Sixteen
After spending her day off studying, Fiona slept in late on Tuesday morning. Just after nine, she woke to an email that made her heart race.
It was an alert from the CMS, announcing that new dates for the Advanced Sommelier exam were on their website.
She clicked on the link, noting the date of the three day exam.
It was in late November, only four weeks away, at a private members’ club in London.
The exam was always held in a restaurant; to test a candidate’s ability to perform under pressure required a dining room setting.
She would apply immediately, then request leave.
By the time she got downstairs for breakfast, the CMS had confirmed her place. Ivy insisted on making breakfast. She sat Fiona at the kitchen table with a cafetière of coffee. ‘You sit while I cook,’ said Ivy, beaming at her niece. ‘It won’t take me long.’
Fiona was still sipping her first cup of coffee, dreaming of being told she was being admitted to the CMS, when a steaming bowl of porridge appeared in front of her, together with a jar of golden honey. ‘That’s local,’ Ivy said. ‘I know the beekeeper.’
As Fiona watched honey drip languidly from her spoon, an unbidden memory surfaced: breakfast with Ru, the Sunday before her failed exam.
As always, they had taken their time, like other couples would over a long, lovely dinner together.
He had made salmon rillette that morning, poaching the fish delicately in stock, white wine and herbs.
The rich, velvety mixture had been paired with warm, golden brioche fresh from the oven.
Now, she stirred her porridge absently, the cloying texture on her tongue at odds with the memory of that decadent meal.
She could almost taste the subtle tang of green peppercorns in the rillette, the buttery crispness of the brioche.
They had sipped Krug with their breakfast, a perfect pairing to their life.
Consumed by the art they both loved, they let work and play blur seamlessly – neither had wanted to draw a boundary.
She knew that whoever she dated next would have a lot to live up to.
Would her next boyfriend be like drinking a cheap boxed wine when she was used to a vintage claret?
She swallowed a mouthful of porridge. Once again, she wondered whether she had made a huge mistake breaking up with Ru.
Would he have stuck with her for the long term after all, forgiving her flaws and accepting her as she was?
After all, once she qualified, she would have earned his love.
Briefly, she entertained a fantasy in which she passed her exam and they got back together.
She shook herself out of her daydream; judging by how close he was getting to Kim, it appeared that Ru had managed to fall out of love with her faster than she could fall out of love with him.
The warm hum of the old radiators filled the staffroom. The tide was out, and Fiona could hear the distant murmur of the waves. Someone had left a window ajar, and the musky sweetness of fallen leaves drifted into the room.
Josh leaned forward. Fiona tucked her hair back behind her ears.
This was about wine, not flirtation, but it was good to have her ego stroked.
Her voice softened to her teaching tone.
‘Tonight, we’re going to discuss terroir,’ Fiona said, watching Josh’s expression light up with interest, and she did her best to ignore how close he was, focusing instead on her notes.
‘Terroir isn’t just about the soil. Its climate, slope, altitude, the very essence of a place.
It shapes the grapes,’ she explained. ‘That’s why a Pinot Noir from Burgundy will taste so different from one from, say, America or New Zealand.
The earth, the rainfall, even the wind – all of that plays into the character of the wine. ’
Josh fired back at her. ‘So that’s why a Sancerre has that minerally edge I read about? Because of the chalky soils?’
A glimmer of approval sparked in Fiona’s eyes. ‘Exactly,’ she replied, surprised and impressed. ‘Sancerre’s soil is full of limestone and flint, which gives those wines their crisp, almost steely quality.’
Josh grinned, ‘And that’s why Australian Chardonnay often tastes so ...’ He seemed to search for the right word, ‘ tropical ? Because of the warmer climate than they get in France.’
‘Exactly,’ she confirmed, genuinely pleased at his research. ‘That warm sun ripens the grapes more fully, which can make for richer, fruitier wines. You’re starting to sound like a sommelier yourself,’ she teased, her voice a touch softer than she’d intended.
His gaze held hers, confidence radiating at her. ‘Well, I have a good teacher,’ he murmured, letting the words linger between them. She felt her cheeks warm but forced herself to continue.
‘Anyway,’ she said, clearing her throat, ‘if you tasted a Pinot Noir from, for example, Central Otago in New Zealand, you’d notice it’s very different from one made in Burgundy. The cooler climate there keeps the acidity high and the flavours intense.’
‘More red fruit, more acidic?’ Josh’s eyes hadn’t left her face. ‘You see, I actually do read through the notes I take each time we meet.’
‘Pleased to hear that!’ And before she could hide it a smile curved her lips.
Josh held her gaze, his own smile deepening, making her blush.
The door pushed open. It was Kim. ‘Not interrupting anything, am I?’ she whispered loudly. ‘Just wanted to leave my coat.’
‘You’re all right,’ said Josh, gathering up his pen and pad and grinning broadly.
‘Don’t stop for me,’ said Kim,
‘So, when will you let me repay the favour, Fiona, and take you for that surf lesson?’ asked Josh.
Fiona looked up, her heart fluttering. Was she really going to do this?
An image of Kim giggling with Ru filled her mind.
It was impossible being near him every day, but not able to be with him.
She needed a distraction. ‘Okay, Josh, you’ve worn me down.
’ She smiled. ‘How about you take me surfing tomorrow?’
Kim sloughed off her coat. ‘Brr it’s chilly out there this evening. Don’t you get cold in that raincoat of yours, Fiona?’ asked Kim in a friendly tone.
A folded piece of paper slipped from Kim ’ s coat pocket, dancing to the floor. Josh scooped it up. It was a handwritten page of notes.
‘You dropped something’ he said, studying the page with interest. His bronze face broke into a grin.
‘ Wine pairings? Fancy yourself a sommelier now? ’ he asked, holding it over for Fiona to look at.
It was a meticulously detailed list of the house wines matched with different foods, complete with flavour descriptions.
What caught Fiona ’ s eye was how formulaic the descriptions seemed, almost like someone had memorized terms rather than experienced the flavours themselves.
Kim lunged for the notes, but Josh held them just out of reach.
‘ Hand it over, ’ Kim snapped, her tone brittle.
‘ Hang on now, ’ Josh teased. ‘ Is this for some posh dinner party you ’ re hosting? Planning to impress with your ‘sophisticated palate?
Fiona expected Kim to tear into him – it was what she ’ d do if she were alone with Fiona, after all. But something in her expression shifted, a crack in her carefully maintained facade. She looked younger suddenly, and surprisingly vulnerable.
‘ None of your business,’ said Kim. Fiona recognized the bitterness in that voice – it was the same tone Kim used with her.
‘Why are you working here Kim?’ asked Josh.
‘The younger woman snatched the page away from Josh. Her fingers smoothed over the creased paper with its carefully written descriptions, ‘I just want my parents to be proud of me. I want to show them I can do this.’ Then she tucked the page away, and her emotional barriers reappeared. Her spine straightened, her chin lifted, and she was once again the Kim that Fiona knew – beautiful, poised, confident. Unable to shake the image of the vulnerability which had flickered across Kim’s face, Fiona called time on the wine lesson.
‘Right, Josh, I think that’s enough for one night,’ said Fiona. ‘Unless you’ve any more questions?’ Snapping her book shut, Fiona rose and stowed it in her bag. All the talk of wine was reigniting her worries about the missing wine.
‘Just one, Fiona,’ Josh answered with a languid smile. ‘Where shall we meet for our surf date?’
While Josh returned to the kitchen, Fiona and Kim joined Rose, who was laying up for the evening service.
‘Are we full again tonight, boss?’ asked Kim.
‘We’re fully booked every night. There’s a waiting list for most evenings,’ replied Rose, picking up a glass and holding it up to the light. ‘This one has marks on it.’
‘I’ll fetch another,’ said Kim, grabbing the dirty glass and rushing off.
‘So helpful, that girl,’ said Rose, examining another glass.
‘I confess I was a little anxious when her father asked me to take her on. She’s hardly from the classic waitressing background, but I was wrong.
All the guests like her. She’s got energy, enthusiasm and she’s always got a smile on her face. ’
Around everyone but me , thought Fiona, managing a weak smile. She wished Josh hadn’t called the surfing lesson ‘a date’ in front of Kim. It wasn’t a date, but she had an inkling Kim would find a way to spin the information to her advantage.
For a few minutes, Fiona and Rose moved around the tables, checking the glassware, straightening cutlery and folding napkins. Kim seemed to be taking an awfully long time finding a single glass.
‘You know, I respect your wine knowledge,’ Rose said. ‘I need your help finishing the cellar stock take – you find everything so quickly. Can you come in around ten tomorrow morning?’
Fiona agreed, but part of her was questioning if her cellar knowledge was about to become a liability.