‘Yes, I’ll go with the Beaujolais,’ Holland says, and I have no idea how long I’ve been standing there, but nothing is normal any more and I’m starting to get the tunnel vision that means an anxiety attack is imminent. ‘Josh is going to take the pairings, with the Riesling swapped for the Grüner Veltliner – is that right, Josh?’
‘Yes, exactly. Perfect,’ he says, handing the menu back to me. Something has changed in his tone – is it pity?
I try really hard to take it from him normally and smile. ‘Thank you.’
And then I turn on my heel and head to the bar, where Irene is hovering nervously. I look at her and I feel grim and nauseous.
‘I have to go,’ I say. ‘I’m going to be sick.’
I walk through the doors into the staffroom and burst into tears.
26.
I may have exhausted Irene’s inexhaustible patience.
In she came, throwing her long, maternal arms around me, but her hug held rather less of a squeeze than usual. She insisted it would all work itself out, but that she needed to go and focus on finishing the evening.If I could not.
‘If you’re not up to it, then take the night off,’ she said. ‘What’s done is done.’
I blinked up at her through my tears, and her tone softened a little.
‘We’ve all been there. Sometimes nerves get the better of us. You just head back to the cottage and get yourself a hot shower and bed. Okay?’
I nodded and then, when she was gone, untucked my shirt, tossed my apron – notebook and all – into the laundry basket, vowing that, no matter what, I was going to resign and leave them all to it.
But I can’t. So now I sit with my head in my hands, unable to move. And as I begin to calm down, I look at my watch and guess that James is probably on the dessert. James!
Then I hear the door open. Anis comes in and sits down next to me.
‘What happened?’ she says.
‘I lost my temper with the reviewer.’
‘Oh,’ she says, nodding her head. ‘Impressive.’
I don’t laugh, but reach down and pull off my shoes. I can’t look her in the eyes, so I try to pretend my shoes are really fascinating, closely inspecting the heel.
‘It wasn’t that bad, was it?’
‘Everyone was counting on me, and I fucked up.’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ she says. ‘Once, Roxy had to serve Nicola Sturgeon and dropped a gravy boat right in her lap. And Ines fromPortugal, who was here last summer – she got caught shagging a guest, by one of the house maids. That guest was a real weirdo. He got very obsessed with Ines. Brett caught him the next night trying to climb into the cottage through the top window, and he broke his leg.’
‘What?’ I said, sniffing. ‘Brett broke his leg?’
‘No, Brett broke the guy’s nose, and then he broke his leg falling off the windowsill,’ she says, cracking both her knuckles loudly. ‘After I pushed him.’
‘Sounds like an eventful evening,’ I say, sniffing again.
‘It was. This thing – hospitality – it’s a team game, okay? Like the army. You can’t have the best front-of-house in the world and serve soggy bread. And you can’t serve haute-fucking-cuisine on a hub cap.’
‘I feel like I’m the hub cap,’ I say quietly, as a half-smile creeps across my face.
We look at each other and Anis smiles grimly, patting me on the shoulder. An Anis hug.
‘You shouldn’t take this whole thing so to heart. I’m sure James has nailed it. And even if there is a review all about the crazy, weird sommelier who lost her shit at the guests, which I’m sure there won’t be, but even if there is – you never know, it might even bring in more guests to meet the crazy sommelier?’
I half-smile. ‘I just spun out. He was so—’
