Chapter 44 Charlie
CHARLIE
Freya’s late, and Charlie paces the living-room floor, trying to rid himself of the excess energy that’s making his nervous system go into overdrive.
He looks at his watch, hating the second hand for highlighting his anxiety.
He’ll give it five more minutes before he calls her, pretending that he doesn’t know what’s holding her up.
He imagines her cycling down the narrow country lanes, on her way back from town, holding her face up to the clear blue sky and daring to embrace the brisk cold air as it whistles past her.
Around the bend, past the pub, pedaling furiously across the junction, over the village green, she’s so nearly there, and then …
The shrill ringtone of Charlie’s phone reverberates around the room, and his breath catches in the back of his throat.
“Charlie, I need you to come to the restaurant.” It’s Mary, catching him off guard.
“I can’t right now,” he says, refusing to let her sense of urgency deter him from what’s going on today.
“It’s important.”
“It’ll have to wait. I’ve got an appointment.” Charlie thinks about telling her about Freya’s scan, to give context as to what may play out in the coming hours, but then if it doesn’t go according to plan, he fears he may give the game away.
“I’ve just had a call from the council…,” Mary goes on, not prepared to let it drop. “They said they’re coming in.”
Charlie balks, his brow furrowing. “What for?”
There’s a drawn-out silence. “She said…,” Mary starts, before stopping, as if bracing herself for his reaction. “She said there are hygiene concerns.…”
“What the fuck,” he explodes.
“I know,” says Mary forthrightly, as if trying to stay calm for the both of them, though the lilt in her voice suggests she’s anything but. “They’ve obviously been misinformed, but she said someone would be attending today as a matter of urgency.”
Charlie tries to stay upright, but the weight he’s bearing makes him want to keel over.
He falls heavily onto the chair by the window, the picturesque scene of winter roses and a robin perched on the birdbath at odds with the turmoil in his head.
“My restaurant has the cleanest, most hygienic kitchen you could imagine.”
“Yes, I know.…”
“You could eat your dinner off the floor,” he rages.
“I asked her what it referred to and she said that a recent visit by a member of the public had raised concerns.…”
“It’s that mayor woman,” seethes Charlie. “She had it in for us the minute she came in.” He runs a hand through his hair, remembering Catherine Taverner’s impertinence when she sent the scallops back. “Undercooked, my arse.”
“Maybe,” says Mary. “But whoever it is could cause us real problems.”
He doesn’t need her to tell him how serious this is.
Aside from the hoops he’s going to have to jump through to appease the health inspectors in the first instance, which may result in him having to close for the night, there’s a very real chance that they’ll shut him down for longer if they want to.
And that could be based on nothing more than someone having a bad day.
“Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he says, realizing he has no other choice.
This wasn’t the plan today and it unnerves him when he’s thrown off, especially when it comes to Freya.
But maybe it’s better this way—so he’s not having to pretend that this baby is the best thing that ever happened to him.
And at least if he goes into work, he’ll have Mary to vouch for him not being where he’s supposed to be.