Page 8 of Changing Tides
The stairs to the apartment were a long climb with a sleeping toddler, and her arms burned by the time she got to the door and carefully juggled her load to get the keys out of her pocket. Shehoped Amira was in the apartment so she could head down to the kitchen as soon as she’d settled Denny.
“Oh, hi, Emma,” she whispered. She hadn’t expected to see the au pair sitting at a stool in the kitchen. Emma minded Denny during the week, returning to her parents’ home at weekends. It wasn’t the best arrangement, but it helped Marianne and Amira run the restaurant with a small child at home.
She settled Denny in his bed, pulled off his little shoes and coat, and put the covers over him. She pushed his soft curls away from his face and kissed his forehead. He really was out for the count. With Emma there, she could get down to the kitchen for the end of service. She went back to check in with her. “How was your weekend?”
Emma didn’t look up from her phone, which was unusual. She was usually a polite young woman. “Amira needs to speak to you downstairs.”
“Are you okay, Emma? Has something happened?”
Emma looked up momentarily. “Amira will explain. I’ll watch Denny till you come back.”
Marianne hoped Emma hadn’t decided to leave them. If so, they would have to find a replacement quickly. She couldn’t take time off from the kitchen to look after Denny.
She took the stairs two at a time and let herself in through the service bay to the restaurant.
The usual hum of activity was missing. She pushed open the doors to find the kitchen in darkness. Flicking a light switch had no effect.
Not another power cut!She swore. Even though customers understood a power cut was out of her control as a chef, she hated the idea of her restaurant being considered unreliable. She pushed the door into the restaurant, which was lit by candles on a few of the tables. Amira sat at the back of the room, herface illuminated by the flickering light. She didn’t look up as Marianne approached.
“How long has it been out?” She looked around at the tables; there was no sign the restaurant had been open at all.
“Sit down. I need to talk to you.” Amira’s voice was raspy. As Marianne sat, she looked up and the glow of the candle gave her features an almost skeletal look. Had she lost weight? How had Marianne not noticed? It didn’t reflect well on her, or the state of their relationship, and that made her heart heavy.
“It’s not a power cut. I didn’t pay the bill and they’ve cut us off.”
Marianne rubbed her temple. “What are you talking about?” Her thoughts flew in one direction and another, trying to settle on a plausible reason. She struggled to gather them. “Why didn’t you pay the bill?”
“I can’t. We don’t have any money.” Amira put her head in her hands. “I’ve been trying to fix it, but I had a run of bad luck.”
“Bad luck? At what? The restaurant has a three-month waiting list.”
When her question was met with silence, realization dawned. She thought she would throw up.
“Have you been gambling?”
Amira didn’t look up, didn’t reply.
The ground moved beneath Marianne, and she grabbed the edge of the table. “You promised.” She exhaled. “You said never again, and I trusted you.” She thought of the empty spreadsheets. “All these years. How long has it been going on?”
“I always dabbled a little online, but it was under control. Then more recently, I made some big losses and I tried to recoup them.”
Marianne sat before her legs gave way. “How bad is it?”
Amira looked up, though her eyes remained hidden in shadow. “Pretty bad. We need to sell up.”
“No way. I’m not giving up the restaurant. It’s my dream. You said it was yours, too.”
“I thought so, to begin with…”
Marianne couldn’t make out the expression on Amira’s face in the flickering candlelight as she paused, and then stood.
“It’s all related, really. I gamble when I’m unhappy, and being with you makes me miserable.”
Marianne stood to face her. “No. You’re not putting this on me. You’ve never said a word about not being happy.”
“And you’resoapproachable, are you?” Amira wrapped her arms around her middle. “We haven’t talked properly in years. I thought having Deniz might make things better, but if anything, it’s got worse. Now I’m competing with your jobandour child for your attention.”
“You pressured me into having a baby to fix our marriage, and it’s my fault it didn’t work?” Marianne wanted to stay calm, but the bullshit she was hearing was pushing her over the edge.
