Recipe for Disaster (32 page)

But Ronnie had written:

I am getting better, slowly. I think if I had had a good
boss and friend like Jake to start with, it would never
have got that bad. I am really pleased that the only
place the Restaurant Club are visiting in Cumbria is
his, not yours. With that sort of recognition, his
restaurant will eclipse yours. Frankly that's only half of
what you deserve.

Harry cursed, fluently and imaginatively. He didn't know
how Ronnie had come by this information but he didn't
doubt it was true and it made him feel quite sick with fury.
He felt so bad he wanted to hurt someone so they felt bad
too. Actually, only hurting Jake would do, but he couldn't
go over there like a spoiled child having a tantrum because
Jake had got something he wanted. He didn't want to see
Jake's look of satisfaction. Then he remembered that
ridiculous story about Georgia's knickers. It was the perfect
excuse to go and beat the hell out of Jake.

*

When Harry stormed in, Jake looked up, wearily. This
wasn't fair. First Georgia and now Harry. What had he
done to deserve this?

'Fuck off, Harry, I don't want to see you in here,' he said
automatically.

Harry just stood there, arms akimbo, exuding menace.
But Jake just felt pissed off.

'You look like you've got a bad attack of constipation, but
you've come to the wrong place – the chemist is round the
corner, mate.' He knew he shouldn't be winding Harry up
more than he obviously was already, but just now he didn't
care.

'You really are a pathetic waste of oxygen, you bastard!'

'Well, never mind. I really couldn't even begin to care.'

The staff hovered uneasily. Someone had to be pulled
away or things would get broken. They could all smell a
fight brewing. It was then that a strange man in glasses
popped his head round the door but no one noticed him.

Harry looked at Jake with contempt, but a small smile
was playing round the corners of his mouth. His staff
weren't going to look at their boss with the same respect in
a minute. 'I'll go when you apologise for spending your
spare time sniffing Georgia's old knickers, you sad pervert!'

There was a deathly silence as everyone tried to make
sense of this and failed. The silence was broken by an
embarrassed cough from the man in the glasses.

'Er, this seems to be a bad time. The name's Blair. I'll
come back later,' and he backed hurriedly out of the
restaurant.

Jake was finding it difficult to process all the information
that had come his way in the last few seconds but basically it
meant that the man for whom he was going to produce the
most important meal of his career had witnessed a crazy
scene and might not want to come back. Briefly, he
pondered the wisdom of chasing Mr Blair at full pelt
through the restaurant but the man was probably already a
few yards' sprint ahead of him. He would have to wrestle
him to the ground in the car park in order to explain that
this was all a hideous misunderstanding and then the
restaurant critic would think he was possibly psychotic as
well as a pervert.

He turned on Harry. 'I always thought you were stupid,
but now I know you are mad as well!'

'Fine words, but you're the sexual inadequate who can
only get his kicks by jacking off into his ex-girlfriend's
underwear!'

'For the last time! I don't know what you are talking
about, you lunatic!' Jake clenched his fists. The anger was
turning to a red rage, which was surging through his veins,
telling him to stick one of those fists right through Harry's
expensively capped teeth. But he knew if he started he
might not be able to stop. His first priority was to find out
where Mr Blair lived and then grovel to him, and he
couldn't do that from a police cell on a murder charge.
Visibly, he forced himself to calm down. But this only
enraged Harry further. He leaped forward, grabbed Jake
by the shoulders and drew his arm back, ready to plunge it
into his nose.

But Jake was quicker and lighter on his feet. His fist
connected with Harry's nose in a deeply satisfying way. As
the blood spurted out Jake knew a moment of pure
pleasure. Then he thought, shit, he's going to hit me back
and he's heavier than me!

Everyone had been rooted to the spot. Everyone except
Godfrey. You had to be quick on your feet when you were
working with sheep. It was surprising how nasty those
creatures could turn at shearing time. He grabbed hold of
Harry's arm just as it was moving forward to knock Jake
into unconsciousness. Harry slipped and lost his balance.
Both men staggered and fell awkwardly to the ground,
Harry on top of Jake.

Despite the scuffling and swearing, everyone could hear
quite clearly the perfectly horrible noise of Jake's head
meeting the steel side of a very hot oven.

Moving as one, Tess and Kirsty rushed forward to pull
Harry away from Jake's scarily inert body. He lay half on his
side, deathly pale, unmoving.

'Ohmigod! Ohmigod!' cried Tess, leaning over and, with
a shaking hand, feeling for his pulse. Her heart was beating
so loudly it seemed to be drowning out all her other senses
and for one awful moment she thought he was dead. But
when she put her face near his she could feel his breath,
shallow and faint.

'Don't touch him!' shrieked Kirsty, who had seen far too
many episodes of
Casualty
for her own comfort.

'Well, we can't just leave him there,' Godfrey pointed
out, and raced out into the street, where they could dimly
hear him shouting, 'Is there a doctor round here?'

'We must cover him up with something,' said Kirsty.

'Why? He's not dead – yet,' sobbed Tess.

'Yes, but he'll be in shock. His body temperature will be
dropping.'

'Believe me it won't – it's about a hundred and ten
degrees down here,' muttered Tess, her face inches away
from the hot oven. 'Jake, Jake! Please wake up!' she sobbed.
Everyone had forgotten about Harry until he started
moving. He had landed on top of Jake so he wasn't hurt but
when he heard that sickening thud he knew things had
gone too far. He would have been delighted to see Jake
permanently out of action, but now the red mist was
clearing and he suddenly didn't care for the pictures that
were dancing his mind – pictures of him going to gaol for
having murdered his rival.

'Stay where you are – you've done enough damage!'
yelled Tess.

'I'm getting my mobile to phone an ambulance,' said
Harry, trying to sound calm, though his hands were
shaking.

Godfrey hadn't been able to find a doctor but a very old
lady in the bun shop next door had done a first-aid
certificate so he brought her instead. She was thrilled to be
involved in such a drama. 'On no account must he be
moved until the paramedics arrive but we have to keep
talking to him so he doesn't fall into a coma.'

'But what do we say?'

'Anything.'

No one felt like chatting so Godfrey said: 'I'll read him
the prep list.'

This was utterly surreal, thought Tess as she held a towel
to Jake's forehead to stop the blood, which was gushing out
at an alarming rate, while listening to Godfrey solemnly
reciting: 'Peel and dice spuds, wash and dice carrots, make
stock,' and on and on until she was itching to knock him out
as well. She turned round and was about to shout: 'Where
is that fucking ambulance?' when Jake stirred slightly,
groaned and said to the old lady: 'Where am I and who the
hell are you?'

Oh God, he had amnesia as well as concussion, thought
Tess. Though, given the events of the last few minutes, this
might be no bad thing.

'What is your name, dear? Tell us who you are.'

Jake blinked at her. He seemed to be lying down,
wherever he was, and everything was shifting in and out of
focus like a television on the blink. Who was he? It seemed
a perfectly reasonable question, except he didn't know the
answer. He felt he should know but his head hurt and it was
warm and sticky. That wasn't right, surely? The old lady
didn't look like his oma, but he didn't know any other old
ladies. Maybe she had got a makeover in heaven, but hazily
he decided it would be rude to say he preferred her old
look.

'I am doing my best, you know,' he said weakly, but
someone must have switched off all the lights because it was
getting all dark . . .

Tess tried to stifle a sob and then thought, what the
hell? This is as good a time to lose it as any. Her shoulders
started shaking and she was about to throw herself across
his prone body in a paroxysm of grief, when the paramedics
arrived.

They were very professional and kind, but she found
their scientific talk more frightening than reassuring. She
was determined to go in the ambulance with him but then
the old lady tried to get up but couldn't because she had
arthritis, so they had to cart her off as well and there was no
room in the ambulance for anyone else.

'Follow on in your own cars,' advised the paramedic.

'He will be all right, won't he?'

'He'll get the best possible care.'

'That's not an answer!' yelled Kirsty after the departing
ambulance.

'Oh God! I'm going to sick,' muttered Godfrey, and was.
It was only a small comfort to know that he was throwing up
all over Harry's two-hundred-pound Gucci loafers.

Tess stood on the pavement, trying to get her head
together. What would Jake want her to do?

'Right. I'm going on to the hospital. You lot stay here and
try to open up. Put on a simple menu and leave out
anything you don't feel confident about tackling on your
own, Godfrey.'

'That'll be everything then.'

'Pull yourself together. Jake is going to wake up soon
with a very bad headache and we don't want to make it
worse by telling him the restaurant is closed. Kirsty, you
need to ring round every hotel in Cumbria to track down
Mr Blair. Tell him – oh God, what do we tell him? Tell him
there has been a misunderstanding and Jake will get in
touch as soon as possible. Don't all look at me like that – he
is going to be all right, do you hear?'

Kirsty ran after her. 'Do you think we should tell Kate
what's happened?'

Tess tried to think about this. 'I don't know. Do whatever
you think is best.'

Alone in the car, she gripped the steering wheel and shut
her eyes for a moment. 'Dear God, if there is one – and I
really don't care if You are Christian, Jewish or some New
Age white magic Wicca woman – make things right, please!'

She drove off, still with the sound of the ambulance siren
ringing in her ears. They probably have to do that for every
minor emergency, she tried to tell herself. And please let
him be in A & E and not in intensive care, she added.

He was in intensive care and they wouldn't let her see
him. She endured two hours of terror and boredom during
which she bought several cups of tea, but didn't drink any
of them, paced up and down the corridor so many times she
got a blister on her foot, read all the notices on the walls
without taking in a word, and clamped her lips together so
tightly so as not to scream that they went quite numb. It was
a relief when she looked up and saw Kate striding down the
corridor. It might help, a bit, to have someone to share this
torture with.

Kate took the situation in at a glance. 'You haven't heard
anything yet then?'

Tess shook her head, dumbly. Kate sank down next to
her, took one of her hands and gripped it fiercely. Part of
her was bursting with all the stock journalist questions of
'What, why, who, when and where?', but she couldn't bring
herself to speak them. She had been profoundly shocked
when Kirsty rang her with the news, tearful and incoherent.
It all sounded complete gobbledegook, apart from the 'Jake
is unconscious in hospital' bit. Some time in the future she
would have to answer for all the red lights she had driven
through, but only if he was all right and there was a future.

'Is either of you a relative of Mr Goldman?'

'I am his fiancée,' said Kate, and dared Tess with her eyes
to contradict her.

'Well, he's suffered a nasty concussion and needed quite
a few stitches. There's a bit of retrograde amnesia but we
don't expect it to be permanent.' The nurse smiled kindly.
'You'll be able to take him home in a few days.'

Wordlessly Kate and Tess hugged each other.

'Can we see him?'

'Well, you can, seeing as you are his fiancée, but only for
a few minutes – he is still very groggy.'

Kate panicked. 'He might not want to see me!' Then
when the nurse looked puzzled, she said, feebly: 'We had a
bit of a lovers' tiff.'

'If your name is Kate, then I think he does. He's been
talking about you.'

'Give him my love,' said Tess. 'I'm going outside to
phone the others.'

Kate tiptoed in. Jake was lying very still and pale. There
was blood seeping through the bandage on his head and his
eyes were closed. She sat down by him, took hold of his
hand and looked at it closely because she didn't want him to
wake up and see her crying. His hand was warm and
covered with scars. She thought she had never seen such a
beautiful hand in all her life.

He moved slightly and opened his eyes. 'Kate,' he
whispered. 'I was dreaming about you. I – I can't remember
what happened.'

'Don't worry. You are in hospital but you are going to be
fine.'

'Oh. OK.' He frowned. 'But there was something I had
to say to you.'

'Just rest now. You can tell me later.'

'No. It's important. Ah, yes, of course. I love you, Kate.'

'I love you too.'

He smiled faintly and closed his eyes again.

One of the nurses came over. 'We are going to take him
up to a ward now but you can see him again when he's
settled.'

In a way Kate was glad to go. Despite all the trauma, it
had been a perfect moment and she wanted to hold on to it
for as long as she could, which would probably be until he
got his memory back.