Chapter Thirty-Two
As I take the corner and wait to cross the road to the Rembrandt Hotel, I can see Jean-Michel’s wife waiting by the doorway. She is wearing oversized sunglasses, a black coat and black trousers. It looks like she’s about to attend a funeral.
I skip up the steps and hold out my hand to greet her. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me very close.
‘Thank you for coming, Katie. I don’t think Jean-Michel has ever had a chef that he hasn’t scared off, never mind one who actually cared about him.’
I look over her shoulder, searching. ‘Where is he?’ I ask. ‘He said he wanted to talk to me face to face.’
She stiffens and shakes her head, taking an envelope from her pocket.
‘He’s not well, Katie. He wanted to come, but he couldn’t face it. He’s very sorry. In fact, that’s all he keeps saying. How sorry he is. He needs to rest. Please accept his apologies.’ I assure her I understand and that Jean-Michel has my full support and friendship and that I hope he feels better soon. She thanks me and then holds the envelope out to me. ‘For you.’
I take it from her, flipping it over, trying to find some clue as to what’s going on, what this is all about. Confused, I open my mouth to catch my breath and find the right words all at once. ‘What do you mean he’s “not well”? What does “not well” mean?’
But she just purses her lips, pulls up her collar and disappears in her kitten heels, click-clacking down the steps, across the road and around the corner. Seemingly leaving me and the restaurant and everything else that we worked so hard for far, far behind.
I feel the heavy, cream envelope between my fingers.
What the hell is going on?
On the front, my name is written in blue fountain pen by Jean-Michel’s unmistakable hand.
‘Pour Katie’ is all it reads.
I can’t open this here, not in broad daylight on the steps of one of the busiest hotels in London. I have a feeling I’m going to have to sit down somewhere quiet, where I can be alone and read whatever words Jean-Michel has penned to me far away from prying eyes. I take a deep breath and, looking up, spot the little Italian that Ben and I went to together. That’ll do. That’ll do just fine. I slip the letter in to my bag and begin the slow walk to whatever it is that I’m about to discover. It will no doubt change my life, one way or another.
I slide into the same booth I sat in with Ben. I feel a pang and a moment passes where I appreciate that not everything can be put back together so easily. But I’m here to move forward, even if that means carrying some losses I can’t recover. I order a coffee, rip open the envelope and take out a handwritten letter.
Chère Katie,
Thank you most sincerely for coming. Forgive me my inability.
I am facing a crossroads in my life. I wasn’t happy and I knew I had three options.
Number one was continuing as I was, working ridiculously long hours, as you well know, leaving in the morning before my wife and children and then kissing them in bed when they were already asleep. This ate me up inside. What sort of life is that, never seeing your wife or family and missing them grow up?
Number two was to cut myself some slack, but to do what a lot of chefs do these days and that’s to live a lie. They continue to charge high prices even when they’re not behind the stoves. That went against everything I believed in, because when I was at work, I did every single service. I came from the old world of gastronomy where the chef’s place is in his kitchen. That absence, even partial, would challenge my integrity, so neither did that option lie well with me despite the fact that I had a fantastic grand chef in you. You are so capable, so very talented and so strong, but I couldn’t hand over the reins as long as my name was above the door. Please know that this was my weakness, not yours.
Number three was to pluck up the courage to give back my stars and make myself unemployed, and so, as of last Friday, I cooked my final meal in the kitchen. I am tired of being judged. I had an epiphany in the middle of the dining room. I disgraced myself in the eyes of those who looked up to me and I need to change. I used to be condemned for being controversial, but I stand up for what I believe in and, at the end of the day, I wasn’t going to allow myself to continue as a slave to my own insecurities.
I blame no one but myself.
There’s a very big difference between obsession and passion. From the age of sixteen to forty-eight, my world was a room with white tiles and a stove in the middle. All my energies were channelled obsessively into cooking and I lost sight of my purpose, it was no longer a passion. I pushed my own boundaries too far. All the pressure, I caused myself.
I am giving myself a second chance, to do things well, but this time with balance.
Now that I have handed back my stars, I have handed back my status. For the future, for the first time in my life, I am going to be kind to myself and my family and I am going to do the things I've wanted to but suppressed, all my life, and hadn’t made the time for, like walking, painting and just being present with my family.
I'm taking time to discover myself as a person, which is what true success and true fortune is all about. The insecurities we have today are the same as those we had when we were mere children seeking approval, seeking love.
If you have the courage to turn over every stone, all the answers to our future are in the past.
My message to you, Katie? Trust yourself, you do not need me. You do not need anyone. You are more than enough.
Adieu,
Jean-Michel
Adieu is pretty final. Not Au revoir. Not À bientôt. He’s saying goodbye. So I guess this is Jean-Michel’s way of telling me that he’s not coming back. At all. Ever again. And that our big adventure at the Marchand is over.
I flip the letter to lie flat on its front, unable to look at his writing, unable to grasp what he’s telling me all at once.
It’s over.
Just like that.
I run my fingers through my hair and start to rummage in my bag for my phone. Who should I call first? Pip? Octavia? Alice? Dad? I can’t think straight. On one hand I’m actually pleased for Jean-Michel; I think what he’s doing is really brave and probably the biggest decision he’s ever made, and he’s done it to save his family and save himself.
But that just leaves the rest of us. Abandoned, unemployed, evicted, heart-broken.
I stop rummaging a second, as I feel a tap on my shoulder. I glance upwards and my hand flies to my chest.
‘Hi, is this seat taken?’ says the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. A vision.
I blink and shake my head.
And watch Ben slide in to the seat beside me.