Love on the Menu

by Barry, Jill

  *

  The day became a sultry one, fortunately forecast by her mother who produced a delicious cold lunch for the three of them. Zillah’s father insisted on being left to clear the table and load the washing up machine.

  ‘I’d love to go for a walk,’ Zillah told her mum.

  They followed a footpath leading from the guesthouse through nearby woods. Zillah lifted her face, thankful for the coolness beneath the thick canopy of trees.

  ‘There’s not much colour in your cheeks, darling,’ said her mother.

  ‘It’s the heat, Mum.’

  ‘And you’re probably working too hard.’

  Zillah sighed. ‘I wish. It’s very quiet at the moment though there are a couple of big weddings coming up. I didn’t want to talk shop at lunch.’

  ‘But apart from the big weddings?’

  ‘A trickle of bookings but I live in hope.’

  ‘And you’re settling well in Bath. It’s such a lovely city.’

  ‘I love living in Bath.’

  ‘This Zak sounds fun.’

  ‘It’s early days yet but at least my monthly rent has reduced.’

  ‘You know you only have to ask?’

  ‘I know. That’s why I didn’t say anything in front of Dad.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Mum, it’s fine, honestly it is. Abi is a brilliant assistant and Hal Christmas is about to give me an analysis of my trading figures. I shall sort something out. Every event I cater offers the chance to attract new clients.’

  ‘Of course but don’t forget what they say about all work and no play, Zillah.’ Her mother glanced sideways at her. ‘That’s entirely your choice, my darling. At least you have a couple of men in your life plus a loyal assistant.’

  ‘Don’t forget the cats! And Abi’s great at imaginative tweets and posting photos of luscious food on social media.’

  ‘Yes, I do keep my eye open for those but it’s not my forte, is it?’

  ‘You’re not alone. There are still lots of people out there who rely on their local grapevine for information.’

  They’d reached the lake. Zillah eyed the weeping willows, their fronds draping like crinolines over the water.

  ‘So you have to do that thing you least like doing. Take a pile of business cards with you and call on places where you’re not known. Some people still read adverts in the newsagent’s window and supermarkets often have notice boards. The other thing you might try is to get the business written up in the local paper.’

  ‘That’s good advice, Mum, but I need to see what Hal comes up with tomorrow. That’s the bottom line.’

  Zillah had decided, if he picked holes in her costings, she was prepared to take his advice. That was only sensible. But she needed to explore other avenues as well as make sure people like Mel the florist kept a stock of her cards. Women talked to their hairstylists and manicurists. They asked around if their daughter was getting married, often happier to go with the tried and trusted. It was her job to make sure Mrs Robinson was top of people’s lists of the tried and trusted.

  ‘So, what’s he like, this Hal?’

  ‘Very competent. Determined.’

  ‘It’s a strange combination, isn’t it – an accountancy practice and an entertainments agency.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I wonder what his star sign is.’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I suppose he’s quite ambitious. Better at planning than I ever knew how to be.’

  Again her mother glanced sideways. ‘Don’t torture yourself, Zillah. I know it’s a trite thing to say but, well, Daniel wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life alone.’

  Zillah lifted her hair away from the nape of her neck. ‘I know, Mum. I – well, it’s just too soon for me to think about dating again.’

  ‘Ah.’

  *

  Driving back to Bath in the early evening, Zillah appreciated her vehicle’s air conditioning. As she drove through her gateway, she saw Zak’s car parked in her landlady’s space. She’d forgotten he might be back. Zillah unlocked the garden gate to the accompaniment of a huge sigh. This was a new phase of her life – a flatmate to adjust to and a leaner, meaner approach towards her business.

  Zak had, she was pleased to note, remembered to padlock the gate behind him. This was a quiet cul-de-sac but house rules were there for a purpose. She heard the sound of a melodious male voice singing a song she recognised from an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical. She stopped, realising Zak was sitting on the bench, craftily positioned by Zillah to afford privacy. He must have been intent on his singing, not to hear the gravel crunch beneath her feet.

  But the performance stopped. ‘What vision of loveliness doth approach?’

  Zillah laughed. ‘A rather crumpled one, unless of course you’re talking to one of the cats. So, how was the big city?’ She walked towards the voice.

  ‘Cool, thank you. Not the weather, though. That was kind of muggy. But I caught up with lots of mates.’ He stood up as she appeared. ‘Excuse the shorts. It was mega hot in the car driving back. I really need a shower but I didn’t want to get in your way.’

  ‘I usually shower in the mornings but that was very thoughtful.’

  ‘Mornings are the pits. I don’t have to get up to go to work with the big guy tomorrow but I need to talk seriously to him about prospects. So far, I’ve got one session doing voice-overs for a radio station in London. Fortunately that’s next Friday so it’s another chance to badger my agent, poor guy.’ He looked in no way repentant.

  ‘A radio station? Good for you. Your friend Mr Christmas is thinking of approaching the local one on your behalf.’

  ‘He is? Zak brightened. ‘That’s interesting. But I hope you haven’t been dallying with Hal in my absence.’

  She felt her cheeks warm and wished they wouldn’t keep doing that. ‘Goodness, I’m still hot from the drive. I happened to bump into him in the Golden Fleece yesterday evening. We were talking business and he mentioned trying to get you on the lunchtime magazine show.’

  ‘The guy has to be bonkers. Talking business with a beautiful woman on a June evening after she’s slaved all day at someone’s wedding? Do I take it he’s booked in at the pub while the builders bash his cottage about?’

  ‘He is. At least, I think he said he was. And we’re trying to help each other’s businesses, you know. Why else would we spend time together?’

  ‘You tell me. I might go and see him in a bit. I don’t suppose you fancy coming with me for a quick drink? I’m sure he’d rather talk to you than me.’

  ‘No,’ said Zillah, noting the mischievous glint in Zak’s eyes. ‘It’s nice of you to ask but I thought I’d chill out with a book this evening. Make a sandwich maybe. Not that I should. My mother fed me poached salmon, fresh asparagus and baby new potatoes. Dare I mention homemade raspberry trifle?’

  ‘Sunday lunch with your folks? That’s nice,’ said Zak, rising. ‘I kind of miss that.’

  Before she could question him, he changed the subject.

  ‘Here’s Ruby come to find you.’ He bent to pet the kitten. ‘Hello, sweet cakes.’ He straightened up again. ‘Okeydokey, Zillah, I’ll shower before I go rattle Mr Christmas’ cage and I won’t forget to give him your love.’

  He sprinted back to the house, ignoring her spluttered protests. A disgruntled Ruby mewed indignantly and sought refuge among the lettuces.

  *

  ‘You’re not in this just for the love of it,’ said Hal next morning in his office.

  ‘I’m well aware of that,’ said Zillah, bristling again. That was another thing he seemed to make happen. Her bristling. Had she ever done that before she met him?

  He seemed back to the disdainful man she’d first encountered and although part of her was relieved to find he wanted to put their unexpected night together behind them, another part was slightly upset. All right, very upset. If only she hadn’t welcomed him quite so enthusiastically. Despite efforts not to, she was still reeling from the gorg
eousness of it. Get a grip.

  ‘It’s obvious your staffing level isn’t right,’ he said. ‘I understand there are peaks and troughs within your bookings. That’s inevitable. But it seems to me you’re over-compensating your employees rather than viewing them as part-time workers.’

  ‘I’m not sure what you mean. It’s only Abi who works part-time every week. I call upon Jake and the others as and when I need them. Their hourly rate reflects the size of the function.’

  Hal pursed his lips. ‘But Abi’s rate fluctuates too. Why is that?’

  ‘I think there’s a difference between slicing cucumber while listening to CDs, and working ten hour shifts for Saturday weddings.’

  ‘Work is work. You’re an entrepreneur with a lot of acumen but if you faff around, it won’t help you or any of your staff. Do you want to be businesswoman of the year? Then better start acting the part. You’ll be better off. Believe me, Zillah.’

  Stung, she thought of what her mother had said. She knew he was right. Oddly, she wondered how many shirts this man had. He always looked disturbingly fresh and crisp while she felt sure she was becoming more and more like a limp lettuce. But she knew she should heed his advice if she wanted to survive.

  ‘Abi needs her core hours increased. But the rate you pay her should be halfway between the minimum wage and the eye-watering amount she currently earns for an outside function. I note you don’t charge yourself out at that rate.’

  It was Zillah’s turn to purse her lips. She knew her assistant would be up for some extra hours. But, without a calculator, Zillah wasn’t sure how advantageous this new routine would prove for either of them. How was she supposed to keep Abi busy if there was a quiet patch, like this week, when her assistant wasn’t in for today or tomorrow?

  Hal must have read her mind. ‘There must be stuff she can do upfront? You’re bound to keep a certain amount in the freezer, for example?’

  ‘I try not to,’ snapped Zillah. ‘People expect and deserve freshly-cooked food.’

  ‘Sure they do. But things like homemade stuffing, individual pastry cases perhaps - could they not be made in advance, freeing up you and Abi on a later occasion? Come on, you’re the expert. Also,’ he rumbled on like a bulldozer, ‘you should be out and about drumming up business while your assistant stockpiles basic stuff you’ll use in the near future.’

  Had he been talking to her mum? Zillah puffed air through her lips. ‘It sounds all right when you say it like that. In practice, I’m honestly not sure.’

  ‘So, why not give it a trial? Speak to Abi first and explain your aim. My guess is she’ll be sympathetic. She enjoys working for you and I’m sure she wants to keep doing so.’ He consulted his notes and stared at the computer screen again.

  What further glad tidings were hidden up his sleeve, Zillah wondered. Having to swallow medicine was never pleasant but if he was good enough to give up his own time, she could hardly protest.

  A series of short, sharp questions followed before Hal leaned back in his chair and made a steeple of his fingertips. ‘It’s not wonderful, Zillah. In fact, unless you can provide a cash injection – and soon - I’m afraid your next big event looks like being a cosy meeting with your bank manager.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Hal shut his eyes and leaned his back against the door he’d just closed behind his visitor. Zillah was gorgeous. Right from that time their vehicles almost mashed headlights when he was trying to locate the premises, he’d been attracted. So far, he’d done a great job in annoying her, not once but twice. Probably a third time if you counted Saturday night.

  He’d thought she wanted him as much as he wanted her but maybe he’d been mistaken. He hated the idea of a one-night stand and it irked him how Zillah seemed to have slotted what he’d hoped might be the beginning of a relationship, into that category. Surely she wasn’t that kind of woman? He didn’t think so.

  Now, with her barriers back in place, simply by giving her the facts and telling the truth about her operating methods, he’d ruined her day. Week. Life. Did he care about that? Yes. After all those jerky encounters, those two occasions when they’d bumped into one another away from their offices and now, most significant of all, having made love to her, he was smitten. Head over heels. He wanted to turn cartwheels. Wanted to rush out and buy a giant teddy bear, tuck a bouquet of red roses between the teddy’s paws and present him to her.

  This wasn’t his normal behaviour. Nor was this feeling convenient. He had builders to supervise while they worked on making his cottage lovable instead of merely habitable. He needed to keep his accountancy contacts sweet so they fed him jobs from the slightly more challenging clients with whom Hal excelled. Then there was the new business, the arm that he thought of as expressing his more zany side. Huh! So far he had two children’s entertainers on his books plus one golden oldie former radio DJ, adored by women of a certain age. The latter gentleman was a resident of Bath who hoped to enhance his CV by becoming sought after as an after dinner speaker. That left Zak Silver.

  Hal opened his eyes and groaned. Zak was the flagship client and knew how to hold an audience in the palm of his hand. He sang effortlessly yet as if his life depended on pleasing the crowd kind enough to listen to him. Women worshipped him. Even Zillah had been prompted to offer him a flat share. Just like that. When the singer had turned up at the Golden Fleece last night, Hal was sitting in the beer garden, half-heartedly reading the Sunday colour supplements and sipping a lemonade shandy. Zak had ordered a plate of sandwiches and a large mineral water and proceeded to remind Hal how much he needed work now he was staying around for a while.

  ‘I did say I couldn’t promise anything,’ Hal said, as soon as he could get a word in.

  Zak had nodded. ‘But you’ll give it a whirl?’

  ‘You’re linked to my website, with a note saying you’re available from now until September. Does that suit you?’

  ‘I guess. Yeah, okay.’

  ‘I’ll contact the local radio station tomorrow and see if they express any interest in an interview.’

  The singer had been pleased. But when he told Hal he’d offered to give him Zillah’s love but she flipped her lid, a cold feeling spread through Hal’s stomach.

  ‘She was having a laugh,’ Zak had said. ‘But earlier when I teased her, she made it quite plain the two of you were on a strictly business footing. So, I take it you won’t mind if I ask her out to dinner some time? You know how attracted I am to her.’

  Hal hadn’t felt able to reiterate his original comments about keeping Zak’s flat share on a formal footing. It would have sounded like sour grapes. Zak was Zak and if he asked Zillah out and she accepted, that was nothing to do with Hal. But after his initial high, he felt desperately low. What an idiot he’d been to let Saturday’s chance meeting progress as it did. He should have taken notice when he’d walked in on Zillah that time and heard her telling Abi exactly how much she didn’t fancy him. She was probably beating herself up over a white wine-induced romantic liaison. Embarrassment would colour any further meetings.

  He’d examined her accounts as promised. He was prepared to recommend her catering business as and when appropriate. But somehow he must convince himself this lady was not for him. Or else, he’d be putting himself on the line just as he had with Jessie. Sometimes he wished he could love ‘em and leave ‘em as Zak did. But Hal, once he fell in love, found it difficult to fall out again.

  *

  If she really put her mind to it, Zillah found it surprisingly simple to avoid Hal. Yet, even with her office door firmly closed it wasn’t difficult to hear his footsteps on the stairs while she updated her website or dealt with inquiries. All essential preparation for her next function was complete, but Zillah, on reading the menu again and checking her store cupboard, discovered a couple of items running low. If she topped up today, Abi could begin preparing stuff for the freezer when she came in tomorrow. The answer phone could hold the fort while Zillah visited the supermarket. A
t the same time she’d check for any new shops that might have popped up, including the kind of places aiming to dress the bride’s mother. Jewellers, lingerie boutiques, even travel agents were all possibilities when it came to attracting more clients.

  When Zillah snuck into her parking space after her trip, it was early afternoon and there was no sign of Hal’s car. She let herself into her office and cheered when she discovered two messages left for her to ring back with a quotation. She dealt with both of these immediately.

  One prospect turned out to be someone considering options. The other was a request to cater a small engagement party. A delicious dinner for twelve people could, Zillah knew, pave the way to bigger business. If she pleased the starry-eyed couple on this occasion, maybe they’d ask her to quote for the wedding breakfast. There might be another engaged couple among the guests. She arranged to send suggestions via email.

  Next on her list of things to do was a second meeting with Annie West. Zillah rang the number, waiting as the phone continued ringing until the answering service kicked in and left a message, asking if it was convenient to call any afternoon that week.

  She was still at her desk when she heard Hal’s footsteps on the staircase. She hadn’t heard him come in. Was it her imagination or was he hesitating outside her office before opening the outer door? When she heard the door close, she realised she’d been holding her breath. She couldn’t resist getting up and going over to the window to watch his vehicle progress towards the slip road. How sad was that?

  *

  Abi was delighted by the offer of increased hours.

  ‘Are you sure, Zillah? I know there’s not much going on at the moment.’

  ‘Hal Christmas has been kind enough to analyse my figures,’ said Zillah. ‘I have to admit what he says makes sense. Your core hours will increase, Abi. Your basic rate of pay is calculated so you’re no worse off than when you were paid two separate rates. But of course there’ll still be some flexibility regarding the days. Is that all right with you?’