The Lake House

by Christie Barlow

  ‘I couldn’t afford to go out on a date. Every penny I earn goes towards those credit card bills.’

  ‘There are dates that don’t cost money – walking along the river, picnics in Primrose Park… You could even sail out to the coast. Flynn has a selection of boats.’

  ‘I’ve only just met the guy and, judging by my track record…’

  ‘I get that,’ replied Callie, linking her arm through Ella’s. ‘But I’d say, the way he was looking at you, he’s already smitten. Mark my words.’

  Ella was flattered, she really was. Roman was definitely her type – more her type than Alex had ever been, in fact. ‘Never say never. Dolores predicted I would meet someone when I least expect it. And he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring,’ she added.

  Callie’s eyes widened. ‘So you noticed that.’

  They carried on walking towards the entrance of the restaurant.

  ‘Just wait until you see inside.’ Callie pushed open the door to the restaurant and Ella stepped through. ‘What do you think?’ Callie asked.

  The inside of the building was just as breath-taking as the outside, with its shimmering central dining bar and signature large windows overlooking the bay. There was beautiful oak panelling and striking art hanging on the walls that gave it a warm and luxurious feel. The fifteen tables were spaced to allow a sense of privacy, and in the corner of the dining area stood an ebony baby grand piano. Each and every table was laid with a crisp white linen, cutlery and the finest crystal glasses. Ella was lost for words at its beauty.

  ‘Come on, I’ll take you through to the kitchen and introduce you to Gianni, the chef.’ Callie led Ella through the dining area, which was mercifully quiet, unlike the kitchen, which was a hive of activity.

  At the far end of the room Ella noticed four waiters gathered around a table.

  ‘This is the daily briefing – it happens before every shift. Gianni hammers out the finer points from the menu,’ whispered Callie, as they stood at the back of the room and observed.

  Laid out on the table were a number of exquisite-looking dishes that the chef had already prepared. Ella watched as the staff began to line up. ‘What are they doing?’ her voice was low, and she couldn’t help thinking how heavenly it all smelled.

  ‘Those are today’s specials. Gianni believes that to be able to talk about a dish with a passion, you need to savour the flavours, taste it. Each staff member samples the food. This way, if the diners ask any questions, they can answer them accurately. Gianni is passionate about his food and it’s a team effort.’ Ella could see he took his food very seriously and the rapport he had with the staff was commendable.

  ‘Gianni can be a little hot-headed at times, but underneath he’s as soft as a brush and as you can see, very easy on the eye,’ added Callie, with a glint in her eye.

  Gianni caught Callie’s eye and waved, beckoning them over. ‘Who have we here?’

  Ella felt a little nervous walking towards them all, but even though she was the new girl, everyone gave her a welcoming smile.

  ‘This is Ella,’ presented Callie. ‘She starts with us on Monday. Ella, this is the team.’ Each and every one stepped forward and introduced themselves.

  ‘Excellent, excellent,’ said Gianni. ‘Come,’ he gestured for them to both come over. ‘Have a try.’ Gianni handed Ella a fork. ‘Tell me what you think.’

  All eyes were on Ella.

  Feeling the pressure, she plunged the fork into the dish and took a mouthful. She did everything in her power not to groan with pleasure or go in for a second helping. She’d never tasted anything so delicious.

  ‘That is amazing,’ she praised, as the flavours exploded in her mouth.

  Gianni looked impressed by her reaction. ‘That is Scottish turbot, peas, razor clams, broad beans and lemon balm,’ he triumphed. ‘We have different foods each night – fish nights, comfort food nights – and we cater for a more discerning clientele on a Saturday night.’

  Ella had never tasted turbot before. ‘It’s the best thing I’ve tasted in a long time,’ she admitted, going in for a sneaky second helping.

  Gianni eyed her appraisingly. ‘Welcome to the team.’ He grinned, fixing his dark eyes on her.

  Gianni had been the head chef at The Rose, in Manchester, a place where the rich and famous dined and which was booked up for months in advance. Flynn Carter had visited that restaurant on many occasions and head-hunted Gianni, who had been at a crossroads in his personal life. The offer of becoming the head chef in a secluded restaurant on the River Heart suited him down to the ground.

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Ella.

  ‘Before you all disperse, this afternoon, Ryan, you are the host. And all of you,’ Gianni swept his arm in front of everyone, ‘don’t forget to keep your uniforms clean and tidy. Any spillages, you change immediately.’

  ‘Yes, Chef,’ they all chorused, making Ella smile. The atmosphere was charged, and everyone seemed excited to get out into the restaurant and begin their shift.

  ‘This restaurant’s reputation not only depends on the food but on you too. We are family.’ Gianni smiled, disappearing through a door at the far end of the kitchen.

  ‘Come on, let’s go and get your uniform,’ Callie said, as she grabbed Ella’s arm.

  Ella followed Callie through the bar area into an office at the back of the restaurant, which boasted the inviting aroma of coffee. There were open French doors at the back of the room overlooking the sandy bay. The trees swayed in the wind and the gentle burbling of the river behind made the setting even more idyllic. The desk was large and impressive, oozing importance and Ella spun round the leather-bound chair and sat down. The wall was covered in figures and charts, meal plans and distributers. She noticed numerous framed photos lined up in front of her and picked up an old photo of a man and woman standing outside the entrance of The Lakehouse. The gentleman was wearing a double-breasted suit, in light grey with faint contrasting stripes. It spoke of individuality, with its three buttons, peaked lapel and cuff-bottom trousers. The woman was strikingly smart, in a gaily coloured futurist print that complemented the blouse of the attractive two-piece dress.

  ‘Whoever they are, they look very important, like royalty,’ exclaimed Ella, placing the photo carefully back on the desk.

  Callie took a look over her shoulder. ‘I reckon that’s got to be Flynn’s grandparents. This restaurant has been in the family for decades. Back in the day, it attracted the rich and famous, and Julia even suggested royalty used to eat here.’

  Ella let out a low whistle. ‘I bet this place has a few stories to tell.’

  ‘Apparently Flynn used to spend his summers here with his brother as a small boy, but his grandfather closed the restaurant after his grandma passed away – he couldn’t carry on without her. This place stood empty until Flynn stepped in to re-open it years later.’

  ‘So, he’s originally from around these parts?’ queried Ella, looking at the rest of the photographs.

  ‘That I am.’ Startled by the voice, Ella immediately recognised Flynn Carter from the times she had googled him, and jumped out of his chair, quickly pushing it under the desk.

  Flynn Carter was standing in the doorway of his office, looking at Ella in amusement, who felt mortified that she’d been caught sitting in the boss’s chair.

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she said, ‘I was just…’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. I thought maybe there was a new CEO running my business empire. You are…?’

  ‘Ella, I’m a friend of Callie’s, starting work here on Monday.’

  ‘Ah, the girl from Cheshire who’s been having a difficult time. Pleased to meet you.’ Flynn stretched out his hand.

  Ella felt a crimson blush to her cheeks. ‘That’ll be the one, and thank you for giving me a job. I won’t let you down,’ she blurted, wishing the words would stop gushing out of her mouth.

  ‘We’ve all been there, and in need of a new start. A change of scenery always helps, and if Callie think
s you’re up to the job, then that’s good enough for me.’

  ‘Thanks,’ answered Ella. ‘We’re just here to pick up my uniform.’

  Flynn turned towards Callie and pointed to the top drawer. ‘All the introductory packs are there, and we’ll need Ella’s bank details too.’

  Ella stifled a sigh. She was already very much into her overdraft, which meant to start with all of her wages would be swallowed up, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She just needed to be extra careful with her money.

  Callie nodded. ‘I’ll go through it all on Monday.’ She headed over to the filing cabinet and picked up the uniform. ‘Here you go.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Ella, taking the white shirt and black skirt from Callie.

  ‘If you’re interested in photographs, you might want to look at the old photograph albums we found in the safe when we started renovations,’ said Flynn. ‘There are some amazing shots in there.’

  ‘Really, can we take a look?’ asked Ella.

  ‘Of course. Dad was looking through them before – in fact, here he is now.’

  An elderly gentleman was standing in the doorway leaning on his cane. ‘Good afternoon,’ he said, looking at Callie and Ella.

  ‘Ella, meet my dad, Wilbur Carter. You’ll see him around the place from time to time. Ella is a friend of Callie’s and starts work in the restaurant on Monday.’

  Ella smiled up at Wilbur, who was dressed in a burgundy velvet suit with a blue paisley shirt and a red cravat. He reminded her of an eccentric character from an old novel, and his wizened face smiled back at her.

  ‘I was just talking about the photo albums we discovered. In fact, we’ve had some copied and have begun to hang them out on the wall in the corridor. Go and have a look,’ suggested Flynn, before turning to Callie. ‘Can I have a word with you for a second?’ he said, his voice suddenly one of concern.

  ‘Of course.’ Callie turned towards Ella. ‘Have a look at the photos, I’ll be out in a second.’

  As soon as Ella stepped outside with Wilbur, Flynn pushed the door closed. As Ella cast an eye over the photographs on the wall, she could hear Flynn and Ella speaking in hushed whispers. With one ear Ella was trying to listen in whilst holding her own conversation with Wilbur.

  ‘These pictures are amazing – look at some of those outfits. It’s like a different world,’ Ella said as she stared at the photographs. Wilbur agreed with her and just as they made their way to the end of the corridor, Callie left Flynn’s office and made her way towards Ella.

  ‘Excuse me, ladies, I need to chat to Flynn about something. Ella, it was lovely to meet you. Hope your first shift goes well on Monday.’ Wilbur gave them both a little bow, before entering Flynn’s office.

  ‘You’re quiet, what’s wrong?’ Ella asked, as she eyed Callie carefully.

  Callie took a step backwards and looked up the corridor, then back towards Ella.

  ‘There’s no other way to dress this up, but The Lakehouse is in financial trouble.’ She exhaled audibly. ‘It’s making a loss, and unless by some miracle we can get more diners in…’

  Ella’s mood slumped; after everything she’d been through, she was relying on this job. This just wasn’t turning out to be her year.

  ‘Flynn is worried but he’s trying to put on a brave face.’

  ‘Can we get the locals involved? Didn’t you say they get discounts up at Starcross Manor? Maybe if Flynn does the same here…’ suggested Ella.

  ‘They already do get a discount. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s not accessible by walking or car? When The Lakehouse first opened up again there was an article in a hospitality magazine which Flynn perceived as bad press. This could have damaged the numbers a little, but with the amount of tourists in Heartcross, you’d expect the place to be full.’

  ‘Maybe it’s just that people don’t know it’s here. It’s okay trying to rely on word of mouth, but that isn’t going to work unless people have something to talk about, or they’ve been here to dine. This place is unique. Look at its past. This restaurant is special, and Flynn needs to capitalise on that. It would be criminal for this place to close down.’

  ‘Look at the business woman in you!’ Callie was clearly impressed. ‘You should talk to Flynn.’

  ‘I’ve learnt so many valuable lessons from having my own little business, and as there was only me to rely on, sometimes I had to learn the hard way.’

  ‘Come on, let’s go and order a drink. Let’s help the place look busy.’

  They chose a table near the window overlooking the bay. Ella noticed Roman tying up the boat on the jetty. He was very charismatic even from afar, and she watched him as he acknowledged a couple of passengers as they ambled hand in hand towards The Lakehouse.

  ‘There should be more diners, this is prime time,’ remarked Ella, observing all the empty tables.

  They both watched Ryan show the couple to their table, whilst the waiters hovered at the back of the restaurant waiting to hand out menus and take their drink orders.

  Callie snagged a glance around the restaurant. ‘There are more staff than diners, no wonder Flynn is worried.’

  ‘This is a great location with a fabulous chef and a really chilled-out atmosphere.’ Ella was impressed with the whole set-up. It really did have a magical feel about the place. ‘This restaurant needs to be shouted about.’

  ‘Flynn has contacted the local news to see if they will do a feature and they’ve agreed,’ said Callie, looking up as Wilbur appeared at the side of the table, followed by a waiter carrying their drinks.

  ‘What have you got there?’ asked Callie, watching Wilbur balance his cane against the table and place down a hefty photo album in front of them. ‘This beauty was discovered in the safe when we reopened The Lakehouse. There’s a whole lot of history in there. Some of these photos must go back many years. Thought you may want to take a look?’

  ‘Yes please,’ they answered in unison.

  Ella pushed her drink to one side and moved the album between them both. Callie turned the first page. ‘Look at this place,’ she exclaimed, staring at the first black-and-white photo. The Lakehouse resembled the restaurant today, with a baby grand ebony piano, but the bar wasn’t in the same place and the walls were covered in framed photographs, masses of them.

  ‘I remember all those photographs, The Lakehouse wall of fame.’ Wilbur pointed to the photos then the wall opposite. ‘It was just over there. Anyone who was anyone had their photo taken, and it went up on that wall. It was full of extremely famous faces. Singers, models, even royalty. This place was their safe haven because my parents could control who came here and which diners could dine with whom – you couldn’t just rock up without a reservation. Guests could dine in private, away from the fans and press. Some extremely famous faces became regulars.’

  ‘These are amazing, look at their clothes.’ Ella was mesmerised, turning the pages of the old photograph album. ‘Vintage yet glamourous.’

  ‘Everyone who came here dressed to impress, as you didn’t know which famous face you would be dining next to. The dress code was always smart, and as a boy running round here, my mother used to always dress me as though it was Christmas Day.’ Wilbur gave a little chuckle.

  ‘Hence the reason Dad still dresses in these eccentric suits,’ teased Flynn, tipping his father a wink as he passed their table to walk outside to speak to Roman.

  ‘That actually may be so,’ agreed Wilbur.

  Callie and Ella were still turning the pages of the album. There were photos of the chef cooking up a storm in the kitchen, guests standing round the piano with a glass of wine in hand, the photos portraying everyone having a good time.

  Wilbur continued. ‘My father started out as a chef but also played in a jazz band. Any opportunity he got, he would be on the piano, and Thursday nights became regular music nights. The same diners would book time after time, and everyone used to stay till the early hours, singing and dancing. They used to put me to bed in the back office, b
ut little did they know that I used to sneak out and watch the bands from under the table in the far corner of the room.’ Wilbur smiled fondly at his memories.

  ‘And who’s that?’ Ella pointed to a woman wearing the most elegant dress. The colourful printed silk oozed style and class. The collar, cuffs and jaunty tie were of contrasting colour to the black dress. Wearing a headscarf and black kitten heels, she was poised with the microphone, leaning against the piano, all the dinner guests staring in her direction.

  ‘That’s Dolores. She was a star – and I mean a superstar.’

  ‘She’s stunning! Look at those cheekbones, anyone would die for those cheekbones,’ Ella scrutinised the photo.

  ‘Everyone flocked in to see Dolores sing. There wasn’t a spare table in the place the nights she performed, and look at it now.’ Wilbur was saddened. ‘Thursday nights became exclusive, a night for just the rich and famous.’

  ‘I wish I’d been there,’ Callie said. ‘I bet these walls hold many secrets.’

  ‘They certainly do. The press used to hover at the old boathouse just to get a photograph, but my parents would never let them on the boat. Some paparazzi obviously tried to overstep the mark and hire their own boats to try and get closer, just for that photo that might sell millions, but on the whole, back in the day, people respected other people’s privacy more.’ Wilbur turned the next page of the album.

  ‘It seems Heartcross has always attracted the stars in one way or another,’ chipped in Ella, remembering that Callie had told her all about heart-throb Zach Hudson visiting recently and enticing the local vet, Rory, off to work in Africa to film a documentary.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Ella, pointing to the photo of Dolores having dinner with a handsome man dressed up in a very smart suit, with dimples to die for.

  Wilbur raised an eyebrow. ‘That is the prince.’

  ‘A real-life prince?’ questioned Ella, taking a small sip of her wine whilst running her eyes over the photograph once more.

  ‘Absolutely a real-life prince. Dolores could have her pick of anyone. There were rumours he asked her to marry him, but who knows? The Lakehouse had magic back then. I just wish we could recreate a little bit of that now.’