Page 48 of Love in Tune

‘Up yours! I resign, ya great streak of piss!’ Patrick shouted, louder than Billy even without the aid of a loudhailer. He unfastened his striped apron and dragged it over his head then threw it at Christopher’s head before storming back into the building.

The press pack scribbled furiously and flashed their cameras, hardly able to believe their luck. This was turning into the story that just kept on giving. Honey stepped around Christopher to help Billy step out of the soup-covered overalls, revealing the slogan-painted t-shirt beneath it. ‘You say old, I say experienced. Fancy dinner?’

‘How do I look, darling?’ he winked.

Honey grinned at how much Billy was obviously enjoying himself. ‘Never better, Billy.’

He turned to smile winsomely for the cameras, and Honey stepped back into the shadows, hoping it was all going to be enough. Billy might seem clownish to the passers-by, but behind all of his showmanship was an elderly man who was genuinely frightened for his future, and that wasn’t funny at all.

‘We’re all starving, Honey. Skinny Steve is trying his best, bless him, but he’s wet behind the ears and burnt all the toast this morning. Old Don almost broke his false teeth trying to eat it.’

Honey grimaced in sympathy at Mimi and pushed a pack of shortbread towards her. Patrick’s dramatic exit from the home had seen his seventeen-year-old apprentice, Skinny Steve, elevated to head chef overnight. Wet behind the ears and eight stone on a fat day, he was never going to be up to the job of caring for the delicate diets of a bunch of fussy elderly residents. It was Christopher’s job to sort out a replacement, but as he’d been last seen sitting on the pavement in a pile of sandwiches the day before, it clearly wasn’t on his priority list.

‘What will we do at dinnertime? It’s alright for me and Mimi, we’re as strong as oxes,’ Lucille said, her face pinched as she sipped the sweet tea Honey had made for her. ‘But some of the others are really frail, Honey. If they go without food, well … it just doesn’t bear thinking about.’

It was a problem alright, and despite her assertion Lucille and Mimi were nowhere near as strong as oxes, despite their sprightliness.

‘Okay. Look.’ Honey smiled at the sisters with more confidence than she felt inside, noticing that they’d already eaten half the packet of biscuits between them. ‘You ladies hold the fort here and I’ll nip across and make sure Skinny Steve’s on top of lunch.’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Skinny Steve wasn’t on top of lunch. He was in a complete flap, his usually pale face pink and sweaty.

‘I can’t do this,’ he’d said, staring at her wild eyed as soon as she’d walked into the kitchen. ‘There’s hardly any butter, and the bread’s still frozen!’ He looked up at the clock. ‘Lunch is due out in two hours. What am I going to do?’

He really was asking the wrong person, but Honey could see he was on the edge of a panic attack so held up her palms in a calming way.

‘Steve. Calm down. Take some nice, deep breaths. I’m here to help.’

His skinny shoulders sagged with relief as Honey almost felt him hand over the baton of responsibility to her. His face brightened considerably as he slipped gratefully back into his apprentice role and awaited instruction. Which would have been absolutely fine, if Honey had any clue how to run the kitchen.

‘So, err … is there a weekly plan or something we can follow?’

Steve nodded. ‘Yes. It’s …’ He glanced at the huge aluminium fridge door and the smile slipped from his face. ‘It’s here, but this is last week’s. Patrick usually changes it today.’

‘Okay. Let’s have a look. We can always follow it for this week too if needs be.’

Skinny Steve shook his head. ‘They’ll know,’ he whispered, nodding towards the door to the residents’ dining room as if they were a bunch of zombies fromNight of the Living Dead.

‘Skinny Steve,’ Honey said, using his full title in the stern way a mother uses a child’s full name when they’re reprimanding them. ‘At this point it’ll be a miracle if there’s any lunch on the tables at all. Work with me here.’

He swallowed hard and squared his bony shoulders. ‘Okay.’

Honey reached for an apron off the pegs on the wall and slid it over her head. A search through the cupboards revealed several catering-sized tins of chicken soup, and there was a mountain of cheese. Chicken soup and cheese and tomato sandwiches. That wasn’t so bad, surely?

‘Come on. Let’s get this bread defrosted in the microwave. We’ve got sandwiches to make.’

Honey helped Steve clear the plates from the dining room after lunch, a small glow of pride warming her belly at the fact that between them they’d managed to supply food for the hordes without incident. It may not have been gourmet, but the plates and bowls were mostly empty and the residents were mostly full, so that had to be considered a good result.

She placed the last plates down in the kitchen and dropped her backside onto a stool.

‘That wasn’t too bad, was it?’

Steve looked up from loading the dishwasher and said something that horrified her.

‘What will we give them for dinner?’

The small glow of success popped like a pin-pricked bubble. ‘I have no idea. What does the plan say?’

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