Yes Chef, No Chef

chapter Eight



As Tim finished the coffee Jessie had left for him he looked up to see Jack, the restaurant owner standing in the doorway. In his early sixties the man practically filled the space with his six foot frame and enormous torso. His jet black hair was swept to the side and slicked into place and his face wore the usual grumpy scowl, which when Kate had met him she’d likened to an Italian mafia agent. Tim was never quite sure if the scowl was meant to intimidate him, but it never did. He did wish however, that they could start at least one conversation without his body being in the defensive mode and without the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention.

“Ah, Tim,” Jack said. “Did the police come back to you on Saturday night before you left?”

Tim stood his ground. “No, but I’m going to call them this afternoon on the number they gave me,” he said. “I still can’t believe Jim would do such a thing…”

Jack put both his hands into his trouser pockets, puffed his chest out and sneered. “Yeah, well by the time you get to my age you don’t get taken in by sob stories.”

Tim flinched but didn’t retaliate. At least I’ve still got some measure of human compassion, he thought glowering at him. “I’ll let you know what they say later.”

Jack turned to leave and Tim thought about Saturday night again. He’d interviewed Jim two months ago and had really liked him, he had experience as a commis chef and more importantly in silver service which meant he could also help out when needed in the front of house serving at tables. He’d trusted him and loved his passion and eagerness to try new things and he’d developed some corking good recipes - his talent had been completely natural. So, when Jessie had told him a few weeks ago that there was food missing from the chill store Tim had been really shocked when he’d caught Jim red-handed with a big joint of beef in a bag obviously ready to go out the door.

“Oh, Christ, Tim, I’m sorry. Please don’t tell the boss,” Jim had begged.

Tim had floundered not knowing what to do. He liked Jim but couldn’t have a thief working in the kitchen. “But, Jim, I can’t believe you would do such a thing? I mean, were you going to sell the joint of beef?”

Jim had looked down at his scruffy trainers. “Nah, I was going to cook it for me and the kids. It would have been such a treat instead of the usual mince dinners they get…”

Tim had stared at him. “The kids?”

“Yes, I’ve got three under the age of ten. And me and the missus thought we’d be quid’s in when I got this job. We’d built up loads of debt when I was out of work for six months but the week after I started here she was made redundant. So, we’re back to square one again with only one wage coming into the house.”

Tim had felt sorry for him and knew he wouldn’t know where to start with the responsibility for bringing up children. And, he also knew if Jack heard about it he’d chuck him out onto the street.

He couldn’t bear having that on his conscience. “OK,” he’d said and taking a knife he’d cut a big slab of the joint. “I won’t say anything to Jack but it stops right now. Here, take this piece of beef and cook it for the kids,” he’d said handing him the slab. “You can have a second chance, but if I find out there is anything more going out that back door…”

Jim had practically crumbled in relief. “Aah, thanks, Tim. You won’t regret it. I won’t let you down again.”

Tim shook his head slowly now still in disbelief. But, as Jack had so kindly just told him he’d been stupid to fall for the sob story because on Saturday night at nine o’clock, when he intended to leave and run up to the Savoy to see Kate, Jim had been caught taking money from the till by one of the waiters. Jack’s face had been purple with rage and when Jim stupidly told him that he’d already had a warning about thieving from the kitchen his face had turned almost black and a vein in the side of his neck pulsated with temper. The police had been called and Tim thought Jack would finish him too but later when he’d explained the story he was given a three month warning. Jack told him if the restaurant sales didn’t increase and he made one more mistake he’d be out on his arse too.

Tim heard the noise from the kitchen intensify and looking at the clock he went out to check everything was in readiness for the lunch time meals. Steam billowed from pans of vegetables on the hob and Simon was stirring two sauces at the same time while Jessie was showing two agency staff the mechanical workings of the old dishwasher. He heard her burst out laughing when the youngest asked what time their coffee break would be and if there would be any biscuits to go with the coffee. Simon teased them both with the fact that the management only supplied plain digestive biscuits and if they wanted to go to the lengths of a bourbon or a custard cream they’d have to buy their own.

He sighed but shook his head good humouredly at Simon who grinned back at him.

“Penny for them?” Jessie asked when he walked towards her bench and smiled at her. “Are you still feeling rough? Do you want some tablets now?”

“Nah, I’m OK,” he said lingering. “It’s just; well I still can’t believe Jim would do that? Especially when I’d given him a second chance because of the kids. It must be horrible to have no money and be responsible for feeding your family.”

Jessie laughed good-naturedly at him. “Kids? He hasn’t got any he’s not even married. He was just a greedy little tyke,” she said. “But look, don’t torture yourself everybody makes mistakes…”

Tim could feel the flush of embarrassment rise up from his neck and into his cheeks. Feeling like the world’s worst idiot he slunk off back to the office and took the photograph back out of the drawer. He stared hard at Kate’s smiling face and ached for the comfort of her soft warm body – if only he could pull her out of the photograph and cuddle her. His dad had told him on Sunday that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him and of course, he was always right.

But now she was gone, he moaned silently and it was probably all he deserved after the way he’d behaved lately. He supposed there was only so much one person could cope with but he had thought she was with him for the long haul and was still amazed she’d run out at the first sign of trouble. Had he really been that foul, he wondered, and although he’d racked his brains, he had to admit that because of the alcohol he couldn’t remember too much of the actual argument, which in itself was disgusting. Maybe when she’d had time to calm down she’d get in touch and they could talk – he knew now that he should have told her about the trouble in the restaurant but hell, it was all so embarrassing and he’d wanted to sort it out without telling anyone.

He heard Simon call out the first order for service and he strode more purposefully back into the kitchen and lost himself in cooking and running the service to perfection. When the last plate left the kitchen and it had all gone without a hitch he breathed deeply, feeling more self-assured. He was good at his job and he would make a success of this he determined, heading back to the office to sort out a meat supplier who was trying to cheat him with poor quality meat.

The restaurant was only open for lunch on Mondays and he usually arrived home around four o’clock to make a nice meal for him and Kate but when he walked into the lounge and began to think of what to cook the realisation that she wouldn’t be happily breezing in from work tore at his guts and the silence in the kitchen seemed to deafen him.

He rang Luke and told him about the fight and how Kate had left. “So, I’m home now and don’t know what to do with myself. Ordinarily I’d cook and open a bottle of wine ready for our dinner. But, I don’t want to open a bottle tonight or I’ll end up drinking it all myself…”

“It’s a tricky one,” Luke said, “I feel the same some nights after a stressful day. And I have to fight the urge to nip into the pub as I walk past it every night because I know if I do I won’t be able to stop at just one pint.”

Tim sighed heavily. “Do you think lots of other guys have the same problem?”

“Well, they must do,” Luke said. “There’s a high instance of alcoholism in young men and women that work in the city and also recreational drug abuse.”

Tim paced with his mobile to his ear, from the kitchen into the lounge and back again. “Maybe I should go out for a run and try to keep my mind off it?”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan,” Luke said, “And look, I might try and get down to London in a few weeks for a visit.”

Tim smiled at the thought of seeing Luke. “Aah, that would be great, Luke. And thanks,” he said ending the call.

After cooking a solitary dinner and ignoring calls from his mother he crawled into bed missing Kate like crazy. The sheet on other side of the bed was cold when involuntarily he stretched out his long legs which he usually did to wrap around her small body and he silently prayed she’d be missing him as much as he was her and would soon come to her senses and get in touch. Fitfully he drifted into sleep.



The restaurant was very busy over the next few days and he decided to stay all day and late into the night cooking until his brain, hands and back ached. He interviewed and employed another two chefs with excellent CV’s and threw himself into his work which in the past had always been the best remedy for upset. He hoped this time wouldn’t be any different because he could never have imagined missing anyone as much as he missed his Kate.

On the morning he saw her email address pop onto the screen of his mobile he wondered why she hadn’t rang or come to talk as there wasn’t a great deal you could discuss in an email. It was short, impersonal and straight to the point. Christ, what did she want from him, he pouted, running his hand through his thick hair. Did she want him to go begging and grovelling for forgiveness? She obviously thought all of this was his fault, and although he did accept a lot of it was, she was the one who had left. If she’d been going through a bad time he would never have walked out on her when she needed him.

And then the memory of how she’d knocked his hand away from her breast on the Sunday morning brought the ugly memory of Sally’s laughing sneer which filled him with repulsion. He replied back huffily telling her she could collect more clothes anytime she wanted.

By Saturday evening he was exhausted following a week of working sixteen hours a day and ordinarily would have been longing for Sunday just to rest and lie in bed but now in another way he was dreading it. He’d managed to abstain from alcohol all week and had run every day so physically he was feeling much better. It was only mentally he still felt fragile and the thought of Sunday morning without Kate was just too much. As he jumped into the car to drive home he made a quick decision and rang Luke to invite himself up to Yorkshire for the day which he decided would resolve two issues together. Firstly, he could get straight out of bed without brooding and secondly, if he had the car he wouldn’t be able to drink.

He knew as soon as he opened the door she had been. Her keys were in the dish on the hall table and excitedly his heart raced in anticipation with the thought of seeing her – he burst into the lounge hoping she would be waiting for him. He cursed and banged the door with his fist when it dawned upon him that if she had been there the lights would have been on and when he went into the bedroom and saw her side of the wardrobe empty he knew she’d gone for good.

A feeling of utter desolation swept through him and he had to fight more than he’d ever fought in his life not to open a bottle of whiskey and pour it down his throat. The pain inside his chest was unbearable and he felt like choking with the hurt as he wiped away the tears from his eyes. Crawling into bed he knew that, because it was well after midnight, if he opened the bottle now he’d never get to Yorkshire in the morning. And after all, it was the devil in the bottle that had cost him his Kate and even though he knew the bedding had been changed since she’d left he was sure he could still smell her and he cried himself to sleep.

“Maybe I should have said more in the email to leave the door open for us to talk and I was huffy…” he said to Luke when they were sitting side by side on the top of the hillside they’d climbed.

The scenery was breath-taking and rugged and he thought of how much Kate would have loved it.

“Christ, I don’t know mate,” Luke said as a slight mist settled in around them and his fine rimmed glasses covered in tiny droplets. “Bloody women, they’re a complete mystery to me.”

Tim smiled at his friend’s thin craggy face and remembered the first sight of him when he’d arrived outside his cottage that morning. He’d hardly changed a bit in the last year and they’d awkwardly hugged and clapped each other heartily on the back. He felt safe here with Luke almost as if he’d have the answer to all his problems and after a huge Sunday lunch in the local pub they’d set out walking. It was his usual well-worn path Luke told him because although his new job was going swimmingly there weren’t any other guys his own age in the town, and he still missed London dreadfully.

“Couldn’t you get a transfer back?” Tim asked, which he knew was selfish but he’d give anything at the moment to have Luke back in London with him. “I mean, even if it would be taking a step back down the ladder for a while at least you’d be happier?”

Luke grinned. “Don’t tempt me,” he said. “I’ve been playing it around in my head for the last few weeks, and then when you asked to come up I was so happy just with the thought of seeing a friendly face.”

“Luke, if you’re that fed up you need to ask yourself if the jobs really worth it?”

Brushing bits of grass from his jeans Luke got up and shrugged his shoulders. “I know; I’m going to think it over during the next few months and make a decision before the summer holidays.”

Tim got up and they set off trekking again down the hillside chatting and laughing as if they’d never been apart. That’s what true friendship is, Tim thought while he sat in the pub with him drinking a pint - it didn’t matter how much time had lapsed between them; they both fitted straight back together again. At the earlier suggestion of having a quick beer in the local before he left to drive back he’d decided, without too much encouragement from Luke, to stay the night and leave early the next morning and get into work around eleven.

They sat at a table in the oldie-world pub in front of a roaring wood fire and Tim held his hands outstretched, feeling the warmth spread through him while he told him about the mix up with the meat supplier, and how he’d managed to get a cash refund which hopefully would please Jack enough to get him off his back. And Luke had nodded sympathetically when he heard about Jim and how he’d been misled.

“I’d have done the same thing myself,” Luke said. “So stop beating yourself up about it. And hopefully when he goes to court he’ll get his come-uppance.” They both roared with laughter at the phrase he’d used and the fact that it was one regularly spoken by Luke’s dotty old gran.

“It’s just …. well, I thought the head chef’s job would be a breeze because in the last place I worked it looked so easy. But it’s not and this owner, Jack, is driving me nuts…”

Luke nodded understandingly. “I’ve got a boss like that but she’s a woman and to be honest she sometimes reminds me a little of Lisa.”

“Christ, I thought I had it bad,” Tim said shaking his head slowly. He couldn’t think of anything worse than having to report into that hard-faced bitch. “And the staffing is a minefield, most of the agency people they send are crap but I must admit Jessie keeps them on their toes. You see, I’ve never learnt how to handle people before, basically all I’m interested in is my food being the best it can be.”

Luke took his glasses from the end of his nose and wiped them on the rib of his jumper and Tim smiled fondly at his friend’s quiet but comforting quirk.

“Well we can’t be blamed for not knowing how to handle people,” Luke said. “We weren’t taught that at university. My father keeps telling me it’s all a massive learning curve and in these days I should be thankful to have a bloody job.”

Luke rolled his eyes upwards and Tim laughed.

“You see, when I’m cooking and being creative and they’re getting in my way or not doing what I want then I lose my temper and shout, which winds me up even further so that by the time I leave at eleven I’m like a coiled spring and can’t unwind before I go to bed.”

“And that’s when you’ve been opening a bottle?” Luke asked quietly. “I knew there must have been something wrong because you’ve never really been a big drinker, more social than anything else.”

Tim nodded and felt so pleased to be talking about it that the relief flooding through him was immense. “But that’s the end of it though, Luke, I’m not going to end up an alcoholic,” he said, and then getting up to go to the bar he asked, “another pint?”

They both roared again with laughter and after drinking another two pints and thrashing Luke at a game of darts they set off back to his cottage. Once they’d left the main street lights and made their way down a short country lane they were plunged into the inky darkness of the countryside. Tim revelled at the absolute stillness; peace and quiet compared to noisy London and remembered how he and Kate had dreamt of buying a small pub with a restaurant in the country. He’d told her he’d need at least three years’ experience as a head chef before they could try it and she’d readily agreed, being just as eager to be self-sufficient as he was. But all that was long gone now and although the idea of country living sounded attractive it would never be as good on his own and deep down he knew he was a townie at heart. City noise was what he was used to - it was all he’d ever known.

When he crawled into the spare bed later that night he decided he felt better than he had done for weeks and, with or without his Kate, he was definitely on the up again and nothing or nobody was going to drag him back down.