‘Yep, I knew that,’ I say. ‘Another. Go on.’
‘Even the best sommelier in the world doesn’t know everything there is to know about wine. I promise you, evenHeather Jonesis not expected to know everything.’
I breathe out a little, but I feel light-headed and Bill is right – I need to calm down.
‘It’s two forty-five,’ I say. ‘Can you go over it with me for a bit longer?’ I hold my hand up to stop his protests. ‘And then I promise to sit down and do some meditative deep breathing or yoga, or whatever the fuck.’
25.
Irene is clip-clopping about with purpose, making sure everything is perfect for this bloody reviewer, whom I absolutely hate, even though I’ve not even met him.
Bill and I practised for almost an hour and I was near-perfect. I’ve studied this list more than I’ve ever studied anything before. I feel proud and quietly confident.
‘Chop, chop!’ Irene says, clapping at the younger staff, who jump like deer every time they think they’re in trouble. I doubt it would be possible to be truly scared of Irene. But, when you’re twenty, all bosses are intimidating, even the ones as sweet and motherly as she is.
‘I want the windows cleaned too, please. Where are you going, Heather?’
‘I want to speak quickly with James, to make sure he’s happy with everything.’
‘Leave the kitchen be, please. They’re stressed enough!’
I nod, even though I know it’s clearly Irene who is the most stressed.
‘The reviewer will likely be dining with a friend,’ she calls out to everyone, just as a vase is toppled off the bar and the intricate summer bouquet spills across the floor. ‘Damn it, Bill!’
I decide the best thing for me to do is double-check that the stock is all perfectly chilled or close to hand, and that I look presentable.
‘Fifteen minutes until our first reservation!’ Irene shrills, and her hysterics are actually making me feel less nervous. I even have to stifle a giggle as I watch her move from table to table, making minute changes to napkins and glasses, despite the fact that she did it five minutes ago.
As I push through the door into the staffroom to check my face, I can hear her telling Bill to ‘turn the bloody pop music off and find something bloody adult.’
And then I do laugh. I make my way into the staffroom and push open the bathroom door and run straight into James, who is drying his hands. For a moment we just stare at each other, and then I can’t help it: I reach up and put my arms round him and swiftly pull him in for a hug, resting my face in his neck.
It’s the closest we’ve been since we rode the horse together, and I can feel the beating of my heart against his ribs, the smell of lemons and rosemary permeating his clothes, and the acidic topnotes of sweat. I could roll around in it.
‘You’re going to do great,’ I say, as I squeeze him hard.
And as I’m about to pull away, James puts his arms round my shoulders and pulls me closer. He doesn’t say anything, but moves his head slightly and brushes his lips across my forehead and plants a gentle kiss. Like everything with James, it’s sweet. I turn my face up to him and he looks down at my lips for a fleeting moment and then stops himself.
‘Sorry,’ he whispers, before pulling back. ‘Good luck.’
‘You too,’ I reply as he hurries towards the kitchen. I allow myself a little moment to close my eyes and remember the kiss in every beautiful detail. Then I shake my head and look into the mirror. As I do so, my phone rings. A number I don’t recognize.
‘Hello?’
‘Is that Heather?’ says a girl’s voice, and for a moment I scramble my brain. Who is this? Why are they calling me Heather?
‘Roxy?’
‘Hi. Yes, it’s me.’
‘How’s it going?’
‘Oh, everything’s fine. I just heard that the reviewer is coming tonight, and I wanted to apologize. I can’t believe it’s happening tonight. I’m driving back in an hour or so, but I’ll never make it!’
‘Oh, don’t give it another thought, Roxy.’
‘Oh, thank you, Heather. I felt so bad!’
