‘I knew he’d love it,’ Noel said. ‘It’s a total bargain, too. Even in here, at inflated hotel prices. Can’t wait to find out what we could get it for wholesale. We could make a killing on stuff like this.’
‘Can we just enjoy a glass of wine, do you think? Does everything have to be about money?’ Johnny thumped the bottle down, instantly prickling with irritated heat.
‘Weareenjoying the wine, Johno. But since when did we pass up a business opportunity? We didn’t make Taylor Made Wine a success by sitting on our arses, did we? Get on the blower and line up a viewing at this vineyard for us. I’ve already looked it up – it’s less than fifty kilometres from here. An appointment tomorrow would do.’
Johnny stifled a laugh. There was no arguing with Noel’s logic, even if he was totally exhausting to be around. He pulled out his phone and made the call.
Chapter 4
Fran pushed a particularly wayward strand of hair behind an ear as she carried the last of the dirty laundry bags out to the laundry service van. It was parked in a courtyard to one side of the chateau, the inner workings of the hotel hidden from the guests by a set of walls which Fran knew had been purpose-built when the place was renovated, but which looked as though they had been mortared into place at the same time as the chateau itself. The guy driving the van had done little to help her with the heavy bags. Instead, he lounged against the side of the van, the sharp tang of tobacco curling in the still air as he smoked a roll-up.
She shoved at the final bag, determined to make it fit into the back of the Citroën. Her hair slid back across her face, and she blew at it, then mopped at the sweat on her forehead with the back of a hand. God, it was stifling, especially outside.
‘Finis?’ he asked.
‘Yes, that’s the last one.’
Without another word, he slammed closed the rear doors and climbed into the driver’s seat. He looked her up and down, pulling a piece of tobacco leaf from his lip before he started the engine and drove away.
Back in the service area of the chateau, Fran headed for the tiny staffroom. She felt absolutely exhausted. Could do with a full-blown spa treatment to ease her already aching limbs. At the very least, she was desperate for a shower and a change of clothes. But there hadn’t been any mention of a break, of what time she would knock off at the end of the day and have a chanceto get properly acquainted with her new surroundings. For now, Fran settled for a glass of cold water.
Frenetic. That was the word for this place. Everything that needed to happen was happening, but nobody seemed to stand still even for a moment. She was exhausted and she’d only been at the chateau for a few hours.
‘Fran – there you are. Question for you. Have you ever waitressed?’ Penny followed her voice into the room, taking one look at the glass in Fran’s hand before she tutted and shook her head. ‘You’re going to need a lot more than water to survive around here. Let me make some coffee. It’s about the only thing we’re allowed to slow down for.’ Grinning, she pulled a stovetop espresso-maker from a cupboard and set about filling it. Once it was bubbling on the hob, Penny repeated her question. ‘Have you done any waitressing?’
‘Why?’
Penny grimaced, then pulled at her long blonde ponytail as her eyebrows arched. ‘We’re down by a couple of waitresses and a sous-chef. Again. I’ve said I’ll pull a double shift – I could do with earning as much money as I can while I’m here – and I worked a couple of restaurants in the UK before I decided to travel, so I know enough. If you could help out too, we’d be golden.’
Fran wanted to ask why the chateau was understaffed. Why it seemed to come as no surprise to Penny that there weren’t enough wait staff, when the girl had only been in the job herself for a few weeks. And Fran wanted to know why the staff were scratching around to source enough help, when everything front of house was expected to be of the highest quality.
‘Louis is on tonight. He’s a great chef, but gets mega stressed so the smoother things run, the better. Last week his bouillabaissewent wrong, and he threw it across the kitchen. It’s just him and Harry in the kitchen tonight.’
‘Harry?’
‘One of the sous-chefs.’ Fran noticed a glint of something in Penny’s eye, the rise in the edges of her lips before she continued, ‘It’ll be challenge enough for the two of them to get everything prepped and out on time without another pair of hands, so if we’ve got the right number of restaurant staff, that’ll help. And you’ll get paid for the extra hours.’ Penny poured the coffee and handed her a tiny, pungent-smelling mugful. ‘Plus, you’re the fresh meat now around here, not me. You might as well get up to speed on day one. Then you won’t begin to expect the luxuries. Like sleep. Time off. You know … that kind of thing?’
‘Seriously?’ The coffee was good, and surprisingly refreshing, but what Penny was saying was ringing warning bells for Fran.
‘Well, I might be exaggerating a bit. Do you know your right from your left?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you remember starter and main course choices for a table of four?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Do you do an impersonation of Julie Walters’ old lady when you carry soup?’
‘Not knowingly.’ Fran’s lack of comprehension must have showed.
‘Comedy skit where hardly any of the soup made it to the table?’
Fran shook her head. ‘Never seen it.’
‘YouTube it,’ Penny said. ‘Absolutely hilarious – and she went on to play Ron Weasley’s mum in the Potter films, remember?’
Fran nodded vaguely.
