The rawness in her mum’s admission was like being winded. Fred couldn’t speak. She did understand. Finally. Oh, she knew the facts of her mother’s past: the abuse, losing her mum to cancer at so young an age, being let down in the worst ways by the men who claimed to love her. She had always respected and appreciated her mum’s fortitude, maybe even been a little envious of it. But until this moment Fred had never trulyfeltthose facts, the sheer weight of them, the way they must have cut and gouged at her. Her mother was hewn from pain and heartache, and instead of being embittered all she’d ever done was push love out into the world. If anyone in this world was deserving of a chanceat love, it was her mum. If the universe was testing the sincerity of Fred’s intentions from last night, now was as good a time as any to show it that she meant every word.
“Mum…” The word squeezed out around the emotions filling her chest, and she smiled in a way that she hoped conveyed all the warmth she felt in her heart. “I’m sorry I went off like that, you didn’t deserve it—”
But the rest of her sentence was cut off when Aunts Cam and Aggie chose that moment to burst into the kitchen, letting in a gust of cold air.
“Gird your loins, Freddie Hallow-Hart,” called Aunt Aggie, waving a newspaper above her head as she kicked off her Wellingtons. “There’s a shitstorm coming, and it’s got your name on it! Any coffee left in that pot?”
“It would seem that your young man has done the dirty on Pine Bluff,” said Aunt Cam, dusting the snowflakes off her cape and taking a seat at the table.
Aunt Aggie flung the newspaper down in front of Fred and grabbed two mugs off the dresser.
“Page forty, dear,” Aunt Cam said, pointing at the copy of theDaily News.
Fred looked at her mum, but Bella turned away and looked out of the window. Aggie, frustrated by Fred’s slowness to act, slammed the mugs down and opened the paper herself, stabbing a finger at the page. Warren’s travel piece must have been published. He’d got the job. But wasn’t the article meant to be a good thing? With a creeping sense of dread, Fred began to read. This was not the same draft she’d read in the restaurant.
All Bluff and No Substance
Written by the newly appointed food critic for theDaily News, Warren Reeves
How I took a deep dive into the eateries of Pine Bluff and came up empty-handed…
Fred could hardly bear to read the words. Nausea rose up from her stomach and settled in an acid pool in her throat. None of the restaurants or pubs mentioned were left unscathed by his damning review, which featured phrases like “gnocchi the texture of phlegm globs” and “souvlaki that even street dogs would turn their noses up at.” All the establishments he’d visited were included; he was especially vicious about the ones they’d visited together.Oh god!These were people who had been friends and neighbors of her family for decades; good, hardworking folks who didn’t deserve to have their family businesses trashed by a hack with ruthless ambition. And what must they think of her? She may as well have spat on their grandmas. The back of her neck was growing hot, and her top lip prickled with sweat. The worst review was reserved for Coast Roast.
One of those businesses an influencer decided to make a TikTok about—an influencer with too many followers and zero taste—and suddenly this pond sludge was being slurped up by every vacuous Real Housewife in the UK, and being sold as an artisan product in shopsthat showcase their wares in wicker baskets—Fair-trade wicker, of course.
Fuuuuuuuuuck!Suddenly Ryan’s shitty message this morning made sense. He’d seen this.Oh crap, he’d seen this!But the final death knell was yet to come.
Credit where it’s due: I was granted access to this foodie hellscape and encouraged to speak my unadulterated truth by one person: Fredricka, this one’s for you.
“Bollocks!” Fred sat back, reeling. She pushed the paper away, and Bella took it and began to read.
“Quite. That, my dear, is a perfect example of how to throw someone under a bus,” said Aunt Aggie.
“Can he even do that? Is this even legal?” Fred asked.
“I suppose the restaurants could try suing for slander, but I would imagine the paper’s legal team probably made sure everything was aboveboard on that front,” said Aunt Aggie. “It’s a sensationalist piece; unkind, but outrageous enough to be classed as entertainment. Clever lad, if I didn’t want to castrate him, I’d be impressed.”
Fred groaned. “What a bloody mess!” She picked up her phone and tapped onto theDaily Newswebsite, finding the article online and scrolling down to the comments.
@big-tom625:whoa, this guy takes no prisoners!
@zany_nerd:nice burn! hate all that artisanal bs.
@ninetiestroll:think I’m gonna like the new guy. Say it how it is.
@friestogo: think we’ll give Pine Bluff a swerve when we do Scotland @cat_lady0
Fred scrolled down past fifty or so comments, lots of them praising Warren’s approach to food critiquing, while some were just laughing emojis—Warren, it seemed, was a hit. More comments popped up as she read.This is a car crash, she thought as she closed the app.
“I need to call Ryan,” she said, scrolling down to his number, but he was either busy or ignoring her call, because it rang out. She tried calling him on WhatsApp and Facebook, too, just in case. Nothing. She placed her phone face down on the table and puffed out a defeated breath.
Aunt Cam regarded her with concern. “It’s a bit of a sticky wicket, isn’t it?” she said, in her usual understated way.
“It’s a pile of flaming bollocks is what it is!” Aunt Aggie corrected her.
Fred puffed out another breath and put her head in her hands. “What am I going to do?”
“We could burn some sage,” said Aunt Cam. “Once we’ve cleared the negative energy, we’ll be able to think more clearly.”
