Chapter 8
8
The white mansion stood grand and majestic, looming before us. Farhan bhai, Morowa and I stood frozen with bags of Jashan desserts in hand.
Farhan bhai took a deep breath and said, ‘I hadn’t realized they’d be this …’
‘Loaded,’ Morowa finished for him. ‘The security should’ve been our first clue.’
Our catering van had been searched before we could even enter the street. Husband and wife shared a nervous look and, standing in between them, I felt the intensity of it.
‘It’s fine,’ Farhan bhai murmured. ‘We’ll treat them like any other client.’
I could sense how much Farhan bhai wanted this opportunity . My nerves tightened at the thought of us looking out of place in such a grand environment, of us having to impress the kind of people who lived here.
‘Let’s not overthink it,’ Morowa said, balancing the bags in her hands as she rang the doorbell. ‘If they choose us, amazing. If not, then this will be a great learning experience.’
A man wearing a black and white uniform came into view. ‘Hello. Are you here for the catering sampling?’
‘Yes, we are,’ Morowa replied, sprucing up her London accent to become as posh as his. ‘We’re Jashan.’
‘Right this way, please.’ His eyes roamed over us. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, but his gaze felt judgemental.
We were led through a large foyer, past a winding marble staircase, down to the end of a long corridor and straight into what appeared to be some kind of … ballroom.
My breath hitched a little.
Crystal chandeliers descended from the arched golden ceiling. The light cast a warm glow across the perfectly polished dark-wood flooring. White pillars stood gracefully along the bronze walls and were interlaced with intricate copper mouldings and panels.
The butler led us to one of the smaller tables at the far end, gave us a tight smile and was off.
‘This is really something, isn’t it?’ Morowa asked quietly, eyeing the competition.
From the mouth-watering aroma alone, I could tell the country’s top chefs had been invited.
I glanced around nervously, and then looked down at myself. Farhan bhai had asked me to dress formally, and before leaving work I’d changed into something I’d thought was quite nice. However, this place was buzzing with men in laser-sharp suits and women in sophisticated cocktail dresses. I spotted Burberry suits, Gucci dresses, Christian Louboutin stilettos. Suddenly, my plain black blazer and trousers didn’t seem to fit the fashion requirements.
Not to mention the state of my Primark heels, which had been passed down by Aisha baji. The shoes were comfortable, but I wished the left heel would stop wobbling that little bit with every step I took.
My thoughts were interrupted when my gaze settled on a familiar face. The moment I managed to put a name to it, my jaw dropped.
Kiran Malik.
Sister of Karim Malik.
My eyes still glued to her, I grabbed Farhan bhai’s arm. ‘You didn’t tell me this food tasting is for the Maliks .’
I turned and found him just as shocked. ‘I didn’t know.’
Morowa nudged us both. ‘Am I going to be the only professional one among us today? We need to play it cool. Stop looking like a bunch of fangirls out of their depth!’
We snapped out of it and got on with helping Morowa display an amazing assortment of desserts on the white and gold plates she’d brought. I watched in awe as she used syrups, sauces, chocolate shavings, powdered nuts and fresh flower petals to present each dessert as a unique, succulent swirl of colour and taste.
Despite the fierce competition surrounding us, Morowa’s talent was too pure for anyone to ignore. The thought of how much business Jashan could get if any of the Maliks posted something positive about us online made my heart swell with excitement. Karim could be a smug, spoilt brat for all I cared – just as long as Farhan bhai benefited from this incredible business opportunity.
My eyes kept trailing back to Kiran, who was making her way around the ballroom, greeting people, laughing prettily.
She was even more beautiful and ethereal in real life. It was another one of those dreamlike moments, like the first instant I saw Karim in the flesh, before he’d ruined it. Kiran was the reason I’d gotten into make-up – the first beauty tutorial I’d attempted to follow was hers.
Her sleeveless kurta complemented her modelesque frame so perfectly …
Oh no.
She was looking right at me. Walking straight towards our table. Her knowing smirk told me that she’d noticed me ogling her and that she was used to it. I felt the urge to hide. Being here was making me feel completely out of place.
‘Hi, how’s it going, guys?’ she asked in a surprisingly kind voice.
‘Good, thank you. How are you doing?’ Morowa replied confidently.
‘Great! I just wanted to let you know that before the tasting, my team will be over to discuss some details. Thank you so much for coming today, the Maliks really appreciate it.’
She nodded and turned to leave.
‘I want to assure you,’ Morowa said quickly before she went, ‘that we’ve got many vegan and gluten-free options, and that we take great pride in catering to all dietary requirements.’
Morowa was using this as a chance to really sell our services, and I was silently urging her on.
‘We offer healthier, lighter and, in my opinion –,’ here Morowa gave a cheeky grin –, ‘ tastier dessert options.’
Kiran laughed softly and began to analyse the plates we had on display. ‘I love what you’ve done here! So minimalistic and aesthetic. It feels French, but with traditional South Asian desserts.’
She looked deep in thought as she browsed our display. ‘Oh yeah, I remember you guys now. My assistant came across your socials, and I instantly knew we had to invite you.’
Morowa positively beamed.
‘I’m looking forward to this food tasting,’ Kiran added with a little wink.