Chapter 7
SEVEN
“Colette, thank you for returning my call. I’m so sorry, I had no idea what was happening.” Marianne was trying to juggle feeding Denny as she wedged the phone under her chin. Denny dropped his spoon, picked up a handful of mashed potato, and smeared it on his face. She resisted the urge to take the spoon and feed him. She had to let him work it out for himself, but she couldn’t stand the mess.
“It was your business, Chef. You had a responsibility to your staff.”
“Don’t call me that anymore. I’m not your chef.” She felt the pain of the truth in that statement. She wasn’t anyone’s chef. Her kitchen had been everything to her. When she’d calmed down and sobered up enough, she’d sat down with Amira and they spent long hours trying to find a way to salvage the business. It hadn’t taken long to understand the extent of the problem. If they sold the building and most of their assets, they could at least pay off the debts. But then what?
Denny grabbed her hand and squeezed cold mashed potato between her fingers as if to remind her there were more important things in life than work. She wasn’t reassured.
“Okay, I take your point. I shouldn’t have left Amira to manage the business, but I love cooking so much everything else feels uninspiring.”
She blew Denny a kiss, so he knew she meant spreadsheets, not him.
“I’ve found a job in Dublin, in case you’re interested.”
“Of course I am. I’m pleased to hear that, and so quickly, too.” Marianne felt a flush of relief she hadn’t ruined her protégé’s career alongside her own.
“It turns out years of experience in the kitchen of the famous Marianne Browne counts for something. Even if you’ve turned out to be a terrible businesswoman, people still appreciate your culinary skills.”
Marianne bit the inside of her cheek. She was going to have to get used to people telling her how badly she’d messed up, but it was still too painful. She deserved it from Colette of all people, who had put her whole career in Marianne’s hands.
“I’m glad I could help, if even indirectly. I’m truly sorry, Colette. How about everyone else?”
“Jimmy’s found somewhere else in town. A couple of the others are looking in Dublin.”
“Can you tell them all I’ll give them good references if they want them?”
She wondered how much her reputation would make up for the fact that the reference was from a defunct business. Everyone would know by now. Three days had passed, though she still hadn’t looked at her social media channels. She just couldn’t bear it. It was the longest she’d been offline for years.
She hung up from her downbeat call with Colette and cleaned up after Denny. He’d eaten most of the food he hadn’t decorated himself with.
What was she meant to do now? She couldn’t even go downstairs and cook to make herself feel better. She was starting to see how little there was to her life other than work. But that was how she’d always liked it.
Amira had gone back to Dublin to organize putting the restaurant on the market. They needed a quick sale to liquidate the business as soon as possible. That way at least, they would come out of the whole thing without any credit problems.
Her phone buzzed, displaying her mother’s name. She would have heard the news. What was Marianne going to tell her that she hadn’t read elsewhere?
Her mother’s face showed her disapproval before her tone did. “Marianne, why did you not tell me what was going on?”
She rested the phone on the table and lifted Denny onto her knee. “Hi, Mum. Denny, say hello to Granny.”
“Hello, Deniz. Can you say ‘granny’ yet?”
Denny said nothing but lunged forward toward the phone. Marianne caught him and held him tight.
“I didn’t know what was going on. I left all the finances to Amira. She insisted she had it all under control, and you know how I hate it.”
“Well, hasn’t that arrangement worked out well? Now that you’re ruined.”
Give me patience. “Not ruined, mother. We need to wind up the business and pay off our debts. I’ll find a job, eventually.”
“You’ll be lucky. I’ve seen what people are saying. No one likes an unreliable chef.”
“I’m not unreliable. I trusted my partner. Lots of people have found themselves in trouble that way.”
“So, when are you coming home? There’s no point staying there with your broken dreams.”
Denny worked his way free and ran off to his toy box.
“Mother, that’s enough. My whole life has been turned on its head and I could really do with the support.” She was trying not to cry at her mum’s insensitivity, even though she should have expected nothing less.
Her mum’s face softened very slightly. “Come home and we can make a plan for your rebirth.”
“I can’t.” She hadn’t made this decision until now, but as she said it, she was sure.
Her mum’s lips pursed in a way she knew well. “What are you talking about? It’s not as if you have anywhere else to go.”
“I’ll find somewhere. Amira’s moving back in with her family. There’s no room for Denny there, and she’s made it clear we’re over, so I’ve nothing to come back for.”
“You won’t find a good job outside of the city. Where will you live?”
Marianne sighed. She didn’t need this inquisition. “I haven’t decided where I’m going next, but I’m in no rush to head back to Dublin.”
“Are you ashamed, is that why?”
Her mum knew her all too well. It was strange she felt more anonymous in a small city than back in the sprawling capital where she’d grown up.
Her mum’s face broke into a jubilant smile. “I knew it. You don’t want to come crawling back here with your tail between your legs.”
“Mum, please. I’m not up to your jibes. Can’t you be more…” She wanted to say maternal, but that was the very thing Amira was always accusing her of. And she knew those two issues were linked.
“What do you want me to say, Marianne?”
She ran her hands through her short hair, wishing it was long enough to grip properly. She had a strong desire to pull it in frustration. “I just want you to care, Mum. Maybe tell me you’re sorry it happened to me. I don’t know.”
Her mother shook her head. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, of course I’m sorry. That goes without saying. But you have to plan. It’s not just yourself you need to think about now.”
Didn’t she know that all too well? “We need to leave the apartment by the weekend. I’ll have decided what I’m doing by then.”
“Well, if you change your mind, there’s always a room for you and my grandson here.”
“Thanks, Mum. I’ll bear that in mind.” If all the rooms in hell are taken.
Marianne stood at the door as Amira pulled up in the hired van, her brother sitting alongside her. Marianne had already put most of her personal belongings in storage, before Amira arrived to take their furniture and her own possessions back to Dublin.
Taz smiled at her awkwardly, and enthusiastically volunteered to take his nephew out for a walk. Once they’d left, the atmosphere cooled.
“You’ve been busy.” Amira looked around.
“Trying to salvage small parts of my life? Yes, I have.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Marianne. It’s not easy for me either.”
“But you’re somehow taking all of our furniture and shared belongings.”
“We’ve discussed it already. I’ll sell what I can. The business is in joint names, so the sooner we can clear our debt, the better for both of us.”
“Your debt.” Marianne was disgusted enough with herself without allowing Amira to smear her further.
“If you continue to be so petty about it, you’ll make everything so much harder.”
Marianne dug her nails into the palm of her hand. “There’s nothing petty about any of this, Amira. This is a pretty monumental fuck up.”
“Let’s work together to sort it out and then we can go our separate ways.”
“Except that’s never going to happen, is it? Our paths will cross again and again, as we ensure our little boy has a relationship with his two parents. And his grandparents. And bloody Taz.” She gestured to the door. “And every time I’ll have to look at your stupid, smug face, and remember how you tore up our lives and never took the smallest bit of responsibility for it.”
“Whoa, Marianne. I thought we agreed to be civil. For Denny’s sake.”
She was sure now her nails were drawing blood. The first time they’d talked, she’d been too stunned to react fully, and when they’d spent hours poring over spreadsheets trying to find a way forward, she’d been too busy with the practical to entertain how she felt emotionally. But a floodgate had opened now and she was struggling to stem the flow.
They were still standing close to the door. She hadn’t even allowed Amira to come in and sit down. She might as well enjoy her beloved vintage Chesterfield one last time. “Sit down and I’ll make tea. When Taz comes back, I’ll take Denny and leave you to it.” She went into the kitchen to calm down. By the time the kettle had boiled, she felt in control, and she took the two mugs back in.
Amira turned from flicking through their joint vinyl collection. “You’ve not taken your favorites.”
“Amira, I’m homeless with a small child. I’m not that bothered about a collection of records you chose to make us look cool when we had guests.” She wasn’t doing too well with the civility.
“I’ll take everything to Mum’s, and when you’re settled you can come and collect anything you want.”
“Honestly, I’m good, thanks.” She stayed standing as she sipped her tea, watching Amira over her mug. Amira strolled around the apartment, picking things up and examining them, as if she was evaluating their seven years together.
Seven years. Marianne had been twenty-seven and about to land a place as a judge on a popular TV show. The restaurant she had worked at was the place to be seen in Dublin. She’d been attracted to the confident, glamorous older woman who’d dined there one night, then waited outside until Marianne had finished her shift to take her for a drink. One drink had turned to many. Amira had come home with her that night and never really left. At the time, she’d been deeply involved in her family’s business, and eventually it had emerged she was using it to fund her gambling habit. Her formidable mother had intervened and insisted Amira get help. In time, she’d appeared to make a good recovery from her addiction. When Amira had suggested going into business together, Marianne had truly believed her future was in safe hands.
Amira turned. “I’m sorry. I thought I was in control, I didn’t want…” She gestured around them. “This.”
“Then stop pretending everything’s okay. It’s not.” A wave of exhaustion spread through her, and she sank to the couch. “It’s all fucked.”
Amira joined her on the couch and they sipped their drinks in awkward silence.
“What are you going to do, really? With Denny? Wouldn’t it be best to get some stability back home before you decide what to do next?”
“I’m not really in the mood to take advice from you, Amira. I don’t think I ever will be again.” She pushed herself back up with more enthusiasm than she was feeling. “Denny will be safe, I’ll do regular video calls, and when we’re both settled, we’ll make arrangements for you to see him.”
She took their mugs to the kitchen, rinsed them out and placed them on the otherwise empty shelf as she looked out at the city. She’d thought this place would be her home for a long time. Whatever she did next, she’d make sure she didn’t rely on anyone else for her future success.