Page 15 of The Signature Dish of the Underworld

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

“Good.”

And with that, Garth strode from the kitchen. The lights dimmed ever so slightly.

“Oh, stop it.”

CHAPTER SEVEN: An ode to the most beautiful

The first official day of the festival would, to anyone else, have been a roaring success.

To Rae, it was adequate.

Sure, all of the apples sold. Customers had smiles on their faces. She even received compliments. But she’d spent the entire day so on edge looking for the secret judge – even though sheknewhow unlikely it was that they would turn up on the first day – that by the time the doors of the bistro were shut, Rae was deflated.

Plus, she admitted to herself now that she wasn't busy, Garth's reaction this morning had been bugging her all day. What had the clarity of the apple revealed to him?

Sighing, she took off her apron and got on with her closing tasks: washing Ibrik until he was squeaky clean, literally squeaking at her, the floors the same. Polishing the cutlery in blistering hot water and vinegar, putting away what little of the cabinet food was leftover, and now piping day two’s apples.

And so the days continued. Rae, constantly on the lookout, was exhausted by the days end of going through the motions on high alert. Yet still, in her back of her mind was the knowledge from the apple that promised the cook-off would end in her favour, though not – the thought continued to niggle at her – the way she wanted it to.

How could it end in any other way but victory?

If her story wasn’t going to be one of success, then surely that meant the theme of her life was failure, and that was unacceptable. There could be no other option, not that her mind could piece together. If she didn’t have a story worth sharing, well that was worse than having a life without a story at all!

The fourth days were the worst, where she had to spend extra time prepping the remaining apple casings. The caramelised honey was so delicate, peeling them out of each individual casing was a painstakingly slow task. But everything else ran smoothly, until Rae found herself finishing up the eleventh day of the festival with time on her hands for a change.

Finally, too exhausted to battle her mind, she accepted defeat and decided to go and see the dish that she knew was her main competition: Garth’s.

His restaurant was as packed as ever. Rae dithered by the door, bracing herself from the chill by stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jacket. Something curled into the palm of her hand.

Rae pulled it out, curious, only to see Garth’s token fluttering in her hand.

“How did you get there?”

The token curled into her palm again, snuggling.

“Alright, alright, I’m going in.”

Rae took a deep breath and marched up to the door.

“I have a token,” she told the door that was twice as tall and wide as her. Its knocker morphed into a smile before it threw itself open. The minute Rae was inside, she was accosted by the one deity she’d been hoping to avoid.

“Well, well. Miss Sunshine is back. Did you think Garth was going to hold a table for you every night this week? How presumptuous of you.” Nika bit, rising to her full height and looking disdainfully down her nose at Rae.

Rae was about to apologise before she took a breath and said the only thing that was going to garner any level of respect with the Arae in front of her.

“I’m happy to take a seat at the bar, if there’s one going, and order myself. If not, I’m happy to come back another night. There was no expiration date on the token.”

Nika sniffed. “And piss Garth off? I’d rather be hounded by neanderthals. Come with me.”

Turning on her heel, Nika led Rae to a small corner table in The Nook.

“You’ll obviously be having the chef special; Styx seafood chowder, slain and marinaded goats curry, and Garth’s theïkós for dessert – the crowning glory and our festival entry this century – An Ode to the Most Beautiful.” Nika informed her, as if she was rattling off specials to someone who hadn’t worked here just last week.

Rae had no idea what would constitute a theïkós, but she knew if it was anything like the rest, it would be exquisite.

“Sounds great.”

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