Two hours later, and Jonathan was beginning to wish he’d stayed at The Cider Kitchen after all. His date for the evening, while very charming and extremely beautiful, was also clearly still hung up on her ex and not in the mood tonight for anything more adventurous than a chat. So it was that Jonathan found himself, most uncharacteristically, at a loose end. Having driven himself in he was stone cold sober, and, disappointed at having to return home earlier than expected to Little Somerby, he wondered what to do.
After a brief drink in one of the more upmarket bars on Park Street where he was more than a little flattered to catch the eye of a group of rather attractive second year arts students, he reluctantly conceded that he’d have to get back home. Jack, after all, needed keeping an eye on.
As he pulled back onto the ring road heading back out of the city, Jonathan’s thoughts once again drifted back to Caroline. Apart from that brief visit before opening time, he’d sworn to himself he’d stay away from the restaurant tonight to give her space to do things her own way. She kept creeping into his thoughts; sliding around the doorway of his brain like a cat, sneaking in and curling up in his mind when he least expected it. She’d been a one night stand, but the best one night stand of his life. And she’d had a lot to compete with. Should he pop into The Cider Kitchen on his way home? He shouldn’t. But perhaps she’d forgive his intrusion if the rest of the night had gone well.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ He surprised himself that he’d said it out loud. Caroline really was getting to him. He put his foot down a little harder, the BMW devouring the miles between Bristol and Little Somerby. He’d just poke his head round the door, see how she was doing. It would be closing time by the time he got there, anyway.
Pulling into the driveway of Orchard Cottage, he glanced towards the living room window. The light was still on so his father must still be up and about. He didn’t want to be the subject of any ribald post mortems about the success, or otherwise, of his evening, so he pocketed his car keys and strode back towards the centre of the village.
It was a quiet, clear evening. The village was getting ready to settle down for the night, and he nodded briefly at a couple, presumably returning from The Cider Kitchen, who were chatting about how nice it was to have a new eatery within walking distance. All good signs, he thought. He hoped Emma Leadbetter had pulled it off. Picking up his pace, he straightened his shoulders.
*
Ian Smith was, typically, the last customer in the restaurant. Caroline couldn’t very well chuck him out, but she’d quietly dismissed her front of house staff as it was coming up to eleven o’clock and they’d worked their socks off all night. Emma was tucked away in the kitchen, clearing down and getting things in order for the next day’s service. Caroline walked towards Ian, ready to take his coffee cup from him, and hoped he’d soon be off home.
‘Can I get you anything else?’ Caroline asked as she reached the table.
‘No, thank you. It was a very good meal,’ Ian said, clearly in no hurry to leave. ‘Very good.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘And you’ve got a nice atmosphere going here. Cosy, but not twee. Rather sophisticated, in fact.’
‘Thank you,’ Caroline said guardedly. She sensed there was a ‘but’ coming.
‘There are one or two issues, though, that prevent me from giving it the full five stars.’ Deliberately slowly, he stood up out of his chair. ‘Although, of course, I am open to persuasion.’
Suddenly, the restaurant seemed entirely too small for them both.
‘I’ll look forward to reading your review.’ She moved past him to show him the door.
He, however, refused to take the hint. ‘Come on, Caroline. I haven’t finished.’
Caroline gritted her teeth. ‘I apologise. Was there something else you wanted to say?’
‘Why don’t we share a nightcap and I’ll talk you through my… thoughts about the restaurant.’
Caroline tried not to shudder. This nondescript, colourless man was far from the worst who’d ever hit on her, but the way he was trying to use his perceived power over her, his ability, as he saw it, to make or break her business was enough to make the bile rise in her throat. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a lot to do before I turn in.’
‘Are you quite sure?’ he moved closer. Caroline could smell the liqueur coffee on his breath, could see the open pores in his pasty skin.
‘Absolutely.’ Caroline stood her ground, refusing to be intimidated. She could hear the clatter of the pans in the kitchen as Emma sorted them out for the next day’s service, and was reassured.
‘Shame.’ He lowered his head and also his gaze, assessing, appraising. He reached out a lazy hand and ran his index finger down the inside of her bare arm, brushing his knuckle against the side of her breast as he did so. This time, Caroline couldn’t hide her shudder of revulsion. ‘Don’t you want an insurance policy?’ He looked around. ‘Carter’s Cider have certainly poured enough money into this place to take… precautions.’
Caroline, whose patience had been on a tightrope all night, finally snapped. ‘I don’t need to take any precautions.’ She swatted Smith’s hand away smartly. ‘We’ve done a fucking fantastic job of getting this place ready, and you should give us the credit we deserve for the effort we’ve put in, not because you want to put the moves on me, so back off.’
‘Well, well,’ Smith said, hastily withdrawing his hand and reaching for his glass of wine, which still had a gulp in the bottom of it. ‘Looks like you’ve got teeth as impressive as your tits.’ Still insolent, he glanced down her body.
Caroline stood her ground. ‘Good night, Mr Smith. I suggest you leave before you feel just how sharp my teeth are. And I promise you, you won’t like it one little bit. I trust we’ll see your review in the Somerset Herald in due course.’
‘Certainly,’ Smith replied. ‘Thank you for an… entertaining night.’
‘It’s not her job to entertain you.’ A voice cut through the man’s oily routine like cheese wire through a block of Stinking Bishop. ‘She’s here to run a business, so why don’t you get back to your typewriter and write about it.’
Smith flinched as if stung.
‘Well, well,’ he said softly. ‘And I thought Carter’s were just throwing cash at the place and leaving the legwork to the minions.’
‘Why don’t you do us all a favour and push off before you say or do something else you’ll regret.’ Jonathan, who had slipped in through the front door, stopped a few feet away from Caroline. The three of them stood stock still for a few more heartbeats.
‘Don’t worry,’ Smith said eventually. ‘I get the message, loud and clear. I’ll be sure to call you if I need any more information.’ He walked to the door. ‘Good night.’
As he left, Caroline released a breath she felt as though she’d been holding all evening. It did little to extinguish her anger. She spun round to face Jonathan who had remained where he was, a few feet behind her. ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’
Jonathan held up his hands in mitigation. ‘I just thought you might appreciate a little help in dealing with that sanctimonious shit. His reputation precedes him.’
‘That’s rich, coming from you!’ Caroline was still fuming. ‘What right have you got to swan in here now when all the work’s been done?’ Restlessly, she walked around the restaurant, straightening cutlery, checking glasses, folding already folded napkins.
‘Calm down, Caroline,’ Jonathan said. ‘I was just passing and I wanted to see how Emma had got on. I slipped in the back way precisely because I didn’t want to tread on your toes. I wasn’t going to let you know I was here until I saw him try to do a number on you.’ He took a step towards her. ‘I’m sorry if it wasn’t what it looked like, but I’ve heard bad reports from people who’ve been on the wrong end of his ‘charm’. He thinks just because he used to work for a London newspaper he’s the hottest journalist in the South West, rather than doing food reviews for a freebie rag.’
‘I am more than capable of telling him where to go myself,’ Caroline snapped. ‘In fact, I was one step away from punching him in the face when you rocked up. I’m not some pathetic damsel in distress who needs you to weigh in and rescue me whenever the hell you feel like it.’
‘Look,’ Jonathan sounded exasperated. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I just don’t like seeing people being put under that kind of pressure. He should give us a good review because you, and this place, are good. Not because he wants to get into your knickers.’
‘Your concern is touching,’ Caroline’s voice was still brittle with tension. ‘but can you honestly tell me you’ve never put a woman under that kind of pressure?’
Jonathan’s eyes were suddenly ice cold. ‘I’ve never had to.’ He let his hands drop to his sides. ‘Goodnight, Caroline.’ Without another word, he walked out of The Cider Kitchen.
The door closed behind Jonathan and Caroline let out a long breath. As if being hit on by a food critic wasn’t enough, now she had Jonathan trying to muscle in and play the great protector. She’d seen off enough types like Ian Smith in the past to know exactly where their weak spots were. At least, she thought, she’d be able to kick Gino’s arse when he came to see her early the next morning.
If she was honest, she knew that Jonathan, and probably Gino, were the wrong targets for her aggression but she’d been so keyed up all evening that arguing with Jonathan had been a release. Perhaps she had responded too strongly to his attempt to intercede with Ian Smith. Sometimes the anger she still felt about her own isolation and the shadows of her past crept up on her and made her want to turn that anger outwards. In exasperation, she grabbed her phone from behind the cash desk and began to text Jonathan.
Sorry,
she wrote quickly.
It’s been a long night. Meeting to debrief in the morning? C.
She only just stopped herself from signing off with a kiss. That would be a step too far, she thought wryly, heading back to the kitchen to speak to Emma. Sometimes she forgot how far she’d actually come in a few months; what she’d left behind in Surrey. She just hoped that the past really was behind her, and that she could truly move on.