Chapter 5
FIVE
Marianne managed to get a sleeping Denny out of the car without waking him. He’d worn himself out running around on the beach all day, so she was hopeful she’d get him settled quickly. If she could get him to bed, it would give her more time to check the menus and reassure herself Colette had done the necessary preparations for the week ahead.
She felt refreshed by her time away, although it did seem odd to be taking time off at the weekend. But Amira had insisted. She would like to have seen Joey again before she left, but Kasia had relayed their farewell as they were out all day collecting and grading oysters. She hoped she hadn’t made it difficult by pushing them to go for lunch the previous day when they’d clearly been in the middle of work. Marianne took her work very seriously; she shouldn’t expect other people to drop everything to spend time with her. But Joey got on so well with Denny, and it was good to build relationships with people who could supply her with such top-class ingredients.
The stairs to the apartment were a long climb with a sleeping toddler, and her arms burned by the time she got to the door and carefully juggled her load to get the keys out of her pocket. She hoped Amira was in the apartment so she could head down to the kitchen as soon as she’d settled Denny.
“Oh, hi, Emma,” she whispered. She hadn’t expected to see the au pair sitting at a stool in the kitchen. Emma minded Denny during the week, returning to her parents’ home at weekends. It wasn’t the best arrangement, but it helped Marianne and Amira run the restaurant with a small child at home.
She settled Denny in his bed, pulled off his little shoes and coat, and put the covers over him. She pushed his soft curls away from his face and kissed his forehead. He really was out for the count. With Emma there, she could get down to the kitchen for the end of service. She went back to check in with her. “How was your weekend?”
Emma didn’t look up from her phone, which was unusual. She was usually a polite young woman. “Amira needs to speak to you downstairs.”
“Are you okay, Emma? Has something happened?”
Emma looked up momentarily. “Amira will explain. I’ll watch Denny till you come back.”
Marianne hoped Emma hadn’t decided to leave them. If so, they would have to find a replacement quickly. She couldn’t take time off from the kitchen to look after Denny.
She took the stairs two at a time and let herself in through the service bay to the restaurant.
The usual hum of activity was missing. She pushed open the doors to find the kitchen in darkness. Flicking a light switch had no effect.
Not another power cut! She swore. Even though customers understood a power cut was out of her control as a chef, she hated the idea of her restaurant being considered unreliable. She pushed the door into the restaurant, which was lit by candles on a few of the tables. Amira sat at the back of the room, her face illuminated by the flickering light. She didn’t look up as Marianne approached.
“How long has it been out?” She looked around at the tables; there was no sign the restaurant had been open at all.
“Sit down. I need to talk to you.” Amira’s voice was raspy. As Marianne sat, she looked up and the glow of the candle gave her features an almost skeletal look. Had she lost weight? How had Marianne not noticed? It didn’t reflect well on her, or the state of their relationship, and that made her heart heavy.
“It’s not a power cut. I didn’t pay the bill and they’ve cut us off.”
Marianne rubbed her temple. “What are you talking about?” Her thoughts flew in one direction and another, trying to settle on a plausible reason. She struggled to gather them. “Why didn’t you pay the bill?”
“I can’t. We don’t have any money.” Amira put her head in her hands. “I’ve been trying to fix it, but I had a run of bad luck.”
“Bad luck? At what? The restaurant has a three-month waiting list.”
When her question was met with silence, realization dawned. She thought she would throw up.
“Have you been gambling?”
Amira didn’t look up, didn’t reply.
The ground moved beneath Marianne, and she grabbed the edge of the table. “You promised.” She exhaled. “You said never again, and I trusted you.” She thought of the empty spreadsheets. “All these years. How long has it been going on?”
“I always dabbled a little online, but it was under control. Then more recently, I made some big losses and I tried to recoup them.”
Marianne sat before her legs gave way. “How bad is it?”
Amira looked up, though her eyes remained hidden in shadow. “Pretty bad. We need to sell up.”
“No way. I’m not giving up the restaurant. It’s my dream. You said it was yours, too.”
“I thought so, to begin with…”
Marianne couldn’t make out the expression on Amira’s face in the flickering candlelight as she paused, and then stood.
“It’s all related, really. I gamble when I’m unhappy, and being with you makes me miserable.”
Marianne stood to face her. “No. You’re not putting this on me. You’ve never said a word about not being happy.”
“And you’re so approachable, are you?” Amira wrapped her arms around her middle. “We haven’t talked properly in years. I thought having Deniz might make things better, but if anything, it’s got worse. Now I’m competing with your job and our child for your attention.”
“You pressured me into having a baby to fix our marriage, and it’s my fault it didn’t work?” Marianne wanted to stay calm, but the bullshit she was hearing was pushing her over the edge.
“I never thought you’d agree to it, if I’m honest. But Denny didn’t help me feel any closer to you.” Amira stepped back a little, as if the strength of Marianne’s pent-up anger was pushing her away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to talk about this, but we’ll have to sell the building to pay off our debts. It can be a new start for both of us. Apart.”
“And what about our child?”
“We should talk when you’ve had time to process things. I’m sorry I didn’t come clean sooner, but you do make things so hard.”
Marianne looked around, but her vision was blurred. “And what about all of this? Our staff? Our customers.” She waved at their surroundings.
“I’ve told the staff they’ll have to find new jobs and we’ll pay them for their notice period when we sell up.”
“You can’t do that. It’s illegal. They have contracts.” She thought of Colette. Her team would never believe she wasn’t party to this fuck-up. Oh no. They would believe she’d gone away at the weekend to hide while Amira broke the news.
“Don’t be na?ve. They work in the hospitality industry. They’ll find other work. No one wants to work for an employer who can’t pay. And people will find other places to eat. It’s a fucking restaurant, Marianne, not a hospital. It just doesn’t matter that much.”
Marianne’s legs buckled and she crashed back down.
Amira’s voice was muffled, as though she was speaking in a tunnel. “Why don’t we go upstairs? They haven’t cut off the power to the apartment yet. We can get a good night’s sleep and talk more in the morning.”
She stared at Amira and shook her head. “You’ve just torn my entire life apart. Do you think I’m going to sleep?”
“Someone has to stay with Denny. I’ve told Emma to leave.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Amira. Let her stay until she finds somewhere to live.”
“She seemed keen to go when I told her. She’s staying with a friend. She only agreed for Denny’s sake to wait until we’d spoken.”
Her pulse beat so hard in her temple Marianne was afraid it was going to explode. Was she having a stroke?
“You go up. I need some time.” She dropped her head to the table.
“I really am sorry, Marianne. But you played your part in all of this, too.”
“Fuck you, Amira.” It was the best parting shot she could come up with.
She sat for a while longer until the sense of nausea was overtaken by hunger. She’d stopped to feed Denny on their way home, but she’d planned to eat in the kitchen while she checked over the week’s menus. My kitchen . She sobbed as she stood up, remembering to take a candle with her. Shadows bounced off the walls as she stared around. Her chest felt hollow and heavy at the same time.
She tried to shake it off. Perhaps Amira was overstating the problem and there was a chance they could pull the restaurant back from the brink. But she knew better. Amira was the money expert. If she said it was irreparable, it must be.
She went into the cold store, now noticeably warmer, and wondered how long this disaster had been brewing. If Amira had told her weeks ago, they could have tried to rescue the business with an emergency loan. Or she could have asked her mother for help. It would have been a desperate option, but anything would have been better than this.
She pulled out some cold meats and picked the best cheeses from the wide selection. They’d all be spoiled soon. A detour to the wine cooler produced a bottle of her favorite Chablis. She retreated to the familiarity of her office to eat.
She checked her watch. It was only nine o’clock. How could her whole life have unraveled in little more than an hour? She uncorked the bottle and poured herself a large glass. Perhaps a couple of drinks would give her a chance of sleeping, and tomorrow she could find out the true extent of the horror facing her. She pulled out her phone and her finger hovered over the Instagram icon for a moment. The news of the restaurant’s closure would have broken by now, but she just couldn’t bear to see what people were saying about her. Not yet. That could wait until tomorrow.