I point to the almost-empty bottle on the bar and raise my eyebrows.
‘I can take it from here,’ says Roxy, pulling at her ponytail to tighten it. Her equivalent of cracking one’s knuckles.
In the kitchen, James is mid-service and looking deliciously sweaty and pink-cheeked. I head over to Anis, who is overseeing a very young chef (young enough still to have teenage acne) putting together a very delicate lavender ice-cream dessert. His hands are shaking, bless him, and every time Anis barks an order, he shrinks further into his oversized whites.He won’t masturbate for a week, I think.
Anis turns to me and nods in recognition. There is no smile, but I’m realizing that is not the telltale for warmth or approval with her.
‘How’s it going?’
‘Good. Everyone seems to be loving the venison. Think it’s going to be a winner when we open properly.’
‘Too many things on that bloody plate,’ she replies. ‘And as for the fucking foam …’
‘Can I ask a favour?’
‘I don’t do favours,’ she says, before her eyes narrow. ‘But what?’
‘Could you show me how you make it?’
She straightens up and her brows descend to meet her suspicious eyes. ‘Why?’
I look left and right and step closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. ‘I’m a terrible cook.’
‘Bit fiddly for home cooking,’ she replies, straight-faced. ‘Do you really have the patience to tend simmering bones for several hours, just to make the jus?’
‘In one of those big witch’s cauldrons you’re always stirring?’
‘Yes.’
‘Perhaps not,’ I agree with her, ‘but I’d like to try at least.’
‘That’ll do. Send it,’ Anis says to the young chef, who scurries off in relief.
‘What are you two whispering about?’ James asks, sidling up to us and leaning casually against the service area, undoing the top two buttons of his top to let the air in.
‘Heather here wants to learn how to cook.’
James looks amused, but nods his head in approval. ‘Yes, I know. Sounds like quite a challenge too.’
‘What’s the challenge? Are we doing another challenge?’ Roxy walks in, removing her apron and grabbing one of Russell’s tiny artisan dinner rolls from the service area and downing it almost in one. ‘Last summer we had a challenge to grow something edible in the garden. Brett won with his massive cucumber.’
‘Everyone loves a massive cucumber,’ I say, nodding my head in approval.
‘James was very upset it beat his carrot,’ Roxy teases. ‘But worst off was poor old Bill, who couldn’t get anything to grow.’
‘What are you doing all crowded in the kitchen? This is not a house party,’ says Irene, clapping. ‘Table two are awaiting that dessert, Anis!’
‘Heather wants to learn how to cook,’ explains James.
‘Okay, everyone. Calm down. I just want to make that one venison dish.’
‘Well, you can’t make that venison at home,’ Anis continues, obviously still concerned. ‘If it’s home cooking you’re after, you’ll want a good ragu for spaghetti or a nice spicy curry.’
‘Who do you want to cook for?’ James chips in.
‘No one,’ I snap. ‘This is ridiculous, I simply wanted to learn a bloody recipe.’
‘Is it true you can’t cook?’ says Bill, who has strolled in to join the commotion.
