You know what now, her mind replies.
Chapter 20
Mebel walks UP TO thepodium in a daze, but with every step she takes, she forces herself to take a deep breath. She squeezes her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her palms to recenter herself in the moment. This is not a time where she can afford to be out of it, she hisses to herself mentally. And by the time she gets there, she feels far more grounded. Her mind is thinking with startling clearness. No more self-doubt or living in the past or worrying about the future. She is all here, every part of her.
Alain picks up a small glass trophy along with a thick piece of paper and hands it to her. Everyone cheers as Mebel receives the trophy and paper from him. It’s Mebel’s first time winning a trophy for anything, and she allows herself, just for one second, to revel in it. She feels its weight in her hand and takes inits triangular shape, its shiny surface glinting in the light. Then she leans over to the microphone and begins talking.
“Thank you, everyone.” Mebel waits a few seconds for everyone to stop applauding, then says, “My name is Mebel Tanadi. I am Chinese-Indonesian and I am sixty-three years old. This is first time I win anything in life.” She grins as everyone claps once again, nodding until the noise recedes. “I never know what is like to win a trophy, especially one as important as this. And so I am very sad to say that I cannot accept this.”
The room goes quiet. Mebel glances at Alain and sees the confusion written on his face. Before he can say anything, she continues talking. “And I don’t think anyone should accept the prize. I know the prize sound so good—wow, a job at Canard et Vin! But what Chef Alain fail to tell us is that the winner who accept the contract must work at Canard et Vin for at least five years, and anything they create while working there is belonging to the restaurant.” She pauses to let her words sink in. “I read the contract myself. I don’t know about you, but to me this is sounding very bad. And that is not the only reason I cannot accept this prize. You see, is not me who come up with the Peking duck confit dish.”
Murmurs rise up among the crowd.
“I come up with the Peking duck idea—well, that’s not a new idea, is it? Is just a piece of duck inside a crepe. But the one who come up with the flavors to dry-age the duck with, and also that crumbled crunchy duck skin topping? That one is all my partner, Gemma Stevenson. Gemma, where are you?” Mebel squints into the crowd, trying to make out the familiar face. It’s hard because there is a spotlight shining right at herface, which makes the rest of the dining hall look dark, but she spots a figure waving at her. “Okay, I think she is there.” She glances over again at Alain. He looks livid. She’s not going to have much more time before he cuts her off.
“Gemma was a student at this school, but she recently quit, just like that. All of a sudden. She leave without telling anyone why,” Mebel says. “It take me a long time to figure out what happened, but I know something must have happened because is just not like Gemma at all. She is a talented chef. You can tell because, like I say, the duck dish is all her creation. But you know why she quit the school?”
Alain is now next to her, his arm around her shoulders. He leans down over the microphone and says, “All right, thank you Mebel for that speech. Let’s give her a round of applause.” He straightens up and whispers in Mebel’s ear, “Whatever you think you’re doing, stop it now.”
A smattering of applause rises from the dining hall, but it is weak and soon stops as people stare in open confusion. Alain is strong and he is ushering Mebel off the podium firmly, and she is unable to resist him without struggling. But no matter, because as Alain leads her off the stage, she catches sight of Agatha striding up to take her place. Alain nods at Agatha as they pass her, clearly expecting Agatha to defuse the situation.
“Hello, everyone,” Agatha says into the microphone. “My name is Agatha Wells, and I work at Saint Honoré. As the receptionist, I am basically invisible. A human ornament, always seated behind the desk to serve anyone who needs assistance.”
“You can forget about continuing your studies at the school,” Alain is hissing in Mebel’s ear. It’s a good thing he’s so busywhispering threats to Mebel, because his attention isn’t on Agatha, but Mebel is focusing on Agatha’s words.
“The thing about being a human ornament is that I see and hear everything,” Agatha says. “And over the last few years, I have observed a curious pattern: young attractive female students would enroll at our school, and then after Alain visits the campus, these women would either suddenly drop out or become quiet and withdrawn.”
Chef Clarke is rushing toward Mebel and Alain as though prepared to escort Mebel out of the dining hall, but at Agatha’s words, he pauses. He looks up at the stage, his eyes wide, and when he turns back to Alain, a quiet coldness has settled over his face. “Is this true?” he says.
Alain waves a flippant hand. “Is what true? Nothing but gossip and hearsay.”
“Here I have a statement,” Agatha says, holding up her phone, “signed by over a dozen of our students, asserting that Chef Alain Moreau has been sexually harassing them and coercing them into doing inappropriate activities with him, and when they refused, he told them they would be blacklisted by every restaurant in Europe.”
Gasps erupt from the dining hall. Chef Clarke’s mouth curls up with disgust. “You’ve been doing what?” he says to Alain. His gaze drops to Alain’s hand, which remains wrapped around Mebel’s upper arm. “I think you should take your hand off her this very minute.”
Mebel is released, and she nods her thanks to Chef Clarke before turning to face Alain. Alain wears a poisonous expression, and Mebel wonders how she could’ve ever found himattractive. His whole face has turned red, his forehead shiny with perspiration.
“This is an outrage,” Alain hisses at Mebel. “Your little trick here is called slander, and I won’t stand for it. You will be hearing from my lawyer.”
“Maybe you will hear from police,” Mebel retorts.
Alain opens his mouth to say something, but Chef Clarke says, “Please remove yourself from the premises, Alain, or I will have the porters remove you.”
“This is a joke!” Alain snaps. Then he wheels around and storms out of the dining hall, every pair of eyes following him.
“My word,” Chef Clarke murmurs, brushing his hair back. “I can’t believe—so it’s all true?” he says to Mebel.
She nods. “I talk to these young women myself. Agatha give them all my number, and they call me and tell me what happened. There are many of them, just from the branch here in Cowley. I imagine if you look into the branch in Paris, you will find even more women who go through the same thing.”
“Good grief.” For a moment, Chef Clarke looks so lost that Mebel feels slightly sorry for him. But this is no time for her to be standing around feeling bad for a man.
“Mebs,” someone says.
Mebel turns around and is engulfed in a hug from Gemma.
“I can’t believe you pulled that off,” Gemma says. She is shaking.
Mebel pulls away so she can look at the young woman. “Not just me,” she says. “You do it too. You and the other students who are brave enough to come forward.”
