Meg heard her voice crack and cleared her throat loudly. She was not going to cry. She was not someone who did that. At least, not in her professional life. In the time that she’d been working in kitchens she’d come across some very unpleasant individuals. None of them had ever reduced her to tears. It was the thought of the lunch being taken away from her that made her feel like crying now.
No one spoke for long minutes, the silence broken only by the ticking of the kitchen clock.
‘OK, you can help,’ said Justin, as if offering a great concession. ‘But you must do as you’re told and not get in my way.’
The desire to cry vanished. ‘I can help? And not get in your way? Very generous of you! Feel free to overlook all the work I’ve done already. If you were starting from scratch now, you’d never get the lunch served on time.’
Meg could see Justin was about to respond when Louise stepped in. ‘You’ve done a wonderful job up until now, Meggy, but Justin’s here now. I think we can leave everything up to him.’
Meg wished her mother hadn’t called her ‘Meggy’ as it made her sound so childlike. ‘Everything? Doesn’t he need any help at all?’ She glared at him.
He glared right back.
‘Darling,’ said Louise after a moment’s very tense silence, ‘the main thing is the lunch being a success. Justin is obviously an experienced, professional chef—’
‘The only thing that’s obvious,’ said Meg, ‘is that he’s a man and I’m a woman. That doesn’t make him any better than me!’
Meg heard her voice crack again and walked out of the kitchen. If she started to cry now, no male chef would ever respect a female chef again. She had to get her emotions under control. She walked down the corridor and out into the kitchen garden. She stopped in front of an overgrown rosemary bush and took deep breaths, wishing she didn’t suddenly feel so tired. She folded her arms and closed her eyes.
She was aware of someone coming up behind her. ‘It’s all right, Mum. I’m not going to let you down by making a fuss. I’m probably just very short of sleep. But for that man to swoop in on his motorbike and take over is just so frustrating. Why anyone should assume he’s better than me just because he’s a man is beyond me!’
She felt a hand on her shoulder and immediately realised it wasn’t her mother standing behind her, it was the man on the motorbike. Now it was embarrassment that was crushing her.
‘Listen,’ Justin said firmly. ‘I’m prepared to accept that in some people’s eyes being a man doesn’t necessarily make me a better chef than you, but years of experience almost certainly does. I’ve done the lunch before and I’m going to do it now. You can either helpme, be part of it, or not. I don’t care. But make up your mind because there’s work to do.’
Turning to face him took an enormous effort of will. ‘I’ll stay,’ Meg said. ‘If only to make sure you don’t mess up my coronation chicken.’
She gave a loud sniff and stalked back into the house. By the time he joined her in the kitchen she had blown her nose and was already back to taking the meat off the chicken bones.
To Meg’s surprise, she and Justin worked well together. She refused to ask him anything unless she really couldn’t help it but he seemed to accept what she did without question.
‘Shall I start on the mayonnaise or do you want to do it?’ she asked eventually.
‘Can you make mayonnaise?’ His raised eyebrow implied this was unlikely.
‘Would I suggest it if I couldn’t?’
‘Do you always answer a question with a question? It’s extremely irritating.’
‘Just tell me! Please! Shall I make it? Or do you want to?’
‘You do it,’ he said after a couple of seconds’ thought. ‘I can always make it again if yours goes wrong.’
Meg had helped cater for a wedding once that involved gallons of mayonnaise. It wouldn’t go wrong. She was almost totally confident. ‘OK.’
She was separating eggs when he said, ‘Tell me what experience you’ve had in catering. How often have you been in sole charge?’
Meg was terribly tempted to tell him she’d been a head chef somewhere or other, but she knew nothing would please him more than to catch her out. ‘I’ve worked in a few kitchens as a temp. I’d go in as a kitchen porter, and the chefs didn’t know why I was there so would give me any job that needed doing. With one job I was there for a few weeks and built up to doing desserts. No one else wanted to do them.’
‘But you’ve never been in total charge?’
‘No.’
‘What made you think you could do a lunch for fifty people virtually single-handed?’
It was a fair question. ‘Because the lunch is much more like the catering jobs I’ve also done. You often find yourself taking charge. And I had a plan. Cooking the same meal for fifty people is a lot easier than running a restaurant kitchen.’ She paused. ‘Also, there didn’t seem to be an alternative.’
He nodded. He obviously couldn’t bring himself to agree with her audibly.
