Fifteen
When Fiona arrived at the pub to give Josh his wine lesson, he wasn’t in the staffroom. She tried the kitchen. George was hunched over his computer screen, and Ru was filleting fish, making the task look as simple as peeling an orange.
‘Where’s Josh?’ she asked.
Clearly absorbed in the culinary world, George didn’t reply.
‘Ruben?’ she nudged. ‘Seen Josh? I thought we’d arranged another wine tutorial.’
Ru scraped fish bones into a saucepan, adding a hand-tied bouquet garni of herbs, leaving the string dangling outside the pan. ‘Yes, he did mention something about that. He’s gone to fetch some more baking parchment – stocks are running a bit low.’
‘Baking parchment?’ she asked, rolling the words round her tongue. Why was that urgent?
‘Yes,’ said Ru in an offhand manner. ‘I decided to cook the halibut ‘en papillote’ as one of tonight’s specials.’ He flashed her a smile. ‘And to do that I need more baking parchment.’
Hmm , thought Fiona. This morning the plan had been to poach the fish in a wine-based stock. She was itching to ask if the inspiration to switch the recipe coincided with Ru’s discovery of Josh’s wine tutorial. ‘Fine. Please tell him we’ll reschedule.’
Deciding she might as well help Rose lay the tables, Fiona marched out, leaving the door swinging behind her. Rose stood at the bar, the booking sheet in front of her.
‘Anyone special in tonight, Rose.’
‘You’re in early,’ mumbled the boss. ‘And yes ... now you ask – Richard and Cora Hastings. I’ve put them on Table 5. Cora made the booking and was very complimentary about you. Apparently, you recently recommended a very interesting wine to go with her rare steak.’
Fiona blushed, recalling Steakgate, and the man with the florid face.
She hoped her boss would not ask her to look after the couple.
The man had been rude and arrogant – the last person she wanted to serve again.
‘Cora asked if you were on duty tonight, and when I told her you were, she asked for you to be on hand when they place their wine order.’ Fiona’s chest swelled with pride as her boss’s praise echoed in her ears, a smile spread across her face and Fiona stood a little taller.
She suspected Florid Face was a classic wine snob who assumed fine wine must hail from Europe, whereas his wife was more open to advice and delighted to drink similar wines at a cheaper price.
‘That would be my pleasure,’ Fiona responded beaming.
Later that evening, Fiona approached Table 5, where Kim, despite wearing an apron, and having an order pad tucked under an arm, looked more like a guest about to join the couple for dinner than a waitress.
Kim revealed both customers had ordered the fish special – halibut en papillote, with hazelnut butter and fresh thyme. ‘I’ll make sure Ruben himself prepares it for you,’ Kim said, winking at the woman. ‘I think he’s got a crush on me.’
Fiona bit down on her lip. She hoped Ru would have better taste.
‘I’ll leave you in the capable hands of our sommelier,’ said Kim, ‘and I’ll tell my Mum you said hi, Cora.’
The man spoke across the table at his wife. ‘I think an aged white Burgundy will go well with that, don’t you, Cora?’
Fiona might not like him, but she respected his wine knowledge; the rich, nutty, buttery flavours of an aged Chardonnay would pair beautifully with the fish, which was delicate enough to let the complexity of the wine shine. She ran mentally through the cellar, selecting a Chassagne-Montrachet.
A smile played at the corners of Cora’s mouth as she sat back and caught Fiona’s eye. ‘... unless our sommelier can recommend something from the New World at a fraction of the price?’
Sensing she was on treacherous ground, Fiona gushed, ‘An aged white Burgundy is an excellent choice, sir, but there are several alternatives I could recommend, which are very cost-effective.’
The man took a breath. ‘Go on.’
‘There’s one from South Africa, made also from the Chardonnay grape, called Palladius.
And your wife is correct – although expensive, it’s much cheaper than say a Chassagne-Montrachet, which is what I would recommend from Burgundy.
’ Should she mention that the South African winemaker followed biodynamic practices and fermented his wines in clay amphorae, which he believed allowed for purer expression of the terroir?
‘Let me think about that,’ said the man. ‘Write down the details of both and I’ll discuss them with my wife.’
Fiona did as asked, leaving the slip of paper with the couple while she went to fetch them some water.
She was returning with the jug of water when she bumped into Kim. ‘Is that for Cora and Ricky?’ asked Kim.
‘It’s for Table 5.’
‘Mr and Mrs Hastings to you,’ said Kim, sneering slightly. She tore a piece of paper in half, glanced at both pieces, then handed one to Fiona. ‘Swap you. That’s the wine they want.’ Sauntering off, Kim added over her shoulder, ‘Cora plays golf with Mummy, and Ricky is Daddy’s bridge partner.’
Fiona glanced at her own handwriting; the couple had chosen the French wine. It was nearly three times the price of the South African. Rose would be thrilled. She had a sudden thought, and gulped – she hoped the wine was still in the cellar.
Five minutes later, with the precious bottle in her grasp, Fiona returned to Table 5, presenting the bottle label side up for the customer’s approval.
He frowned, then waved it away. ‘That’s not the right wine.’
‘ Oh, I’m sorry, sir. This is the white Burgundy I recommended.’ She checked the year. Yes, it was the correct vintage.
His face reddened. ‘ Exactly!’ he hissed. ‘We ordered the South African wine. You swapped it on purpose, didn’t you? Trying to pull a fast one on us?’
Telling herself to speak calmly, and wishing the man would lower his voice, Fiona said, ‘I assure you, sir, it was an honest mistake.’ Except Fiona didn’t think it was – she’d seen Kim check the paper before she handed it over.
‘Can I help at all?’ said a simpering voice. It was Kim, smiling sweetly. Fiona scraped a hand through her hair and adopted an authoritative tone. ‘Thank you, Kim, I can handle this.’
But Kim didn’t seem to want to leave.
‘Here she is,’ spluttered Mr Hastings. ‘Kim, which wine did I choose? The South African or the French?’
‘The South African. That’s what I told the sommelier ,’ said Kim, managing to convey the impression there was something illicit in Fiona’s profession. ‘Has she made a mistake?’
‘Thank you, Kim,’ said Fiona through clenched teeth. ‘Why don’t you see what’s happened to the starters.’
‘Of course, Fiona.’ Kim smiled.
Mrs Hastings reached out a steadying hand, covering one of her husband’s. ‘Richard let’s not escalate this. It’s just a mix-up. It hasn’t even been opened yet.’
‘A mix-up?’ snapped Richard. ‘She’s deliberately trying to fool us into paying for a wine that’s three times the price of the one we ordered. You heard Kim – I ordered the cheaper wine. This isn’t my mistake. Why should I just gloss over this?’
‘Because we’re here to enjoy an evening together,’ pleaded Cora, ‘and I’d rather not start it off with a fight.’
Fiona risked joining the discussion. ‘I can bring you the correct bottle right away, sir.’
‘Fine but I’d better not be charged for this!’
The wife sighed. ‘Let’s just take a deep breath. It’s just a mix-up over a bottle of wine.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ grumbled Richard.
‘I’ll take care of everything, sir. Thank you for your patience.’ Fiona flashed a smile of thanks at the wife and escaped to the cellar.
For the rest of the evening Fiona kept her distance from Table 5. Anyway, she was superfluous. Kim was hanging round the table as if the couple were royalty, bending to pick up a dropped napkin, fetching a fresh jug of iced water when the one on the table was still half full.
By the end of service Fiona was still smarting – Kim had set her up.
In the staffroom she pulled on her raincoat.
Someone had left the windows open, and she could hear the rhythmic creaking of boat moorings in the harbour, the soft sound soothing her nerves.
She leaned against the windowsill. Outside, a full moon shone, its reflection shimmering on the ocean’s surface.
She heard laughter, recognized Josh’s gentle chuckle, and closed the window.
She would rearrange their missed wine lesson.
Outside, she spotted three people standing close to the harbour wall. With the gentle shushing of the waves and the earthy smell from nearby pines, a romantic atmosphere seemed to envelope the small group. As she got closer, she identified Ru, Josh and finally Kim.
Kim’s hair was loose, dancing lightly in the wind, and there was a sparkle in her eyes. ‘When are you going to cook something special for me, Ruben?’ she asked.
‘What would you like to eat?’ he asked in a teasing voice.
‘Surprise me. I want a Ruben special.’
With his arms crossed, Josh watched the playful exchange. A flicker of annoyance crossed Fiona’s face.
‘Ah, Fiona!’ Ru said, glancing over his shoulder. ‘Join us! We’re inventing specials and could do with some wine input.’
‘From a sommelier,’ said Kim, her tone mocking.
Fiona’s brow furrowed and she struggled to suppress her irritation. ‘Think I’ll just head off, leave you three to cook up the specials. You don’t need my skills,’ she muttered, her voice edged with defensiveness.
‘What skills might they be,’ taunted Kim, ‘when you can’t tell the difference between a French wine and a South African?’
‘What’s this?’ asked Ru, grinning.
Fiona’s face burned and she shot Kim a sharp glare. Kim gave her version of the Table 5 wine debacle. Josh, to his credit, didn’t seem to see the funny side of the story, but Ru and Kim found it amusing.
‘That wasn’t my fault, and you know it,’ Fiona shot back, but her words felt weak against the laughter of the other two.
Ru chuckled, the sound mingling with that of waves hitting the rocks. ‘Come on, Fiona! We all make mistakes! At least now we know who to send to the wine cellar,’ he teased, nudging Kim playfully.
Kim burst into laughter, her joy echoing in the cool night air.
Fiona clenched her jaw, hurt surging through her as she tried to keep her composure. ‘I’m not the only one who’s ever messed up,’ she managed, her voice steady but barely concealing her frustration.
‘Come on, Fiona, don’t be so sensitive!’ Ru replied, his tone still light, yet it felt like a weight pressing down on her.
‘Sorry I missed our lesson earlier,’ said Josh. Fiona could have hugged him.
‘No drama. I gather you were sent out on an errand. Same time tomorrow?’
‘I reckon,’ said Josh, ‘so long as it’s all good with the boss.’ He raised his eyebrow slightly mockingly at Ruben. But Fiona didn’t think he’d pull the same stunt twice in a row.