It was an unremarkable Tuesday lunchtime shift, until Joy came in. She didn’t usually work Tuesdays, and there was always a sense of substitute teacher mischief on those days. Sofia felt the mood shift before she noticed Joy striding across the dining room, her fine dreadlocks architecturally spiralled atop her head. Out of her chef’s whites she looked regal. A thick cuff encircled her upper arm, her ears dripped with gold, and she was wearing a long loose tunic the colour of blood. The guests couldn’t help staring as she walked past – the queen of her kingdom, Joy owned the space she was taking up. She leant over the chef’s counter.
‘Sorry to barge in like this. Hello, everyone.’ Her brown eyes twinkled.
‘Hello, Chef,’ came the response in chorus.
‘Sofia, could I talk to you in the back office please?’ Sofia felt a dozen pairs of eyes fix on the back of her head.
‘Yes, Chef.’
The back office was claustrophobic – having utilised the windows for the kitchen and dining space, there weren’t enough to go around, so the room was dimly lit, and with only enough space for a desk and a chair facing it.
‘Take a seat, Sofia.’ It felt oddly formal, except Joy had to perch on the corner of the table, and Sofia had to scoot the chair up against the wall for them to maintain eye contact.
‘I guess you might have an idea of what I want to talk to you about?’
Sofia didn’t know what the right answer was. ‘I think I might,’ seemed appropriately non-committal.
Joy held her gaze, seemed to start saying something and then thought better of it. ‘I want to offer you the sous chef job,’ she said matter-of-factly.
And there it was, the thing that she had not let herself believe that she wanted, in her more sober moments, but had hung over her ever since Mark announced he was leaving. The first person she wanted to tell was Simon.
Sofia realised that she had not said anything and that Joy was looking at her expectedly.
‘Um, Joy, I don’t know what to say. I’m honoured. Are you sure?’ She was welling up. She willed herself not to cry.
‘I’ve thought about it a lot, and obviously it’s important to take experience and well, politics, into consideration, but I for one cannot sit back and ignore raw talent. And that is what you have, Sofia. It would be a waste not to make use of it in my kitchen.’
‘I really don’t know what to say.’ She lost the fight and swiped aggressively at her wet cheek.
‘Say yes.’ Joy held out her hand. Sofia shook it.
‘Yes.’
No one asked her what the meeting with Joy was about. She’d just gone quietly back to her station. Tony had raised an eyebrow as she walked past.‘Pub later,’Sofia mouthed back. That night the four of them met outside the Black Bull and Sofia could hardly contain her excitement.
‘I got the job!’ she blurted as soon as they were all standing within earshot.
‘Oh my God, amazing.’ Erica was all hugs and pats on the back.
‘Knew you would.’ When Simon hugged her she thought she could feel him linger just a beat too long.
Tony was quiet. Once Sofia turned to face her, she felt her ecstasy draining.
‘You good, Tony?’ Simon probed tentatively.
‘Sure, just finding it a little hard to understand why you’ve been promoted to sous after six months and I have been in that kitchen for two years, and others have been there even longer.’
There was a heavy silence. Sofia felt numb. She had been naive to think that this wouldn’t happen. Joy had essentially warned her, when she talked about the ‘politics’ of her decision.
Tony looked at the floor, unsure of what to say or do next. ‘I think I’m going to head home, guys.’
The three of them watched her leave. Erica was the first to break the silence. ‘So what’s everyone drinking?’
For Sofia it was red wine. Soon her teeth were stained and her discomfort and guilt had dissipated. She wouldn’t be able to remember much the next day. She remembered that she soon lost count of whose round it was. She remembered that they had been laughing so loudly that people kept looking over disapprovingly. She remembered that after closing they had tried to find somewhere else to drink. But in the hungover grogginess of the next morning, when she woke up in bed naked next to Simon, that was all she remembered.
After an awkward ‘good morning’ and a feeble excuse from Sofia about needing to ‘get to a gym class’ she was out of his flat and on her way home. She felt a little embarrassed on her ‘walk of shame’ but also triumphant. She had not misread the signals, and even though the exact progression of their evening still eluded her there was something about an unexpected falling into bed that felt exciting and cosmopolitan. She had never done anything like it before and she couldn’t help grinning to herself for the rest of the day, basking in the glow of a conquered crush.
Over the next few days, flashes of that night would come back to her. Some of them clarifying, others mortifying. Snogging outside the pub, pawing at each other in the back of a taxi, discarding pieces of her clothing in his halfway, but the ‘main event’, she still had no recollection of.
