Louise cleared her throat, wiped her nose on her handkerchief and then went to the small mirror and adjusted her hair. ‘I’d better put some lipstick on.’
‘I’ll sort out the drinks.’
A couple of days after Andrew had left for France, the telephone rang and as Meg happened to be passing the office, she answered it. It was Justin.
‘Is that Meg?’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘I was wondering if I could ask you a favour?’
She tensed. The hotel had been a bit busier lately and she didn’t want to be bothered with sorting out Justin’s bike or whatever it was he wanted. Couldn’t Laura do things like that for him? ‘Ask away.’
He cleared his throat and Meg suddenly got the impression he was nervous. ‘I need your help.’
‘That’s usually the case when you want to ask someone a favour.’
‘You know I’ve sprained my ankle?’
This was better than if he’d broken it, Meg thought. ‘I did find you in a ditch so I knew something was wrong. What is that to do with me?’
‘Of course, well … it means I can’t cook.’ He sounded embarrassed, thought Meg. Possibly sensing Meg might give another sharp reply, he hurried on. ‘I’ve had to put my pastry chef in the main kitchen which means I have no one to make desserts.’
Meg’s interest was piqued. ‘Bad luck,’ she said, sounding disinterested.
‘I would like you to supply desserts for the trolley. A few tarts, mousses, trifle,pâtisserie…’
‘How are you going to manage the crêpes Suzette?’
‘I’ve taken it off the menu. Can you help?’
‘Why should I?’
‘Because it would be a challenge and you can’t resist a challenge.’ Meg could tell he was smiling, confident he’d found her weak spot.
Annoying as his amusement might be, she wasn’t going to turn the challenge down. ‘The hotel has to gain from it in some way,’ she said.
‘I’d pay you, of course, and promise to send anyone we can’t accommodate your way. We’re often fully booked.’ Justin paused. ‘I would be deeply in your debt, and when you move on, I’ll give you a reference.’
‘How will I get the desserts to you?’
‘Someone will collect them,’ he said. ‘Keep a note of everything you spend, plus your time.’ He took a breath and his voice softened. ‘I won’t let you lose by it, Meg.’
Something suspiciously like tears rose up in her throat. It couldn’t really be tears, she reasoned, but something about his deep voice, saying her name, using words that were kind, caused a moment of emotion.
‘OK, tell me exactly: what do you need and when do you want them by?’ she asked, hoping her voice sounded normal.
‘I’d like half a dozen large desserts and as many individual desserts as you can manage. The day after tomorrow would be good.’
‘I’ll need dishes. Ramekins, things like that.’
‘I’ll get some to you,’ he said and rang off.
Meg had always enjoyed making puddings, pastries and desserts. She enjoyed the delicate precision required and was good at piping. Now, she went into the kitchen and started a batch of pastry. Although she tried hard not to, she couldn’t help feeling enormously flattered by this request. Justin was the head chef in a prestigious hotel and had a reputation to keep up. He might not have been personallyresponsible for the desserts, but it was up to him to make sure they were of the required standard. And he’d chosen her to produce them. He might not have had a huge choice of people who could do it, she realised, but she was confident he wouldn’t have asked her if he didn’t think she could produce food of a very high standard.
She was makingcrème pâtissièrewhen her mother came in. ‘Oh, that looks nice,’ said Louise, observing the rows of pastry cases. ‘Have we had another booking?’
‘It’s not for us,’ said Meg, blushing and hoping her mother wouldn’t notice. ‘Justin rang to say he needs me to make desserts for their sweet trolley. He’s paying, of course, and he says he’ll put guests our way when they’re full.’ She took a breath. ‘I thought as he was Andrew’s son, I should be helpful.’
