Chapter 15
I take Emir’s hand and pull him along the corridor and up the staff spiral staircase onto the deck with the two dining areas. Astrid is first to race over to me.
‘And just how are you going to serve lunch with a child in tow?’ she snaps, looking frazzled.
‘All of the guests have sat down expecting to be waited on hand and foot, even though it is clearly a help yourself buffet. I’ve already been yelled at twice for not being quick enough with the drinks.
This lot are a fucking nightmare.’ She pauses to glance down at Emir. ‘Hang on. Does he understand English?’
Emir shakes his head from side to side dutifully.
‘Good. We don’t want him running back to his parents and telling tales.
’ She pulls her gaze back to me. But before I can put her right, Astrid continues, oblivious to Emir’s perfectly good understanding.
‘As soon as they trooped on board, I could tell they were going to be lazy and high-fucking-maintenance nightmares. I’ve seen it before.
Stinking rich, ignorant and full of it. Can you believe they’re already threatening to complain to head office about us? I mean… fuck me.’
Oh boy. The last thing I need is Jackson to find out that even more guests are complaining about me.
‘Where’s Shaun?’ I ask.
‘Shaun is helping Tiffany source some decent red wine. Apparently, the ones in stock are not good enough. They’ve taken the speedboat back to Gumbet to meet the supplier. It’s so inconvenient. She could have just gone by herself.’
I get the feeling that Astrid is more concerned that her illicit lover has decided to spend time with his girlfriend rather than her.
Say what you like about Shaun, but at least he is the only one prepared to roll his sleeves up and get down to some hard graft.
I take in her pale skin, the dark shadows beneath the eyes and her gaunt frame.
‘Okay. And where’s Garry?’ I simply refuse to get on board with anything other than his first name.
‘Gee Man said he was supervising in the kitchen.’
‘Right. You keep serving drinks. I’ll get Garry and we’ll dish up some starters and plate them out.
Emir, you come with me.’ His little grasp on my hand tells me he is quite enjoying the behind-the-scenes drama and in no hurry to get back to his family.
We race down the staff spiral staircase and scuttle along to the kitchen.
I glance down at Emir. ‘Not a word about what Astrid said, okay?’
He looks up impishly and taps the side of his nose.
When we get to the kitchen there is no sign of Garry.
The two chefs are sweltering under the intense heat of the sizzling woks and the clay oven, housing rising slabs of assorted flatbreads and pizzas.
Emir speaks rapidly in Turkish. All I make out is the mention of Garry’s name.
One of them flicks us a look and responds in a few words.
‘They haven’t seen him,’ the boy tells me.
‘Are you sure?’
Emir nods.
‘Where can he be?’ I wonder out loud.
‘I’ll have some dondurma,’ says Emir, pointing at a platter of desserts lying on a refrigerated shelf behind a glass cabinet door. ‘And… I’ll take some helva.’
‘No. Sorry. Not until you’ve eaten some proper—’
‘Or I will tell my mother that the rep with the big nose called them skanky rich fuckers.’
I gasp. ‘She didn’t!’ I mean, it’s not a million miles from calling them ‘lazy high-fucking-maintenance nightmares’ but still… details matter. ‘But, Emir, you agreed not to…’
He grins playfully, causing me to hesitate. Now that I think about it, he simply tapped his nose. He didn’t agree to anything. ‘You’re a slippery one, aren’t you?’
He winks at me. This child cannot be five years old. Otherwise, God help the world when he becomes an adult. ‘Yes, okay then. But for the record, I will not tolerate any further blackmail. Understood?’
He nods enthusiastically as I reach into the cabinet and take out a large slice of syrupy flaky pastry covered in crushed pistachio nuts and filled with a green chewy ice cream.
It looks unbelievably delicious. Emir swipes it from me and wolfs it down in two bites.
I can practically see the sugar penetrating his veins as his eyes widen like saucers.
While he’s licking his fingers, we become transfixed by one of the chefs beating the living daylights out of some pork loins with a giant wooden mallet.
The pork is now wafer thin. He brings the mallet down hard onto the meat as though to show off.
Suddenly, the handle flies through the air and smashes against the fridge door, leaving the mallet broken in two.
The wooden block has become separated from its handle.
The chef shrugs and reaches up to grab another mallet from a string of utensils hanging from the ceiling.
I stare at the wooden block. It has a long, pointy nail protruding from it.
It has given me an idea. ‘Emir, ask this man if it is okay for me to use this block of wood for something, please.’
Emir obliges and the chef picks up both parts of the mallet and hands them over. ‘Chock-tesh-ekoor-ederim,’ I say thanking him. ‘Right, Emir, let’s go find Garry.’
I gently yank his hand in the direction of the staff accommodation.
As we hurry down the narrow corridor towards Garry’s cabin, I notice the cleaning cupboard door is slightly open.
There’s a noise inside. It sounds like someone humming a happy tune to themselves.
I hover outside, hoping that we won’t find anyone doing anything they shouldn’t, as an unwelcome flashback of Shaun slapping Astrid’s bare backside and yelling ‘Yeeha!’ invades my brain.
I cover Emir’s eyes with one hand and, with the other, fling it open.
Garry is bent double, rummaging around. He suddenly springs upright and bellows, ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’
‘What am I doing?’ I retort. ‘What are you doing here? It’s lunchtime and you’re skiving! Astrid is working her bollocks off up there alone.’
‘How dare you accuse me of skiving. I’m trying to find…’ He swivels around and grabs at the first thing he sees. ‘This!’
I tilt my head. ‘Really? We’re having a mini crisis upstairs. We’re grossly understaffed and making a terrible first impression on the guests, and you think the thing that we most need is a window squeegee?’
Garry looks livid. ‘I’ll be up in a second.’
‘Why not now?’ I’m like a dog with a bone. ‘What’s more important than keeping our guests happy and making sure they enjoy a top-notch experience second to none? Your words, Garry. Your words.’ There’s just something about this guy that I don’t like.
‘Fine,’ he spits, slamming the door shut and barging past us. We watch him go.
A small voice says, ‘Nice one.’ I think I may have accidently gone up in Emir’s expectations.
‘Please forget all of that bad language, Emir. Adults sometimes get a bit carried away.’ He turns his little innocent face up towards me. ‘And to be honest, Emir, I forgot you were there.’
‘Yes. Sometimes I think I am invisible. It is one of my superhero powers.’
‘Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant I got caught up in arguing with Garry. He doesn’t like me, so, unfortunately, it might happen a lot.’
‘Because you caught him doing something he shouldn’t?’
I frown. ‘No. Well, I’m not sure what he was doing actually.’
‘You didn’t see what he hid in his pocket when you opened the door?’
‘No.’
‘I did.’ Emir grins. ‘We should blackmail him.’
I stare down at Emir in disbelief. ‘How do you even know what blackmail is? You do know that it is wrong, don’t you?’
He shrugs. ‘It’s just business. My father does it all the time at Hello Chicken and More.’
What? I take the executive decision not to follow up this disturbing announcement, but instead, hurry upstairs to help with the lunch service. As we dash up the steps, Emir asks me if I want to know what Garry was doing.
‘No thank you. And do not even think about blackmailing him, okay? Do you promise?’
Emir blinks in a very non-committal way.
‘Promise?’ I try again.
‘I’m hungry.’
He is a forty-year-old trapped in a child’s body.
He’s shrewd. He’s clever. He’s cute as a button but, like his grandmother warned, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.
As soon as we approach the dining areas, both the indoor and the al fresco one, it is clear that Astrid and the newly arrived Garry are under pressure.
They need my help. I do a quick sweep of the diners and spot Emir’s Widow Twanky grandmother sitting alone.
‘Go and join your grandmother for lunch. I’ll bring over your koftas and salad.
And don’t forget to return her gold Rolex. ’
I hold the watch out to him. He regards me for a moment and says simply, ‘No salad.’
‘Yes, salad. These aren’t UN peace negotiations.’
‘Then no watch.’
‘Whatever.’ I stuff the watch back in my pocket.
I’m probably better off returning it to her myself.
As I lead Emir over to her, she doesn’t exactly look thrilled to see him.
‘Hi, I’m Maddie. We met earlier. I’m looking after your grandson during this trip.
I thought he could keep you company while I serve lunch. ’
She glances with some trepidation from me to Emir.
I feel Emir’s grip tighten on my hand. ‘It’ll be a fantastic opportunity for Emir to tell you what he’s been up to. Now, what can I get you both?’ To prevent her from rejecting the offer, I am talking so quickly and smiling so widely that my cheeks actually hurt.
‘The table service here is terrible,’ she says, tutting loudly, barely acknowledging Emir as he slides onto the seat beside her.
‘That’s because it is self-service, but no one seems quite able to manage it for some strange reason.’ I repeat my question. ‘So, would you like me to bring a selection of buffet foods over to you? And how about some more drinks?’