Chapter 3
THREE
As she emerged from the bedroom, showered and ready to face the day before her weekend off, Marianne was surprised to see Emma dressing Denny in his coat and shoes.
“Hi. Where are you two off to? I thought Amira was going to spend the morning with Denny before we leave for the weekend.”
Emma looked up. “Good morning, Marianne. Amira asked me to take Denny to the park. She said she’s got to go out today.”
Marianne frowned. “Is that right?” What was Amira playing at? Much as she liked to accuse Marianne of poor parenting, Amira seemed to spend very little time with Denny these days. Marianne worried he was missing out on quality time with her.
“Okay then, have a good time at the park, sweetpea.” She kneeled in front of her little boy and zipped up his coat. “Are you going to go on the swings?” He just stared, his brown eyes wide.
“Or the slide? You love the slide. Wheee.” He smiled at the noise but didn’t make a sound. Much as she didn’t want to make a big deal of his lack of speech, she was beginning to wonder if they needed to seek professional advice.
She wrapped him in her arms and covered his face in kisses until he squealed and pulled away.
She straightened. “Thanks, Emma. Here’s something for an ice cream for you both.” She held out a note and Emma took it.
When they’d left, she went looking for her wife and spotted her out by the loading bay, handing over a pile of notes to a tall figure she recognized as Joey O’Hara. At least, they were finally getting paid.
“Is that everything we owe you, Joey?” she asked as she approached.
They both looked up quickly; Joey wore the soft, shy smile they often had, and Amira grimaced.
“Yeah, all paid up.” Joey waved the wad of notes. “Thank you.”
“I’ve explained to Joey that you don’t deal with the finances, and if they have any future concerns, they come straight to me.”
“I asked you yest—” Joey cut themself off. They pocketed the cash and looked down at their boots, a curtain of light brown hair falling across their face. It had a roughly chopped style, and Marianne often had the urge to take a pair of scissors to it to tidy it up.
“Nonsense.” Marianne put her hand on Joey’s forearm, and they raised their head. “Joey, if you have any problems with payments in the future, you come straight to me. Call me. I’ll ensure the issue is rectified immediately.” She pinned Amira with her iciest glare, but unlike her staff, Amira was not intimidated and glowered back.
Joey backed up toward their van. “I will, but we’re all good here now.” They swung open the door and jumped in as if they couldn’t get away quick enough.
“See you tomorrow.” Marianne waved as they drove away and then turned on Amira.
“Why the fuck are you paying them in cash? You’re supposed to do a bank transfer after they deliver.”
Amira pushed past, barging her shoulder hard against Marianne’s arm. “They asked for cash. I was trying to help them out.” She turned. “And don’t you ever contradict me in front of a business contact again.”
When she marched indoors, Marianne followed, rubbing her arm, to the small office where Amira managed the front of house operations. “Oh, so now you’re worried about appearances? It’s fine not to pay suppliers, but God forbid anyone thinks we’re not blissfully happy together.”
Amira sank into the seat behind the desk. “Have you not got a job to get on with?”
That reminded her why she’d gone looking for Amira. “Why aren’t you spending the morning with our son, as you promised? You won’t see him all weekend.”
Amira crossed her hands on the desk. “I was going to, but Emma wanted to take him to the park as it’s such a nice day.”
That hadn’t been Emma’s take on it.
“He won’t miss me, Marianne. He’s only interested in hanging out with you. You’ve got him so clingy, it’s ridiculous. Do you do it to make me feel excluded?”
She ran her fingers through her short hair. “What are you talking about? Yesterday you accused me of neglecting him.”
“Did I? Or is that just the guilt talking?” Amira waved at the wall clock. “Are you going to stand here all day nagging me, or do you need to get to your precious kitchen?”
She stifled the anger that boiled up. Amira was correct; she needed to get to work. In the kitchen, life was straightforward. She knew what to do to make everything work out.
“This conversation isn’t over,” she snarled, and turned on her heel.
“Good morning, Chef.” Colette looked up from shelling prawns. The greeting was repeated by the other staff, all busy with their jobs. As it was Friday, they were open for lunch and the preparations started early. Now the tourist season was on its way, it wouldn’t be long before they served lunch every day.
She didn’t know what had changed, but she used to thrive on being constantly busy. Now, the thought of working flat out all summer made her feel sick. The fights with Amira were draining, and she was constantly under pressure by the need to spend time with little Denny. She loved him absolutely, but he was a time sponge; everything they did together took twice as long.
“Chef?” Jimmy stood in front of her, an expectant expression on his face. She had no idea what he’d just said, but he was holding a bowl. She took it, lifted a spoon from a nearby counter and tasted.
“Too much seasoning.” She thrust it back into his hands and turned to her office. She couldn’t face anyone at the moment. Settled into her chair, she flicked through today’s lunch menu, checking off the jobs her staff should be undertaking to ensure a smooth lunchtime service.
“Are you okay?”
She looked up to see Colette’s head peeping around the door. “You can come in. I don’t have anything to throw.”
Colette sat down in the chair opposite. “You approved that sauce last night. Jimmy just wanted to know if you thought it would be a good addition to the batch of hollandaise he’s preparing.”
She rested her head on her fingers and pressed hard into the back of her eye sockets, where the deep pain of a headache was starting to bloom. “I’m sorry. Jimmy’s sauces are going from strength to strength. I’m just…” She raised her head. “I’m not having a good day.”
Colette reached across the desk and rubbed her arm. No one else in the kitchen would dare to touch her, but Colette had worked for her since she’d left culinary school. Her speedy rise to sous chef was in part due to her ability to know what Marianne needed at any given time.
What she really needed now was a hug and a cup of tea, but at least the reassuring touch was a form of contact.
“Why don’t you take the day off? Start your weekend early. There’s nothing here I can’t pick up.”
Much as she would love to take Colette up on the offer, she couldn’t be seen to be slacking when she expected such high standards from her team. “I’m fine, but I think I’ll stay in here and focus on menus. Unless I’m needed?”
Colette shook her head.
Marianne rubbed at her face. “Could you get someone to make me some coffee, please?”
Alone again, she dropped her head to the desk. What she really should be doing was looking at the accounts. If Amira was hiding anything about the finances, she needed to know now. But the thought of wading through spreadsheets with her current headache didn’t appeal. One of the many things that had worked so well in their early relationship was Amira enjoyed handling the money. She’d worked for years in her family’s import business before they met, and she’d always been confident with money in a way that worked well for their business relationship.
One of the junior staff arrived with a pot of coffee. She thanked him and poured a mug, taking a moment to just watch the steam float up. She took a long mouthful. It was still hot enough to be uncomfortable, and she enjoyed the burn as she swallowed.
She flicked open her laptop. It wouldn’t hurt to have a quick look at the accounts. She knew her way around a spreadsheet, but it was all so tedious when she just wanted to be creative. She located the folder on their shared drive, aptly named “Accounts” and flicked through the files until she found the current year. It was a blank sheet. She checked the tabs, but it really was empty; there was no content at all. She opened the one from last year. There was plenty of detail of all the income and expenses from the previous year, although as she looked more closely, she saw that as the year went on less and less had been recorded. Certainly, the activity around the Christmas season lacked any detail. She knew how many covers they’d served last December and had a rough idea in her head of the profit margin for all dishes. That was how she set the prices. So where were all the profits from that period?
She called Amira’s number, but her wife didn’t pick up. This was ridiculous. She must’ve started a new accounts system and not mentioned it to Marianne. Why would she do that?
Call me. I can’t find the accounts . She fired off the text, and then decided to focus on ordering for next week’s menus. That was something she could understand, and at least she’d tried with the finances.
She focused on work for a while, but as the list of produce she wanted to order from Joey O’Hara grew, an idea occurred to her. She opened another tab in her browser, then ran her hand across her brow, trying to recall the name of the hotel on the island. She’d visited, and could picture the imposing white building, but the name escaped her. She typed in “hotel Inishderry” and the name was there first in her search. Walsh’s Waterside Hotel.
The ferry to the island was only a half hour’s drive away, and the beaches would be quieter than the ones closest to the city. Denny would have fun and she could apologize properly to Joey and assure her supply of the best catch she’d found on the western seaboard. She called the hotel and spoke to Kasia, the manager, who she’d met a couple of times. She was very helpful, and Marianne was soon booked in. She sat back. Suddenly, things didn’t seem so stressful. Perhaps a weekend by the sea was exactly what she needed.