Yes Chef, No Chef

chapter Twelve



Lisa sent a text back to say she couldn’t make it to Katie’s for the drinking session because she had a PR seminar that she couldn’t miss but called the MD a stupid bastard, and then Sarah replied next commiserating with her and agreeing to be at her flat for seven. Katie imagined Sarah upstairs in her studio beavering away working for herself and sighed; she would never be caught in a situation like this where her future had been decided by somebody else, she thought frustratingly. Sarah was in complete control, made all her own decisions about her life and work, and was totally independent.

The feelings of frustration and failure, although everyone reassured her she hadn’t failed at applying for the role, were alien to her and reckoned the last time she’d failed at anything would have been her driving test when she was eighteen. Since then she’d graduated with a first class honours from university and had been chosen from an interview list of five for her junior role and then when the team leader position became available she’d been chosen from an interview panel of three. So this, she decided was totally unfair because she’d never been given the chance to fight for the job in an interview situation. She picked a pencil up from her desk and twirled it between her fingers knowing that if she had been given the chance she would have fought like hell for it. The desire to run out of the office and never return was tempting at this stage but she knew it wouldn’t do her career any good.

She stared at her list of jobs on the pad but ignored them all and trying to distract her mind she logged into an internet search box. Slowly and absentmindedly she typed in the word ‘self-employment’ and began to read the associated articles. They were interesting and soon she became engrossed, clicking on a link about starting up a small business.

A small bubble of excitement started creeping around her stomach when suddenly she looked up to see Terry approaching Frances’s desk where he started badgering her again about cooking a special meal for him and his girlfriend.

That’s it, she thought, with a flash of inspiration; could she start her own catering business and cook meals specifically for men? Was there a market for it and surely if there were two guys in this one room looking for a cook there could be many more? Inspired with the idea of doing something completely different and being her own boss she researched the city market to see what services were already around.

The companies she found appeared to be more involved with catering for guests of 200 plus and large venues at corporate events, private parties, and weddings. There did seem to be smaller companies providing meals for up to twenty five guests with starters, dinners, and desserts but these were delivered in hot boxes by courier.

She knew food in take-out boxes was hardly a way to impress a woman and if she was expecting a special meal she’d be very disappointed if her boyfriend made such a pathetic effort. Her mind buzzed with ideas of how she could make her business different by cooking and preparing as much as possible in her own home and then finishing off in the client’s kitchen ready to serve in their own crockery making it look as though it had been cooked from scratch. And, she would only buy British food, farm assured meat, and Red Tractor for fruit and vegetables - it would be contemporary yet traditional food with no pretentious nonsense that Terry and the guys didn’t like or wouldn’t want to pay for.

Frances appeared at her shoulder and looked at the search articles. “And what’s this all about?”

Katie grinned. “Grab a chair,” she said. “And just listen…”

Frances did and nodded her head every now and then while Katie talked her way through her proposals. She was expecting a rush of negative comments with soothing notions about other promotions coming up again soon, and that she shouldn’t be doing anything on a knee-jerk reaction after her disappointment. But Frances didn’t.

“Well, this is a bolt from the blue,” she said smiling. “I think in principle it sounds good. But you need to look at it in depth and of course you’ll need a business plan.”

Katie shivered with excitement. “Yeah, I know, but do you think I’d be able to do it?”

Frances squeezed her shoulder. “Katie, you can do anything you set your mind to. I’ve seen it over and over again in the last eight years. Nothing fazes you and if you want something badly enough you’ll be as successful in it like you have been with everything else.”

Frances took a pencil and started to scribble. She was in her rational thinking mode and Katie smiled fondly at her friend and at her compliments.

“OK. Most men can’t cook – fact,” Frances said, “Some of them can’t even follow the instructions on a packet - fact. The majority of women I know soon get sick of being given takeaway pizzas - fact. And men, like Terry, will pay good money to have the whole 'providing a meal scenario' taken out of their hands - fact.”

Katie was elated. “You’re right!” she babbled excitedly. “And, I was thinking of concentrating on the ‘British country house’; salmon fish cakes, beef wellington, and upside-down apple cakes, you know the sort of thing, and if there are not many businesses advertising their services out there then there must be a gap in the market?”

Frances continued to scribble while she talked. “You’d need a big kitchen and it would need to be inspected and approved of course,” she warned. “And money to start up and keep you going if there are lean times ahead.”

Katie pondered, “Well, at the moment I suppose it depends upon how much I get from Graham and I do have some savings but whether that’s enough for a deposit and mortgage for a place with a big kitchen,” she mused, chewing the end of her pencil. “And, if there are quiet times I could always pick up some freelance technology work for a few months?”

“Of course you could, especially with all your experience,” she said. “I remember reading a quote somewhere which said cooks make meals for people they know and love but chefs do it anonymously for anyone who pays the price, so make sure you charge enough. And I suppose at first you could get a lot of your bookings from personal contacts, and let’s face it we certainly know enough people between us?” she said, catching up with Katie’s enthusiasm. “What would you call the business?”

Katie giggled animatedly. “I don’t know yet. Let’s think of the important words I’d need in the name,” she said scribbling on her pad. Between them they came up with, ‘Outside Catering - Culinary Services for the Discerning Male’.

“Fabulous!” Katie declared. “All this brain power is giving me an appetite. Let’s go and eat lunch Frances, I‘m starving.”

“Lead me to it,” Frances said swinging her bag over her shoulder. “My secret in life is to eat what I like and let the food fight it out inside.”

But silently Katie had to dispute this great secret to life because when she followed Frances to the stairs she noticed her silk skirt caught in the crease of her large bottom. Not wanting to embarrass her she didn’t say anything just hoped that it would dislodge itself again as they hurried together down the stairs and into the staff restaurant.

While they settled themselves at a table she thought of how dreadful she’d felt two hours ago when they’d been there for coffee, and remembered one of her dads favourite sayings; ‘when one door closes another one opens’. She prayed the door to self-employment would open for her, and if it didn’t open automatically she’d wedge it open with her foot because one thing for sure she knew she didn’t want to carry on working for this company any longer. Change was coming and not only in her personal life, she thought grinning at Frances tucking into sausage and chips.

Sarah arrived that night just after seven o’clock bearing a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. She’d walked across from Carmalt Road rather than bringing her car and told Katie she’d take a taxi home.

“Oh, Katie the flat looks lovely, sort of more lived-in and homely,” she said admiring the flowers and then following her into the kitchen.

Katie opened the bottle and poured good measures into two glasses. “Yes, thanks. I’m really beginning to look upon it now as my little sanctuary,” she said taking a mouthful of wine. “Mmm, that’s good. I’ve made us tagliatelle carbonara, salad and some garlic bread because Lisa isn’t here.”

Sarah looked puzzled and she told her about the supper before the party and how they weren’t allowed to order garlic as there was going to be some serious snogging later and Sarah giggled.

“What’s she like!” she exclaimed. “And is this Adam every bit as gorgeous as she says he is?”

“And some,” Katie enthused.

Sarah sat at the table and picked at the green leaf salad while Katie strained and tossed the tagliatelle in the sauce. “Mmm, that smells divine, Katie, I must say you seem surprisingly upbeat after the horrible day you’ve had at work with not getting the job?”

Katie took the hot garlic bread out of the oven and put it down with the pasta and while they both broke slices from it she started to tell Sarah all about her new business idea.

The creamy carbonara sauce was delicious and Sarah drooled over the flavour and chunky pieces of ham. “You must give me the recipe for this, it’s so special compared to the pots I buy in the supermarket,” she said wrapping strands of tagliatelle around her fork.

“Thanks, but what do you think about my idea? I mean, you’re the best person to ask because you’ve been working freelance for years now?”

Sarah swallowed a mouthful of pasta. “Katie, I can tell you all about working for yourself and help you with all you need to know but is this such a great time to be thinking of leaving a permanent job? I mean, the country is just coming out of, and some may say we are still in, a recession?”

“I hear you,” she said draining her glass of wine. “And I’ve a lot more research to do about it all, and of course I don’t know what my money situation is going to be, but Sarah it just feels right.”

Katie washed the dishes and Sarah dried while they discussed the venture and Katie listened avidly to Sarah’s points. “It is hard getting used to not having a monthly wage being deposited in to your account, and I never know where the next job is coming from, and even though everyone thinks you can work when you want to it doesn’t always pan-out like that.”

Katie looked puzzled and motioned for Sarah to follow her through into the lounge where they got comfortable on the settee with their glasses of wine.

Sarah continued. “Suppose I’ve got a client with strict time scales, then I have to work within his schedules whether I was thinking of jetting off on holiday or not and I’m stuck with him for as long as it takes to finish the job. And of course, if I’ve made a good sum of money on a contract I never know how long it will have to last. Let’s say I don’t get another contract for three months then it can soon start to dwindle on monthly outgoings etc.”

“Hmm, I see,” Katie said. “But there must be pros to outweigh the cons?”

Sarah smiled. “Of course, there is. And it gets easier the more established you become because you start to build up a bank of clients. I’m my own boss and don’t have anyone breathing down my neck and I have a free reign in what I do and don’t want to do, but there again that can still be money dependant. And of course I have an accountant who does all my tax and I do love the buzz of making my own money rather than working to fill the coffers of men like your MD. So…”

“Swings and roundabouts,” Katie mused. “Look, that’s great Sarah, and thanks for the heads up. You haven’t told me anything that puts me off though, I’m going to take a half day holiday tomorrow and come back here to sit with my lap top and go through everything more thoroughly.”

Although earlier in the day when Katie had been upset she’d felt like getting drunk now she felt so much happier she didn’t want more wine and stopped after her second glass to make coffee.

Sarah agreed and quipped, “You see, just because I don’t have to sign in at an office in the morning I still have a deadline of four o’clock tomorrow to finalise my drawing and get it sent over to a client, so I’ll be up at six and in my studio by half past to make sure it’s done properly.”

Katie grinned. “Yeah, but at least you know your drawing is great and is going to make you good money and you’re proud of it.”

Sarah left in a taxi shortly afterwards and although Katie felt tired when she got into bed her mind was still churning with ideas. This however, was much better than churning herself up over Tim, she thought, and who knows, starting a new adventure could be just what she needed to get him off her mind. A little nagging voice however played at the back of her mind repeating Sarah’s words of caution about giving up a permanent job in these difficult times and how everyone would think her behaviour was irrational, maybe even reckless, and most definitely out of character. They would think she’d lost control and there was that bloody word again; it had been in her mind a lot recently and maybe, just maybe it was time to lose some control and see what happened.

The next morning Frances came over to her desk and grinned. “Great news, Katie. Last night when we were talking, Susan remembered a home economist we used to have here about ten years ago who worked downstairs in the development kitchen. Her name was Chrissie and she left to set up her own business catering for small parties. Here’s her number but she could easily have moved on by now…”

She handed Katie the slip of paper and Katie smiled. “Hey, that’s great, thanks. I’ll give her a call later.”

Later that morning David gathered all the teams together in the board room to make an announcement and amidst whisperings of curiosity from everyone he said, “I just wanted to take this opportunity to introduce our new project manager to everyone,” he said looking towards the door as it opened slowly.

Everyone stared towards the door as though Doctor Who was going to magically appear and Frances squeezed Katie’s arm excitedly.

Katie felt her stomach crash to the floor when Alexander Jennings walked into the room.

“Oh my God,” Alice whispered quietly to Katie and Frances. “He’s gorgeous…”

Katie couldn’t believe it; they were actually giving what should have been her job to the chief exec’s creep of a nephew. Were they crazy, she fumed, and were they honestly going to risk the success of the department on a young idiot like him? But then again she thought, while he slickly made his way around everyone shaking their hands, it wasn’t her department anymore so she shouldn’t care. She breathed out long and slow knowing that if ever she needed more confirmation that she was doing the right thing by leaving then this was it. Watching him suck up to young Alice and slap Harry good humouredly on the shoulder she felt resolute - there was no way she’d be able to work for him - she could hardly bear to look at him let alone be civil.

Frances looked sympathetically at Katie who patted her arm reassuringly. “I’m fine, Frances,” she said. “All I can say is God help you all if this toss-pot is going to run the department.”

“Well, maybe he’s better in work than at parties?” Frances replied optimistically and then stood forward because it was her turn to shake Alex’s hand and make polite chit-chat. Katie turned away from them all and slowly walked back to her desk shaking her head at the unfairness of it all.

When she left work at one o’clock it was a typical cold February afternoon and shivering, she decided to treat herself to a hot snack in a small café near the car park before driving over to Putney. While waiting for her order she tapped Chrissie’s number into her mobile and took a deep breath.

The number was obviously a city landline and when an elderly man answered her spirits flagged. She must have moved on, but ten years was a long time for anyone to live in one place, especially in London. But after talking to the old man she discovered he was her grandfather and Chrissie had moved out seven years ago when she got married. He gave her the new address and mobile number for Chrissie and after eating a bowl of hot tomato soup Katie tried again.

The call was answered by a girl’s voice that sounded as if she’d been running and was breathless. “Hello?” she said. “Oh sorry, just a minute,” then followed a tirade of shouting which Katie presumed was at a small child

“That’s better,” she said. “Who is it?”

Katie told her who she was and where she worked and that Susan in personnel had given her the contact.

“Crikey, is she still there?” she said giggling. “And Frances as well?”

Katie assured her they were and hadn’t changed a bit. “I just wanted to ask if you were still running your catering business because I’m thinking of starting one and well…”

Chrissie interrupted her. “God, no. I’ve got three kids now,” she said. “I had to give it up. But when I did it was a great little earner.”

“Really?” Katie said, and then another child’s loud wail broke into the conversation.

“Look it’s a bad time for me at the minute and it’s not easy on the mobile. But if you want to call around for a coffee I can fence the little blighter in the play-pen?” she said laughing at her own joke.

Katie liked her instantly and agreed to call round in an hour. Quickly she wrote the address down on the back of the café’s menu card and slipped it into her bag.

The door was opened by a girl about her own age and there were no signs of the early harassment Katie had heard on the telephone. “Hiya, you must be Katie?”

Katie smiled. “Yes, is it a better time for you?” she asked as Chrissie opened the door wider to let her through.

“Be careful,” she warned while Katie made her way down the hall and into the kitchen diner. “Don’t trip over the bike.”

It was an old Victorian house with large rooms that seemed to be crammed full of toys, piles of clothes, and laundry baskets. She cleared a chair for Katie and beckoned her to sit down. Katie did and looked through into the living room area and saw two babies asleep in the cot and she lowered her voice.

“Thanks for inviting me. You look like you’ve got your hands full?” she whispered.

“It’s OK, they’re down for a couple of hours now so you don’t need to whisper. My mum-in-law has taken little John off to her house to give me a break.”

Chrissie had the oddest miss-match in clothes, colouring and features Katie had ever seen. Her short spikey blonde hair seemed out of place with her large face, bushy eyebrows, almost bulbous nose and very full pouting lips. Black and white striped glasses with a bright blue scarf woven around her neck and a red jumper completed the look where nothing seemed to fit together until she smiled. And then Katie stared in awe at the perfect white California style teeth and wide smile that seemed to light up her whole face.

Chrissie started moving around the kitchen with grace and organisation, switching on the kettle, pouring milk into coffee mugs, picking up toys from the floor and folding clothes from one of the baskets into a pile while they talked.

“And how old is John?” Katie asked jumping slightly when the washing machine behind her rattled its way into a vigorous spin cycle.

Chrissie grinned. “He’s two,” she said. “And although he’s gorgeous and I love him to bits, he’s hard work at the moment…”

Katie sighed with admiration at this girl and knew she’d struggle with one baby never mind three. “God, how do you cope?”

“Oh well, my mum-in-law is one in a million and my husband, John, is a cracker. And the twins through there,” she said nodding towards the cot. “Were a complete surprise. We’d adopted John because I couldn’t fall pregnant and then when he was a year old I found out I was pregnant and there was two for the price of one,” she said laughing.

Katie shook her head and stirred the coffee Chrissie had handed her. “Well it’s no wonder you had to stop the catering business.”

Chrissie smiled again. “I know. It was a shame though because I loved it. And as I said to you on the phone it made me a tidy stack of money, however, it can be hard work,” she said raising an eyebrow. “Mainly I think because you are on your own single-handedly doing all the thinking, advertising, planning, shopping, cooking and selling. But, I catered mainly for single men who basically haven’t a clue when it comes to cooking anything that doesn’t include opening a packet. In fact, that’s how I met my John.”

It was exactly what she’d discussed with Frances and hearing it first-hand was the extra reassurance that she was on the right track. “Great. It’s exactly what I was thinking of starting to do and I’ve only had a brief look on the websites but there doesn’t appear to be many companies catering for small numbers?”

“You’re right there isn’t. And you’ll be fine,” she said reassuringly. “When you hit a dry patch you can always pick up some odd agency jobs like I did. In fact I covered once for a guy who was off sick at Café Nero and I did some hours covering for a junior chef in a hotel for a few weeks when they were really busy.”

Chrissie delved into a drawer in a big wooden French dresser and pulled out a folder. “Yeah, there’s never been many caterers that take on small number bookings and that’s why I was so much in demand,” she said pulling out a sheaf of papers.

From what Katie could see the front page looked to be a list of names and addresses and Chrissie paused. “This is my contact list and although it’s a good few years out of date it might be worthwhile getting in touch with them,” she said looking Katie in the eye and then took a deep breath. “And, if this sounds cheeky then you must say so. But if you do go ahead I would be willing to give you the list as a sign of goodwill, in exchange for some work.”

Katie looked around the room and thought of the babies and couldn’t possibly see how Chrissie could find time to work and she hadn’t considered sharing the business in a partnership. “But how would you manage to share a business?” she asked.

Chrissie giggled. “No I don’t want to come in with you. I just thought if you were to take a job with more than two, three, or four guests I could be your waitress and assistant? It would get me out of here for a few hours and make me a little of my own money. I wouldn’t be able to start until the twins are on the bottles and I can leave them with big John, but, well, what do you think…”

Katie was delighted. She hadn’t given a thought to the fact that she’d need help for bigger dinner parties. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal,” she said grinning and they clinked their coffee cups together.