Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
T hank God he got hold of Oscar before Gemma did. That was the first thought that struck Kent as his uncle answered the call. The second was that he needed to put a plan in place, now that he knew Gemma had no idea what was going on. The truth would have been the easiest option. He should have ripped the bandage straight off when he told her he was running the place. He would have only needed a couple more words to explain the situation, but he couldn’t do it. His being there had already hurt her. He could see that. And the last thing he wanted to do was cause her more upset. Stupid, really. The truth would have to come out at some point, but after the conversation with his uncle, he knew it would stay under wraps for a little longer.
“Eight weeks. Can you do that for me, Uncle Oscar, please? And the thing about the C.V. You’ll need to tell her that, too.”
“I’m not happy about this,” he said. “We made an arrangement.”
“I know. And I’m handling it. I promise. This is the only thing I’ll ask of you. And you have to take a little of the responsibility for this mess too, you know.”
Oscar scoffed down the phone line, but Kent knew he’d agree to it. After all, he was equally to blame for the mess. If not more so.
It had felt serendipitous at the time. Kent had spent six months in Tokyo, learning the intricacies of Japanese pastries, when the realisation struck him. He had slept in a hotel room for six months and still had some clothes in his suitcase. Casual clothes. Jeans, shirts. Outfits to wear on nights out with friends, but he hadn’t made any. On the one hand, he had come to Tokyo to learn, and he had been doing that. Still, to go six months without a single social event was ridiculous. But to make matters worse, it had been exactly the same before he’d moved.
Before Japan, he had spent a year working in Paris and rented a studio apartment that was marketed as semi-furnished. It had white goods, a bed and a sofa; the perfect setup for someone staying for a couple of weeks, but not for someone looking to make the place their home. It lacked any of those comforting extras, like cushions and bookshelves. Items he promised himself he would get as soon as he had time. Twelve months later, when he was preparing to leave, he discovered he hadn’t bought a single extra item of furniture. No comfy arm chair or rugs to cover the cold tile floors. No photo frames to hang on the walls with pictures of his family or friends.
So, when the contract in Japan ended, he came back to England to figure out what his next steps were going to be, and the weekend he visited his uncle Oscar just happened to be the same weekend as the chef George announced his retirement. It felt as if the universe was sending him a sign. More than one, really.
Oscar’s house was filled with memories of family life, from the cushions sewn by his sister to the paintings on the wall by his wife. It was the antithesis of how Kent was living and he had felt a surge of sadness and jealousy. He was in his mid-thirties now, but he knew how quickly the years passed. In the blink of an eye, he would be forty. His dad had had three children by that age, and Kent himself had always envisaged himself settling down somewhere with two dogs, a wife, and at least one child.
So when Uncle Oscar had mentioned this Waterfront Café, and Kent took a look the next day, he had been astounded. It was the most prime location possible, with a view all the way out over the estuary. The possibilities were endless. This was a brilliant opportunity for him. And it was. No matter how upset or righteous Gemma might have been, it didn’t change the fact that the Waterfront Café wasn’t earning nearly as much money as it could do, and he was going to change that.