On Monday afternoon, Fiona was sitting at the kitchen table in the upstairs flat. In front of her was a flurry of crayons, notebooks and scattered papers. George was at his desk, staring at his laptop and Rose lay on the sofa surrounded by credit card slips and stock sheets. There was a fire burning in the hearth, the logs crackling as if demonstrating they were working as hard as everyone else in the room. Beside Fiona, eight year old Timmy was struggling with his maths homework, his brow furrowed.
‘Takings have jumped since your sous chef joined,’ Rose said brightly. She got up and walked towards George, leaning over to look at his papers. He pushed her aside, slamming the screen shut with a crash.
‘Don’t pry,’ he snapped.
Rose backed away. ‘Sorry!’ There was a pause before she added, ‘How long is Ruben staying? How long does it take someone like that to get a yearning to cook fish fresh from the sea out of his system?’
Fiona smiled, now understanding Ru’s cover story.
‘No idea, love.’ George barked a laugh. ‘It’s strange being with him in the kitchen. He’s so talented, he makes me look a bit ham-fisted. When I stare at a basket of fish my mind comes up with what’s already on the menu. He’s spinning through alternatives faster than I can work out if I’ve got the ingredients for his last suggestion.’
‘But it must be fun, working alongside someone soenthusiastic.’
‘It is. I will miss him when he goes, but I don’t think that will be before Easter. He’s taken a six month winter let on a holiday flat, so fingers crossed ...’
Fiona looked down at Timmy’s maths problem. She leaned in, her voice gentle and encouraging, just as Aunt Ivy used to be when Fiona was struggling with homework. She guided Timmy, showing him how to break down the numbers and check his work. ‘You try the next one alone,’ she suggested, watching from the sidelines. She wondered if she should be making homework this much fun. Timmy and Becky must learn the importance of completing the task diligently like her parents had taught her. Rose’s coughing interrupted her thoughts. It was a hacking sound that lasted nearly a minute and had Fiona scurrying to the tap for a glass of water.
She carried it to where George was leaning over his wife, a hand stroking her forehead.
‘Here, have some water,’ Fiona suggested.
George took the glass and held it up to his wife’s lips. ‘Take a sip, love. You okay?’
Rose took hold of the glass and drank thirstily. ‘I think I might finish this lot tomorrow, and have a nap,’ muttered Rose.
George rested his hand against Rose’s forehead and frowned. ‘You’re a bit hot,’ he said. ‘Leave everything there. I’ll finish them.’
‘Is Mummy sick?’ whined Becky.
‘Come on, love, off to bed.’ George held out a helping hand to his wife. ‘I’ll do the books. Ruben can start prep without me.’
Fiona watched Rose stumble out and George carry the accounting records to his desk. They were a team, just like she and Ru used to be, but better balanced.
Walking back to the pub for evening service, the air was freshand sliced through Fiona’s raincoat. She would have to invest in a winter coat. None of Ivy’s fitted and hers were in London. The sea breeze brushed against her face, bringing with it the faint smell of seaweed. She turned into the alleyway, shoving her hands into her pockets for warmth. By the back door, Josh was changing a pod on his vape. George was close by, dealing with another courier.
‘Good evening, Josh,’ Fiona called out cheerily. ‘Got a few minutes for a chat about wine?’
Josh exhaled slowlythen nodded enthusiastically.
‘Meet you in the staffroom in five?’ she suggested.
‘Be right there,’ said Josh.
George patted the courier on the back. ‘Glad I’ve caught you, Fiona. Rose isn’t well. Trish from Prosecco & Prose is coming in to help. Rose says you’re in charge, please.’
Fiona felt a swell of pride. ‘Great,’ she said. The motorcyclist revved his engine and accelerated off up the hill. Wondering what was in George’s plastic pouches, Fiona asked him.
George blushed. ‘I sell herb rubs online for a bit of extra cash.’ He coughed, barked a laugh, then added, ‘But I might give that up now I’m working with a celebrity chef.’
This time, Fiona sat across from Josh. He leaned back in his chair, giving her an appreciative look that made her blush. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I’ll start with reds and whites – the basic grape varieties. I’ll mention each, but often a wine is a combination of more than one type of grape. Understanding the characteristics of these grapes helps you to recognize flavours and identify which wines you enjoy.’
Josh nodded and gave her his full attention, though Fiona noticed his eyes flickering to her hands as she gestured.
‘Let’s start withCabernet Sauvignon,’ she said, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. ‘It’s grown in warmer places likeBordeaux in France, and it’s strong, bold ... thekingof red grapes, you could say. Imagine dark, rich flavours – blackcurrant, cedar, even a hint of tobacco. It’s a grape with high tannins, so it ages really well and gets better with time.’
Josh was scribbling in his notebook. He dropped his pen and looked up. ‘Tannins? You get them in tea as well, right? What the heck are they?’
Hmm, how to explain tannins to a novice. ‘Tannins are a group of chemical compounds. You’re right that tea leaves contain tannin, and so do grapes. Tannins are extracted from grape skins, seeds and stems during the winemaking process, and tend to add a slightly bitter flavour. But in a high quality wine, they naturally soften over time and become more integrated, losing their harshness and developing a smoother, more velvety texture which balances the wine’s flavour.’
