Springtime at the Cider Kitchen by Fay Keenan (21)

The day of the drag hunt meet dawned bright and surprisingly chilly for October with a slight frost glittering in the trees and grass outside. As Caroline pulled back her living room curtains, she mutinously found herself hoping that at least one of those over privileged twats would slip on the damp grass and injure themselves. She’d agreed to host the meet because Jonathan, and later Matthew, had told her in no uncertain terms that it was a part of the county’s heritage that she needed to cash in on. Her protests about it had fallen on deaf ears. She was rapidly beginning to realise that the outwardly amiable Carter bothers had cores of steel when it came to furthering the interests of the family firm. Very little got in their way; certainly not the manager of their restaurant.

That was the problem with this arrangement, she thought. She might have autonomy over the business to a certain extent, and the hiring and firing rights for the staff, but when it came to decisions she didn’t agree with, she was still just a consultant manager. Jonathan and Matthew had made that perfectly clear in the last conversation they’d had with her before the issue was concluded. She’d just have to suck her principles up along with the mulled cider, it seemed.

After grabbing a quick shower and throwing on some skinny jeans and a jumper (she was buggered if she was going to dress up for the occasion), Caroline headed down to the kitchen to check the supplies. It wasn’t just the hunt meet today; she had a full complement of tables for lunch and an almost full diary for the evening. She admitted grudgingly that the lunch bookings were probably because of the timing of the hunt meet, eleven o’clock, and some people had obviously decided to make a date of it, but even so, it still rankled.

When she got into the kitchen she checked the dates on the fridge stock. This was something Gino usually did, but she’d given him the day off to go and visit his grandfather, who was recovering in Musgrove Park hospital in Taunton after an operation. Emma had agreed to come in and cover the lunchtime and evening services and put the finishing touches on the finger foods for the meet. The stock inside the fridge was all fine but as she turned back to the steel preparation counter, she gasped. There, obviously having been out all night, was the entire supply of crayfish tails and dishes of homemade mayonnaise to go with them. And they should have been put in the fridge overnight. It wasn’t exactly tropical in the kitchen, being October, but Caroline knew the temperature certainly wouldn’t have been down to the legal minimum for a professional fridge.

She was immediately torn; if Gino had been here and the seafood had been for her own party, she’d have chucked the lot out immediately; it was too much of a risk to serve them in the restaurant. However, there was no time to redo them and this left a huge gap in the refreshments. She could call Emma now, get her in an hour early to knock up something else, but she’d relied on her sous chef enough lately and the girl deserved a lie in. She could get Gino back in but it didn’t seem fair under the circumstances.

Before she could think about it any further, the restaurant’s landline rang and she hurried out of the kitchen to answer it. As she was entering a booking for the evening on The Cider Kitchen’s computer system, she noticed that some of the tables in the restaurant hadn’t been re-laid, so as soon as she had the booking sorted, she got on with that.

A little while later, the space outside the restaurant was filling with assembled foot followers, horses and a small group of animal rights protesters handing out leaflets. It was all highly civilised. Even the hounds milling around were behaving themselves. Caroline found herself grudgingly admiring the scene, as riders in tweed coats, khaki coats and the odd red one checked girths, touched the peaks of their riding hats in acknowledgement of the Master and answered questions from curious first time spectators. Once again, she felt a twinge of longing to have some time to grab her sketch pad and capture the scene but she had far too much to do. A tray of mulled cider was being passed around and in a moment the food would come out from the kitchen.

It was only then that Caroline remembered the crayfish. To her horror, she saw Sasha, her youngest waitress, heading out of the restaurant with the tray in her hands. Hemmed in by hunt supporters, though, she wouldn’t reach Sasha in time to take the tray off her. As she walked as quickly as she could through the crowd, her view of Sasha temporarily obscured, she heard a scream and a crash. Breaking through at last she saw that Rob, her new acquaintance and master of the Old Somerset hounds, had dismounted from his horse and was striding into the middle of a melee of jaws and tails. Caroline picked up her pace and found Sasha holding an empty platter, the contents of which was now being polished off by most of the hounds.

‘I’m sorry, Caroline,’ Sasha stammered, pink with embarrassment. ‘They’re so huge. One of them stuck its nose up my skirt as I came out with the snacks and I jumped a mile.’

‘Bertie, Misty, Thunder, leave!’ Rob’s voice cut through Sasha’s apologies. The hounds instantly fell away.

‘Thank you,’ Caroline said as Rob grinned apologetically.

‘They’re total opportunists,’ he said. He turned to Sasha. ‘Are you all right, love? They can’t resist sniffing anything new and I’m afraid you were too nice to pass up with those snacks on the tray.’

Sasha nodded. ‘I’m OK, thanks. Hadn’t realised how big they are up close!’ She looked regretfully at the mess on the floor. ‘Good job you did loads of extra cheese and biscuits. They looked nice, too.’

‘No harm done,’ Caroline said. Her heart was still pounding at the thought that any of the crayfish might have been served to the people at the meet.

‘We’ll be ready for the off in a few minutes,’ Rob called, as his phone pinged with a message. ‘Drink up everyone. Jason’s finished laying the trail.’

There was a flurry of activity as the riders finished their cider and snacks. Even Caroline, with her vehement anti blood sport principles, had to admit they looked rather glorious against the backdrop of the orchards and hills as they finally set off. Watching them go as the crowd thinned out she spotted Jonathan chatting to a couple of bystanders. As if summoned by her gaze, he turned and smiled at her. He really was heart breaking when he did that, she thought. But she didn’t have time to chat; the lunchtime service wouldn’t sort itself and she needed to change into something smarter now the hunt had left.

*

Later that day, Caroline was just readying the restaurant for the evening service when Meredith walked in. Dressed simply in a white shirt and straight black skirt with her dark hair in a long plait down her back, her face was flushed from the cold afternoon air.

‘You survived then?’ Caroline said as Meredith closed the restaurant door to keep out the chill. Since their heart to heart about Meredith’s new sibling, she and Meredith had developed a close relationship and although she fundamentally disagreed with Meredith joining in with the hunt, she liked her enough to overlook it. It was good to see Meredith looking so much happier about things, too. She hadn’t asked what the outcome of her dinner with Matthew and Anna had been, but from Meredith’s demeanour, she assumed it had all worked out well.

‘Yes, and so did Rosa, thankfully. It’s her first time out for a while.’

‘She’s all, er, recovered, then?’ Caroline didn’t know the first thing about horses; the hunt meet was the closest she’d been to a horse barring the odd donkey ride at the seaside as a kid. The proximity of quite so many animals since she’d moved to the country was something she was still getting used to. Scrumpy and Solly were one thing, but some of the more rural aspects of living in Somerset, including being stopped by cows being herded down the main road in Little Somerby on occasion, were quite surprising.

‘She’s fine.’ Meredith paused. ‘Which is more than I can say for quite a few of the hounds.’

Caroline’s stomach fluttered. ‘What was wrong with them?’ She asked carefully.

‘Well, I’m not really sure,’ Meredith called from the kitchen, where she’d gone to collect her white apron. ‘About two hours in, suddenly half the pack stopped following the scent and, no word of a lie, all ran off and, er, relieved themselves. The smell was horrendous. Not even Rob could get them back on track for about ten minutes. We kind of lost momentum after that and decided to call it a day. Rob was really worried.’

‘Really?’ Caroline kept her voice carefully neutral. Inside she was panicking, wondering if she was going to get lumbered with a huge vet’s bill for stomach pumping hounds poisoned by off seafood. ‘I wonder what caused that.’

‘Who can say?’ Meredith replied. ‘They’re pretty sneaky when they’re let out across country. Could have eaten anything out there. But it’s odd that it happened so quickly. I’m sure they’ll be fine after a good rest, though.’

‘I hope so.’

‘Many bookings tonight?’ Meredith paused, looking curiously at Caroline. ‘Are you all right?’

Caroline pulled herself together, trying not to think about profits potentially being handed over for sick dogs. ‘I’m fine. Just six tables pre-booked tonight. First one in at seven.’

‘OK then. I’ll set up.’ Meredith loped off to the kitchen.

Caroline sagged back against the table she was standing by. Then she jumped a mile as her mobile phone buzzed in the pocket of her trousers. It was a text from Jonathan.

*

Later, to Jonathan, meant nearly eleven o’clock that evening. Caroline couldn’t help noticing his dishevelled casual clothing and slightly ruffled hair. She hoped it was a conscious fashion choice and not caused by the fact that he’d just rolled out of someone else’s bed. Not that she cared, of course, she reminded herself hastily.

Catching her eye, he signalled a ‘no rush’ gesture and settled down on one of the stools by the bar. Sasha, working a split shift today, smiled winningly at him and set to making him a coffee while he waited. Why was it that all females, no matter how old they were, immediately seemed to melt in Jonathan’s presence? Caroline thought. Except for her, of course. Savagely, she clashed the cutlery together on the plates she’d just cleared from a table, earning herself a shocked glance from the elderly couple sat to her left. Smiling apologetically, she hurried out to the kitchen with the dishes and hoped that the last customers would finish their meals soon so that she could see what Jonathan wanted and then get to bed.

Eventually they all left and she closed the till, intending to shove the cash drawer in the safe before she locked up. Jonathan had his head bowed, looking at the screen of his mobile phone as she approached.

‘Can I get you another coffee?’ Caroline asked.

‘Only if you’re going to join me,’ he replied.

Caroline made herself a heavy-on-the-milk latte and then made Jonathan a flat white; she didn’t want to be up all night. She pushed his cup over to him and then came round the other side of the bar, taking a seat on the stool next to him.

‘So is this a social call?’ she asked as Jonathan put his phone back in his shirt pocket.

‘Not exactly,’ Jonathan said. ‘I just wanted to check something with you.’

‘What?’ Caroline’s stomach lurched. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘I’m not entirely sure.’ Jonathan let the silence hang between them. ‘Meredith mentioned something to me this afternoon when she got back from the meet, and it’s been on my mind.’

The subdued lighting turned Jonathan’s normally cerulean eyes a darker shade of blue, giving them a depth that Caroline instantly felt nervous of. Stalling for time, she took another sip of her coffee. ‘Oh yes?’ She tried to sound noncommittal.

‘Yes. She said they had to cut the chase short this afternoon after an incident with the hounds. Virtually the whole pack had to be picked up and taken back to the kennels after they started shitting everywhere. Rob’s only just settled them for the night, apparently, and he thought he’d have to get the vet out earlier this evening.’ Jonathan’s gaze was unflinching; his eyes never moved from hers as he spoke. In another context, this would be disturbingly sexy, thought Caroline,

‘That’s awful,’ Caroline stammered. Rob had been so welcoming to her when she’d visited the kennels and despite believing that hunting was fundamentally anachronistic and wrong, she’d never have wished any harm to the hounds. ‘Does… does he know what might have happened?’

Jonathan let the pause hang between them again as he took a sip of his coffee. ‘He thinks they might have been affected by something they ate. A bout of canine food poisoning. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?’

Caroline choked on her latte. ‘Why would I?’

‘Well, the only thing I can think of was that tray of seafood that Sasha dropped on the ground.’ Jonathan kept looking at her. ‘Given your, er, objections to hunting, it seems rather coincidental that food meant for the meet might be the cause of a few upset stomachs.’

‘Are you accusing me of deliberately sabotaging the food?’ Caroline flared up. That the crayfish tails might have been off was one thing, but the suggestion that she’d poisoned them was completely out of order.

‘Did you?’ Jonathan asked flatly. Caroline was jolted by the directness of both his gaze and the question. ‘I need to know, Caroline.’

‘No, Jonathan. No, I didn’t. And the fact that you might think that makes me so angry.’ Caroline clattered her mug down on its saucer and stood up. ‘I would never, never put the health of my customers at risk. Or their animals.’

Jonathan kept looking at her, considering. ‘No.’ He said finally. ‘I don’t think you would. But then what other explanation could there be? The hounds didn’t eat anything unusual before the meet, and they wouldn’t have had time to stop once the run started. Rob just doesn’t get it.’

Caroline’s heart sank. ‘There’s something you should know.’

‘What?’

‘The crayfish have been the cause of the upset, but I would never have poisoned them. They were left out on the side in the kitchen overnight, though.’ She dropped her gaze from Jonathan’s. ‘It was a complete oversight.’

Jonathan let out a long, tired sigh. ‘And you let them go out anyway? What the hell were you thinking?’

‘I didn’t intend to!’ Caroline snapped. ‘I was about to throw them out when the phone rang for a booking and I forgot all about them. It wasn’t until Sasha brought them out that I realised. I tried to get to her to divert her but didn’t manage it before the tray went up and the hounds got them.’

‘Didn’t you check the kitchen before you turned in last night?’

‘I’m sure I did…’ then she remembered; she’d been detained by a customer and by the time she’d cashed up, Gino had left and the lights were out in the kitchen. She’d staggered up to bed without performing her usual checks. She could blame Gino, but really she had the final responsibility.

‘What would have happened if any of them had actually been eaten by the people at the meet?’ Jonathan shook his head. ‘They must have been crawling with bugs if they affected the hounds, but there were older children and teenagers out there this morning. Christ, Caroline, Ellie and Merry were there, as well as half the village kids. Not to mention Anna, who’d have been seriously affected if she’d eaten them in her condition. We’re only lucky that the dogs knocked Sasha’s tray out of her hands before she had a chance to hand them around.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I should have got rid of them as soon as I saw them.’

‘Christ, Caroline, that was too close a call. Please try to be more careful.’

Caroline opened her mouth to argue, but she knew Jonathan was right; and besides, he looked ridiculously sexy when his blood was up. She took a deep breath. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. It was a stupid mistake. Hopefully no-one had any before Sasha dropped them.’

‘You can’t run a business on hopefully,’ Jonathan ran a hand through his hair.

‘I know.’ Caroline tried to smile. ‘I guess we’ll soon know if anyone got sick today, too, won’t we, given what the village grapevine is like.’

Jonathan regarded Caroline intently. ‘Are you sure it wasn’t deliberate?’

‘Of course not!’ Caroline replied. ‘I might still disagree fundamentally with having them here, but I actually did like Rob, and I certainly wouldn’t play Russian Roulette with this place’s future.’

Jonathan kept looking at her for a moment, and Caroline could feel her face growing warmer under his scrutiny. ‘I believe you,’ he said softly.

Caroline was lightheaded with relief. ‘Never, ever again. Guides honour.’

‘The thought of you in a Girl Guide uniform is enough to make me forgive you on the spot,’ Jonathan said, a somewhat husky note in his voice.

‘Hold it right there,’ Caroline said. ‘I might be feeling contrite but not enough for you to cross professional lines.’

Jonathan held up his hands. ‘As if I would.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Anyway, I’m all in. I doubt I’d be much use to you or anyone else tonight. And I need my beauty sleep for tomorrow, anyway.’

‘Really?’ Caroline arched an eyebrow.

‘Yup,’ Jonathan replied. ‘I’ve got a busy evening.’

‘Anyone I know?’

‘You do, actually,’ Jonathan said, a glint in his eye. ‘And she’ll do her nut if I don’t give her my full attention, so I’d better get some rest.’ With that, he gave her a grin, turned on his heel and sauntered out of the door. ‘See you later.’

Caroline felt a combination of irritation and jealousy watching him leave. She realised she’d got off lightly, but she couldn’t help wondering who Jonathan’s plans were with tomorrow night. Cursing herself for the thought, she set to locking up.