Death Actually Page 9

  “So proud. So very proud, Kate.” Elka reached out and squeezed Kate’s hand.

  “But my two-year working visa expired and here I am, home again. No job and feeling a bit cast-off, to tell you the truth. I thought … well, never mind. Didn’t happen.”

  The waitress came back and removed their glasses, checking first with Kate because her wine had hardly been touched. She brought fresh glasses and poured an excellent pinot grigio. The entrée consisted of three platters of freshly shucked plump deep sea Bluff oysters. On one platter, the oysters were au natural, on another they had been quickly battered and deep fried. On the third platter they were grilled with a salsa dressing.

  Elka and Maggie started eating the oysters immediately. Kate nibbled on a piece of sour dough bread and creamy butter, both made daily in the kitchen.

  “So,” said Elka when she had had her fill of oysters. “Two questions. One, why didn’t Eric, or the Master as he likes to be known, sponsor you to stay, and two, what are your plans?”

  Kate flushed. “It’s a long story so I’ll only bore you with the good bits. He was really rude, even worse than Charlie. He didn’t know who I was but he used to hurl hot pans at me when I wasn’t looking, and yelled at me if anything wasn’t up to standard and then he yelled at me when they were. When I was promoted he made fun of my Kiwi accent. I’d take him a new dish, which he’d rubbish, and two days later I’d find it on the menu. His menu. No credit to me. I so hated him, but he was – is – the most amazing cook. He’s everything they say he is and his instincts for food are mind blowing. I put up with him and his tempers so I could learn from him. After he worked out there was nothing he could do to make me quit, he taught me so much. In the end I like to think he respected me, and that after a year we even got to be good friends.”

  Kate shot a glance at her mother. “Actually, more than good friends. For a while, that is, until I told him I had to leave. But only if he didn’t sponsor me to stay, and he didn’t. End of story.”

  Maggie and Elka exchanged looks. They hadn’t expected this. Now her days in bed made sense. Maggie’s heart wrenched to hear the sadness in her daughter’s voice. She knew what it was like to have your heart broken. Bloody, bloody men.

  “You know what you need, don’t you, Kate?” said Maggie cheerily. “Work.”

  Elka shook her head fiercely, but Maggie took no notice.

  “Kate, I’ve told you Elka has to go to Dunedin for an operation. You need a job, something to take your mind off this bastard, and Elka just happens to have one going, starting in the next few days. You need to get back in the kitchen where you belong and stop thinking about him.”

  Kate didn’t look up. A tear dropped onto the tablecloth.

  Elka sighed. “It’s all right, Kate. You don’t have to do it. I don’t know what to do with your mother sometimes. She wants to organise the world despite what those around her might be feeling.”

  “I do not,” said Maggie indignantly, rustling around in her handbag for tissues and handing one to Kate. “It’s just that this makes sense all round. You need someone to look after the restaurant, and who better than Kate, who just happens to need something to take her mind off that bastard.”

  “Don’t call him that, Mum.”

  “And I want you to stay with me so I can spoil you and look after you. You can’t go traipsing off to Auckland or Wellington to work by yourself. We – Nick, Elka and I – are your family. We love you.”

  Kate blew her nose loudly on the tissue. Red-eyed, she looked up first at Elka and then at her mother.

  “And I need to buy you some new clothes.”

  Kate groaned and rolled her eyes at Elka.

  “The ones you brought back from London don’t do you any credit at all. Kate, the sackcloth and ashes look does not become you!”

  “At least I don’t only wear black, Mum. Morning, noon and night.” She turned to Elka, laughing, and said loudly, “You do know everything she wears is black – underwear, pyjamas the lot! And she dares to give me advice on how to dress.”

  There was a snort of stifled laughter from a table on the other side of the restaurant, and the three women looked over to see Ben Goodman trying unsuccessfully to look serious. He buried his head deeper into his paper.

  “Sorry, Mum, I didn’t mean to yell,” said Kate quietly, and then signalling them to come closer, she whispered, “especially in front of the most eligible bachelor to hit town in years.”

  Now it was Elka’s turn to smirk at Maggie’s obvious discomfort. “Don’t kick me,” she said to Maggie. “She’s your daughter.”

  “Mum’s daughter and your stand-in chef,” said Kate. “She’s right, Elka. I do need something to do while I figure out the rest of my life, and since you taught me to cook, the least I can do is look after the place until you come back.” She stopped and looked questioningly at Elka. “You are coming back, aren’t you? I mean, this operation is nothing serious is it?”

  “Of course she’ll be back,” said Maggie.

  “I have no intention of leaving everything to you just yet, Kate.”

  Kate rubbed her hands together with relish. “I’m going to enjoy having my own kitchen while you’re away. I have all sorts of ideas I want to try out but couldn’t in London. It’s going to be huge fun.”

  “I hope I’m not interrupting,” said Ben, now standing behind them.

  All three jumped.

  “Clearly you are,” said Maggie. Immediately she regretted her tone. Why was she always so abrupt and defensive when this man was around?

  Elka glanced at Maggie with amusement. “Lovely to see you, Ben. You’ve met Maggie, but I’m not sure if you’ve met Kate, her daughter. She’s just come home from London and is my saviour! This famous international chef, Kate Potter, is going to look after Elka’s while I’m away. But I’m forgetting my manners – is there anything I can get for you?”

  “No, Elka, I’m fine. You have to stop thinking about everyone else and relax. Kate and I have met briefly, as a matter of fact, and of course it’s nice to see you again too, Maggie. I’ve had my questions answered. Just wanted to make sure you were set for Dunedin.”

  “Thanks, Ben. With Kate looking after the business and Maggie there for support, and with you to look after me when I get home, everything is under control.”

  “Wonderful,” said Ben quietly.

  There was an awkward silence as no one was quite sure what to say next.

  “Goodness, is that the time?” he said, looking at his watch. “I have surgery in an hour and visits to do before then. Nice to see you again, Kate, Elka, Maggie.” And nodding to the waiter to put his espresso on his account, he left the restaurant.

  “What did he mean, Kate – nice to see you again? When did you meet him?”

  Kate ignored her mother. “Did you see his watch? Eric, the bloody Master, bought one of those beasties to celebrate his third Michelin star, but he was poor for six months after and was too afraid to wear it. He never stopped talking about it, though, which is why I recognised it. This doctor is a bit of mystery, because methinks being a country GP does not pay that well, even in Queenstown.”

  Maggie wondered whether to say anything about the house at Lake Hayes, and Estelle’s comments about family money, but thought better of it. Any money Ben Goodman had was his business.

  Pudding was brought to the table and, having arranged their world to their satisfaction, the women tucked into the perfectly caramelised tarte Tatin served with fresh vanilla ice cream, something Elka had made in honour of Kate’s return.

  Kate was normally one to enjoy a great pudding, but she tasted just enough to tell Elka how good it was before passing on coffee and suggesting they visit the kitchen so she could meet the staff. Suddenly her daughter was all business, and Maggie listened while the two chefs organised the next few days.

  After returning from the kitchen, the two of them pored over menus and talked food. As Kate quickly picked up the details around suppliers
, ordering, and other necessary aspects of the business, Maggie watched her daughter with a mixture of pride and sadness. So grown up, so clever and so beautiful, and that bastard Eric had broken her baby’s heart. The things she would say if she ever met him.

  Nick arrived just as they were leaving. “Thought you’d be here. It’s my day off tomorrow, Mum, the weather’s supposed to be good and there’s fresh snow. Can I tempt anyone to a day on the mountain?”

  Kate and Elka both excused themselves.

  “Mum?”

  “You only want me to come so I can pay. All right. I don’t have anything booked for tomorrow. A day on the mountain with my son is just what I need.”

  Nick gave Maggie a big hug. Now that he was taller she had no choice but to be hugged, not that she minded.

  “By the way,” he said as he let her go, “Lizzie Martin told me to tell you she wants to see you. No idea why, but she wants to ask you something. Not urgent. Come on, women, I need dinner and one of you has to cook it for me.”

  Just around the corner from Elka’s, Mark and Lucy were standing in the doorway of the estate agents, with Estelle.

  “It’s a wonderful house, Estelle,” said Mark. “It’s exactly what we’re looking for. A brilliant location and perfect for us. Make sure you tell the vendors the offer is cash with final settlement in a month, and if they’re good with that, we’ll come in after skiing tomorrow and confirm. Thank you for showing it to us.”

  “Mark, Lucy, an absolute pleasure,” gushed Estelle. “I’ll talk to them this evening and I’m sure there won’t be a problem. It would be lovely to have you in the District. Good luck with your offer. I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything.”

  Estelle watched Mark and Lucy walk arm in arm towards their car in the gathering darkness. They stopped, and Lucy framed Mark’s face in her hands, bringing his lips gently down to meet hers.

  Cynic though she was, Estelle found herself smiling at their happiness. She hoped it would last and they could indeed buy the house.

  Her phone beeped and, wrapping her light pink pashmina tightly around her shoulders, she hurried inside to take the call. Thirty minutes later, flush with the adrenalin of a likely sale, she turned out the lights of her little office and locked the front door. On her desk in the dark, a big red Under Offer sticker had been placed across a photograph of the Lake Hayes house – a house that had been on the market for less than twenty-four hours.

  “What recession?” she muttered to herself as she stepped onto the street, eager to buy herself a celebratory gin and tonic at Elka’s before going home to her cottage and cat. There would be no one at home to share her triumph, which to Estelle was the one and only disadvantage to being single. She wanted a drink but not alone – not yet, anyway.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Maggie’s father had taught her to ski. Her brother Simon was a natural, and impatient with it, so he’d left his father with his younger sister at the first opportunity, disappearing up the chairlift with this friends, only coming back at the end of the day to get a ride home.

  Learning to ski with her father was Maggie’s only fond memory of him. He was different on the mountain. He’d told her once that this was where he felt free to be himself, free to smile and laugh, away from the watchful gaze of the town. He knew the Coronet area backwards and his mountain craft was second to none.

  Methodical in his instructions, he taught her the basics first. When he was sure she could negotiate any slope in any conditions, he took her over the summit and into the back basin where the powder was fresh and they could yell their exhilaration to the wind as they raced to the bottom.

  If only he’d been like that at home, things might have been so different.

  “What’s done is done,” Betty had said when Maggie, feeling bogged down in motherhood and work, had gone to see her. “Be grateful for the times you did have together. I remember your father when he was young, before he married your mother. Life wasn’t kind to him, either. Do you think he wanted to be an undertaker?”

  “Funeral director.”

  “Sorry. You know what I mean. There aren’t many who get the life they dream of. He was an artist, a bit like your Nick, but after your grandfather died I never saw the paints again. Packed everything away and took over the business. He had a wife and two children to provide for. With no education to speak of and living in an out-of-the-way town, as it was then, what choices did he have? Be grateful you saw your father happy, even if it was only on the mountain. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and go and look after your children.”

  Maggie remembered Betty’s words as she drove into the car park. The place was packed and they were lucky to find a space. Her father wouldn’t recognise the ski field now. The facility was huge, and attracted visitors from all over the world. Four- and six-person chairlifts radiating from the base area had opened up acres of runs of all levels. When her father had started skiing back in the fifties, the solitary rope tow could be frozen to the pulleys first thing in the morning, and skiers had to climb to the top carrying their skis just to get a run.

  “Your grandfather would never believe it, if he was here now,” Maggie said to Nick. “The snow-making machines take my breath away. I can’t imagine what he would say.”

  “I win,” said Nick, lifting their skis off the roof rack. “Kate owes me ten bucks.”

  “What for?”

  “She bet me you’d have stopped talking about how it was different when Granddad started skiing, and I bet you hadn’t. Thanks, Mum. Coffees are on her.”

  “God, I hate being so predictable. I’ll give you twenty to tell her I never said a word.”

  “Done.”

  It was the sort of day when it’s impossible not to feel alive and invigorated by the sun, the blue sky and the wonderfully crisp mountain air. Keen to get going they took the express quad up to the summit, and after checking bindings and goggles skated over to a ledge before effortlessly dropping off into one of the black runs to the left of the track. Nick, the better skier, took the lead. Maggie had been forced to concede that both her children had surpassed her skiing abilities by the time they were teenagers. Both had natural flair, but their courage came from her.

  Maggie’s skis sliced cleanly and evenly through the new snow, and they quickly arrived at the top of the more crowded Exchange drop before relaxing into the intermediate-level West Gates run and back to the tow queue. It was midweek, so the field was free of the crowds of university students and skiers from Dunedin who arrived at weekends, and the line was minimal. They were whisked back to the top of the mountain before Maggie had time to catch her breath.

  From their vantage point on the chair, Nick pointed out a particularly good skier, his expertise making him stand out from the crowd as he carved his way down the mogul field beneath them.

  “Great run, Doc,” yelled Nick.

  Ben Goodman skidded to a stop and looked up. “Wait for me at the top,” he yelled back.

  “There goes peace and quiet,” said Maggie. “What did you do that for? I wanted to spend the day skiing with you, not someone I barely know. Plus he’s really good!”

  “Scared we’ll leave you behind?” said Nick, punching his mother gently on her arm. “He’s all right, Mum. You’ll cope. You’re not as old as you look.”

  Maggie retaliated with a punch of her own. Damn. There would be no getting out of a day with the boys.

  “Nick, you lead the way,” said Ben, as he skied off the chair towards them.

  At least there was to be no small talk. That’s something, Maggie thought as she waited for him to go past, assuming she would bring up the rear.

  The rest of the morning passed in a blur of fast runs down the more difficult trails, with Nick and Ben taking it in turns to lead. As experienced and brave on the snow as Maggie was, she enjoyed watching the beauty of the two men skiing in front of her. Ben was afraid of nothing, and followed Nick’s lead without hesitation, sure in his ability to ski his way down anyw
here he was taken. Maggie was content to take alternative routes to their high-flying short circuits. More than once she saw both skiers find air, landing with a plump in a deep drift before lifting themselves up and out of the powder and heading straight down a chute, turning twice if at all.

  The chairs carried between four and six people, so there was plenty of room on the way up. Maggie sat back and listened as Nick and Ben worked out their next route down. It was relaxing hearing them swap stories. Nick had the local knowledge, but Ben had skied all over the world. Working as a ski instructor had helped pay his way through medical school. There was no continent he hadn’t skied. Nick asked question after question, and Ben’s answers were detailed and entertaining. Maggie even detected a tinge of sadness in his voice when he talked about having to choose between skiing and medicine, and how he still wondered whether he’d made the right choice.

  “You’re very quiet, Maggie,” said Ben, suddenly turning to her.

  “Yes, Mum, not like you,” taunted Nick. “Either you’re going deaf or you’re quietening down in your old age.”

  “Not many ‘old’ people can ski like your mother, mate,” said Ben, rising surprisingly quickly to her defence. “Good to see you’re consistent, even on the mountain, Maggie.”

  “Not sure what you mean.”

  “Black-black skis, boots, jackets, pants. The lot. Looks great, I have to say.”

  “Mum always wears black,” chipped in Nick, unaware he was contributing to a discussion his mother didn’t want to have.

  “So I’ve heard,” said Ben, “even to bed!”

  “It’s easier,” said Maggie, defensively. “I don’t have to think about clothes when I get up in the morning, or in the middle of the night or when I go skiing.”

  “The fact you look great in black has nothing to do with it, of course,” he said staring straight ahead. “Just because black suits you, showing off your blonde hair and blue eyes to perfection – that doesn’t mean anything.”