‘Fine,’ spat Ru.
They rose together. Ru’s face flushed with anger. He leaned over and for a moment she thought he was reaching for her, but he picked up the coat. ‘Just take it. You’ll freeze without one. It’s dropping to minus five tonight.’
Snatching it up, she picked up the Post-it note too and shoved that into one of the coat pockets. ‘You won’t be wanting advice from a failure,’ she muttered, then she stomped to the door and clomped down the stairs. She’d show him. Fail? Not this time.
Twenty-five
Running late, Fiona grimaced as she saw the team already assembled for the evening’s briefing through the fogged-up kitchen window. She dashed up the steps, tearing off her new coat as she ran. Fiona tossed the coat onto the staffroom table and sprinted into the kitchen.
‘Sorry I’m a bit late,’ she puffed, sidling over to the serving counter where Kim and Rose stood with their hands clasped around notepads. Kim was wearing a short, figure-hugging emerald green dress, which Fiona thought was inappropriate for work, but perfect for attracting Ru’s attention.
‘Hi,’ she whispered. Neither of the other women responded. She squeezed between them, and as she did, they both stepped sideways, distancing themselves as if she was contagious.
‘The pheasant dish has poached chestnuts with it, so beware of nut allergies,’ advised George.
‘The sauce is thickened with a roux – that’s a mixture of flour and butter, so contains gluten and dairy,’ added Ru.
‘Let me write that down, Ruben,’ said Kim, fluttering her eyes at the sous chef. Fiona clamped her mouth shut. Kim wasn’t very subtle.
‘Any questions?’ asked George.
Yes, thought Fiona. When was someone going to tell her why she felt as welcome as a wasp at a picnic? She shook her head and turned to follow Rose out, blanking out the sound of Kim’s hurried footsteps thumping behind her. But Fiona couldn’tignore the younger woman’s voice, loaded with venom, ‘I’ve told Rose I saw you lurking round the cellar.’
Fiona spun round, laughing. If that explained her being cold-shouldered tonight, Fiona had nothing to fear. Rose trusted Fiona – she’d told her as much. ‘Not a peculiar place to find a sommelier.’
‘Sommeliers don’t lurk ... thieves do though ...’ Fiona’s stomach sank. Then Kim’s lip curled back, and she spat, ‘I know you’re having a relationship with Ruben. I clocked you coming out of his flat this morning. In this together, are you?’
Fiona didn’t rise to the taunt, but wished she and Ru had been more careful. Evidently the sight of Fiona coming out of Ru’s flat had goaded Kim into trying to finger Fiona for the wine thefts.
All evening,the pub thrummed with voices. Outside, waves rumbled against the harbour wall and the autumnwinds blew against the windows. Fiona moved through the restaurant, offering smiles that hid her frayed nerves. She was good at her job – she knew that. But tonight, her thoughts were scattered. The pub was busy, and Fiona tried to concentrate, moving between tables, uncorking bottles with a flourish.
Across the room, Kim was laughing with Rose. The laughter was for show, Fiona knew that much. Whenever she thought no one was looking, Kim’s eyes would flicker over to Fiona, her mouth set in a small, tight smirk. The idea of someone accusing Fiona of theft stung her, a barb planted by Kim that festered with every passing hour.
Rose was walking towards Fiona, her eyes flashing, making Fiona’s throat constrict. Did her boss suspect her? She was innocent. Kim’s accusations didn’t carry any weight without evidence.
As she set down two empty cocktail glasses at the bar, she caught Rose giving her a pointed look, lips pursed, chin tilted. Fiona noticed the slight hesitation when Rose handed over awine order, sliding the paper onto a nearby table rather than placing it in Fiona’s hands, as if the simple act of touching them might taint her.
But Fiona kept her face neutral, her hands steady. Tonight, Kim’s resentment seemed to linger just beneath the surface, like a bitter tannin that stayed in the mouth long after you swallowed. Fiona knew the source of the other woman’s hostility – all those minor mishaps: the swapping of Mr Florid Face’s wine order; the mysterious obstacle in Fiona’s path when she was carrying a tray; her untied apron. They all stemmed from the same grudge. Kim must have detected an undercurrent of attraction between Fiona and Ru and, determined to have Ru for herself, she had set out to undermine her rival. Fiona bit her tongue. Snapping at Kim now would only give the younger woman more ammunition.
‘Table 4 is asking for the sommelier, Fiona,’ Rose called over her shoulder, voice clipped.
‘On it,’ she replied, grabbing a wine list and making her way to the table. She caught sight of Kim chatting with a couple at the bar. When Fiona brushed past her, Kim’s smile didn’t falter, but her gaze slipped sideways, just long enough for Fiona to feel the frostiness of it.
Discussing the merits of different wines with the couple at Table 4 steadied Fiona. But then Rose leaned over, muttering something low to Kim and glancing back at Fiona with narrowed eyes.
As the night wore on, the wind outside grew louder, howling around the pub as if echoing Fiona’s storm of emotions. She continued pouring, smiling and describing each wine with the same careful dedication as always. But when the crowd thinned and the evening wound down, Fiona caught Rose alone, wiping down the bar.
She approached with measured steps, the words crystallizingin her mind. Surely, Fiona told herself, this was just a misunderstanding. She would explain that Kim’s accusations stemmed from their long-standing rivalry. After all, Rose had trusted her enough to share the code to the new cellar lock – a gesture that spoke volumes. Kim’s claims couldn’t possibly have swayed the boss.
But when Rose looked up, her eyes reflected not understanding, but betrayal. Without a word, she stalked past, deliberately avoiding Fiona’s outstretched hand. Kim followed in Rose’s wake, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.
Left alone, Fiona stood motionless in the deserted restaurant. The silence pressed in from all sides as the walls seemed to contract around her, trapping her with the weight of shattered trust. Thank goodness she was off to London in the morning. That would give time for Kim’s accusations to blow over, although it might be better to hand in her notice when she returned. The Smuggler’s Inn wouldn’t have need of a member of the CMS.
Fiona plodded to the staffroom. Someone had hung up her coat. Probably Josh. Kim hadn’t spoken to her all evening. Ru wouldn’t look her in the eye. And Rose was barely civil. She removed it from the peg and slipped into it, the silky lining the only softness she’d encountered that night. The coat felt strangely heavy. Something thumped against her thigh, and she glanced down. A bottleneck was poking out of the pocket, its top covered in gold foil. She reached in, smiling as she pulled out a half bottle, with a simple yet striking gold label – Krug. Was this a peace offering from Ru after their harsh words, intended to calm her before her exam? He knew it was her favourite. It was thoughtful of him to choose a half bottle, so it fitted snugly in the pocket. A full bottle would be visible and might demand an explanation. She would chill it properly and enjoy it with Ivy totoast belonging to the CMS.
Hearing the door open, Fiona spun round. Rose stalked in wearing the same sullen expression she had been casting Fiona’s way all evening. Good, she wanted to clear the air, defend herself from whatever poison Kim had dripped into Rose’s ears. Behind her boss, Fiona spotted Josh, and then Kim, and beside her, Ru. Fiona’s heart skipped a beat seeing Kim standing so close to him.
Then Fiona noticed Kim’s eyes. They were alight, like a puppy who has just been tossed its favourite toy, and she felt a stirring of discomfort. Her whole body started tingling.Outside, the wind gave a drawn-out yowl as if prophesying danger.
