Page 61 of Snowflakes Over Micklewick Bay

THURSDAY 3RD DECEMBER

Hannah was beside herself with worry. Everything was in place for the opening of the restaurant tomorrow evening. Glasses were gleaming, the cutlery polished so she could see her reflection in it, lights were glowing warmly. The restaurant was poised, ready for the opening night but for one thing, and it was a pretty major thing at that.

The head chef Glyn had disappeared. He wasn’t answering his phone or returning her calls. He’d simply sent a text with the words: ‘I quit’. That was it. No other explanation was offered. At first, she’d thought it must be a joke – not a very funny one admittedly. But then the doubt had slowly started to creep over her, her mind resurrecting some of the odd comments he’d made over the last few weeks. The supposedly light-hearted questions, asking how she’d cope if someone tried to sabotage their opening night. Though she’d brushed them off, she’d always had a concern that Polly or Darryl would make their presence felt, particularly while the renovations were being undertaken. And she’d breathed a sigh of relief when the works had been completed, and an alarm and security cameras had been fitted. But their opening night would be the perfect opportunity for them to make mischief and wreak their revenge for her ‘ruining’ their lives, as Polly had put it.

‘I never trusted him,’ Corrina, the sous chef had said when Hannah had called her, asking if she’d heard from Glyn, hoping she might have an inkling about what was going on. ‘I always had a funny feeling about him. He asked too many personal questions about you.’

The comment had set alarm bells ringing in Hannah’s mind. Were her biggest fears about to come true?

On paper, Glyn Orpington had seemed like the perfect candidate with his glowing references and wealth of experience. Indeed, Lachie had heard tell of his culinary skills. As if that wasn’t enough, the dish he’d prepared for her in his interview using freshly caught North Sea scallops with sea herbs and lemon verbena foam had been exquisite. He’d been the standout candidate from the start with his enthusiastic approach to contemporary cuisine. The menu they’d spent days planning together was exciting and modern. The only thing that had made her slightly uncomfortable was his brusque manner that verged on rudeness, and which hadn’t been present in his interview. It had spilled over into an unacceptable level earlier in the week when she was double-checking that all the fresh food deliveries were in hand. He’d startled her by snapping a foul-mouthed response, telling her to mind her own business, that the kitchen was his department and that she should keep out.

Though she’d been shocked to the core, Hannah had pulled him up about it. She intended to start as she meant to go on, but she’d had to call on every ounce of courage she possessed, which she hadn’t found easy and she’d wished at the time Lachie had been there, not that she wanted to rely on a man but at least he could show her how to deal with tricky, temperamental individuals like Glyn.

‘That type of language isn’t acceptable here, Glyn. It may have been okay to speak like that at your previous places of work but I’m afraid I’m not having it here, and that includes how you speak to the rest of the team. What’s more, this is my business, so if I want to check that everything is in hand in the kitchen, I will.’

He’d glowered at her for several seconds before replying. In fact, she half expected another tirade of bad language, or for things to be thrown but he’d muttered an apology before turning his back on her. All the same, she knew she was going to have to watch him.

But telling her he’d quit the day before their opening night wasn’t what she’d expected. She pushed her fingers frustratedly through her hair. ‘Think, think, Hannah! Come on!’

‘You could ring around the agencies, see if they’ve anyone suitable,’ suggested Corrina, who’d arrived at the restaurant hoping to help. She looked as worried as Hannah felt. ‘Obviously, I’ll do all I can, but I won’t be able to manage on my own without a proper head chef. Mind, there’s no guarantees you’ll get anyone as skilled as Glyn. Much as I think he’s a prat, he’s a bloomin’ good chef.’

Hannah couldn’t argue with that.

Corrina – or Correy as she preferred to be known – was a different matter altogether. Hannah had liked her on sight. She had a sweet, open face, with large dark eyes, her hair tied back in neat cornrows. She had an enthusiasm for cooking that was infectious, with big, bold dreams for the future. Lachie had said she was going places and that it wouldn’t be long before she had a Michelin star attached to her name. Hannah hoped that with her friendly manner, the young chef would be a calming influence in the kitchen while quietly setting a good example to the younger members of the team. And though she kept it to herself, Hannah thought the young woman had the potential to outshine Glyn big time – her sauces had the most delicate texture while still managing to pack a punch of flavour – and she couldn’t help but hope that Correy’s journey would continue with The Pier at Micklewick Bay long after the prickly head chef had gone. Though she hadn’t expected it to happen quite so soon.

And just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse, Sophie, one of the serving staff, texted saying she’d come down with gastroenteritis and wouldn’t be available for work for at least the next few days.

‘I can’t believe this is happening.’ She looked helplessly at Correy. ‘Is someone playing a cruel joke?’ It didn’t help that she had to dash off for an appointment with Mr Cuthbert in twenty minutes.

‘I’ve heard there’s a bug going round, so I think Sophie’s telling the truth. I’ve worked with her before, I’m sure she wouldn’t let you down last minute.’

At least that was good to know.

‘Listen, Correy, I’m really sorry, I’m going to have to dash but I shouldn’t be gone long. You’re welcome to stay, or you can head off, it’s up to you.’

‘Happy to stay. I’ll rack my brains, see if I come up with anything.’

‘Thanks. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.’

As she was heading to the door another text landed, this one from Louis who was one of the bartenders. He had a stomach bug, too.

As Hannah hurried to her car, head down against the wind that she felt sure was tinged with sleet, she barrelled straight into someone heading in the opposite direction. ‘Ugh!’ She glanced up to see a familiar pair of green eyes gazing down at her.

‘Lachie!’

‘Hello, Hannah.’ His smile overrode the tension that had been tugging at her body for a couple of seconds.

‘What are you doing here? I thought you were in Scotland!’

His smile grew wider. ‘I heard on the grapevine there’s an exciting new restaurant opening its doors this week. I came to see if there were any delicious burgers on the menu.’

Hannah’s heart tumbled back to the ground. ‘The way it’s going there won’t be anything on the menu. Or at least no one to cook it.’

His smile dropped. ‘What d’you mean?’

She huffed out a weary sigh. ‘The head chef quit – today.’

‘What? Glyn? The day before you’re due to open, that’s the notice he gives you?’