Page 56 of Heart of The Night

‘All good, thanks. And you?’ His grip was firm, but his gaze shimmered with scepticism. I felt an intangible distance; it lay there, a quiet chasm between us. Extracting truths wouldn’t be effortless.

‘I’m well. Just pleased the rain’s finally let up.’ I cocked my head toward the drenched street outside.

A faint smile of amusement flickered across his lips. ‘Ah, the elusive English summer,’ he said. ‘Always keeping us guessing.’

‘Indeed. It’s the one reliable uncertainty we have,’ I chuckled, feeling the weight of the imminent conversation but still desiring an air of ease. ‘You frequent this spot?’

He glanced around, seemingly taking in the surroundings anew. ‘Often enough. It’s my brother-in-law’s place.’

‘Really? Is he Italian, then?’

‘He is,’ he replied, taking a seat.

Settling into the chair opposite him, I said, ‘Then I’m sure he’s relieved about the change in weather, too.’

Robert gave a light chuckle. ‘Probably. But after two decades here, even the rain’s grown on him.’

A young waitress appeared, offering each of us a menu. The casual banter she exchanged with Robert suggested his regular patronage. He ordered the house red, and I followed suit. For the main, Robert recommended an intriguing pasta dish, spaghetti al nero – squid cooked in its own ink. I opted in, curious.

As the waitress left, the undercurrent of anticipation grew palpable. This wasn’t just another meal; it was potentially the gateway to pivotal revelations. I rummaged through my thoughts, searching for the right way to approach the subject.

‘Busy day at work?’ Robert asked, breaking the silence between us.

‘Indeed, the usual whirlwind,’ I replied, smiling weakly. ‘How was yours?’

‘Hectic, but in a different way – a world apart from the Gastronomy Group madness.’

An opening appeared, and I took my chance. ‘You chose to leave them for calmer waters, then?’

He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Not by choice. They handed me my hat. Took me an age to secure another job.’

That answered one question on my list: he had been sacked.

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I said, wincing. ‘It’s rotten how one setback can stick on a CV.’

He gave a vague nod, his eyes holding a glint of regret.

A certain heaviness settled over our table. I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a quieter volume. ‘May I ask why they decided to dismiss you?’

The pause that followed was laden with contemplation, and I could almost see the wheels turning in Robert’s mind. He seemed to weigh his options, measuring the cost of truthfulness. I found myself holding my breath, hoping for honesty.

Finally, he said, ‘Let’s just say they weren’t playing cricket, and I refused to join their game. When I took a stand, they deemed me expendable.’

Even though I felt sorry for him, I barely managed to hide my satisfaction. His words aligned precisely with my suspicions, solidifying my belief that he was the ideal ally for my cause.

‘That’s a serious accusation,’ I said, studying him. ‘But it aligns with some unsavoury things I’ve noticed regarding Gastronomy’s dealings with Fusion.’

Robert raised a dark brow, interest piqued. ‘You touched on that in your message. What’s the story?’

A brief pause enveloped us as the wine made its appearance, its deep red hue glinting like a jewel. As Robert raised his glass, I leaned back and delved into my involvement with Jian and Fusion, explaining the distressing circumstances that had led me to this very moment. He listened intently, and I noted the subtle shift in his expression – a sharpening, a deeper engagement, and I quietly wished it was a dawning realisation.

‘So, from what I’ve gathered,’ I said, swirling the wine in my glass, ‘they’re likely aiming to either take over Fusion or push them out of the market. I’ve found hints of some dodgy tactics – meddling with supply chains, trying to poach key staff, and more. And if my suspicions regarding their breaches of competition law prove accurate, then involving the Competition and Markets Authority may be our unavoidable next step.’

Robert took a moment, his gaze drifting to the clock above the bar. ‘And why should I help you?’ he asked, his eyes meeting mine again. His tone wasn’t confrontational, merely curious. ‘I’m trying to move on, to put all this behind me.’

I nodded, reflecting on his guarded disposition. In the hours leading up to our meeting, I had played out various scenarios in my mind. One had been particularly clear: it was likely that I would need to present him with a compelling reason to aid me, beyond simply asking. I would need to counterbalance with an offer of my own. Now, with the revelations about his job termination, I sensed the scales tipping in my favour.

‘Because I might be able to assist you in return,’ I said, taking a sip of wine. ‘From what you’ve told me, it sounds like you may have been unfairly dismissed. I could help you take legal action against Gastronomy.’

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