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  Kate dropped her head, unable to look her mother in the eye. “I did think about her, Mum, but not the way I should have. I messed up big time, didn’t I? I thought if I left and came home, it would all go away and she wouldn’t be hurt – truly I did. Eric would carry on as normal and no one need ever know. I didn’t ask him to come.” she finished lamely. She sighed and left to get ready for work.

  Sneaking a look at the bump in Kate’s dressing gown, Maggie couldn’t understand how she’d missed it before.

  Chapter Forty-one

  It took a week for the story to die down and the press to lose interest in Kate and Eric. Photography in the restaurant was banned, and most customers respected this. The staff took huge delight in publicly shaming anyone they saw sneaking a shot, and, as Maggie predicted, menu prices were too high for the paparazzi to sit and spy from the tables.

  The James women, on the other hand, were a godsend. They were well dressed, and Jenny was not only beautiful but also happy to be photographed. She often wandered the town with Sylvia, shopping and chatting to locals in the cafés, always accompanied by Isaac, his face all but obscured in his pushchair by the large floppy hats his grandmother plonked on his head.

  Left to get on with her life, Kate continued to work as hard as always, and her staff rallied round and made sure no one got in her way or made silly comments. She was a popular chef, not only because of her skill, but also because she was calm in an industry renowned for panic and angry outbursts in hot close environments, where pressure was a constant, only dissipating when the last order had left the kitchen.

  The staff’s loyalty to Kate was important, as Elka still hadn’t returned to work. This had created an unspoken uncertainty in the workplace which, in combination with the avalanche of bookings following Eric’s arrival and the revelations of Kate’s pregnancy, meant everyone had to be on their toes and functioning at their best. Several restaurant critics had come in incognito, their highly favourable reviews the only evidence of their visits.

  Elka stayed in regular contact by phone, and as time passed and she was feeling better, popped in more often. She declared herself delighted with the way things were being managed, and seemed in no hurry to come back to work – she was enjoying her first real holiday in years.

  “I don’t have to be anywhere, and I’m so proud of what you and Brian are doing. I don’t need to rush back yet. Time enough for that later,” she said, nodding meaningfully at Kate’s expanding waistline.

  The only fly in the ointment had been Eric’s insistence on eating at the restaurant every day, both lunch and dinner. He sat at the same table in the far corner, and during the course of the week had ordered every dish on the menu, sampling, tasting and writing notes. If it had been any other chef, Kate would have kicked him out, but part of her was keen to get his opinion. Usually he would nod, taste and nod again, before polishing off the whole dish.

  The staff, busy with the full restaurant, got used to him. Seeing him finish a plate was immensely gratifying, and Kate gave herself a metaphorical pat on the back each time for the implied approval. When it seemed he didn’t like something, she was in despair, and would torture herself trying to figure out what was wrong and what she could do to make the dish better.

  Kate and Eric didn’t speak that week, but each was keenly aware of the other as the media spewed forth speculation and vitriol about their affair. The local papers tried to be restrained in their coverage of the deeply wounded wife, but they couldn’t avoid the subject altogether. Kate and Eric were too absorbed in their shared passion for food to take much notice of what was being said about them. Neither of them particularly cared. What was done was done, but there was always another more exciting way to cook lamb.

  When the local vintners found out how Eric was spending his time, they delivered bottles of their best wine to the sommelier, in the hope that he’d persuade Eric to try them. Occasionally the great chef would raise a quizzical eyebrow, request the contact details of the vineyard and place an order.

  At the end of the week, a note arrived in the kitchen: Kate: Tomorrow afternoon, 1.30 – my table. E.

  Kate had anticipated this, but was still anxious when the time came for their meeting. Her palms sweating and heart racing, she couldn’t tell whether she felt more anxious about his review of her cooking, or what he would say about their relationship. But it was no doubt time to hear what he had to say about both. In all honesty, the time away from him meant she cared more about his opinion in regards to her cooking than anything else – almost. She admired Eric’s ability and talent hugely, and heartbreakingly there was also a part of her which still adored him. But only a small part.

  Chapter Forty-two

  Waiting at the usual spot early the next morning, stamping her feet to keep them warm in the grey dawn, Elka was looking and feeling better than she had in weeks. So much so it took Maggie a few minutes to settle into the fast pace Elka set as they walked down to the track around the lake.

  “You’ve had the all clear?” asked Maggie, trying to slow her breathing to match her strides.

  “Thankfully I never have to go back. The appointments and tests are over. I have my life back,” replied Elka triumphantly.

  “So what’s next?”

  “I want to enjoy life,” replied Elka as she slowed down. “Having this time away from the restaurant has made me realise how hard I’ve worked. Years and years without a break. Now I sleep well and I wake up at a reasonable time, because I don’t have to worry about getting to the markets, or the menu, or bookings or the accountant or tax. You’re a businesswoman. I don’t have to tell you what it’s like and the relentless grind of it. I recommend you take a leaf from my book, Maggie. Take some time out to enjoy everything you’ve worked for and do it soon, because you never know what’s going to happen.”

  Maggie stopped and looked out past the Frankton Arm inlet of the lake to the great lump of land forming Mt Earnslaw. A breeze had blown up from the south, making the water choppy, with white caps sprinkled over the grey-blue. She shivered, and without turning around said, “A few weeks ago, what you’re saying would have made sense. But now there’s a baby to think about. Kate will have to take time off. No income. So I guess I don’t have a choice about stopping yet. I don’t mind, I really don’t. It’s just that I didn’t think I’d be a grandmother this young.”

  When Elka didn’t reply, Maggie turned and saw her friend was a good way ahead and hadn’t heard her. She ran to catch up.

  “It’s such bliss to enjoy my home, Maggie,” said Elka. “All the things I’d put on hold until some mythical time when I’d be able to do them properly. This scare has taught me that the present is all there is. And while I have Kate, I can reassess what I’m going to do. I know I’ll have to go back when she has the baby. But for how long? That’s the question. And in what capacity? That’s the other question. Did you know the restaurant is booked solid for two months because of her cooking and the rave reviews she’s been getting? I don’t have to be there. I’m not indispensable.”

  “You are to me,” said Maggie. “As a friend, not a cook. I know Kate’s good, Elka. It’s this mess with Eric and the baby, who’ll be here soon – that’s the nightmare. Eric’s been at the restaurant every day for the past week, eating Kate’s food and writing notes. He hasn’t said a thing to her about what he’s going to do. Thank goodness the novelty’s worn off and the photographers have left them alone. Poor Tim James and his lot are their victims again. I heard one photographer developed hypothermia after lying in the tussock all night on a ridge above the Lodge, waiting to get a shot of Tim on crutches.”

  They rounded a promontory and started into another bay, the houses to the left mostly empty, waiting for their owners to return in summer. A few willow trees were covered in the first green buds of spring, and camellias in full flower coloured the lakeside gardens. The path was wider now and they walked side by side.

  “Women didn’t own businesses when we start
ed,” said Elka. “Well, not many. Betty helped us get over that, didn’t she? If it hadn’t been for her I would’ve gone back to Germany, worked in an office and bought a cat – hell, maybe two cats. She made me believe I could do anything I wanted, and if it didn’t work, then so what. Do the next thing. I miss her.”

  “So do I. Especially since I found out about Kate.”

  “When does Jim get back?”

  “I don’t think he’s coming back. He went to Brisbane to get some sun, and he wants to stay. He’s learning to play golf, if you please. Betty would turn in her grave. You know how much she hated golf, especially in a man. Susan told me he can’t bear to come home, knowing Betty won’t be there.”

  “Maybe it is better to be single. Then you don’t have the pain of loss. Can’t say I ever met a man I valued more than freedom. Could have been cowardice on my part, but I don’t think so. You helped, being generous with your children. Having them in my life mopped up my excess hormones. Some people need the family thing more than others, and I guess I didn’t. Having this time to myself means I can finally say that and mean it. I recommend you have an operation too, Maggie. It makes you slow down.”

  “Too chicken,” said Maggie. “I think Estelle has the right idea, going off to those women-only health camps where you can sit and contemplate your naval for days at a time and no scar. Her method is better than yours. Hey, we should go together, next year, when your peace has worn off under the hurly-burly pressures of being a restaurateur again.”

  “I’m hoping I will feel this way till the end of my days, Maggie.”

  “You might have slowed down, but I haven’t. Come on,” she said. “We’d better hurry. I have a service and burial at two.”

  “I’m going to try a few hours at the restaurant this evening, helping Kate. How the tables have turned – the young have so much energy. I know I don’t want to be young again. Having to relearn those hard lessons of life would be too much.”

  “Anyone listening to us would think we were in our seventies instead of our thirties.”

  “Forties.”

  “You Germans have to be so precise.”

  “No point in running away from time. It runs faster than you ever can.”

  “I don’t think I could handle the drama of my youth. I feel great now. But looking young wouldn’t be so bad. I’d like to look my best at this age, when I feel my best,” said Maggie. “The whole age on the outside and feeling fantastic on the inside is a cruel trick. Looks are wasted on the young, not youth! But we look young enough, don’t we? Well, I do, when I’m not wearing my glasses. Come on, pick it up, there are people waiting to be fed and buried.”

  Chapter Forty-three

  Eric leaned casually back against the wall, half-listening to the physiotherapist firmly over-rule the vehement objections of her patient. Sweat beading on Tim’s famous face, coupled with pain etched deeply around his eyes did the man no favours, he noted idly.

  He remembered when he had first met Tim, an aspiring actor starring in his first West End production while Eric was a lowly sous chef at that god-awful chop-house in Soho. They’d been going out with the same actress, and when they confronted her and she told them both to piss off, they had drowned their sorrows together and been best friends ever since – in that alpha male competitive sort of way. Eric took some satisfaction in seeing Tim looking his age, and could tell Tim hated that he was there to see it.

  He pretended to focus on the text conversation he was having with his son in London.

  U r a TOTAL b st d . Mum cr ies all day. Still! R u coming home? Or not ?

  I ’ m b a ck n e xt w ee k. Hold tight . B e all right I promise.

  ?????? FFS I don ’ t think so

  Luv u . Tell Mum to take my calls. Can explain .

  “I’ll see you again tomorrow morning, Mr James,” said the well-toned young woman, her dark hair tied high into a ponytail that swung saucily with each step she took towards the door.

  Eric looked up, temporarily diverted from his son’s misery.

  “Remember, it’s your upper body strength you need to build up, so you can use the crutches without causing any damage. Do another twenty minutes of the reps I showed you and then you can relax.”

  “Sandra still blanking you?” asked Tim, when the door had swung shut behind her. “Funny thing about wives – they just don’t get the whole ‘sex with another woman who is pregnant with your child on the front pages of all the papers’ thing. No sense of humour.”

  “Tell me about it,” said Eric. “It’s not like I was ever going to leave her and run away to New Zealand. She knows I wouldn’t live here, so why is she giving me so much grief?”

  Tim looked at his friend through the pulleys and steel wires of the machine he was using. “You’re serious, aren’t you Eric?” he said. “You really don’t get the whole humiliation and betrayal thing. Imagine if the shoe was on the other foot.”

  Eric looked puzzled.

  “Imagine if it was Sandra who had the lover and travelled halfway around the world to be with him, not discreetly but in full view of the media. What I don’t understand is, why did you come when you had no intention of staying? Kate had given you a free pass on a platter.”

  “I wasn’t to know your exploits would have stacked the place with media with nothing to do while they wait for you to recover. Tim, old friend, we’re both men of the world. We know Kate is not the first or the last. And my fans and the press love it when I’m naughty. OK, maybe not the baby,” he said. “How was I to know the silly girl would get herself pregnant?”

  Tim was doing some pull downs and so had his back turned to Eric.

  “I didn’t come all this way for love, Tim. I came because Kate is one of the few chefs, male or female, who I consider my equal – or rather, she will be one day. I wanted her to come back to work for me. That’s why I came. I was planning to teach her, but more importantly I wanted her right where I can watch her. The last thing I want is for her to work for the competition, and the boys in London were starting to make their moves. Now the silly girl has gone and done the best thing possible to ruin a magnificent career – pregnancy. Women!”

  Tim stopped doing his reps and towelled off his neck and head. “So the baby’s nothing to you. And Kate is only important because she can cook. And Sandra?”

  “Before you get too preachy, Tim, I suggested Kate comes back to the UK with me. I told her – have the baby, your mother can look after it. Sandra will understand. It’s business. Kate comes back to cook. Her career is saved. And Sandra can watch her every move.”

  “I bet she said yes,” said Tim, unable to keep the contempt out of his voice.

  “Amazingly, no. She said no, I mean. I could make her famous and rich in a couple of years. Of course, I told her we couldn’t be lovers, but she always knew we were just a kitchen thing. She knew I was married to Sandra.”

  “Would you get me my water, Eric?” said Tim. “My throat feels as though I’ve just been sick.”

  Eric passed Tim the bottle. “We have restaurants and businesses on both sides of the Atlantic. Sandra and I work well together. She’ll calm down and this will all be forgotten. I’ve told Kate I can help with money for the baby, but the silly girl said no again. I can look you in the eye and tell you honestly, I have done everything a decent man can do, Tim. My conscience is clear.”

  Tim drank the water slowly.

  Eric blithely launched into a discussion about the arrangements for the dinner he was to cook for Tim and his guests in a few days’ time.

  “Let’s concentrate on the important things in life,” he said. “Your dinner on Saturday is the only reason for me to stay. I want to support you in your time of need, after all, what are friends for? I’ve told the chef here at the Lodge, that Kate and I will take over the kitchen in the morning to prepare. He can stay and help if he chooses, and in fact it would be good to have an extra pair of hands I can trust. He seemed grateful.”

  “Thi
s is the menu which, as you requested, uses only New Zealand ingredients and wine. It’s been a struggle, my friend, but Kate has helped. Sadly that only reminds me of how much I’m going to miss her, but it’s not your fault. I promise not to let my sadness affect the occasion.”

  Tim edged back on the bench towards the wheelchair. He had to twist awkwardly to reach it, nearly losing his balance as he did so. Straining, he hooked it with his left hand and pulled it towards him. He made sure the brakes were on before lifting himself awkwardly across to the seat, his leg in full-length plaster unsupported and heavy, poking straight out in front of him until he could get the support adjusted.

  Eric walked past him to look at the view of the lake below. “It’s beautiful here. So peaceful.”

  Tim, pale from the pain after his workout, was quiet. He wheeled himself over to join Eric at the window. “There’ll be twelve for dinner, Eric. Ben Goodman; my surgeon and his wife; Jenny and Sylvia; Mike’s widow and her son; Matt; Maggie and her son Nick, and Elka. Bill is still in hospital, poor guy, but Jimmy, my director will make up the twelve.”

  “Thirteen – there will be thirteen including yourself, Tim,” said Eric.

  “Thirteen? I’m not superstitious but I think my physio should come too and make it up to fourteen. I’ll ask her tomorrow. Matt’s given you the budget. Stick to it, Eric – just don’t tell Jenny I said that. She hates it when she thinks I’m being mean with my money. Matt’s also organising a photographer, so try and look dignified. We’ll send out the menu you and Kate have created with the photos.”

  “No need to mention Kate,” said Eric quickly. “My public is only interested in what the master does – not the apprentice. Besides, it would hurt Sandra.”