‘They’re your gospel. Alwaysalwayslook at your preference sheets. I know a lot of chefs come in here with a lot of fancy ideas about their menus.’ This last word she said scathingly, and Sofia began to gnaw anxiously at her thumbnail. ‘But the guest is king, or queen in this case. Have you had a good look at Ms Cox’s preferences?’
‘Yes, she said she enjoyed “fine dining”, wants to avoid heavy carbohydrates and loves seafood.’
Petra didn’t seem convinced. ‘Really? Ms Milly Cox always struck me as more of a burger and fries kind of girl.’
‘So you’ve watched the show then?’ Sofia hadn’t pegged Petra for the reality TV type.
‘I mean, I’m not like a fan.’ Was that a hint of defensiveness? ‘But it’s kind of hard to avoid, and if I’m being totally honest—’ they were standing in the narrow hallway, and their proximity had chiselled away at Petra’s spikier edges ‘—I actually have a bit of a thing for Brian,’ she said with a grin that lit up her whole face.
Sofia sensed that as soon as the words had left Petra’s mouth she regretted them. Sofia needed to get her back on side. Petra was someone you wanted to have in your corner. She could feel the coldness sinking into the small space between them, and she wasn’t about to let that happen again.
‘You know what, so do I,’ declared Sofia, and to her pleasant surprise, Petra giggled, her no-nonsense facade cracking to reveal something a little girlish.
‘Who knows, maybe I’m just jealous, or just nervous about meeting him in real life?’ Petra’s voice had gone up in pitch and she kept tucking a strand of her blonde hair behind one ear as she spoke. ‘Obviously, it goes without saying that there is ZERO crew-guest fraternisation allowed.’ Her voice was verging on breathless.
‘Obviously,’ parroted Sofia, happy to have cracked the case of Petra’s excitement, ‘but it doesn’t hurt to look eh?’
Petra looked Sofia dead in the eye. ‘You know, I think we’re going to be friends.’
Sofia blushed at the directness, her Britishness getting the better of her. ‘I’d like that,’ she said, unable to hold Petra’s gaze.
‘Well then enough gossiping. I’m supposed to be showing you to your room, and then I have literally a million things to do on this boat before the guests arrive tomorrow.’ She opened the door. ‘And I don’t want to make a bad first impression on Brian.’ She gave Sofia a knowing look, her eyebrows raised playfully.
The room was even smaller than the kitchen. A set of bunk beds jotted out from the back wall and the remaining floor space was mostly taken up by one tiny bedside table and a chair. Everything was beige. A pile of nylon-heavy looking clothing was neatly folded on top of the pristine sheets.
‘Cosy,’ said Sofia unconvincingly, and Petra bristled.
‘Well I know this is all new to you but you’re actually the only one who even has a room to yourself. Usually you’d have to share.’
‘No, no, it’s lovely, thank you.’ Sofia couldn’t seem to stop putting her foot in it. She needed to reign it in with the wisecracks and knuckle down. She was the chef, not the damn jester.
‘The bathroom is that door there, and those are a few uniforms.’ Petra pointed to the stack on the bed. Sofia picked up what turned out to be a cream polo neck with a navy trim.
‘Is this a... skort?’ Sofia gingerly held up the matching bottom half.
‘That’s right.’ Petra was standing with her hands on her hips. ‘Don’t worry you only really have to wear that when you’re interacting with the guests, which for you is pretty much only on the first day.’
Sofia sat down on the bottom bunk. There was barely enough room for two people to stand.
‘I need to go work out what’s wrong with Tabitha. She better not be goddam seasick – we haven’t even left the dock.’ Petra turned to leave.
‘OK, do you know when my ingredients will be arriving?’ Sofia imagined a pile of scallops, rotting in the midday sun somewhere on the marina.
‘I’d ask Jack. The deckhands usually bring all supplies on board.’ She looked like she was going to say something else on the matter and then decided against it. ‘Dinner is at eight. We’d usually eat after the guests but seeing as it’s just us tonight, we can eat at a civilised hour.’
‘Oh great, what are we having?’
Petra stared at her a moment and then burst out laughing. Sofia grinned.
‘Yeah OK, fine, that’s kind of funny. See you later, Chef.’
As Petra closed the door behind her, Sofia congra-tulated herself on a joke well delivered. Maybe she and Petra could be friends, she thought. Usually women like Petra intimidated Sofia. She admired, and envied, the honesty in their brusqueness, the seeming lack of self-consciousness that comes with being ‘no nonsense’. The surety with which they can decide what they do and do not like. Sofia often found it hard to distinguish between actually liking someone and enjoying someone liking her. She supposed that made her a people-pleaser, but she was determined to change that. With a friend like Petra at her side maybe she could learn a thing or two.
What better way to test her new alter ego than to track down Jack and get her new kitchen set up for dinner.
Chapter Five
She found him on the top deck chatting to Declan. It bugged her that they seemed to be getting along very well. As she approached, she could see them partaking in all the requisite backslapping and laughing that usually indicated men were ‘being friendly’.
