Page 10 of A Perfect Devon Pub
But George’s voice rang out again, demanding and impatient. The kitchen felt like a ship caught in the middle of a violent storm, with George desperately spinning the wheel and shouting commands into the gale. Meanwhile, Josh lounged against the sinks like a man on Bondi Beach, watching his captain’s panic with the mild amusement of someone who’d seen far worse swells back home. Thinking it safest to keep out of George’s way, Fiona slunk back to the serving counter, where she remembered why she was in the kitchen.
‘George,’ said, ‘I asked for extra chips for Table 5.’
‘Shit sorry, coming up.’ He charged to the deep-fat fryer.
Behind her, Fiona heard the swing door open, then Rose asking, ‘George how long for Table 7’s mains?’
He looked up, his face mutinous. ‘Fifteen minutes?’
‘Needs to be faster – they want pudding, and they’ve got a taxi booked for ten.’
‘Delay it.’
‘I didn’t arrange it.’
‘Well tell whoever did to delay it ... I’m on my own back here,’ the chef responded sarcastically.
‘Chef,’ said Fiona, sniffing, ‘those chips ...’
‘Oh shit’ said George, lunging for the deep-fat fryer. He rescued the chips, drained them and dumped the food on Fiona’s tray. ‘Rose I know we said we’d try and manage, but I need help!’
‘The kids return to school soon, which will give Mum some time to help out, and at the end of September we’ll start closing on Monday’s too’
‘No, get me some proper help’ yelled George, stalking back to his saucepans.
‘I’ll advertise’ promised Rose, mentioning the online recruitment firm Fiona always used when she was looking for staff. ‘And I’ll ask Mum to help as a stop-gap.’ Rose turned to Fiona. ‘Sorry you’re not seeing us at our best. End of a long, busy season. We did have a sous chef and a junior. Ifhe’s overwhelmed his artistic side takes over, his temper flares and everyone suffers,’ said Rose.
Fiona smiled. She didn’t care how grumpy the chef was. Fiona wanted this job. She needed money to fund her studies, and the work was a diversion. Fiona picked up her tray and backed out of the kitchen.
‘Hold that door!’ shouted Rose. Fiona pressed herself backwards, allowing the other woman out, ‘It’s tough working with your other half,’ huffed Rose.
Yes, thought Fiona, an image of the Chef’s Table at the Fork & Cork forming in her mind, but that was in the past. And it would be a while before she was ready to revisit it.
Hearing someone whistling, Fiona cast a quick look around the kitchen. Josh was leaning against the sink, casually drying a plate, the tune light on his lips. When their eyes met, his smiledeepened. Then he winked. Just once.
Fiona looked away, but not before the corner of her mouth betrayed her.
Five
Over the next few weeks, Fiona did her best to shut memories of Ru out of her mind. She threw herself into work, sometimes arriving early, though never as early as Josh, who was often taking a vape break on the pub’s back steps. Occasionally she stopped to chat. He was cheerful company and mostly talked about his passion for surfing, which was a pleasant distraction for her. One day, as she stood beneath the weathered pub sign, swaying in the breeze, he asked her why she had become a sommelier.
She didn’t have to think before answering: ‘I love wine.’
‘But you weren’t born with a love of wine.’
She turned the questioning around. ‘What made you start surfing?’
‘I grew up with it. Australia is full of surfers. I used to do it professionally.’ He gave a forced laugh, the first time she’d seen him look uncomfortable, then added, ‘But that was my parents’ dream, not mine. I just surf for fun now. Ever tried it?’ He grinned, his joy clear.
‘Never.’
‘I could teach ya.’
She shook her head. She was too busy to frolic in the sea. ‘Thanks, but no. I’ve got a lot of important stuff to do, and anyway, that water’s freezing.’
‘Aw go on. Live a little. What’s more important than having fun?’
She didn’t hesitate. ‘Wine. It’s my life really.’
