She attached the earbuds from her mobile, opened a playlist that started with classic Kiss tracks and began to sing along with ‘God Gave Rock and Roll to You’. She increased her speed away from Aliceon’s cottage, savouring the stretch of her muscles.
The run to the university was always a demanding one. This morning was no exception.
The exercise strained the muscles in her legs and back with a familiar and satisfying ache. It was an ache that always left her feeling strangely empowered. She ran back, past Bill’s cottage, and headed away from Boui-Boui towards the city. Rather than taking the route past the old market, because she enjoyed a little variety in her run she headed towards the banks of the river, which provided a more direct path to the university.
She loved running at this time of the day.
She was able to run through a vast and wonderful world that no one else seemed to appreciate. She could watch the night sky fade slowly to the start of a new day. And each morning she felt as though she was witnessing the birth of something special.
She arrived at the university out of breath, sweating and in desperate need of a drink and a rest. Perspiration beaded her brow. Her muscles were protesting in agony. Her heart was pounding so fast she felt momentarily dizzy.
Charlotte was already waiting for her.
She was dressed in a new running outfit, one of the latest Stella McCartney creations for the Adidas range, Trudy noticed. The flattering contours made her slender figure look all the more eye-catching. The pastel colours were demure and understated. Charlotte took one of the isotonic drinks that Trudy offered and leant against a convenient oak. Trudy expected her to start stretching. One of the vital tasks during a pause in any run is to keep the muscles supple and limber. But, instead of continuing to exercise, Charlotte simply sagged against the tree as though it was providing essential support.
Trudy swallowed a couple of mouthfuls of her drink before calling a breathless good morning to her friend.
Charlotte waved it aside. ‘This healthy living you advocate is killing me,’ she growled. She held out a shaking hand and said, ‘It can’t be healthy to be trembling like this, can it?’ She took another swallow from her drink and asked, ‘Have you thought any more about what the bastard said yesterday?’
Trudy didn’t need to ask who Charlotte was talking about. Until they had dealt with the nuisance of Donny and done something about the nuisance of his ridiculous demands, he was likely to remain the focal point of their conversations.
‘My thoughts haven’t changed,’ Trudy told her. ‘Donny gets nothing.’
‘You do know that he’s going to try and make life difficult for us, don’t you?’
Trudy shrugged and took another refreshing swig from her bottle. ‘Life is meant to be difficult,’ she decided. ‘It’s overcoming the difficulties that makes living so enjoyable.’
‘Very Zen,’ Charlotte grumbled. ‘I had no idea you were writing fortune cookies for Boui-Boui.’
Trudy blinked and wondered if fortune cookies would work at Boui-Boui. Even if they didn’t work there, was it something they could try at Sweet Temptation? She thought a range of fortune cookies would sit well alongside the muffins they were already supplying. She made a note on her smartphone to look into cookie recipes when she got back to HQ.
‘Whilst I’m sure your thoughts on the necessity for struggle in life are true,’ Charlotte continued, ‘I’m not sure they’re helpful in our current situation.’ She staggered away from the tree and stumbled to Trudy’s side. ‘If things go right today, we could have his website closed down by lunchtime.’
Trudy stared at her friend in amazement. ‘Really?’
‘Really,’ Charlotte confirmed. ‘We should have overcome another one of those difficulties that make life so fucking enjoyable.’
Trudy laughed with her.
‘Also,’ Charlotte went on, ‘I looked into the cost of that high-street retail outlet that you’d seen. It’s within our budget and, because we could squeeze a couple of industrial ovens in there, it might be just the right spot for our expansion.’
Trudy shook her head. ‘You do so much,’ she marvelled. ‘And you manage to get so much done.’
Charlotte fixed her with a slanted grin. ‘You’re not coming into HQ today, are you?’
Am I that transparent? Trudy wondered.
She placed a hand on her friend’s arm and squeezed to show her gratitude for her understanding. ‘I won’t be able to work at Sweet Temptation today,’ she said apologetically. ‘Bill’s going to be away at some awards ceremony this evening so I need to be at Boui-Boui planning and preparing.’
Charlotte dismissed the matter with a wave of her hand. ‘I’m sure Daryl and I can cope without you for the day. Will you be in tomorrow?’
‘Of course,’ Trudy promised. As an afterthought she added, ‘It’s a shame you’re seeing your new bloke this evening. It would have been nice to have a catch-up session at Boui-Boui.’
‘As a matter of fact, I’m not seeing anyone tonight.’
‘Call round tonight and you can tell me about him.’
‘Stop pestering, hon. I’ve told you, I’ll reveal all in my own time.’
Trudy smiled sourly. She was embarrassed about her previous worries, that Charlotte was seeing Donny again. She now realised that was a silly thing to have thought. But she was still curious as to why her friend was keeping her new relationship a secret.
‘At least call round so we can have a catch-up session,’ she insisted. ‘It will be good to talk away from the office. And I can prepare us a meal for when the restaurant has closed.’
Charlotte looked like she was considering the invitation.
‘I’ll only come if you promise not to pester me about who I’m seeing.’
‘I promise.’
‘And,’ Charlotte added, ‘I want a chance to cook our meal at the end of the evening.’
‘You want to cook something? The last time I remember eating your cooking was those pizzas you used to do when we all got drunk at Eldorado.’
‘That’s what I want to cook,’ Charlotte said. ‘I have a batch of dough made up at home and I want to be able to say I’ve cooked something in a Michelin-starred restaurant.’
Trudy shrugged. ‘It sounds wonderful. I look forward to eating a Charlotte Collins speciality Margherita.’
Seeming to have found her second wind, Charlotte began running on the spot, ready for the final leg of her morning run. She promised she’d look after all the business at Sweet Temptation for the day and assured Trudy she’d see her at the restaurant that evening.
Trudy jogged home via Finlay West’s shop.
‘Twice in two days,’ he marvelled as she stepped inside his shop. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’
Trudy paid for the cinnamon he had given her the day before. She knew that Boui-Boui and Sweet Temptation both had accounts with West’s shop. But she didn’t want Finlay to think that she was taking advantage of his generous nature.
From the back room of the shop she heard the mechanical trill of a computer alert. Finlay scowled at the sound.
‘Is Imogen back there already?’
‘No. That’s just Imogen’s PC.’ He didn’t like the computer. He always referred to it as Imogen’s PC, even though it was a Mac and it belonged to his shop.
‘Could you pass on a message to Imogen when she gets here, please?’
The mechanical trill sounded again.
Finlay’s scowl deepened. Trudy was puzzled. She was sure she hadn’t heard the noise before.
‘Go on,’ Finlay told Trudy. ‘What’s the message? What do you want me to say to her?’
‘Tell her that I’d like to employ her services at Boui-Boui tonight. If she has time, that is. If she can find a babysitter. Bill’s away tonight, so she doesn’t have to worry about bumping into him. And I could seriously use an extra pair of hands at the front of house.’
He frowned. ‘Why did you come here to deliver tha
t message in person? Why couldn’t you have done that over the phone?’
‘I was passing,’ Trudy admitted. ‘And I thought it would be the perfect time to pay for yesterday’s cinnamon.’ She didn’t bother adding that she thought the message would have greater impact on Imogen if it came direct from Finlay West. Despite the arguments Imogen had with the shopkeeper, Bill’s daughter seemed to respect him. Trudy reasoned that Imogen would be more likely to heed his suggestion that she visit Boui-Boui than to respond favourably to a telephone invite from her.
‘I’ll pass the message on.’ Finlay shook his head dourly and added, ‘Not that I think she’ll have much time. She’s in charge of all our internet orders and they seem to be going crazy this morning.’
‘Crazy?’
The computer trilled its alarm again.
‘Imogen set up her PC so it makes that noise each time we make a sale on the internet. It hasn’t stopped giving that alarm this morning. She’s going to either spend today fixing whatever problem is affecting the machine or trying to meet a ton of online orders.’
Trudy blushed. ‘That might be my fault.’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘You remember that article I called you about yesterday?’
He nodded.
‘Apparently it’s in the paper this morning,’ she explained. ‘I included a link to your website in my copy. Maybe that piece generated some interest?’
He asked her which paper and she mentioned the title of the broadsheet. Talking about it, she realised she would have to pick up a copy herself on her way home. It was the first thing she’d ever had published in a newspaper.
The computer alarm chose that moment to sound three more times.
This time West didn’t scowl. He simply stared at Trudy and shook his head in slow wonder. ‘I’ll pass on your message to Imogen when she gets in,’ he said drily. ‘I’ll also let her know that you’re responsible for her increased workload. But I’m sure she won’t be too angry with you. Even when I let her know that it doesn’t mean she gets an increase in salary.’
Thanking him, Trudy jogged wearily back home. She stopped at a newsagent to grab a copy of the paper.
It had been a long morning and she already felt exhausted. She wondered if Bill would fancy taking her to bed to either punish her or pleasure her before the day started properly. She knew he was due to travel to the city with Harvey today but she figured he should have time to play a little if they were swift.
Admittedly, she still had to tell him about Donny’s threats and demands as soon as she returned. She didn’t like that she’d inadvertently kept something from him and dreaded that he might find out and think she’d reneged on their agreement of ‘no more secrets’.
But she still thought there should be time for a brief discussion about how to deal with Donny, followed by a leisurely episode of pleasure in the bedroom.
Or the kitchen.
Or maybe they could revisit that delightful spot beneath the ornamental archway in his garden.
The memory of that particular location made her body tingle hungrily. She hurried back to the cottage, determined to sound Bill out on the idea of revisiting the spot.
In the kitchen she found a note on the espresso machine.
‘I’m in the city with Harvey today. I’ll call you later.’
She smiled at the kiss he had put at the bottom of the note. Making herself a drink she quietly vowed to tell him all about the situation with Donny as soon as he phoned up.
Chapter 14
Imogen was working hard at front of house. Dressed in the uniform black of waitressing staff, her blond hair tied back into a neat ponytail, she handled tables like a seasoned professional. Watching her from a distance, Trudy thought the young woman managed to present the perfect blend of invisible anonymity and cheery friendliness for Boui-Boui’s discerning customers.
Some of the kitchen staff recognised her as Bill’s daughter. Frank, Damian and Kali had all worked there when Imogen had been employed as a waitress. For the others, the facial similarity between Imogen and Bill would have been striking enough for them to make the connection. As a consequence, she was treated with a wary respect from the kitchen staff that manifested itself as truculent silence.
Not that the lack of conversation in the kitchen seemed to trouble Imogen. Working front of house she interacted mainly with the other waiters and waitresses and focused on customer satisfaction. She went about her work with cheery, determined diligence and seemed to take satisfaction from doing the job well. It was apparent that she was efficient and knowledgeable and clearly enjoying herself. Trudy guessed she would likely make a fortune in tips by the end of the evening.
‘She’s good,’ Nikki told Trudy.
In Aliceon’s absence, Nikki had taken over the role of maître d’ for the evening. She looked resplendent in a black suit with her fuchsia hair lacquered into a stylish bob. Imogen was covering those tables Nikki would have been working in her usual role as a waitress.
‘How long is she back for?’ asked Nikki.
Trudy shook her head. ‘She agreed to come in tonight because Bill’s not here. Bill’s absence is a deal-breaker for Imogen.’
‘We could use her on a regular basis.’
‘Yes,’ Trudy agreed. ‘But I can’t see that happening in the near future.’
In an ideal world it would be easy to employ Imogen in the restaurant as a permanent member of staff, and Bill and his daughter would eventually reconcile their differences and everyone would be happy and content. But, because she didn’t live in an ideal world, Trudy didn’t know whether Bill or Imogen would be the one to object more passionately. The only thing certain about such a scenario was that someone would get hurt in the crossfire and Trudy suspected it would be her.
She left Nikki to welcome a quartet of new diners and returned to the more familiar bustle of the kitchens. The sound of the Dave Brubeck Quartet filled the room. The music was upbeat, sultry and vibrant. Meals were already being prepared. The clatter and chaos in the room were delightfully unbearable. Shouts of ‘sharp’ and ‘blade’ and ‘behind you’ and ‘hot’ interspersed muttered exchanges, casually tossed insults and the familiar banter of professional kitchens.
A handful of starters were already plated and waiting for her approval.
Trudy recognised the Port-Salut and watermelon salad as one of Bill’s favourite starters. It wasn’t a dish that she personally favoured – she thought the cheese was too strong a taste against the subtlety of the watermelon’s delicate flavour. But she knew the dish was popular and she knew what Bill expected when the dish was being sent out to a customer.
The cheese was distinctly ripe without being offensive. The triangles of thinly sliced watermelon looked enticingly fleshy on a bed of green beans and mint. The salad was dressed with a drizzle of piquant lemon juice and seasoned olive oil. As she studied the presentation of each plate, she was aware that Thibault, the entremetier, was watching her guardedly: as though he expected her to find fault.
She nodded and gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
‘It’s good to go, Thibault.’
His grin looked relieved. ‘Thank you, Chef.’
She breezed through the kitchen, confirming that everyone was comfortable with their role for the evening and ensuring that each person felt capable of fulfilling their duties.
After six months of working with Bill at Boui-Boui she was now used to managing the kitchens. It still felt strange to be called Chef. She was repeatedly struck by the urge to look over her shoulder and see if there was a recognised chef standing behind her. But she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed being addressed with so much courtesy and professional respect.
As soon as Trudy was convinced that everything was going smoothly in the room, she stepped towards the head chef’s office where Charlotte was waiting. Glancing through the glass windows that surrounded the office she saw her friend sitting on the couch, with a glass of whisky nearby.
She was multi-tasking as usual. There was a tablet on her lap, the screen showing some sort of spreadsheet. In her hand was her mobile and it looked like she was sending a text message. A smile lurked on her lips and Trudy guessed she was sending a text to the new man in her life.
Charlotte looked comfortable, Trudy thought. After the upset between them earlier in the year it was good to see her friend so relaxed.
Unless she was exercising, Charlotte normally wore designer heels and exclusive labels. Even when she was exercising she would only run in sportswear that had been approved by that season’s Cosmo guide or one of the leading fashion gurus from the sporting world. This evening, because it was meant to be a private catch-up between them, Charlotte was wearing loose jeans, a baggy T and trainers. She looked dressed-down and comfortable, Trudy thought. She suspected the jeans were Versace, the T might have been Coco Chanel and the trainers looked like Christian Louboutin. But the important detail was that Charlotte looked relaxed.
Trudy stepped into the office and said hello.
Charlotte looked up, moved the tablet from her lap and put the phone aside. She stood up awkwardly and shifted from one foot to the other.
‘I’ve got good news,’ Charlotte said brightly.
Trudy raised an eyebrow.
‘Donny’s website has been closed.’
It was a struggle for Trudy not to squeal with delight. ‘How the hell did you manage to do that?’
‘I’d said there was a chance we might make a breakthrough by lunchtime,’ Charlotte reminded her. ‘I was working with a legal specialist who knows about internet law and copyright infringement. He made a convincing call to Donny’s website host and Sweeter Than Sweet is now closed for business.’
Turning Up the Heat Page 12
