As soon as the contract confirming her fixed term appointment as consultant manager came through from Carter’s Cider, Caroline wasted no time in arranging to rent out her flat in Farnham. Fortunately, a friend was between houses and wanted a place to stay for up to six months while the renovations on her new house were completed. Then, she packed up her stuff, putting most of it into storage, and headed off to Little Somerby.
The restaurant was scheduled to open in the middle of June. Progress had been rapid in the couple of weeks since Matthew and Anna’s wedding; the walls had been painted, the light fittings had gone in (Jonathan had agreed with Caroline’s suggestions about hanging wrought iron chandeliers and subtler side lights) and the dining furniture would be delivered the next day. The staircase to the mezzanine level of the building led to Caroline’s living quarters. At first, she’d been reluctant to live where she was also working, but the choice of affordable rental properties nearby was pretty limited. Also, there were some fairly antisocial hours involved in running a restaurant and having somewhere to crash that was only up a flight of stairs, after a long night, would definitely be an advantage.
As she unlocked and opened the door that separated the flat from the restaurant she was instantly charmed by the sight of the small living area which housed a sofa and a coffee table, still in their polythene wrappings. One door led to the bedrooms and bathroom and another to a tiny kitchen. Well, she figured ruefully, she was probably going to be sick of the sight of food after evenings at the restaurant anyway; she didn’t need a big cooking area. Since the flat was furnished, Caroline had put most of her possessions into storage, but she’d brought a few boxes with her of things she simply couldn’t live without.
The clothes could wait, but at the very top of the first box she opened was the photo album of pictures from the wedding she’d received from Anna as a moving present. Opening the cover, she smiled as she saw a picture she’d taken of Ellie. Her niece was utterly, edibly, gorgeous, and yet Caroline still didn’t feel broody; the emotional upheavals of the past few years hadn’t triggered any desire in her for babies and with the restaurant on the cards for the foreseeable future, she certainly couldn’t think about them now.
She smiled again as she turned the page and saw another candid snapshot. This time it was one of Anna and Ellie. And, she noticed with surprise, in the background was Jonathan. She’d not done any drawing for ages but always took a book with her whenever she went somewhere for a while. Jonathan’s profile would be a glorious one to draw, she thought, if she ever found the time.
Putting the photo album aside after flipping through a few more pages, Caroline dug further into the box. There were a few more loose photos, detached from their moorings in a rather more conventional album and Caroline took them out, determined to secure them back in place before they got lost in the detritus of the move. Flipping idly through them, her heart lurched. Staring back out of one of the group snapshots was someone she hoped she’d never see again. She looked at his close cropped dark hair, his outwardly amiable expression, his air of confidence, and she thanked her lucky stars once again she’d made this move to the West Country, away from him. It would have been easier to forget him if he’d been an ex-boyfriend, she thought ruefully; goodness knows she’d made some interesting choices in her love life over the years, and often not altogether wise ones. This man had been something different, though, and she had no desire to dwell on that particular part of her past. She scrunched up the photo and threw it in the black plastic sack that was serving as a bin. The sooner she put him out of her mind, the better. Her last job was over, and so, thankfully, was her association with him.
Just as she was taking stock of what to unpack next, she heard the front door to the restaurant opening below and a voice called up to the mezzanine.
‘I’m here,’ Caroline replied, hoping, after shifting so many boxes around, she didn’t look too hot and sweaty. Running a hand through her hair, she stepped down the staircase towards the floor of the restaurant. There, standing in the doorway, clad in jeans and a white t-shirt and carrying a bottle of champagne and a bunch of freesias, was Jonathan Carter.
‘I just thought I’d come and welcome you on board,’ he said, handing her the champagne and the flowers. ‘And check that everything’s as you expected, of course.’
‘It all looks good so far,’ Caroline said. ‘I’m hoping to spend this afternoon getting familiar with the space and the layout.’
Jonathan smiled. ‘Sounds good. You’ve got my mobile number if you need to get hold of me outside office hours?’
‘Actually, I’m not sure I have,’ Caroline confessed. Jonathan had called her a couple of times, but always from his office line at Carter’s.
‘Oh,’ Jonathan’s brow wrinkled. ‘I could have sworn I gave it to you the morning after the wedding.’
Caroline’s cheeks reddened as she recalled both the night in question, and the fact that she’d casually binned Jonathan’s note with his phone number on it. ‘I must have lost it,’ she evaded, hoping he didn’t press her further.
‘I’ll text you,’ Jonathan said, a vaguely amused expression on his face. ‘And then you’ve got no excuse for not contacting me.’
‘OK,’ Caroline said. She felt the awkwardness rising between them as they both seemed to be casting their minds back to the day they met. ‘And thank you for all of your help so far.’
‘My pleasure.’ Jonathan replied. ‘It’s a shame I’ve got to dash or we could have opened the champagne. But I’ll see you in the morning for our first official meeting.’
*
Caroline wasn’t one to hang around so over the next few days she cracked on with the plans that she and Jonathan discussed during their first official meeting. The restaurant furniture had been delivered on her first proper day at The Cider Kitchen and she was kept occupied completing Health and Safety assessment forms and placing a rather alarmingly sized red lacquered baby grand piano in one corner of the restaurant. It had seemed like a mad idea when her last client had offered it to her as a leaving present, but it was in good working order and she knew exactly where she was going to put it. Whether or not she’d be able to pay a pianist was another matter, but for the moment, she was pleased to host it in the restaurant.
Caroline also arranged to meet the front of house staff that had been appointed before her. The building was fairly large and had the potential to do forty covers a night but in the initial weeks she had no idea how busy it was going to be, so to begin with the restaurant would just have a kitchen porter and a few waiting staff. She couldn’t afford a full time sous chef on the budget Carters had allowed for staffing, so the chef would have to hit the ground running. She hoped they’d be flexible.
Since employment opportunities were limited in the village virtually every A Level student had applied for an evening job, but Caroline had whittled them down until she had three full time waiting staff and a handful of part timers to take the evening and weekend shifts between them. These included Jonathan’s niece Meredith.
Jonathan kept in regular contact with Caroline. He was an excellent communicator and always had a good reason for being on site, but Caroline couldn’t help wondering if he was checking up on her for other reasons. Maddeningly, he always seemed to slide around the door when she least wanted to see him. Sweaty from shifting tables around for the umpteenth time as she tried to work out the perfect arrangement for the floor, she’d turn around and see him by the front door, smiling that smile of his. She had however, invited him over one evening to test out the kitchen. He was a fair cook and he wanted to make sure everything was in working order. While Caroline had drawn the line at him cooking a proper meal, for fear of ruining the kitchen before the new chef had even had a go, he whipped up a few small things to make sure everything was as it should be. She was currently sitting on one of the high stools in the kitchen sipping a glass of the champagne that he’d brought over on the day she’d moved in.
‘What do you reckon to this?’ Jonathan asked, placing a green olive atop his blini, mackerel and sour cream concoction and passing it to Caroline. She felt the charge as his fingertips brushed hers. Popping it into her mouth she tasted the saltiness of the olive against the cream, the yeast flavour of the blini and the sweet, smoky sensation of the fish counterpointing it all.
‘Not bad,’ she conceded. ‘But I don’t think you’d make it as a professional. Look at the mess you’ve made on the counter just making some blinis!’ She put her glass down and tore off a sheet of blue paper towel from the large roll that had been installed next to the hand washing sink. Dampening it slightly, she wiped the spilt blini batter and discarded olive stones from the stainless steel counter top. Then, she crossed the kitchen and looked at the waste food bin. Health and Safety regulations stated that it must be emptied every day, and although it was nowhere near full she figured she might as well do it now. The new chef would be in soon enough and she wanted the place to be neat and tidy. She took the bag and tied it before heading out to the back of the restaurant where the bins were. As she lifted the lid of the large brown food waste one she paused. From somewhere deep inside the bin she could hear a faint sound. Her skin started to crawl as she considered the possibilities. Rats? Mice? Gigantic, mutated West Country maggots? Anything was possible in her imagination. As the scratching continued she spied a movement inside one of the bags in the bin. And then a very faint, very plaintive, very hungry sounding meow.
Caroline was short by anyone’s standards, but she scrambled up the side of the bin and then leaned in to try to reach the bag the sound and movement was coming from. Nearly overbalancing, her fingers brushed the top of the bag but she couldn’t get a grip on it.
‘Jonathan!’ she yelled, her voice echoing into the bin. ‘Can you come out here, please?’ She scrambled back from the lip of the bin just as Jonathan came out of the back door to the kitchen. She was sure she didn’t imagine the sweep of his eyes over her back view as she righted herself.
‘Everything all right?’ Jonathan came to stand by the bin.
‘There’s some kind of animal in a bag in the food bin,’ Caroline said.
Jonathan looked wary. ‘Probably vermin,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to call our pest control guy?’
‘I don’t think it’s rats,’ Caroline said. ‘It sounded, I don’t know, like a cat or something.’
‘What would a cat be doing in a bin?’
Caroline tossed her head impatiently. ‘I don’t know, but can you help me to get it out?’
‘Could be a rat,’ Jonathan said. ‘Hang on, I’ll take a look.’ Jonathan looked over the side of the bin and then leaned in. ‘I wish I had a pair of gardening gloves on, just in case,’ he muttered. ‘Rats are tough buggers.’
‘I’ll bet you another bottle of champagne it’s not a rat,’ Caroline said.
‘I hope you’re right.’ He had to lean right into the bin and Caroline found herself looking at his decidedly gorgeous, denim clad backside.
Momentarily distracted, she came back to earth when Jonathan straightened up and gently put the bag on the ground at her feet.
‘Your vermin, my lady. Would you like me to do the honours?’
Another plaintive sound came from the bag and this time there was no mistaking it. Caroline grappled with the knot that had been tied in the top of the black sack but her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t untie it. Jonathan knelt down and with a little effort, managed to get the knot untied and open the bag.
Caroline gasped. There, trying desperately to take in the fresh air, were two small, very grubby tortoiseshell kittens. Caroline fell to her knees and picked them up, cradling them in her arms.
‘Who would do this to such tiny things?’ she said.
Jonathan glanced around, checking to see if whoever it was could still be around. ‘It’s quite easy to get onto the site as we’ve now got access from the main road. No one would notice the comings and goings of someone who wasn’t meant to be here because there have been so many people working on the building. Anyone could have slipped in unnoticed and dumped them.’ Nevertheless, he was surprised that Caroline was being so hands on with the abandoned animals. ‘You should probably take them to the vet, see if anyone’s lost them.’
Caroline shook her head. ‘No-one’s lost them,’ she said grimly. ‘They were chucked in here deliberately because whoever did it thought they wouldn’t be discovered. I will take them to get checked out by the vet, though. Poor little girls.’
‘How do you know they’re girls?’ Jonathan asked.
‘All tortoiseshells are female,’ Caroline said. ‘James and I had one when we were kids, and it’s one of the things I remember. They’re also naughty.’ She smiled. ‘In the meantime, I’d better sort out some food and a bed for them. Come on,’ Caroline coaxed, seeing the tiny kittens’ abject terror as they started to come to their senses. ‘I’ve got some lovely food for you.’ Unconvinced, one of the furious balls of tortoiseshell fur raised its hackles and gave what she clearly believed to be a very intimidating hiss. What came out was little short of adorable.
Taking the kittens through the restaurant’s kitchen, and to hell with Health and Safety this time, Caroline headed straight upstairs to her quarters where, in her small kitchenette she had a can of tuna. She popped the kittens on her sofa for a moment while she opened the can and spooned the contents onto a saucer. Then she filled a bowl with water and put both down on the floor. Clearly starving, the kittens jumped down, skittered across to the saucer and buried their faces in the tuna. Stealthily, Caroline crept up to the tiny creatures until she was close enough to stroke them.
‘You poor things,’ she said softly. ‘Who’s thrown you out like this?’ Cautiously, trying not to scare the kittens, she continued to stroke them, crooning calming nonsense as they demolished the tuna on the saucer. When she felt she could risk it, she picked the slightly larger of the little creatures up. It stiffened in her hands and began to struggle, but after a few moments, realising that her jumper was warm, it settled into her arms again.
‘Are they OK?’ Jonathan asked.
Caroline started. She’d been so fixated on the kittens she’d forgotten all about Jonathan. She glanced up at him. ‘I’ll ring the vet in a minute and see if I can take them over there,’ Caroline said. ‘It’s a bloody good job this place isn’t open yet. They’re probably crawling with parasites.’ She shuddered. ‘Who’d be so shitty as to dump kittens in a bag in a bin?’
Jonathan shook his head. ‘I don’t know, but you’d better keep a look out for anything or anyone else suspicious.’
Caroline shuddered; there was at least one person from her not too distant past who’d definitely fall into the suspicious category. No, she thought, he’s over a hundred miles away. It couldn’t be anything like that. More likely, someone just wanted rid. Today’s culture was so full of the notion that everything was disposable; why not animals, too?
Jonathan gestured to a cardboard box he’d brought up with him from the kitchen. ‘I figured this would do for a bed for tonight until you can rehome them.’
‘Rehome them?’ Caroline shook her head. ‘No way. They’re staying with me.’
‘In this place?’ Jonathan shook his head. ‘Do you have any idea what the Health Inspector would say?’
‘I’ll keep them out of the kitchen. There’s a balcony and a fire escape at the back of the mezzanine that they can use to get in and out and the door to the living quarters is shut during service. I’ll double check with the local authority’s Health and Safety officer but it should be fine as long as they don’t get into the food preparation areas.’
‘And what about when you’re working?’ Jonathan asked. ‘They’re tiny. How will you cope?’
‘I’ll think of something,’ Caroline persisted. ‘After all, there are cat cafes and cat pubs opening up everywhere these days. A couple of kittens can’t be that much bother.’
‘That’s fine when customers are expecting to share their eating space with animals,’ Jonathan said patiently, ‘but in a restaurant like this? I don’t see it. Imagine what would happen if one of your new customers ends up with even a speck of cat hair in their food. It’s not going to do this place’s reputation any good at all and reputation is everything for a new business.’
‘Just leave it with me,’ Caroline said. ‘The punters won’t even know they’re here, I promise you.’
Jonathan shook his head. ‘Let’s hope so. But do me a favour and double check the Health and Safety regulations, will you?’ He didn’t know what Matthew would say if he found out but decided he wouldn’t be the one to tell his brother. ‘Just make sure you also get them checked out by the vet as soon as possible in case they’re rabid.’
Caroline gave Jonathan an impatient look. ‘As if.’ The moment she said it, though, something small, black and jumpy landed on her arm. ‘Perhaps not rabid,’ she conceded, ‘but definitely riddled with fleas.’ As the slightly blacker of the two kittens mewed what sounded like an apology, Caroline couldn’t help smiling. ‘It’s OK, little one. You’re sweet, anyway.’
The ensuing pause in conversation stretched between them and Jonathan took it as his cue to leave. Heading back down the mezzanine stairs to the restaurant, he just about made it outside before he started sneezing. He’d always been allergic to cats, and now, it seemed, if Caroline was serious about keeping those two abandoned fur balls, he was going to get a crash course of immunotherapy. Anger washed over him; he shuddered to think of the suffering that they would have endured as they slowly suffocated in the bag. Thank goodness Caroline had saved them. Before he surrendered to another sneeze, he couldn’t suppress the thought that perhaps she’d been sent to save him, too.