Читать книгу Rosie’s Little Café on the Riviera - Jennifer Bohnet - Страница 18

CHAPTER TEN

Sunday morning, when Tansy arrived for work, Rosie was tired and grumpy having tossed and turned more than she’d slept.

‘James not in yet?’ Tansy asked.

‘Not coming in.’

‘Why?’

‘I fired him. Those carrots need peeling,’ Rosie said, slamming the oven door closed on the rib of beef.

‘I’m not doing another thing until you tell me what’s happened.’

Rosie sighed. ‘I went to Seb’s party last night. Charlie was there.’

‘How is he?’ Tansy had a soft spot for Charlie and had never understood Rosie’s reluctance to get involved with him again.

‘Antoine forgot to tell us that Charlie’s dad, William, got married recently. It turns out that Charlie is James’s newly acquired stepbrother. He sent James to spy on me – so I fired him. End of.’

‘Oh. But James is so good. Just what we need.’

Rosie shrugged. ‘I can’t really afford him at the moment anyway. We’ll find someone else for later in the season. Now, can we please get on with preparing Sunday lunch?’

Tansy shrugged. ‘Okay.’

Rosie left her to it and went through to the restaurant to open up and set the tables ready for customers. Keeping busy kept Charlie out of her thoughts. She placed the reserved tags on the five tables already booked for a total of fifteen people. Not bad for a Sunday so early in the season. People were out and about on the beach, too, so hopefully there’d be some passing trade.

Three hours later, when a tired but happy Rosie was saying goodbye to the last of her lunchtime customers and about to close the door, Charlie walked in and sat at one of the window tables.

‘Hi again, Rosie.’

‘What d’you want?’

‘Sunday lunch, of course. And don’t say I’m too late.’ This as Rosie glanced at her watch. ‘I know last orders are at two and it’s only ten to.’ He picked up the menu.

‘I’ll have the asparagus soup followed by the beef. Oh, and tell Tansy the usual, easy on the veg but the more roasties the better.’

Wordlessly Rosie turned and marched away.

‘And open a bottle of decent red for me, would you, please?’ Charlie called out after her. ‘And bring a glass for yourself.’

‘One soup, one beef, heavy on the roasties, lose the veg,’ she said to Tansy through gritted teeth.

Tansy glanced up from the soup she was pouring into a fresh bowl ready for the fridge. ‘Charlie’s here?’

‘Yep. And he wants me to open a decent red for him,’ Rosie replied, standing in front of the wine rack. ‘He wants decent – I’ll give him decent.’ And she opened the most expensive Chateau Margaux currently on her wine list.

She ignored the request to take another glass for herself. No way was she going to have a drink with him. Carefully she poured a taster into his wine glass and waited for Charlie to take a sip.

‘Nice. Can I afford it?’

‘Sure you can.’

‘Where’s your glass?’

‘I don’t drink with the customers.’

‘I don’t see any customers,’ Charlie said, looking around the empty restaurant. ‘Only me, and I reckon I rate higher than a mere customer anyway.’

Tansy appeared with Charlie’s soup and a basket of bread rolls. ‘Hi, Charlie. Good to see you.’

Rosie glared at her.

‘Thanks for sending Jamie our way. Can you now please persuade Rosie to unsack him? I could do with some help around here and he was good,’ Tansy said, ignoring Rosie.

‘I’ll fire you, too, if you don’t stop interfering,’ Rosie threatened. ‘Kitchen?’

‘You can’t fire me – you need me too much. Okay, I’m going…’ And Tansy disappeared back into the kitchen.

‘I am not having one of your relatives spying on me in my own kitchen,’ Rosie said. ‘Talking of relatives – tell your dad congratulations from me. I hope he’s very happy.’ She liked William and was pleased he’d met someone new. She knew he’d been lonely since Charlie’s mum died a couple of years ago.

‘I’ll pass the message on. But he’ll be down soon and you can tell him yourself. He’s sure to drop in for lunch – if you’re still in business then.’ Charlie paused. ‘I didn’t send James purely to spy on you, He does genuinely need the experience and I thought you could do with someone keen to learn from you. He’s really upset you don’t want him any more.’

‘He should have told me the truth then… What d’you mean – if I’m still in business next month?’ Rosie demanded.

‘Charlie shrugged. ‘Oh, come on, Rosie. You know how prejudiced the French are about “les rosbifs” and their cooking skills. They’re not going to be rushing to support an English woman. I wish you’d talked to me before you took on this place. I could have saved you a lot of money.’

‘Well, I’ll just have to be the exception to that rule, won’t I?’ Rosie said. ‘My cooking will get them in. And if the French don’t come, the English will.’

‘The French don’t care who cooks their lunchtime frites for them, but at dinner they want the whole gourmet experience, which they believe only a Frenchman can give. Nobody English in their right mind opens a restaurant in France – not without employing a French chef, anyway.’

‘I’ll get the staff to call me Fleur and start speaking with a French accent then, shall I? You could be more supportive,’ she added quietly. ‘You know this is my dream. What I’ve been working towards all these years and the reason I stayed working on the boats for the last five years. Besides, I’m thirty-five this year, so if I don’t do it now…’ She shrugged.

‘Cooking on the yachts is a totally different ballgame, Rosie. Sorry, but I just don’t see this place working. I know you’re a good cook but…’ Charlie said. ‘But with Seb Groc right next door.’ He shook his head.

‘Different markets,’ Rosie said. ‘Seb and I have already discussed it. Finished your soup? I’ll get your main course.’ And she snatched the bowl away the instant Charlie replaced his spoon in the empty dish.

‘Main course ready? Good. You take it out,’ she told Tansy. ‘Make sure he’s got everything he needs – and don’t talk about me. I’ll start the clearing up in here.’

Rosie pulled the lever that sent the large, old-fashioned dishwashing machine whirling into action down with a bang.

‘Temper. Temper. It won’t last the season treated like that,’ Tansy said, picking up the roasties and the veg in the serving dishes to accompany Charlie’s beef.

‘Here, you’ve forgotten his favourite horseradish sauce,’ Rosie said, thrusting the pot towards Tansy.

Surreptitiously, she watched the pair of them through the small hatchway between the kitchen and the bar area, envying the way they could still laugh and joke together like she had in another life – before everything had changed between her and Charlie.

Rosie turned away and vigorously set to cleaning the roasting tin until it was pristine and the ends of her fingers could take no more from the sharp shrouds of the shredded-steel wool. Tansy came back as she rinsed the tin and left it to dry on the draining board.

‘No prizes for guessing what Charlie wants for dessert,’ Tansy said. ‘And please, will you join him for coffee?’

Silently Rosie opened the fridge and took out a tiramisu – Charlie’s absolute favourite dessert.

‘I let Lucky in, by the way. Like a true female she made a beeline for Charlie and is now worshipping at his feet,’ Tansy said. ‘You going to take this out to him?’

Rosie nodded. ‘Okay.’ She couldn’t hide in the kitchen for ever, and now Charlie had had his say about the Café Fleur, maybe they could at least be civil to each other.

Have I ever told you, you make the best tiramisu?’ Charlie said.

‘Once or twice,’ Rosie said, determined to keep the conversation on an even keel.

‘I think I might have overreacted last night,’ she said, bending down to stroke Lucky. ‘Tell James if he wants to come back – ten o’clock Tuesday morning.’

‘Will do,’ Charlie said as he spooned the last vestiges of cream from the bowl. ‘Have you still got that beaten-up mini you call a car?’

Surprised by the question, Rosie shook her head. ‘No.’ The car had gone for a few hundred euros to add to her pot of money for the Café Fleur.

‘I figured I could live without one for a while. Working here seven days a week in summer, I’m not going to be going anywhere.’ She was blowed if she was going to tell Charlie the truth – that she couldn’t afford a car until the restaurant was a success.

His eyes narrowed. ‘How about getting home at night?’

‘I walk.’

‘I don’t like the thought of that.’

‘I’ve got Lucky now,’ Rosie said. ‘And it’s not far.’

‘Well, that’s something, I suppose, but it’s a bloody good fifteen-minute walk,’ Charlie said. ‘I’d prefer it if you took a taxi.’

‘And I’d prefer it if you minded your own business. How I get home is nothing to do with you – besides, it’s not fifteen minutes away. It’s five. I’ll get your bill,’ Rosie said forgetting that Charlie was unaware of the fact that she’d moved. Another economic necessity. The rent for the apartment in one of the new gated blocks overlooking the sea had been an expensive luxury even when she was working on A Sure Thing.

To Rosie’s relief, Charlie paid his bill, included a generous tip, and kissed Tansy goodbye. ‘Any time you want a job, you know what to do,’ he told her. ‘Ciao. I’ll be seeing you both.’

Rosie, safe behind the bar and out of Charlie’s kissing reach, muttered ‘Ciao’ and held her breath until the door closed behind him.

‘Thank God he’s going to Sardinia tomorrow out of the way,’ she said. ‘Right. That’s the door locked. I’ve had enough for today.’

She glanced at Tansy. ‘I did ask him to tell James he could come back if he wants to. I can’t believe he said that to you about wanting a job. Cheek. He seems to think this place is doomed because I’m English.’

‘He’s worried about you losing all your money, that’s all,’ Tansy said.

‘So am I – that’s why I intend to work flat out to make sure this place is a success,’ Rosie said. ‘Here’s the tip he left for you.’

‘Half each?’ Tansy said.

Rosie shook her head. ‘No, you take it. I’m sure Charlie meant it for you, anyway.’

‘Thanks – generous as ever,’ Tansy said, taking the euros. ‘Right, I’ll see you on Tuesday morning, bright and early. Don’t work too hard tomorrow. Remember it’s supposed to be your day off as well. If nothing else, take Lucky-dog for a walk.’

***

Rosie pottered around after Tansy left, tidying up and putting some leftover food in her basket to take home. The bottle of wine she’d opened for Charlie was still half full so she stuck the cork back in and put that in her basket, too. She’d enjoy a glass tonight while she did the week’s accounts and worked on her laptop.

‘Right, Lucky, time to go home,’ she said, looping a piece of thin rope around the dog’s neck. ‘Tomorrow we’ll buy you a collar and a proper lead but this will have to do again for now.’

Satisfied the door was securely locked and the security grill down, Rosie turned to walk through the car park and out onto the main road, where she came face to face with Charlie.

As the basket was taken out of her hand and he fell into step alongside her Rosie said, ‘What d’you think you’re doing?’

‘Seeing you get home safely.’

‘It’s not dark. It’s Sunday afternoon and I don’t need an escort.’

‘Maybe not, but I want to see where you’re living now.’

Ah, so he had picked up on her ‘five minutes away’ remark.

‘Well, we turn left here and it’s at the end of this street. The converted villa. See, literally five minutes.’

‘You going to ask me in for a glass of my wine?’ Charlie asked, looking at the basket.

‘N… oh, all right. I’m on the second floor.’ And Rosie pressed her code into the pad at the side of the ornate front door. Damn, why had she just agreed to that? Guilt, probably. He’d paid for the wine so was entitled to drink more than just the one glass he’d had at lunch.

Charlie followed her up the marble staircase. ‘Sad to see these old places converted like this really. Imagine what they must have been like in their heyday.’

‘At least this way more people get to live in and enjoy them,’ Rosie said, unlocking her own door.

She released Lucky from her makeshift lead and the dog made straight for the end of the sofa she’d taken as her own.

Charlie placed the basket on the kitchen counter. ‘Glasses?’

Rosie indicated the glass-fronted cupboard. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’

From her perch on the loo, Rosie studied the small bathroom. The linen basket, filled with a week’s worth of washing, overflowed onto the floor and the paper holder was empty. Feverishly Rosie stuffed the clothes deep into the basket and pressed the lid on, slid the last roll of loo paper onto the holder and swished water around the sink. No time to do more. With a bit of luck Charlie wouldn’t need to come in here, anyway. Once he’d had his glass of wine, he was out the door.

‘I’ve put the other stuff in the fridge for you,’ Charlie said, handing her a glass of wine. ‘Cheers. You sure you’re eating enough? Fridge is practically empty.’

‘Cheers. I don’t eat here much,’ Rosie said. ‘No point. So, what’s this business proposition that’s taking you to Sardinia?’ Not that she wanted to talk to Charlie; she wanted him gone, but they had to talk about something over their wine.

‘Agrotourism,’ Charlie shrugged. ‘I suspect it’s going to be a waste of time but Dad wants me to investigate the possibilities.’

William was the head of an environmentally ‘green’ company with interests in property and farming. Charlie was his right-hand man and would eventually take over. Rosie knew that both father and son were committed to trying to promote the ‘Fair Trade’ policy.

‘Will you spend the day with me when I get back?’ Charlie asked. ‘For old times’ sake?’

Rosie shook her head. ‘No. The season is just starting and I’m going to be busy. Besides, our “old times” are just that. In the past. If William hadn’t bought A Sure Thing we’d never have met up again. We move in totally different circles these days.’

‘I’d be more than happy to move in yours,’ Charlie said.

‘Well, I wouldn’t be happy in yours.’ Rosie stared at him.

Charlie drained his glass. ‘When I get back, I promise you I’m going to do everything possible to make you change your mind.’

‘Back off, Charlie. Go meet someone else.’

‘There is no one else, Rosie. I…’ The ring of his mobile interrupted him. He glanced at the caller ID. ‘Excuse me. I have to answer this. Hi, Sarah, how’s things?’

Rosie stroked Lucky as she tried not to eavesdrop on Charlie’s conversation. Which was impossible. And just who was Sarah?

‘What? OK. I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ He snapped his phone shut and turned to Rosie, his face white.

‘Sorry, Rosie. Emergency. Got to go.’

‘Not William, is it?’

‘No.’

Before she realised his intention, Charlie leaned in and kissed her. ‘You take care. And don’t fire James again because I’ve told him to walk you home after work every night. Ciao.’ And he was gone, the door slamming behind him.

Absently Rosie topped up her glass. Whatever the emergency was it had at least got Charlie out of the apartment. Getting him out of her life for a second time, though, was proving harder than she’d anticipated.

When would he realise she was serious when she told him she didn’t want a relationship with him or any man? She’d learned a long time ago that relationships that worked were few and far between and personally she didn’t intend to let one cloud her judgement ever again. Café Fleur was her baby and her life now.