‘Um, well the thing is, Sofia—’ He was cut off by Petra coming through behind him. The three of them were now squished into the small kitchen, and Sofia began to feel claustrophobic.
‘Sofia, hey, so I need to have a word with you about the food.’ Petra had taken on a matronly tone that Sofia hadn’t heard before. She began to feel a sense of dread.
‘Go on,’ she said, although she really didn’t want her to.
‘So Amelia has made it clear to me that she has not been enjoying what she called “a relentless” amount of seafood, and that she doesn’t really eat fish.’
Sofia was finding it hard to follow what Petra was saying, as the panic clouded her hearing and locked her jaw shut.
‘She told me that she would rather have a meat-based menu from now on, and that she has been missing carbohydrates.’
Sofia found her voice. ‘But her preference sheet literally said the opposite of that. Why is she only mentioning this now? Yesterday they loved the scallops and lobster.’
Petra and Declan exchanged a look, and then neither of them would quite meet her gaze.
‘Well actually, they haven’t been finishing the food.’ Petra looked down at her hands. ‘We’ve just been clearing the plates before we bring them back to the kitchen.’
Sofia’s vision began to throb and she could feel her breathing quicken. The blood was too loud in her ears and she felt the prickle of tears. Suddenly Declan and Petra seemed and sounded very far away. She put her hands on the counter to steady herself.
In the distance she could just hear them. ‘Is she OK?’ Declan sounded worried.
‘I think she’s having a panic attack. Get her a glass of water.’
Petra brought over a small stool and lowered Sofia down. ‘Deep breaths, Sofia. Listen to me, slow down your breathing, and lower your head between your legs.’
Sofia felt like she wasn’t breathing at all; she thought of everything she had given up to be here, a promising career in London’s top kitchens and the chance to follow in Joy’s footsteps. Now she would probably get fired, and have to return to the grey city with her tail between her legs. She would have to accept that this had been a mistake, like so many people had told her it would be.
Declan handed her a glass of water. She took a sip, the cold liquid bringing her back to herself for a moment.
‘Let’s get her back to the cabin.’ Petra helped her to her feet.
‘But what about...’
‘We can cover her for tonight.’ Petra was in army sergeant mode, and Declan was ready to receive orders. The two of them led Sofia back to her room.
‘It’s going to be OK, Sofia. You didn’t know, and that’s my fault. I’m still getting the hang of this job too.’ Petra was taking off her shoes, and Sofia leant into the comfort of her voice and the feeling of being looked after. She had stopped shaking, but she felt exhausted.
‘What about dinner?’ she mumbled weakly, curling herself up into a foetal position.
‘Don’t worry about that right now.’
Sofia was awash with gratitude. ‘Thank you, Petra. I’m really sorry, and thanks for... for looking after me.’
Petra stood up. ‘Yes well, enough of the soppy stuff for tonight. I have a ship to run; you get some sleep.’
Sofia couldn’t believe that she would be able to sleep that night with the anxiety still coursing through her veins. As soon as Petra softly shut her door, the darkness and the gentle bobbing lured her into a fitful sleep. She was transported back to the day, two months ago, when she accepted the job on board theLady Ixchel. She had asked the head chef at Nakachwa, Joy, for a meeting; she had seemed like she was expecting it.
‘Sit down, Sofia, how can I help?’ Joy’s voice was, as always, warm and deep. As she settled into the seat at her desk, she templed her slender fingers up to her chin. Her locks were piled in a crown on top of her head and with her back straight, she looked as regal as ever.
‘I don’t really know how to say this, but I’m handing in my notice.’ Sofia took a deep breath and dared to meet Joy’s dark eyes.
They were sympathetic, but also weighed down with something else. Disappointment, thought Sofia with a heavy heart.
‘Right, I see.’ A pause. ‘And can I ask why?’ Joy’s brow was furrowed with concern.
Sofia could not admit to Joy, or maybe even to herself, that it was because of Simon, and in many ways it wasn’t, not entirely. She didn’t know how to say that she had lost herself, to work, to a man, to drink, to the city. So instead she said: ‘I just think it’s time for me to move on.’
‘I’m not going to pretend I’m not sad to see you go, Sofia, and I really hope you are making the right decision. I saw a bright future for you here, but I have noticed that you’ve lost your focus, and maybe your drive.’
