‘Who was that? Did they say my name?’ Heather asks in my ear, and she’s shouting now over the sound of traffic in the background.
‘No one!’ I reply. ‘Only my cousin!’
And I hang up and open the door to Bill, who is standing there looking concerned. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Don’t ask. Can I have one minute to clean myself up?’
‘Hurry. If Rippon arrives and we don’t have a sommelier, that willdefinitelymake the review.’
I scrape my hair into a bun and splash water onto my face. I rush over to my locker and pull out a fresh shirt and clean apron, and smear a little tinted moisturizer across my cheeks. There is no time for anything else, but at least I don’t look like I might die.
I take a deep breath and set off to meet my doom.
The dining room is quieter than usual and I think Irene, desperate not to let the music be too loud, has made it far too soft. I can hear the clinking of the glass on table three and the entire conversation on table five.
‘Turn the music up a little,’ I whisper to Bill, who sneakily leans under the bar and raises the volume just enough to fill the room with atmosphere, but no more.
‘Okay, I’m good,’ I say, although inside I’m an absolute wreck. The conversation with Heather has made me unaccountably jumpy, although on the surface she sounded fine. And the Friend request. I have to speak to Roxy as soon as possible.
‘He’s here,’ says Irene in a sing-songy voice as she walks past me and Bill. ‘The moment of truth!’
Bill immediately heads to the other end of the bar and picks up a brandy balloon to polish. I realize, as I watch him shining it aggressively, that this is his nervous tic.
I stand to attention and smile as a man enters the dining room, glancing round at the new decor, straight-faced and utterly unreadable. I turn to Bill for confirmation it’s Josh Rippon, and Bill discreetly nods back.
Josh’s dinner guest is a long, thin-faced bald man, round in the belly, grey and almost powdery, like he’s been dug out of a collapsed whisky cellar. Josh himself is sort of handsome, in a short and ruddy intellectual kind of way, with his black-rimmed glasses and brown rollneck.
‘Okay, I’m up,’ I mutter to myself, as Irene shows them to their table. As I approach, I try to push away all thoughts of Heather and this ridiculous situation. I feel my stomach gurgle and my chest tighten, and I summon all that is ballsy and brave within me and arrive at the table with my biggest smile.
‘Welcome, gentlemen. Can I offer you an aperitif?’
‘Oh yes,’ says the older gent, who keeps wriggling his nose like he’s got something stuck up it.
‘Can I recommend a Gimlet, sir?’ I say, knowing that Bill can knock it out of the park. He spent most of yesterday making fresh lime cordial.
‘I’ll just take some sparkling water,’ says Josh, ‘and the menu?’
Shit! I’d forgotten to offer both.
‘The Highland Quarry sparkling or the Maldon Superior?’ I say, desperately attempting to rectify the situation by dazzling him withour sparkling-water selection. He’s not responding, but instead is looking at me curiously.
‘I don’t mind,’ he says eventually, extremely politely.
‘No worries,’ I say, and I slip back to the bar to pick up the two leather menu cards and ask Bill for a bottle of sparkling water.
‘I forgot to do the water,’ I say. ‘Shit balls! Roxy’s been doing this tag-team thing with me, and I just fucking forgot.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he says. ‘It’s only nerves. He’ll have seen it a million times. You can recover.’
‘And the menu,’ I say grimly.
‘Deep breath,’ Bill says. ‘You can do this. You’ve simply got to give them a fantastic wine choice, pour a glass and then you’re done. Irene can take care of the rest.’
I nod at him and head back to the table, moving round to the right of Josh and pouring his water into the correct glass, before moving across to his guest to do the same.
‘I’ll take a Gimlet,’ his guest says, smiling warmly at me. I can tell he can sense my nerves, and I’m grateful for the look of solidarity.
‘Excellent. Your waiter will be with you shortly,’ I say. ‘In the meantime the degustation menu is at the front, paired with a selection of wines. I’ll happily talk you through anything. I’ll be back in a moment.’
