by Faith Hogan
She watched Kevin outside the restaurant. He slipped the envelope in the boot of his car and she wondered exactly what he had settled for. Did he realise what he had given up? Or was he, like she, just a little relieved to be out of it?
*
Carrie sighed, she was tired after a busy evening, trade was good and there was no opportunity to leave the tables all evening. Valentina had slunk from table to table, smiling and twirling her hair as she took orders. She was a tremendous flirt, one of those women who teases and charms every man she comes across. With the women, she was pleasant and efficient; there could be no complaints about her. By eleven, Carrie had had enough. She offered to let Valentina go early, but the girl scowled at her and flounced off towards the kitchen. The dining area was put to rights quickly, and after the last customers left, Carrie made herself a hot cup of tea and headed towards the office. It was funny, but now, every time she passed the staff tips jar, she scanned it, a new habit that made her uncomfortable, jarring on her nerves so she never fully relaxed in The Sea Pear anymore.
She sat for a while, thinking of the day gone by. It had been a long day, but it was a good day. The house belonged to her now. No question. It was done. She took a deep breath and engaged with the sense of ease it brought to her, knowing that her home was safe and waiting for her at the end of the day.
She cashed up the night’s takings, carefully adding all up as she did every other night and then dropped the night safe bag down to Kevin in the kitchen before heading home contented and happier in herself than she’d felt in a long time.
*
It was nice to be asked, there was no doubt about that, but Jane was just about managing to finish a boiled egg for her breakfast, dinner in a posh restaurant would be just wasted on her. Apart from which, even the effort of having to doll herself up and get to the place just seemed like it would be too much for her at present. ‘Still, I want all the details, every single morsel you put in your mouth,’ she told Carrie. ‘It’s the most glamour I’ve rubbed against in years,’ she laughed then.
‘Oh, dear, well, in that case, you really do need to get out more.’ Carrie laughed too. ‘It’s just dinner and then back to sit at a computer trying to put it all into words that might just about give people some idea of what it’s like.
‘But still, I think Luke would really enjoy it. It can’t be very nice, hanging about the bed and breakfast in the evenings, I’m not even so sure that Mrs Peril can cook much more than rashers and sausages.’ Jane shook her head. Surely, if there was ever a chance of romance between those two, sending them out to dinner together was their best shot?
‘Well, he’s hardly fading away, whatever she’s feeding him,’ Carrie laughed, but she agreed to ask him along with her all the same.
*
‘So, Valentina wants Carrie gone, is that it?’ Jim shook his head and made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and an I told you so.
‘What?’ Kevin looked into his pint. Sometimes he wondered why he even came here and met with Jim. It seemed that increasingly their friendship was turning into that of confessor and priest and Jim wasn’t exactly an understanding priest. ‘There’s no reason why they can’t work together, in the future, when things settle.’ Kevin hated how his voice petered out. He hated more that maybe things might never settle. Sometimes he wished things could go back to how they were. Not that he wanted to give up Valentina, but if it could be as it was before they told Carrie – he was happiest then.
‘Mate, there’s no way they’re ever going to be buddies,’ Jim said with a finality that marked the end of the conversation.
‘But…’ There was so much more Kevin needed to say. He’d built up such plans, such dreams for his future with Valentina.
‘The only but is if Carrie decides she wants out. And is that what you really want?’
‘I’d manage. We’d manage without her, you know Valentina is very capable.’ He looked at Jim; there was something else. ‘What, what have you heard?’
‘Nothing. Nothing really. It’s just that blog she writes, it’s going really well. Sandra says she’s had some offers to write in one of the papers.’
‘Write about what?’ It was news to Kevin, Carrie hadn’t mentioned a word to him. But then, since she’d handed over the cheque for the house, he’d hardly seen her all week. She seemed to be either flitting in or out, or else spending her time in the office away from the restaurant. Kevin had assumed she didn’t want to work shifts with Valentina.
‘Have you no idea?’ Jim swallowed a quarter of his pint, as if gearing up for a long story. ‘She’s been reviewing restaurants all round Dublin. She’s doing all the best ones and giving them great reviews.’
‘She’s what?’ Kevin felt the blood flow from his head to his toes, an odd sensation that brought him back to childhood when he fainted regularly. Low in iron. That was his mother’s pronouncement at first, and when it persisted into his teenage years, she referred to him as a sensitive soul. ‘Like a food critic? When did this start? How the…’
‘Hold on. It’s not a secret. She’s running it off that blog she started a couple of years ago. It still looks the same, only now she’s writing about all the top restaurants around Dublin.’
‘And if she gives one a bad review? What happens then?’
‘Ah, that’s the most brilliant part. She’s only posting the good ones… they’re lining up to be on it. Anyone not included feels they’ve been snubbed.’
‘And The Sea Pear?’
‘Well, mate, she can’t very well do her own place, now can she?’
‘But…’ For once, Kevin didn’t know what to say. This couldn’t be happening. How could Carrie be a restaurant critic and he didn’t know about it? Suddenly Kevin didn’t want to be here, he wanted to be back in his old world, safe and secure where everything was easy and he knew exactly where he was with everyone.
*
‘I don’t see what the problem is, really, Kevin, no one else has suggested for a minute that there might be a conflict of interest.’ Carrie was tired; talking to Kevin just drained her these days, as though some invisible fatigue emanating from him was contagious. Honestly, where did Kevin Mulvey get off trying to tell her what she could and couldn’t do? ‘If you were going to say anything, you might say, well done Carrie, that might be more appropriate, don’t you think?’
‘Well, of course, well done,’ he said tightly, ‘but I mean, you might have at least told me.’
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ he echoed.
‘Yes, why exactly should I be telling you anything, Kevin? We’re business partners now, that’s all. And as such, so long as I do my work, so long as this place keeps moving in the right direction, really, I can’t see that I have any other attachment to you or reason to tell you what is clearly not your business.’
‘Well, even in passing conversation, you might have mentioned…’ his words petered off.
‘Passing conversation? Kevin, we don’t do passing conversation. I have to summon you to my office if I want a private word with you.
‘So, what’s this offer you’ve had, or is that a secret too?’
‘No, it’s not a secret, I told Anna and the girls about it.’ The truth was, when the editor of Ireland’s bestselling newspaper, asked her to write a regular weekly column, she’d been over the moon. The first person she’d been about to tell was Kevin – old habits die hard. Then, she remembered he was with Valentina now and she wondered how long would it be like this? How many times would she forget that the whole world had changed and she was on her own in her little house with her little dog? ‘I’ll be doing a regular column, really it’ll just about cover my expenses and they’ll pay for dinner for two in a fancy restaurant once or twice a week.’
‘For two?’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘Well, dinner always tastes better if you have good company. Anyway, it just looks more normal than a woman dining alone.’ The truth was, half the times she did go on
her own, there just wasn’t anyone to bring, with Anna’s play getting an extended run and her mother’s busy social diary. On her own, it wasn’t fun at all. Her last two posts had left her feeling like an outsider. At least Luke had said he’d come along next time. She was looking forward to that, even if she had a feeling, he was just coming for the food. What did she think she was playing at? And then the call came offering her a small payment for the reviews. She signed up with the paper for three months, then after that they would renegotiate, but she had a feeling, she’d have had quite enough of it by then.
*
‘I can’t believe he’d be so precious about the blog.’ Anna was still cross, but her temper was diluted while scouring the charity shops for accessories for the wedding.
‘How is the reviewing going, by the way?’ she suddenly brightened. ‘For a woman that’s eating out every week, you’re positively fading away.’ She winked at Carrie. Of course, she saw the whole reviewing business as an opportunity to socialise, perhaps to meet a new man. ‘After all, you’ve got to think of yourself now.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Carrie said drily, ‘because, before, Kevin was doing to such a good job of looking after my every need.’ They both laughed at that. In many ways, things had never been easier for Carrie. She no longer had to organise Kevin’s every waking hour and she was pleasantly surprised at how much more time and energy she had as a result. Not having to look after Maureen too gave her time to spend with the much nicer Jane Marchant and for that alone she’d have traded her toenails.
‘So, no dates?’ Anna inclined her head, but her attention was on a display of chiffon scarves behind Carrie.
‘Honestly, Anna,’ Carrie pulled down a light green and silver pashmina and held it out to her friend. ‘Where would I get the time or the inclination?’ She had no desire to find someone to replace Kevin. She had enough people in her life to care about and who she knew genuinely cared for her. In fact, these last few days, she couldn’t help but feel relieved to have severed her personal connections with the Mulvey family; in truth, they were just hard work. When Carrie thought about her relationships with each of them, it seemed, from this vantage point, that it had been all give on her part and take on theirs.
‘Okay, I suppose it’s early days.’ Anna draped the fabric across her shoulders and peered at her face in a small mirror more suited to checking her make-up than her outfit. ‘What do you think?’
‘It suits you,’ Carrie said, and it did, the colour made her skin more translucent and brought out the light green of her eyes. The silver strands running through it caught the light and it seemed to shimmer as Anna moved about. Everything about it made her look striking.
‘Hm. But will it go with my dress?’
‘It doesn’t matter. You’re taking it anyway, it’s too nice on you to leave it behind, and what is it anyway, a fiver?’ Carrie took the pashmina and rolled it up loosely to avoid creasing the material. ‘My gift to you,’ she said and she winked.
‘Pity we didn’t head into Tiffany’s,’ Anna said, laughing. ‘Okay, so where are we? We both have shoes, dresses and bags,’ she was counting the items off her fingers as they waited to pay for the pashmina.
‘We’re definitely done. I’m shopped out.’ It was true. Carrie wasn’t a big shopper and she was blessed with a friend who could spend hours on a vintage stall but was virtually allergic to high street shops. She looked at her watch. ‘Actually, I need to be heading home soon. I have to get to work and it’s a long night ahead.’
‘Not dining with the stars tonight so?’
‘Not tonight, later this week though.’
‘Oh, very posh, I’m sure, while I’ll be dining on Pot Noodles no doubt in the green room between acts,’ Anna laughed, but they both knew it was where she was happiest, sitting on the floor, surrounded by the greasepaint with the footlights waiting for her.
‘Yes, it is rather, but I’m not paying, remember.’ Carrie smiled. She was looking forward to being spoiled in one of the top restaurants in the country.
‘And, you’re going on your own?’ Anna inclined her head in the same way she would have done when they were four years old and she was enquiring about Carrie’s Barbie pencil case.
‘Well, why wouldn’t I go on my own?’
‘You’re not answering the question, Carrie.’ Anna smiled. ‘Why don’t you ask that historian to go with you?’ She whispered the words, but they were outside now, surrounded by passers-by who had no interest in Carrie’s non-existent love life. ‘Or am I behind the times and you’ve already asked him?’ She threw her head back and laughed. ‘You coy old thing, and here was me feeling sorry for you. I was thinking, poor you, all alone. Well, that’ll teach me.’ She was grinning from ear to ear now.
‘No, Anna, it’s not what you think.’ Carrie had lowered her voice too, ‘I mean, for all I’ve seen of him, I really don’t know very much about him.’
‘Oh, no. You think he’s married, is that it?’ Excitement glittered in her eyes. Anna had had a string of affairs with married men.
‘I don’t know if he is.’ And there it was, in a nutshell, all she knew of Luke Gibson she could probably fit on the back of a postage stamp, but at the same time, she liked him.
‘I’ve been on dates with men like that, let me tell you, it’s true what they say, they never leave their wives.’ She shook her head, but they both knew that Anna had never been the settling down type anyway.
‘No, Anna, it’s nothing like that, he’s really a very private man…’
‘Okay, let’s just think about this, he seems to be nice and genuine and at a total loose end. He’s taking the old dear across the road under his wing and he’s staying in a city centre bed and breakfast. I’d say he’d be chuffed to go along to some of the best restaurants in Dublin with you.’ She shook her head, as though it was a no-brainer. ‘And who knows…dum, dum, di dum,’ she started to hum the wedding march.
‘You’re wrong, we’re just friends.’ Carrie meant it, but there was an odd niggling feeling somewhere near her heart and she wondered if maybe she was a little fond of Luke. She knew it would be ridiculous, so she looked her friend in the eye. ‘Really, he’s got his own life going on, he’s not looking for a complication and neither am I. I’m very fond of him, but there is nothing between us, nor will there ever be.’
Thirteen
‘We’re really going upmarket with this stuff,’ Andrew said when Carrie got back to the restaurant. He was unpacking a delivery of wines before the restaurant opened for the evening.
‘No. Just the usual order,’ Carrie replied, stepping around him so she could select some music for the evening.
‘Not half. You’ve ordered double the amount and not just the house plonk. Some of this stuff costs a couple of hundred a bottle. Did you get a deal on it?’
‘No, I just—’ Carrie bent down and picked up one of the bottles. It was their usual supplier, but every bottle was from a reserve stock, some of the names she recognised, but only from wine guides. ‘Oh, no. Andrew, there must be some mistake. I never ordered this.’
‘I think you did.’ He searched around the floor and passed her up the order docket. ‘I checked it, before I took it in. The boxes didn’t look right, so…’
‘Seriously, I never ordered all this. I wouldn’t.’ Carrie knew, even at a glance, there was no way. Still, everything was checked off, the docket a photocopy of the original was ticked and dated. She ran her finger down the order, gasping when she roughly totted up the cost of the lot. ‘Oh, no.’ There at the bottom, sure enough, was her signature. Frazzled and hurried, part of her thought she could remember the day she put in the order. It was just after Kevin told her about Valentina. She’d buried the pain, deep inside, determined not to cry or show any sign of weakness in front of either of them. Well, she thought now, so much for that. Her stiff upper lip had probably cost them thousands. ‘I’ll ring them, perhaps they’ll take them back…’
‘Too late. They’re COD, re
member. Kevin has already given them a cheque and he’s livid.’
‘Christ.’ Kevin never liked dealing with the accounts; he rarely dealt with suppliers and never for anything they used in the dining room. ‘He’ll be a bundle of fun in the kitchen this evening.’ She knew she’d have to go and say something to him, explain it had been her mistake. Perhaps, if she played it down, he might think it was what they always paid out on a delivery. Who was she kidding? It was ten times what she normally paid for wine supplies. ‘Tell you what, leave those. We’ll just bring them in the boxes up to the office and I’ll see if I can’t fix this some other way, okay?’
‘Sure thing, boss. I have one opened and stacked already though, sorry.’ They took the remaining boxes up to her office and stacked them in three neat piles along the wall.
She tried ringing a girl she knew in accounts and managed to swap forty crates, leaving her with just two. It meant that they’d have four times more wine than they needed in the restaurant, but that wasn’t exactly the end of the world.
‘I did wonder,’ Sheila said as she worked out the details.
‘Oh, things are a bit mad here, I just wasn’t thinking straight.’
‘No, I have the docket here, the original. Oh, dear, it’s in a different pen. You did your usual order in a black pen and then added the extras in a light blue biro. It just looks odd. Maybe you didn’t order it at all?’ Sheila’s voice was low.
