‘I don’t think I really believe that they’re in love,’ Sofia said assuredly. She thought of herself as someone who was pretty good at reading people.
‘Nah sure they are. You can’t fake that stuff.’ They were stood side by side but Declan kept glancing over at Sofia as he spoke.
‘How old are you, Declan?’ He looked a little surprised by the question.
‘Um twenty-two, why?’
Sofia was only five years older, but she felt she had learnt a lot about what people could and couldn’t fake in that time.
‘Just wondering,’ she said, unwilling to offer any sort of unsolicited advice that would invariably sound patronising.
Petra came and joined them. ‘There she goes.’ She was pointing at a figure with a suitcase on the marina. It was Tabitha. ‘I can’t believe I’m the head stewardess, and the only stewardess. Hardly feels like a promotion if I’m just doing everyone’s job at once.’ Her tone was exasperated but she looked relieved. ‘I hope she finds another job soon – something on dry land.’
‘Anchors up, Dec.’ Jack’s voice came through the radio, and Declan jogged off.
As the boat manoeuvred its way out of the dock, Sofia felt a deep sense of calm and, for the first time in months, she knew she was doing the right thing.
Chapter Nine
Back in the kitchen, everything seemed to be happening at once. Pots boiled over, pastry charred and sauces curdled. On a couple of occasions, Declan poked his head through the door and was immediately instructed to take that pot off the heat, or chop some herbs before being shooed out again. Somehow by 8p.m., the starters were ready to go. Pan-seared scallops with a parmesan crumb, samphire sprig and pancetta-infused reduction. Declan was deeply confused by the mound of uneaten strips of cooked bacon.
‘Let me get this straight, you cook the bacon but then you only serve the, like, bacon juice?’
Sofia was growing impatient with his idle chatter. ‘Reduction, yes.’ She was bent over one of the dishes, rearranging the samphire this way and that. Finally when she was happy with it, she stepped back to admire the plates, wiping her hands on her filthy apron with satisfaction.
She remembered how to smile, offering one to Declan in the form of an apology for her short-temperedness over the past three hours. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll be making use of them for the crew dinner later.’
Declan grinned. He had been enlisted to help serve the meal, now that they were a stewardess down.
‘Ding,’ she said. She hadn’t been given a bell. ‘Service.’
‘Is that my cue?’ He beamed.
Sofia laughed. Declan was unshakably cheery. He couldn’t know how grateful she really was for his good humour.
‘Something funny?’ he asked, confused, as he picked up the plates.
‘Nothing. Thanks, Declan.’
With a frown of concentration on his face, he left the kitchen, dishes in hand.
The next two courses went out right on time and when Petra came back into the kitchen with spotless plates, Sofia glowed with pride.
She had worried that her time at Nakachwa might have ruined cooking for her entirely. She was grateful that making great food for people still filled her with joy.
After the last of the dishes had been washed up, Sofia got started on the crew meal, a Cajun-style gumbo with the leftover seafood. As nice as it was to put together her best dishes for the guests, she also cherished making the meal that she would be sharing.
She was met with five hungry faces that turned to her expectantly when she came into the crew mess with the first round of plates.
‘Sofia, that smells even better than what I took up to Brian and Milly.’ Declan was licking his lips as she set the food down in front of him.
‘It’ll be our little secret,’ she said, winking at him.
‘So, are you like a seafood chef then?’ It was Jack. Sofia bristled.
‘Well, no, I’ve had a pretty broad range of training.’ She sounded more defensive than she’d intended, and once again a chill descended over the table.
Declan, ever the diplomat, broke the silence. ‘I guess it makes sense.’ He was covering his mouth with his hand, then he gestured around the room. ‘When in Rome!’
