. Then, taking a wide-awake Poppy upstairs to be fussed over by his parents, he crept into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
His attempts not too make too much noise as he put tea and coffee into their respective mugs, fell flat as Amy, hugging the blanket around her shoulders, came to join him.
‘I was trying not to wake you.’
‘I know, it’s OK,’ Amy picked up the nearest mug of coffee and cradled it in her palms. ‘Thanks for the blanket. Is Poppy alright?’
‘She’s busy being doted on by Mum and Dad upstairs. I assume asking if you had a bad night would be a silly question?’
‘It wasn’t so much fractured as splintered. I was up three times. I meant to come back to bed, but clearly my body had other ideas.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ Paul pulled Amy into his side for a cuddle. ‘I’m sorry, love. I’d get up for you if I could.’
‘I know. Poppy is very much making up for the fact she was born early and needs to put a bit of weight on.’ Amy kissed her husband lightly. ‘I was wondering if we should try her with a bottle for the first time this afternoon, otherwise I have a horrible feeling that Poppy’s unerring sense of timing will mean I’ll miss the whole thing while I’m feeding her.’
‘That’s a great idea. I’m quite keen to feed her, actually, and I know my mum is dying to.’
Amy laughed. ‘So is mine, actually. They’ll be ready to grab a bottle and pounce on Poppy the minute she’s hungry. It’ll be a race to her mouth!’
Paul, who was already getting the brand new bottles and breast pump out of the cupboard so he could sterilise them before Amy used them, said, ‘You’re probably right. Although I wouldn’t mind betting that Jack is first in the queue to feed Poppy when the time actually comes!’
Megan felt unusually content as she turned over and lay against her boyfriend’s sleeping side. Being able to stay in bed past seven o’clock in the morning was a luxury she was already appreciating, and was proving to be the best perk about her new job.
The news that she and Nick had been waiting for had come through yesterday afternoon. They had been accepted as the tenants of the small terraced house, positioned almost exactly midway between their two places of work. In only one month’s time they would finally have a place to live together.
The bottle of wine they’d drunk to celebrate was making Megan’s dehydrated throat cry out for water, and her need for hydration was fighting the rest of her body’s need to remain under the cosy duvet. Sensing her restlessness, Nick turned over and kissed the end of her nose.
‘Cup of tea, babe?’
Megan beamed. ‘Oh yes, please. You’d better be careful, or I’ll be expecting a cuppa in bed every morning when we’re tucked up in our own home.’
‘Well, if you are a very good girl, you might just get one.’
Phil and Rob looked up as Rupert, fresh from his morning session teaching at Kew Gardens, came through the shop door. It wasn’t lost on the two friends that their assistant had a great deal more bounce in his step these days, not to mention more confidence.
Rob took the box of pamphlets Rupert had brought with him from Kew. ‘Lesson go well this morning?’
‘Yes. Just a small class, but very enthusiastic. All good here?’
‘Quiet.’ Phil passed Rupert a cup of coffee. ‘Which is for the best, perhaps, as I’m on edge waiting for Kit to call me.’
‘What for?’
‘Twins get their exams results this morning. Honestly, the atmosphere at breakfast could be cut with a knife.’
‘What with that and the party tonight, Phil and I were discussing the benefits of closing early,’ Rob added. ‘It would be great not to have to rush before we head to Jack’s place. Is he ready for tonight? I know he’s had the critics’ launch, but this is the big one!’
Rupert laughed. ‘Bigger than all the restaurant critics coming?’
‘Absolutely! It’s much easier to impress strangers than it is to please friends. Especially Kit and Amy.’
‘Come off it, Rob, Kit and Amy are the easiest-going women I’ve ever met.’
Phil laughed this time. ‘Wel
l, far be it for me to cast aspersions on my lovely wife, but when it comes to Jack, she’ll always tell him the truth. Especially now she has her oomph back! So if it isn’t up to scratch, she’ll be letting him know.’
Rob nodded. ‘Amy’s the same. They care for him too much to fob him off with pleasantries if the place isn’t going to cut it.’
Rupert took the weight off his feet. ‘And I thought the critics were a tough gig!’
Phil winked. ‘We’re only joking! It’ll go brilliantly. The girls already know he’s a fab cook. Peggy and Megan have been full of how wonderful the meal was at the launch. Kit’s hardly shut up about it, and I think Amy has more to worry about than if Jack’s signature dessert is up to it. What is this secret pudding of his anyway?’
‘Sworn to secrecy, I’m afraid,’ Rupert grinned. ‘I promise it’ll be worth waiting for. Jack is one of hell of a chef.’
‘Oh go on!’ Rob fluttered his eyelashes at Rupert. ‘Pretty please? I won’t tell him you told us, promise.’
‘Yeah, right!’ Rupert shook his head, but his smile stayed in place as his phone rang. ‘Oh excuse me, that’s my mother.’
Disappearing in to the back room to take the call, Rupert could hear Phil’s phone burst into life behind him, leaving Rob to help the customer who’d chosen that precise moment to walk through the door.
Phil’s insides did a backflip as he listened to what his wife was saying down the line. ‘I’m on my way, love. Hang on.’
Rob glanced up from the till. ‘Everything OK?’
‘I’m not sure. Kit says she needs me at home now. She sounded upset and wasn’t making a lot of sense. Must be one of the kids not getting their grades. I’m sorry, mate, I have to go.’
‘Sure, go, go...’
Rob had no sooner ushered Phil out of the door towards his wife and children, than Rupert came out of the storeroom looking as if he’d had a nasty shock too.
‘Not you as well?’
‘What?’ Rupert frowned.
‘Well, Phil’s dashed off. Some crisis with the twins’ exam results. God, I hope neither of them has failed!’
