Viande

Andie had been carrying out surveillance from her car since first light. She had a plan, which, granted, wasn’t much of a plan, but it was too late now; she was here, she was going to have to just sit it out. Luckily she had brought supplies: a large coffee she’d picked up on the way, and a container of her scones. Her scones! Which were, if she said so herself, not bad at all. Making them had felt like a sheer labour of love; kneading the dough, rolling it out flat, and marking the scones out with a glass, just as she remembered her grandmother doing. She made batch after batch until she got it right, until they tasted exactly the way she remembered. Taste was such an evocative sense; Andie had closed her eyes, with the scone melting in her mouth, and been transported back to her grandmother’s kitchen, biting into the same warm scones . . .

She had almost lived in the kitchen this past week, rediscovering what she loved about cooking, what she had always loved – the magic, the alchemy that happened when you took raw ingredients and transformed them into something not just edible, but delicious and sustaining. Nourishment was nurture.

Her mother had never seen it that way; cooking was just another household chore, which explained the perennially bland meals, desserts out of a tin, and always a shop-bought cake for their birthdays. Andie had begged her once to let her make a cake for Brendan’s birthday. She had eventually agreed, on the strict condition that Andie clean up afterwards. So she went ahead and made the cake, icing it meticulously, even piping his name on top. Brendan made a huge deal over it, of course; even her father chimed in, saying he hadn’t tasted cake like that since his mother died. Buoyed by her success, Andie asked if she could bake another cake the following weekend, but her mother became annoyed. ‘Cooking is something housewives do, you have better things to do with your time. Haven’t you got homework anyway?’

So during the week, Andie had gone out to buy cooling racks and biscuit trays and cake tins because her mother had never had much call for such things. She wished she’d thought to collect some of her kitchen gear from the apartment, but it wasn’t really a priority on the day. At least she’d held on to her chef’s kit, so she had decent knives and utensils.

‘Do you know how fast these would sell at the deli?’ Jess said as she perused the kitchen on Sunday, sampling the fresh-baked goodies.

Andie shrugged.

‘I’m serious, Andie,’ she said, holding up a lemon slice. ‘You said you want to get back into cooking, you already have an outlet at your disposal.’

‘I tried all that a few years ago, remember?’ said Andie. ‘The shop’s just not set up for food production. It was all too much of a hassle.’

Jess leaned back against the bench and folded her arms. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. Really, all you need is a commercial-grade double oven, in addition to what’s already there. Some of the other equipment might need to be upgraded, and we could definitely use more bench space. But the area’s so big, there’s plenty of room for a huge island bench, and that would allow three or four people to work at it at once.’

Andie looked at her. ‘You really have been thinking about this, haven’t you?’

‘Since I’ve been there more often, I can’t help it,’ said Jess. ‘I just think there’s so much more we could be doing with the shop. I’m getting sick to death of the casual gigs, and now you’ve got your cooking groove back. I know last time it got a bit much on your own, but if we did it together . . . Think about it, Andie, we’re both chefs, and you own your own deli – we have all the ingredients at our disposal and the skills to do anything we want with them . . .’

Andie didn’t know how to tell Jess that she couldn’t work up much enthusiasm for the deli, especially right now. It was a symbol of her chronic acquiescence to Ross – she’d wanted to be a chef, instead she owned and ran a shop that sold food.

‘You should look into it,’ said Andie.

‘Seriously?’ Jess said. ‘You’re open to the idea?’

‘Get Toby over to give you a quote.’

Andie was happy for Jess to check it out, but right now, she wanted to plot her own path, which was why she was sitting in her car, gazing across the carpark to the back exit of the restaurant. She was waiting for Dominic Gerou to arrive for work, she needed to get to him first thing. He was the type of man – no wait, she hardly knew what type of man he was – he was the type of chef who did not brook interruptions, and once his day got underway, Andie was quite sure she wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near him, and she needed his full attention in order to state her case effectively. She knew it was a long shot, but at the moment it was all she had. If he refused to give her a second chance, she’d have to start applying for work through the normal channels, and Andie did not like her odds. She was too old to be starting out, her qualifications were dated, she was out of practice, despite her cooking frenzy of the last week. She doubted anyone would give her a look-in. Dominic Gerou probably wouldn’t either, but he was the only contact she had, no matter how tenuous. And besides, she kept telling herself, what did she have to lose?

A compact black BMW swept around the corner of the building and pulled into a reserved space not far from the entrance. Andie’s heart began to race. It may not be him, it could be the owner. She watched anxiously as the car door swung open and a leg appeared. There was a moment’s delay before the rest of the body followed, and Andie breathed again. It was him. He reached into the back of the car and lifted out a satchel-type bag, hooking it over one shoulder before closing the door and heading for the entrance of the restaurant. Andie watched as he paused at the door, fiddling with keys, until finally he unlocked the big, heavy security door. Bugger, she’d forgotten about that. He pushed the door open and went inside, and it swung closed behind him with a loud clunk which Andie could hear all the way to the other side of the parking lot. Damn, she was going to have to press that buzzer and summon him back to the door, and that was probably going to be as far as she would get. So much for her plan.

But now the door was opening again. Gerou appeared, dropped some kind of block on the ground, and then kicked it under the door to wedge it open. Then he walked back inside. Andie could hardly believe it. He must be waiting for a delivery, or maybe he did that to avoid going back and forth, letting staff in as they arrived for work. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter . . . a door had opened for Andie, and the symbolism was not lost on her. She couldn’t let the opportunity be lost either.

She locked her car and darted over to the door, slipping inside. She really felt like a spy now. As she started down the long corridor, sidling along the wall, she thought about the last time she was here, running for all she was worth in the opposite direction. Little had she known what she was running towards that night or she may not have been in such a hurry. Her whole life had changed. She wondered where she’d be right now if Dominic Gerou had not given her a hard time, and she hadn’t fled, and she hadn’t arrived home early that night. She’d probably still be with Ross, oblivious to what he was getting up to, except for those niggling doubts, which he would have just kept dismissing. She may even have continued at the restaurant, giving him all the time in the world to carry on his affair.

Maybe she should be grateful to Mr Gerou – if he wasn’t such an arse, none of this might have happened.

A quiet rage had been slowly building inside Andie since the night Ross had turned up at the house, or more accurately, since the fateful phone call the morning after. She’d had enough of bloody men with bloody enormous egos, the kind whose needs and wants and opinions outweighed everyone else’s. They weren’t all like that; Toby wasn’t like that, or Brendan, or her dad. Having a penis didn’t automatically make you a dickhead, but it certainly helped.

So she wasn’t going to let Dominic Gerou intimidate her. Mentally she had to cut him down to size so that she could pull this off.

Andie came to the end of the corridor and shrunk back against the wall, peering around the corner into the kitchen. It was quiet, there didn’t seem to be anyone around. Good. That much at least was going to plan. Now she had to find Gerou. She crept into the kitchen and over to the side wall, skirting along past the rows of stainless-steel benches. She knew very little about the layout of the place, there was an office over the other side, but it was still in darkness. Directly ahead was a set of double swing doors, which she assumed must lead into the restaurant proper. Andie surveyed the kitchen again; there were no other exits. Apart from the back corridor, there was only one way for her to proceed. She tiptoed over to the doors, carefully easing one open just enough to peer inside – into an airlock, as she suspected. Beyond was another set of doors with the standard porthole windows. Andie saw Gerou pass on the other side, a phone to his ear. She ducked her head down and crept into the airlock, flattening herself against the wall. She could hear him talking, but his voice was muffled. Andie pushed on the door to open it a crack.

‘Be that as it may, when I am told twenty-four hours, I expect the produce to be delivered in that time.’

Great, he was already in a bad mood and it was barely eight o’clock. She eased the door closed again, and shrank back out of sight. The muffled voice had stopped, but she could still hear his footsteps. They didn’t sound like they were coming this way, but they might any minute, and it would be much worse for him to discover her here, hiding like a thief.

Music started up suddenly, mid-song, probably a radio. Andie raised her head to look into the restaurant again, but she couldn’t see him now. There was a bar off to one side, stretching away from her. She realised she had no choice but to walk straight in there and find him. She had nothing to lose, she told herself for the umpteenth time. She straightened, took a deep breath, and strode determinedly through the doors and right into the room. Andie scanned the area and spotted Gerou, over behind the bar. He was staring at a computer screen, his head down; he hadn’t noticed her.

Andie cleared her throat and walked towards him, treading heavily on the polished timber floor so he would hear her coming. He looked up.

‘Where did you come from?’ he said abruptly.

‘Um, through the kitchen,’ she said. ‘I came in the back way.’

‘That isn’t a public entrance.’ He frowned, studying her for a moment. ‘Do I know you?’

‘My name’s Andie,’ she said. ‘Andie Corcoran . . . Lonergan, it’s Andie Lonergan now. I had a trial here, in the kitchen, about a month or so ago.’

He considered her for another moment. Her hair had been tucked up under a chef’s cap when he’d last seen her, Andie wasn’t surprised he didn’t recognise her.

‘You,’ he said finally, his expression not giving anything away. ‘What are you doing here? We’re not open for a few hours yet if you were after a meal.’

Smart arse.

‘I came to see you, actually,’ Andie said, unperturbed.

‘Well, you’re looking at me.’

‘Do you have a minute?’

He gave a loud sigh and glanced at his watch. ‘Roughly,’ he said, returning his attention to the computer screen.

‘So . . .’ She took a breath. ‘I came to ask for my job back.’

He didn’t look up, but a smirk formed on his lips. ‘I wasn’t aware that you ever had a job here.’

She was expecting him to say something like that.

‘That’s not quite true,’ she returned.

He did glance up at her then, briefly, before looking back at the screen. ‘It was a trial, not a guaranteed position. And as you only lasted half an hour —’

‘It was closer to three hours actually.’

He shrugged. ‘So you lasted a couple of hours. You had your trial. And you’ve had your minute,’ he added, turning away.

‘Hold on,’ she blurted. Keep your cool. Don’t lose it in front of him. Again.

He turned around again slowly. ‘Look, miss, I’m very busy —’

‘I was promised a trial,’ Andie persisted. ‘I think you should hold up your end of the bargain.’

He shook his head. ‘You have got gall, I’ll give you that much. But I’ve already given you your trial,’ he said, finally meeting her gaze, ‘and you failed.’

‘Because you were impatient and you didn’t give me a chance,’ she said brazenly.

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Did you imagine everyone was going to pussyfoot around you?’ he asked. ‘Make it easy for you? Then you have no idea, Miss . . .’

‘My name is Andie.’

‘A kitchen is a busy, stressful, hectic place,’ he went on, ignoring her. ‘We don’t have the space or the time for someone who can’t function in that environment.’

‘I can cope with the stress and the workload,’ she said, ‘but I don’t see why I should have to put up with plain bad temper.’

‘And I don’t see why I should have to put up with you,’ he retorted. ‘Oh wait, I don’t have to.’ He turned on his heel but then he stopped, turning around to face her again. ‘And you can get off your high horse, because I know exactly how this all came about in the first place. You’re married to a rich, successful businessman and you’re bored. You think you might like to try being a chef, just like the ones you’ve seen on television. You have a word in your husband’s ear, and he has a word in the ear of an old friend who happens to own a restaurant. You stroll in, right past all the kids, the hardworking kids who would kill to get a chance at a place like this. But they don’t get the chance, and what do you do with yours? Run away when it all gets too hard.’

Andie met his gaze directly. ‘Mr Gerou, I wasn’t a bored wife looking for a hobby. I am a trained chef, but I hadn’t been in a commercial kitchen for . . . some time, and I wasn’t prepared for the pace. But I don’t think I deserved to be treated that way.’

‘Then it’s just as well you left, because that’s the way it is.’

‘Why?’

He frowned at her.

‘Why does it have to be that way?’ said Andie. ‘I mean, what is it with chefs and this arrogance? They don’t train it into you. What happens to turn you all into . . .’ He could fill the blank in himself.

‘Maybe it’s because we have to work with people like you?’ he suggested.

Andie bristled. ‘You don’t even know me, so please don’t judge me,’ she said. ‘You prepare and cook food to serve to people. This is a service industry. In previous eras you’d be called servants. So when did being a chef become a licence to be arrogant?’ Maybe she should have shut up, but she was on a roll. ‘It’s such a cliché. How can you think it’s a good way to run a workplace, verbally bullying everyone into submission so they’re scared of you?’

He was glaring at her now. ‘That is not how I run my kitchen.’

‘It’s certainly how it looked that day.’

‘Well, you don’t know what was going on that day, do you?’ he returned. ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t be so quick to judge me. Bill didn’t clear it with me that you were coming, I would have told him it wasn’t a good time. We were introducing a new menu and I already had to train existing staff, let alone someone who had never stepped foot in the place.’

‘Well, if it was such a bad time, then you really do owe me a second chance.’

‘I don’t owe you anything,’ he shot back.

‘So you’ve never screwed up, Mr Gerou?’ she asked him. ‘You’ve never needed help along the way to get to where you are? No one has ever given you a second chance?’

He seemed to be thinking about that. Andie wondered if she’d finally struck a chord.

‘So why should I give you a second chance?’ he asked.

‘Because I don’t think you’re as big a jerk as you make out.’

He lifted an eyebrow. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘Because no one could be that big a jerk.’

Andie wasn’t sure, but it looked like he might have been suppressing a smile. He leaned back against the bench behind him and folded his arms across his chest.

‘Why the delay?’ he asked finally.

‘Pardon?’

‘If this means so much to you, what made you wait so long to come back?’

Andie took a breath. ‘It’s been . . . well, it’s just that a lot of things have happened,’ she said. ‘My father died. I had to move —’

‘You lived with your father?’

‘No . . . it’s complicated, and it’s personal,’ she said. ‘The thing is, a month ago I didn’t really need this job, but I wanted it. Now I really need it as well.’

He was watching her closely, and something twigged in his eyes. ‘Look, Miss . . .’

‘Ms Lonergan, it’s Lonergan now. But you can call me Andie.’

‘Well, Ms Lonergan, this isn’t the place to get over . . . whatever it is you’re getting over.’

‘Why not?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Why not?’ she repeated. ‘It’s as good a place as any.’

He frowned. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘You have to move on, whatever life dishes up. Seems to me you have a better chance of doing that if you’re busy and focused and passionate about something. You might as well pour all that emotional energy into something useful.’

‘I don’t need you crying over my stockpot.’

‘I’m not going to cry over your stockpot,’ she said plainly. ‘I’m not going to cry over anything, except maybe chopping onions, and I don’t think you can blame that on a broken heart.’

He was staring down at the floor, but he was listening. She nearly had him, she was sure.

‘Mr Gerou . . . Chef, this was always my dream. I was one of those kids who would have given anything to work in a place like this, and I didn’t get the chance. And then . . . circumstances took me in a different direction. I let go of my dream, and I regret that I did.’ She paused. ‘I know I screwed up that day,’ she continued, ‘and I must have seemed pretty hopeless to you. But I know I can be good at this. I am good. And I’ll prove it to you, if you give me another chance. Like I said, I was just unprepared.’

He was still staring down at the floor. Finally he lifted his head to look at her. ‘Are you going to be prepared this time?’

‘You can count on it.’

Roseville

‘Oh my goodness,’ said Donna. ‘Why are there so many chickens in your fridge?’

‘Ahh,’ said Andie, coming up behind her, ‘they’re the reason we’re gathered here tonight.’

‘I thought we were here for a slumber party?’ said Jess.

Andie had invited them over to put their minds to rest, more than anything. They both called every day; if it wasn’t Donna, it was Toby, and Jess always found some work-related excuse to call, not-so-subtly adding at the end of the conversation, ‘So, how’s everything going there?’

Andie had the feeling they were worried she was going to become a mad recluse, locking herself away in the deceased estate like . . . she was thinking Miss Havisham, but that wasn’t right, she’d been jilted on her wedding day. Andie had been jilted ten years later. In fact the term jilted didn’t even apply, really.

The truth was, she had been absolutely flat out. She had to begin work on the house, because once she started at the restaurant there wouldn’t be time. So she had got over her squeamishness and started clearing out the bedrooms. Her dad’s had been the saddest, packing up his clothes and belongings, as though a whole life could be packed into a few boxes. She held on to some of his things, his reading glasses, his rosary beads. She even kept the book on his bedside table. It wasn’t her preferred genre, a big fat spy thriller, but she had taken to reading it at night when she went to bed, hearing her father’s voice in her head, as though he was reading it to her. It made her feel closer to him.

She forced her way into her old bedroom, and as she expected, it was filled mostly with her mother’s things. Her father had obviously not been able to part with them, and now she knew how he felt. She didn’t go through all the boxes of clothes and shoes and handbags, what would be the point? They’d been packed away for more than a decade, they wouldn’t be in any state to keep. Meredith had instructed her not to toss anything until she had a chance to have a look, but she had been too busy to come over and go through it all. So Andie stacked them along the wall in the hall. But there were a couple of boxes of documents and old photos, other mementoes. She would really have to go through it all carefully, and she simply didn’t have the time. So she stored those boxes away in the wardrobe in the room where she was sleeping. If need be, she’d take them with her when she left, worry about them then.

In the meantime she called a real estate agent to come out and inspect the place, and the woman made a list of her suggested repairs and improvements. Andie asked Toby to take care of all that, she could trust him to come and go from the house when she wasn’t there, and she knew he’d do a good job. At least Meredith had given the go-ahead for that, and Toby would be starting in earnest next week.

So, Andie had decided to have the girls over tonight, have some fun, and show them that she was absolutely fine. More than fine. And in the spirit of killing two birds, or at least deboning them, she had an ulterior motive.

‘We are having a slumber party,’ Andie reassured them. ‘But I also need your help with something, Jess.’

‘Does it have to do with those chickens?’ she asked warily.

‘Yes, as a matter of fact, it does,’ said Andie. ‘I want you to teach me how to debone them.’

Jess frowned, bending over to peer into the fridge. ‘How many are there?’

‘Twelve.’

She turned to look at Andie. ‘We’re going to debone twelve chickens?’

‘No, I am, with your expert guidance.’

‘Sounds like a fun evening,’ Donna muttered, still clutching the bottles she had been planning to stow away in the fridge. ‘You know I don’t get out much, what with a toddler and all . . .’

‘We are going to have fun, I promise,’ Andie said, with all the enthusiasm she could muster. ‘I’ve made a heap of food, and we can gossip, and drink – well, I won’t be drinking until I get through all these chickens. Keep a bottle out, Donna, I’ll get some glasses.’

‘Okay,’ said Jess, ‘I know you’ve been on this whole cooking frenzy, but why chickens, and why tonight?’

Andie smiled as she placed the glasses on the table in front of them. ‘Imaginary drum roll, please,’ she announced. ‘I have another trial at Viande. I start on Tuesday.’

‘Wow,’ said Donna, pouring the wine. ‘That’s great.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Jess. ‘After what happened . . . did they contact you?’

‘No, of course not,’ said Andie. ‘I walked in there myself, and more or less demanded it.’

‘You did?’

‘Well, it’d probably best be described as a cross between begging and demanding,’ Andie said wryly.

‘Good for you,’ said Donna, raising her glass. She glanced at Jess who seemed to be in a slight daze, and elbowed her.

Jess stirred. ‘Yeah, it’s great.’ She picked up her glass. ‘I just wish you’d told me this was what you were planning.’

‘It only happened this week.’

‘But, you know how we were talking about expanding the shop?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, I’ve already had Toby over to take a look.’

‘He mentioned,’ Andie nodded, retrieving a chicken from the fridge.

‘So, I should just tell him to forget about it?’ said Jess.

Andie looked around. ‘Why?’

‘Well, you’re doing this now.’

‘Jess, it’s only a trial at Viande, and you’re only investigating possibilities at the shop,’ said Andie. ‘We can go ahead with both, take things a step at a time, see how it turns out. I don’t want to limit my options any more.’

‘That’s very brave talk,’ said Jess.

‘I think it’s great,’ Donna grinned.

‘Yes, well, speaking of brave talk, I really blew my own trumpet to Dominic Gerou —’

‘You approached him in person?’ said Jess.

Andie nodded. ‘So the thing is, I absolutely cannot screw up this time.’

‘That’s why you have to debone twelve chickens?’

‘Do you think it’s enough?’

Jess gave her a withering look. ‘If you can’t get it after twelve, you’ll never get it.’

‘Oh, don’t say that,’ said Andie. ‘I’m determined to get it right.’

‘Why do I have the feeling that all my chickens have come home to roost?’ muttered Jess. ‘Well, we better get you started.’ She picked up her glass and joined Andie at the end of the table. ‘I assume it’s okay for me to drink?’

‘As long as you don’t think it’ll impair your judgement,’ Andie gave her a nervous smile.

‘Trust me, I’m going to need a drink if we’ve got to dismember a dozen chooks.’

It wasn’t that difficult in the end; as long as Andie followed the steps as Jess showed her, in the exact order, using the correct knife, it was pretty much foolproof. She appeared to have mastered it by the fourth chicken. But Andie wanted to keep practising; she wanted to look like a natural, or a pro, whichever was better.

‘So does Ross know about the trial?’ Jess asked, as she took a seat at the other end of the table with Donna.

‘No, he doesn’t,’ said Andie, not looking up at either of them. ‘It’s not really any of his business.’

She hadn’t told them the latest with Ross; she hadn’t seen Donna, and she had managed to avoid the topic when Jess came over last week. But she knew she wasn’t going to be able to avoid it tonight. She wanted them to know, she did, she just wished she could send them the information telepathically so she wouldn’t have to talk about it. And she dreaded having to break the truth, the whole truth, to Donna as well.

‘Have you seen him lately?’ Donna asked tentatively.

Andie shook her head. ‘I haven’t seen him at all for a couple of weeks.’

Ross didn’t try to contact her for a few days after the fateful telephone call. He must have discovered that Tasha had answered his phone, and decided to allow for a cooling-off period. Andie had debated with herself whether she would talk to him if he called, or whether she’d just ignore him. But her confidence was buoyed after her meeting with Dominic Gerou, and Andie decided if she could handle him, she could certainly handle Ross Corcoran.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t available when you called the other day,’ was his opening line.

What the hell was that? Was he going to make out that the woman who answered was a business associate or something? He was clearly not aware that she had told Andie he was in the shower.

‘Ross, please, for the love of God, will you just stop the bullshit?’

There was silence down the phone line.

‘I know it was Tasha who answered the phone. I know you went to her place after you left here, after you told me you weren’t seeing her any more.’

‘You turned me away, Andie, what was I supposed to do?’

For Chrissakes.

Andie looked at Donna. ‘There’s something I haven’t told you – Ross has been having an affair.’

She waited for the reaction, but Donna just looked at her, biting her lip. ‘I know,’ she said in a small voice.

‘You do? How did you find out?’

‘I told them,’ Jess owned up.

‘Them?’ said Andie. ‘So Toby knows as well?’

She nodded. ‘Actually I didn’t really tell them, as such.’

‘That’s right,’ said Donna. ‘Toby figured it out himself.’

‘I only confirmed it,’ said Jess.

‘I’m just surprised he hasn’t mentioned it.’

‘He didn’t want to upset you,’ said Donna.

Andie shrugged. ‘Well, he needn’t have worried. I’m absolutely fine, and it’s definitely over.’

Neither of them said anything, but she could tell by the look on both their faces what they were thinking.

‘I assure you, it really is over this time.’ Andie held the knife with both hands above the chicken, before plunging it inside and slicing right down the centre of the breastbone. Donna looked vaguely horrified.

‘All right, I’ll give you the whole story, once and for all, so we can move on,’ Andie said, as she began to cut around the bones with the tip of the knife. ‘Ross came over the night I moved in. He wanted us to get back together, he told me he wasn’t seeing the woman any more, that he’d do anything. He tried to come on to me, and I almost succumbed.’

‘You did?’ said Jess.

Andie nodded. ‘A girl has needs, you know.’

‘What happened?’ asked Donna, her eyes wide.

‘I couldn’t go through with it . . . I thought about him and the woman together, and I got to thinking about all his lies, and how I couldn’t tell the lies from the truth any more. I asked him to leave, and he did, but he’d been drinking and he got into his car, so I ended up worrying about him all night.’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ said Jess. ‘You didn’t make him drive.’

‘Well, that’s not really the issue,’ Andie went on. ‘I rang the next morning to make sure he had made it home all right, and the woman answered the phone. Said he was in the shower.’

‘Sprung,’ said Jess.

‘Oh, Andie, I’m so sorry,’ said Donna.

‘It’s okay.’ She looked up from the chicken. ‘In a funny way I’m actually kind of glad it happened.’

‘You are?’

She nodded. ‘Obviously I needed another dose of shock therapy to see things for the way they really are. You would think finding your husband in bed with another woman would do the trick, but I must be a slow learner.’

‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ said Jess.

Andie ripped the carcass out of the chicken with a satisfied smile. ‘Anyway, the end result is that now I know for sure that I can’t believe a word Ross says. That he’s lied to me since the beginning of our relationship.’

‘He has? What about?’ asked Jess.

‘It doesn’t matter any more. It’s over.’

‘So are you going to make it official and file for divorce?’ Jess asked.

Andie looked up suddenly. ‘Oh, I don’t know, I suppose, eventually . . .’

‘Andie, if you’re serious, and you want Ross to take you seriously, you have to sign off legally, divide the property and assets and be done with him.’

‘But I told you I don’t care about all that. I don’t want a share of the apartment.’

‘Why not?’ Donna asked.

‘Because he slept with the skank in her bed,’ Jess explained.

‘Don’t call her a skank,’ said Andie, even though she was beginning to think Tasha might just be one.

‘Throw out the bed,’ said Jess. ‘Burn it, but don’t give up a whole apartment.’

‘Look, I don’t even feel like it’s mine to give up. It’s Ross’s money in that apartment. I’m only trying to do what’s right.’

‘That’s fine, but let a lawyer figure out what’s right, and fair.’

‘You think a lawyer’s the best person for that?’ Andie joked, as she proceeded to trim the chicken.

‘Why are you so reluctant to deal with this?’ Jess persisted.

Andie looked at her. ‘I just want to get through the sale of this house – one legal hurdle at a time.’

‘You do realise that Ross will have a stake in this too?’

Andie frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Ross will be entitled to a share of your inheritance.’

‘No . . .’

‘Yes.’

‘But he wouldn’t go after it,’ said Andie. ‘He’s got more class than that.’

‘What about Tasha?’

‘Who’s Tasha?’ asked Donna.

‘The skank.’

‘Don’t call her that,’ said Andie.

‘Why do you keep saying that?’ asked Jess.

‘Because we don’t know what she’s like.’

‘That’s absolutely true, Andie, she might be Mother Teresa reincarnated, or she might be out for everything she can get her hands on. You don’t know. Besides, any family lawyer worth his salt is going to tell Ross he’s entitled to a share of your assets as well.’

‘But that’s not fair.’

‘That’s why you need to see your own lawyer. If you don’t want a share of any of the marital assets, at least protect your own.’

‘Okay, I take your point.’

‘And while you’re at it,’ said Jess, ‘you might want to protect your friends’ jobs? If you just give up everything, we could all be tossed out on our ears.’

Donna spluttered on her wine.

‘The shop is in my name, I’m sure Ross can’t do anything without my say-so,’ Andie reassured Donna. ‘But you’re right, Jess. I’ll make an appointment to see a lawyer.’

‘Can we drink to that? Sign something in chicken blood, perhaps?’ Jess suggested hopefully.

Andie held up a whole filleted chicken with a triumphant smile. ‘What do you think?’

‘Perfect,’ Jess pronounced. ‘But honestly, Andie, this chicken smell is beginning to make me gag. You don’t have to finish all twelve tonight, have another practice run tomorrow.’

‘Of course. Let me just clean all this up, and would you pour me a glass of wine please, Donna? You two better have some good gossip for me, because seriously, I want to talk about something, anything else but me!’

‘All right,’ said Jess. ‘I’ve got something. I’m thinking of getting a Brazilian.’

Andie looked up from wrapping the chicken, and Donna turned around from the fridge. ‘What?’ they said in unison.

Jess shrugged. ‘They’re the new black.’

‘When have you ever been one to slavishly follow the latest trend?’ Andie frowned.

‘I’m just sick of guys commenting about it all the time.’

‘What kinds of comments?’ asked Donna, as she topped up Jess’s glass.

‘Whenever you hook up with a guy these days, as soon as he . . . comes into contact, he has to make some kind of remark.’

‘Like what?’ Andie wanted to know.

‘Oh, like . . . so you go natural? Wow, that’s old-school, or brave. Or, are you a hippy? Through to, hey, ever thought of tidying up down there?’

Andie was vigorously wiping down the table. ‘That just makes me want to spit!’

‘Me too,’ said Donna.

‘I mean, who decided we have to look like little girls? I think it’s demeaning.’

‘Some women do it for themselves,’ said Jess. ‘I’ve been asking around. They like the feel of it, that it’s all clean and fresh.’

Donna frowned. ‘But isn’t the whole reason we have hair got to do with catching bacteria so it doesn’t get into the wrong places?’

‘But we don’t mind ripping it out from under our arms, now, do we?’ said Jess.

‘Look, if you really want to do this for yourself, Jess, go right ahead,’ said Andie. ‘But I wish you didn’t feel the need to do it to attract men.’

‘You know what they say about beggars and choosers.’

‘You’re not a beggar!’ Donna exclaimed.

‘In this marketplace I am. Thirtysomething women are passed over all the time for younger models.’

‘God, I’m glad I’m married.’

Andie had finished washing her hands and sat down to join them.

‘Sorry, that was a bit insensitive,’ said Donna, with a sheepish look.

‘Why?’

‘Because . . . you know, your marriage has just . . .’

‘Collapsed?’

‘Failed, broken down . . . died in the bum?’ Jess added.

Andie smiled. ‘It’s okay, Donna.’

‘Well, you’re not going to be alone for long,’ said Donna.

‘Believe me, the last thing I need is a relationship right now.’

‘Why is that?’

Andie took a sip of her wine. ‘Let’s just say I’m not ready to get a Brazilian.’

December

Andie slipped off her chef’s jacket and tossed it into the hamper in the corner of the change room. That was a nice little perk of the job – the jackets were all professionally laundered, returning for the next shift clean, pressed and neatly folded. She was beginning to feel like she belonged now, after nearly two months. Her trial period lasted a couple of weeks, before Tang informed her she had been approved to stay on. Andie was thrilled. She was welcomed as a bonafide member of the crew, she even stayed back regularly for staffy’s on Sunday nights; with the restaurant closed for business on Mondays it was the end of their working week and the staff always stayed on for drinks. Tang could not have been lovelier, and had taken her under his wing without making a single comment about her sudden departure, or her equally sudden reappearance. He and Cosmo were the senior sous chefs at Viande and, in reality, Andie worked for them. Dominic Gerou barely even spoke to her, but she had no reason to take that personally. While the staff all seemed to respect him, even hold him in high regard, they told Andie he rarely mixed with them socially – he never joined them for staffy’s, even though he supplied the drinks. He had acknowledged Andie on her first night back with a brisk greeting, and had later given a nod of approval after she expertly deboned a chicken as he watched on. She’d hardly had anything to do with him since.

She was way below his radar anyway – still relegated to the ranks of the apprentices in the bread and salad section – but Andie didn’t mind. She was finally working in a real kitchen, talking about food, learning about food. And she was learning so much. Bread and salad was not as basic as it sounded, at least not in a kitchen like this. Andie was all over the bread, given it had been a longstanding specialty at The Corner Gourmet. But the vegetables were a whole new world – the variety of salad greens, heirloom carrots ranging from creamy white through yellow to purple, potatoes similarly in every colour, turnips and radishes sliced into wafer-thin discs for garnish, ribbons of celeriac . . . Andie was given plenty of opportunity to observe Tang or Cosmo as they prepped dishes and plated up, using long Japanese tweezers to place the delicate garnishes in their precise positions. Each and every plate, more than two hundred a night, was a miniature work of art. Andie wondered if the diners appreciated the level of care and attention that went into presenting their food, as much as they enjoyed the taste. But she had a feeling it wouldn’t have mattered to the chefs anyway, they had their own meticulous standards to meet. Although she wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the pass for some time yet, Andie found it inspirational. She worked hard, trying to take the same care with every task she was given. And she was getting faster all the time, and building muscles in her arms from lifting racks and heavy pans. Her legs ached after every shift, but she fell into bed at night and slept more soundly than she had in a long time. Andie was happy, she didn’t need Dominic Gerou’s approval, she’d only needed him to give her a job, and he’d already done that.

Though every now and then, she got the feeling she was being watched, and she would look up to find him staring in her direction, from right across the other side of the kitchen. He always quickly turned away, and Andie assumed he was probably just staring into space, or looking at something else entirely.

She picked up her cardigan from her locker and slipped it on over her T-shirt. The evenings were still cool, even though summer was supposed to have officially begun. Andie slung her bag over her shoulder and walked up the corridor, pushing on the metal rail to release the exit door. As the cool night air hit her, she drew her cardigan more closely around her. She started across the carpark when she heard her name called. She turned to see Ross coming towards her.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked him.

‘I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Why didn’t you just call?’

‘Because you don’t pick up when I call,’ he said bluntly, stopping in front of her.

Andie hadn’t seen him since the night at the house, and she had only spoken to him that one time. After that low point she had decided not to bother answering his calls any more, and she assumed he’d finally given up.

She crossed her arms. ‘How did you know to find me here?’

‘Brooke told me you were working here again,’ he said. ‘And I think it’s great, Andie. I’m so proud of you.’

Whoopee. That was supposed to mean something to her? ‘Look, I’ve had a long night, Ross, and it’s cold out here.’

‘Then let’s go somewhere we can talk.’

Andie groaned. Better to just get it over with. ‘What do you want, Ross?’

He sighed, pushing his hands down into his pockets. He looked tired, he was beginning to show his age.

‘My lawyer received a letter from your lawyer,’ he said.

She nodded. ‘I went to see someone to find out what I have to do —’

‘Find out what you have to do?’ he sniped. ‘How about talk to your husband before you go to a lawyer?’

‘Ross,’ she sighed, ‘what’s your actual problem here? Don’t you want to be a free man?’

‘No, where did you get that idea? When did I ever say that?’

‘Oh, so you want to carry on an affair and stay married, is that it?’

‘No, not at all. I want my marriage back, and I’ll do whatever it takes.’

Andie looked at him. ‘Are you still seeing her, Ross?’

He hesitated. ‘That’s beside the point —’

‘No, it isn’t,’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s the whole point!’

‘Well, if the affair is the whole point, and I end it, then there is no point resorting to lawyers.’

Andie shook her head. ‘I can’t deal with this right now,’ she said wearily, turning to leave.

‘Wait.’ He grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t just walk away.’

‘Ross, let go of me.’

‘Andie . . . are you all right?’

They both looked around. Dominic Gerou was taking halting steps towards them.

‘She’s fine,’ said Ross, releasing her arm. ‘It’s none of your concern, mate.’

‘Andie,’ Dominic said again, ‘are you all right?’

She couldn’t recall him ever saying her name out loud before, she was surprised he remembered it. He stepped into a pool of light, his gaze focused steadily on her, ignoring Ross.

‘Mate, I said —’

‘Ross!’ Andie cut him off. ‘Thanks, Chef, I’m okay.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Listen,’ said Ross, ‘I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m her husband.’

‘This is my boss,’ Andie said firmly.

‘It’s Dominic out here.’

Andie nodded. ‘Thank you, Dominic. I’ll be fine.’

‘Would you like me to walk you to your car?’

‘Oh come on —’

‘Ross, for crying out loud, would you just shut up!’ Andie snapped.

He shrank back at that, finally, bowing his head.

Dominic nodded. ‘Looks like you can handle yourself. Goodnight, Andie.’

‘Thanks again.’ Her voice trailed after him as he walked away back across the carpark. Great, playing out her own little soap opera in front of the boss outside her place of work. And sounding like a piece of trailer trash in the process. Very professional, Andie, well done.

‘Wanker.’

‘Christ, Ross,’ she exclaimed, striding off towards her car. She could hear his footsteps following behind her.

‘Andie, wait,’ he said. ‘We still have to talk about this.’

‘I don’t have to talk to you, Ross. Especially when you carry on like a complete Neanderthal.’

‘I’m sorry, okay?’ he said dramatically, holding his arms out wide. ‘I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.’

She reached her car and turned around. ‘You could try leaving me alone.’

‘So this is how it’s going to be?’ he said. ‘Communicating through our lawyers, ending everything because of one mistake?’

‘Not this again,’ she sighed. ‘Ross, it wasn’t one mistake, it was a constant stream of lies with no end in sight. You know, I was actually worried about you that night when you drove off drunk.’

‘See, so you do have feelings for me.’

He was shameless. He was utterly and completely without shame. ‘Don’t worry, Ross, any feelings I may have had are rapidly diminishing by the minute.’

He was shaking his head. ‘I really didn’t think you were this kind of person, Andie. That you would throw away our whole marriage at the first sign of any trouble.’

‘No, Ross, you were the one who did that.’

‘I don’t want to throw away the marriage,’ he said. ‘I want to work on it.’

She looked at him. ‘So working on it means going back to that woman when I won’t obediently fall straight back into your arms?’

‘Look, it’s nothing, it’s a fling, it’s not going anywhere. I could end it tomorrow.’

‘So end it,’ she said. ‘Once and for all.’

‘I will, if you’ll say you’re coming back.’

‘No, Ross, that’s not how it works,’ said Andie. ‘You end it, and then you prove to me over time that you’re prepared to work on the marriage.’

‘How can I prove that?’

‘Live alone.’

‘I am living alone, I haven’t moved in with her.’

‘And how many nights do you spend in the apartment by yourself?’

He didn’t have an answer for that.

‘Well, at least you’re not lying, that’s something.’

‘Andie, I’ll do whatever it takes.’

‘It’s not enough, Ross. I can’t trust you, and I’ve lost so much respect for you now that there’s nothing left.’

He stared at her. ‘So that’s it? You’re just going to leave it to the lawyers.’

‘I think it’s best if we cut our losses and move on.’

He sighed, raking his hand through his hair. ‘So, you’re planning to take me to the cleaners, is that it, Andie?’

‘What? No.’

‘Your lawyer is asking for full financial disclosure. He wants complete records of all my investments, my —’

‘Ross, I don’t care about any of that,’ she stopped him. ‘I don’t want anything, except the shop, and that’s mine anyway. I’ll be getting a share of my father’s estate, that’s enough for me, as long as you don’t expect a cut of it.’

‘Of course I wouldn’t expect that,’ he said, wounded. ‘I wouldn’t take your father’s money from you. How could you think I would do that?’

Andie sighed. ‘Well, what do you know, you do have a shred of decency left in you.’

‘I have more than that, Andie. I still love you.’

‘It’s too late, Ross.’

He looked down at the ground, shaking his head. ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’

Andie took her keys out of her bag and pressed the remote lock. ‘I’ll call my lawyer and get him to draw up an agreement that will protect the shop and my inheritance. And I’ll withdraw all other claims on you. All right?’ She opened the car door.

‘I don’t want it to be like this, Andie.’

‘Well, you should have thought about that before . . .’

What was the point in even finishing the sentence? She stepped into the car and closed the door. He stood there, looking forlorn, as she started the car and drove away.

A week later

Andie arrived at the building site, and called Joanna on her mobile from the other side of the cyclone fencing. She had contacted her yesterday to arrange a time she could drop off Christmas presents for the family, but with Joanna working days and Andie working nights, the only alternative in the end was for Andie to visit Joanna at work. At the moment she was on-site most days, as project manager of a medium-density residential development in the eastern suburbs. She told Andie she’d have to wait outside when she arrived, as she’d have to be escorted in.

Andie spotted Joanna coming towards her in a hard hat and a fluoro vest. She was carrying a second hat and vest, Andie assumed for her.

‘Hi,’ said Joanna as she approached. ‘You’re going to have to wear these.’ She had to shout over the sound of machinery. ‘OH&S requirements, you know.’

Andie smiled, taking them from her. She put the hat on. ‘I feel like Bob the Builder.’

‘What’s that?’ said Joanna, cupping her hand to her ear.

‘Never mind!’ Andie shouted back as she pulled on the vest.

‘Come on,’ said Joanna. ‘I’ll take you to the site office, at least we’ll be able to hear each other there.’

They walked across muddy clay, past a series of structures of varying heights and dimensions. It was still largely skeletal, but the scale of the development was impressive.

‘This looks pretty big,’ Andie shouted.

Joanna nodded. ‘Biggest project I’ve ever worked on.’

Just then they heard a loud wolf-whistle from behind and they both turned. A group of workers on an upper floor all waved.

‘You’ve got some fans,’ said Andie.

Joanna smiled at her. ‘Oh, that wasn’t for me.’

They arrived at a portable building which served as the site office, and Joanna held the door open for Andie as she stepped inside. It was surprisingly roomy; two men were working at computers at one end, there were several filing cabinets, a long couch, fridges, and a table in the centre, with plans spread out across it.

‘My friend, Andie,’ Joanna announced, and the men gave her a nod and a ‘Hi’. She turned towards the other end of the office. ‘My desk is up here,’ she said.

Andie followed her, pausing at a large print posted up on the wall, an artist’s impression of the project. It was stunning; there were probably eight buildings of various sizes, each one unique, but complementary, tied together through the use of common materials, timber and corrugated iron mostly, and a harmonising colour palette of greens and greys. They appeared to be tucked amongst groves of trees, gardens, walkways and courtyard spaces.

‘This is amazing, Joanna.’

‘Yeah, it is pretty special,’ she said. ‘Not that I’m responsible for the design.’

‘But you’re responsible for making it a reality,’ said Andie.

Joanna nodded. ‘I guess so. There are a few other chiefs on-site,’ she added. ‘Engineers, the building supervisor, I have backup.’

Andie looked at her. ‘I wonder if a man in your position would be so quick to share the credit around?’

‘Probably not,’ she admitted. ‘It’s hard enough being a woman in this industry without blowing your own trumpet too loudly.’ She walked around the desk. ‘You don’t need to wear your hat in here,’ she said as she removed hers and sat down, indicating a chair for Andie. ‘Can I get you something? Coffee? A cold drink?’

‘No, I don’t want to take up too much of your time,’ she said, setting the bag of presents down on the floor beside her.

‘It’s fine,’ Joanna assured her. ‘How are things with you, Andie? You’re still at the restaurant?’

‘I am. They kept me on after my trial, which is great.’

‘So you’re permanent?’

‘I’m on a six-month contract, same as everybody at my level.’

Joanna nodded. ‘Well, congratulations. I’m pleased for you.’ She paused. ‘And Brooke tells me you’re still living over the bridge? That’s a bit of a commute.’

‘It won’t be for much longer.’

The house was scheduled for auction next week, but the real estate agent had already had some serious offers; she didn’t see it making it to auction. Andie had considered moving out before it went on the market, but the agent urged her to stay; empty houses lacked warmth, even one person in situ would give it a lived-in feel. So Andie resigned herself to wait it out until it sold, but rentals began to get scarce before Christmas, especially near the beach. She wasn’t ready to buy, she wasn’t really in the position until the estate was finalised anyway. But that was okay; Andie didn’t know where she wanted to settle ultimately, so she wasn’t in any rush.

‘Do you see Ross?’ Joanna asked.

‘No, but our lawyers are on speaking terms.’

Joanna shook her head. ‘I honestly can’t believe how stupid that man is, putting himself through this all over again. I can’t help but think the girl must be pretty stupid too.’

‘Is that what you used to say about me?’ Andie gave her a sly smile.

‘No, I didn’t actually. But now there’s a pattern of behaviour, doesn’t this girl see that?’ said Joanna. ‘I mean, who in their right mind would hook up with a man who has now left two wives for younger women? Does she think she’s going to be the one to break the cycle?’

Andie shrugged. ‘So you think he’ll do it again?’

‘Who knows?’ said Joanna. ‘But his winning streak has to come to an end eventually. Ross isn’t rich enough to nab a twentysomething when he’s seventy. That takes serious money.’

Andie smiled at that. She had still felt so awkward around Joanna only six months ago, and now they were sitting here in her office, sharing war stories.

‘Do you mind if I ask, Joanna, how did you feel when it was finally over?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I guess I’m starting to get the feeling that I’m finally living my own life,’ said Andie. ‘You were so young when you married, and you were together so long, I imagine that feeling must have been even stronger.’

Joanna seemed thoughtful. ‘Yes, but it took so much longer to get to that. When you have children together, you can never be completely free. Just as well you two didn’t have any.’

She was right of course, but that didn’t stop Andie from wondering what if. She still noticed babies in the street, though not as obsessively as before. There was just sadness now, regret, that she could no longer see a baby in her future. Of course it could happen, she wasn’t too old yet, but it seemed highly implausible right now. There had to be a man involved, for one thing, and Andie wasn’t even looking. And he would have to be a good, decent man who she could trust, and that was going to take a leap of faith in itself. It would take time to achieve that level of trust, time that Andie didn’t have. So she was better off resigning herself to never having a family of her own. But the idea still stung.

‘Anyway, I can see you’re busy, so . . .’ Andie reached for the bag at her feet and set it down on the desk in front of Joanna.

‘This is really thoughtful, Andie, the kids will appreciate it.’ Joanna leaned forward. ‘You know they would have liked to have you come over for Christmas.’

‘You don’t have to say that.’

‘I know I don’t, but it’s true.’

Andie looked at her. ‘Even Lauren?’

‘Might be a case of the devil you know,’ Joanna smiled. ‘She’s not at all impressed that this one’s younger than her. All the kids were threatening to boycott Christmas if she came.’

‘So what are you going to do?’

‘Compromise, as usual.’ Joanna became thoughtful. ‘Funny how Ross has never had to compromise on what he wants, but somehow everyone else ends up compromising around him.’ She shook her head, as if she was clearing that thought. ‘Anyway, he’s coming for lunch, and then she’ll pick him up afterwards, so that everyone can meet.’

‘Oh, you haven’t met yet?’

‘No, we’ve been avoiding it,’ said Joanna. ‘Did you ever end up meeting her?’

‘Ah no, not formally,’ Andie said with a sheepish grin. ‘She was . . . indisposed at the time.’

‘Oh God,’ Joanna closed her eyes. ‘I’d almost forgotten about that.’

‘I wish I could.’

‘Now, the kids asked me to give you this.’ Joanna swivelled her chair around and picked up a flat box wrapped in Christmas paper from the cabinet behind her. She turned back to hand it to Andie.

‘Oh . . .’ Andie felt a little overcome. ‘They didn’t have to do that.’

‘They wanted to, even Lauren.’

Andie felt tears pricking her eyes as Joanna handed her the gift.

‘Of course Brooke organised it, but Lauren was happy to contribute.’

‘Please, tell them I’m really touched, and grateful,’ Andie said, her voice thick with emotion. She composed herself as she got to her feet. ‘And now I’ll let you get back to it.’

Joanna walked her out to the gate. ‘So what are you doing for Christmas, Andie? Will you spend it with your sister?’

Meredith did do the right thing, and asked her to Christmas lunch, but Andie had seen the relief on her face when she offered her apology – that she was sorry, but she already had a previous invitation. Which was true, in fact she’d had a number of invitations, only she wasn’t going to accept any of them. Donna and Toby had asked her to their various celebrations, desperate to assure her she wouldn’t be tagging along. But as they would be dashing between two sets of parents, as well as another extended family get-together, tagging along was exactly what Andie would be doing if she accepted. So she had politely declined. Jess had also invited her to her family Christmas, but Andie would have felt out of place. It was difficult to explain to her friends; she knew they wanted her to feel welcome, but Andie would have felt more alone knowing this wasn’t her family, that she didn’t really belong. Perhaps she was just being maudlin.

‘I haven’t exactly decided what I’m doing for Christmas yet,’ Andie said to Joanna. ‘Not that I’m short of invitations, you know how people are, they take pity on poor single girls spending Christmas alone.’

Joanna’s expression became serious. ‘You won’t spend it alone though, will you, Andie?’

‘Of course not,’ she assured her.

Though she really didn’t know what she was going to do. If she had the choice, she’d knock herself out for forty-eight hours and wake up when it was all over. She had been counting on work saving her, only to discover that the owner was a deeply religious man who never opened any of his many businesses on Christmas Day. Though some of the staff had suggested it was because he was too tight to pay penalty rates.

Andie slipped off the fluoro vest and removed the hard hat, shaking out her hair. ‘Thanks for everything, Joanna.’

As she walked through the gate, she heard another wolf-whistle.

‘What did I tell you?’ Joanna sang out after her.

Christmas

Andie had set the alarm for eight, which was a bit undignified for any day off, let alone Christmas Day. And last night had been a particularly long and hectic shift. Management made up for not opening on Christmas Day by offering a six-course banquet, which included a gourmet twist on every conceivable festive food that had ever had any association with Christmas.

The staff only stayed back for one quick drink to exchange their Secret Santa gifts; many of them had small children and were going to have to be up again in a few hours, so they weren’t keen to linger. Andie felt tired on the long drive home to Roseville, but even so, she diverted her route and meandered through the neighbouring streets, searching out a little Christmas cheer amongst the gaudy lights that decorated the surrounding houses. But all she seemed to be able to think about was the greenhouse gases that were being spent for the sake of the season. Bah humbug. She felt like Scrooge.

Greenhouse gases aside, when she got home she was glad she’d left the lights on inside the house. Although she had achieved quite a remarkable transformation – if she did say so herself – it was still a bit creepy in the dark. All the more because it was almost empty these days. Andie had been quite bemused by the whole selling process. As part of the contract the real estate agent provided an interior decorating service, complete with rented furniture, curtains, lamps, even vases and cushions as required. The decorator had been quite awestruck by the vintage of the existing furniture – and not in a good way. It didn’t even have kitsch value for the most part, and so, with Meredith’s consent, and in deference to her parents’ Catholic background, Andie had contacted Vinnie’s, and they sent around a truck. She was a little surprised to discover how picky they were. They wouldn’t touch the beds, and they weren’t particularly fussed on the wardrobes either, they took only one. But at least they were happy to take most of the furniture throughout the living areas. Though for some reason Andie wouldn’t let them have the kitchen setting. The decorator had remarked that perhaps a ‘vintage’ store – in the inner west most likely – might be interested in the laminex table and vinyl chairs. But Andie wanted to keep them, she didn’t delve too deeply into the reasons why. She would probably pay to have them stored, along with everything from Brendan’s room, because she couldn’t bear to part with any of that either.

The house had promptly sold before auction, and settlement was slated for the last week in January. The buyers’ children were enrolled in schools in the area, but they were happy to have one last Christmas in their old house. For her part, Andie was glad that a family was moving in, and they seemed very nice, they would make it into a home again. There were two girls and a boy, and Andie had made the mistake of mentioning that there were two girls and a boy in her family also. So of course they started asking questions about how old everyone was now, and what they were doing with their lives, and Andie had to brush over some of the details, she didn’t want to talk about Brendan with these strangers.

At least the prompt sale had meant that Andie didn’t have to worry about doing up the house for Christmas. The decorator had offered to handle it, she seemed quite enthusiastic about the prospect, she probably didn’t get to do many Christmas makeovers. She suggested a huge tree and she showed Andie a whole catalogue of designer bling that she had at her disposal. Andie would have found it all a bit much with only her here.

Her mother had never been big on Christmas. She always displayed a nativity setting on the mantelpiece, and they did have a tree, but it couldn’t have been more than four feet tall; Andie had outgrown it while she was still in primary school. Present-wise her parents favoured the sensible over the silly, function over fun. So they usually received clothes, educational games and books, though Brendan did get a bike when he was ten, and he used to let Andie ride it.

She came down the hall past the empty lounge room. The only things remaining now were her dad’s armchair and the TV, which the decorator had installed up on the wall, making it less imposing. She assured Andie it was a plus, but warned that it would have to be included in the sale, as people expected it nowadays; it became a fixture of the house, like an oven. Andie was only too happy to be relieved of it.

She walked through to the kitchen and her eyes landed on the gift from Ross’s children, where she had placed it next to the small Christmas tree centrepiece – her one concession to festive decorating. She dumped her bag on a chair and crossed to the fridge, taking out a bottle of wine she had opened a couple of nights ago. She never seemed to manage more than one glass when she got home from work, she was always so exhausted it would almost put her to sleep. Andie had reduced everything down to a single cupboard, where she kept a small stash of basic supplies – coffee, sugar, chocolate – and a couple of plates, cups and glasses. She picked up a wineglass and took a seat at the table, poured herself some wine and sat back. She pictured her family sitting around the table. They always had Christmas lunch in the dining room, which was only used for special occasions. But this was where they sat on Christmas morning, and every other morning and evening; their dad at the head, their mother on his right, and Meredith beside her. Brendan sat next to their dad, and opposite their mum, with Andie beside him. Their mother was strict about manners, no elbows on the table, no talking above each other, not much talking at all. Though Brendan usually managed to jolly things along, he always seemed to be able to make their mother smile.

Andie considered the wrapped box. She looked at her watch. It was well after midnight, going on one in fact. She might as well open it now.

‘Merry Christmas, Andie,’ she said out loud, raising her glass and taking a drink. She slid the gift towards her. The card read, ‘To dear Andie, something to help you remember us. Love Brooke, Matty, Lauren and family xxx’

Andie tore back the paper to reveal a flat black box. She opened the lid, and moved back the tissue paper. It was a photo of all three of them, along with James and Emily. The word ‘Family’ was embossed on the frame, below the picture. A sob caught in her throat and Andie started to cry.

She stayed in bed through two snooze cycles of the alarm, not actually snoozing, just reluctant to get out of bed. Then the message beep sounded on her mobile phone and she rolled over to grab it. She turned over onto her back again and held the phone up to read the message. It was from Jess.

Happy xmas beautiful! Wish i was going with u. Have fun. Ur doing a good thing. xJ

Hm. Fun? Andie thought that might be a bit optimistic. She was rostered on to serve Christmas lunch at a homeless shelter in the inner city. Jess had signed up soon after Christmas last year – apparently there were waiting lists for volunteers. It was something she’d always wanted to do, but when her mother got wind of it, she’d nearly had a conniption; it was simply not acceptable to miss Christmas dinner. So Jess had transferred her registration to Andie.

She got out of bed and trudged out to the kitchen to put on the kettle. She spotted the framed photo of the kids propped next to the miniature Christmas tree, and teared up again. It was just as well she had something to occupy her today or it would have been very grim indeed around here. She wasn’t convinced that working in a soup kitchen wasn’t going to prove a little grim as well, but at least she would be around people. And out of this house.

An hour and a half later, Andie was circling the block in Kings Cross, uncomfortably close to Ross’s apartment. It was strange how she didn’t even think of the place as hers any more; maybe because it had never really felt like home to her. She only thought of it when she went to look for something, and realised she’d probably left it behind at the apartment. Jess had told her she’d go with her some time to clear the rest of her stuff out, her share of the kitchen items, linen, that kind of thing. She maintained Andie would need it all when she moved into her own place. But Andie was inclined to leave it; she didn’t really want constant reminders from her life with Ross. She would buy her own things when the time came, start fresh.

She eventually found a park, locked the car and walked the few blocks back to the shelter. She was to present herself at the front desk when she arrived to be assigned a work station. The place was a hive of activity already; Andie had read in the pamphlet Jess had given her that they served over a thousand meals on Christmas Day. Jess had been pre-assigned to cooking duties, naturally, and when Andie explained she was a chef as well, there was no need to change that. She stuck the name tag she was given onto her T-shirt as she walked through into the main area, where row upon row of trestle tables were being assembled. A makeshift commercial kitchen had been set up at one end behind a wall of temporary office dividers. They had asked volunteers to bring their own aprons, as they couldn’t supply them for everyone, and Andie had also brought a chef’s cap to keep her hair out of the way. She got ready in the secure change room provided, stowed her bag away and rejoined the fray. A coordinator directed Andie to the potato-peeling station. Joy. But, she had to remind herself, this was not about her, so she smiled at her compatriots, picked up a potato and began to peel.

‘Your first time?’ asked the man standing on the opposite side of the bench.

‘Does it show?’ she asked.

‘No, we’re first-timers too. I’m Mitchell, my wife, Kirsty,’ he said, cocking his head in the direction of the woman beside him.

‘I’m Andie.’

‘Mandy?’

‘No, Andie. It’s short for Andrea.’

Mitchell and Kirsty’s eyes lit up simultaneously, and they turned to look at each other.

‘Ooh, I like that, what do you think?’ Kirsty asked her husband.

‘Andie’s cute.’ Mitchell looked at Andie. ‘You spell it with an i-e, yeah?’

‘That’s right,’ she said, increasingly bemused by their fascination with her name.

‘We’re expecting our first,’ Kirsty explained, giving her tummy a pat. ‘Not quite four months along, so you can’t really tell yet.’

‘We don’t know what we’re having,’ said Mitchell. ‘We think we’re going to keep it a surprise . . . Not sure yet.’

‘So we have to think about boys’ and girls’ names,’ Kirsty continued. ‘It’s so hard. You want something unique, but not ridiculous.’

‘And we don’t want weird spelling,’ added Mitchell. ‘Then you’re just condemning the kid to a lifetime of having to spell out their name.’

‘It’s a minefield,’ Kirsty nodded.

An hour later the potatoes kept on coming, and Mitchell and Kirsty kept on talking. Andie had been fully briefed on all their parenting dilemmas: birthing styles – to drug or not to drug; slings versus prams; whether to give the baby a dummy . . . They seemed like a lovely couple, if a little earnest. But two people committed to each other, so excited about bringing a baby into the world, Andie couldn’t help feel a little envious. So she was relieved when the coordinator returned.

‘You’re a chef, right?’ she said to Andie.

‘Yes, I am.’

‘We could use you over at the coalface, so to speak. Despite what they say, you can never have too many cooks,’ she smiled.

‘Sure. Nice meeting you,’ she said to Mitchell and Kirsty. ‘All the best with the baby.’

‘Thank you.’

She followed the coordinator to the other end of the kitchen area. A bank of ovens filled the entire wall, and volunteers were lined up at the facing bench, turning vegetables in baking pans or basting joints of meat.

‘The team leader is over this way,’ she said to Andie. They walked up behind a tall man in a chef’s jacket. ‘Brought you more help,’ she said loudly.

He turned around. And Andie’s mouth dropped open.

‘You,’ he said.

‘It’s Andie . . . Chef.’

He considered her for a moment. ‘I told you, it’s Dominic outside of work.’

‘So you two know each other?’ the coordinator said cheerfully. ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

Andie blinked. She didn’t know what to say to that. ‘Well, I think it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?’

‘Did you know I was going to be here?’

Whoa, Andie wasn’t sure if that was fuelled by ego or paranoia. Either way . . .

‘No, I had no idea you were going to be here,’ she assured him. ‘A friend signed me up, or signed herself up, and then she couldn’t make it, and I had nothing better to do.’

‘On Christmas Day?’

He looked as though he found that highly dubious. So what was he doing here? This was a very odd conversation.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Andie replied. ‘But looks like you don’t either.’

Now he looked confused.

‘You don’t have anything better to do on Christmas either?’ she clarified for him.

He shrugged. ‘I do this every year.’ He glanced around. ‘Okay, let’s get on with it then. Over there, vegetables onto baking trays, there should be some tongs around somewhere.’

Andie found tongs and started to load up the trays, trying to decide if this was a good thing or not. It was strange, and certainly unexpected, she knew that much. At least it was a chance to work closely with him, in the same vicinity anyway, prove she was competent and capable and hardworking. As long as she didn’t stuff up. But there was nothing she could stuff up here – baking meat and vegetables did not require a great deal of expertise. But then maybe he’d think that was all she was good for?

Sometimes her powers of negative thinking surprised even her.

Despite her direst predictions, Andie picked up the system almost immediately, and worked quickly and efficiently, without having to be told every second thing. In fact, she ended up supervising some of the less experienced volunteers. She was astounded at the scale of the operation, that somehow, this disparate group of trained and untrained volunteers, most of whom had probably never worked together before, managed to serve up an impressive Christmas lunch to such a huge number of people. And although it was nonstop, it didn’t feel as pressured as working in a regular restaurant, certainly everybody was enjoying themselves a lot more. Even Chef seemed to relax, cracking a smile now and then. It occurred to Andie that he wasn’t bad looking, actually, not bad looking at all. His eyes were quite dark, so they had always seemed a little foreboding, but when he smiled they softened to a warm brown. His whole face softened in fact. She supposed she’d been too intimidated before to notice . . . Then again, he didn’t smile all that often . . . Then again, Andie had not really dwelled on a man’s looks for some time . . . Wait, he wasn’t a man, he was her boss. She shouldn’t be dwelling on anything about him, and certainly not his eyes or his smile.

They were finally left with a line-up of full plates, and no one left to serve, so the coordinator said they should finish up now and have something to eat themselves. They each took a plate of food and picked their way amongst the tables to find an empty seat. Andie was surprised when Chef came up behind her and touched her elbow. ‘Over this way,’ he said.

She allowed him to lead her to a table and he took a seat opposite her.

‘So, no family?’ he said, tucking into his lunch.

‘Pardon?’ said Andie.

He looked up. ‘You don’t have anywhere to go on Christmas, so I’m assuming that means no family.’ He paused, but before she could answer he added, ‘Oh, that’s right, your father died only recently, didn’t he?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s why you have nowhere to go?’

His style of questioning was a bit blunt, for want of another word. Another word like ‘rude’, for example.

Andie squared her shoulders. ‘I have a sister, a niece and a nephew, friends . . . I had invitations, I just preferred to do this.’

He nodded.

‘What about you?’ she asked.

‘What about me?’

‘Do you have any family?’

He was concentrating on his plate, scooping food together with his fork. ‘I told you, I do this every year,’ he said, without looking up.

‘That doesn’t actually answer my question.’

He glanced at her then, with a faint smile. ‘No, I suppose it doesn’t.’

They continued eating, and left the chitchat to other people at the table, who were clearly a lot better at it than they were. But Andie was intrigued now. What was Mr Gerou’s story anyway? That name was French, she assumed, and he could pass for French, or European anyway, with his dark hair and eyes. But there was that trace of an English accent . . . Maybe he’d been educated in England? Maybe all his family were in Europe and he didn’t have anyone in Australia? He said he volunteered here every year. Didn’t he even have any friends?

When Andie was almost finished her meal, more volunteers started bringing around plum pudding and custard.

‘Oh, should we be getting back to the kitchen?’ Andie asked.

Dominic shook his head. ‘There’ll be a whole new team in there taking care of dessert,’ he explained.

Andie got to her feet. ‘Well, I couldn’t fit pudding in anyway. I’ll go see if I can help.’

‘You know, you don’t have to stay,’ Dominic said to her. ‘Fresh volunteers arrive every couple of hours. They’ll be starting the clean-up soon.’

Andie shrugged. ‘I read in the pamphlets that the clean-up is the biggest part. Can’t hurt to have another pair of hands.’

He was gazing up at her with a bemused expression, Andie detected perhaps even a tiny hint of approval in his eyes. Good. She made her way back through the tables to the kitchen area, but it was at capacity. Dessert was under control, and a small army had already started cleaning the baking trays and pans and utensils. Andie looked around. She noticed people weaving in and around the tables collecting rubbish into garbage bags, and so she approached one of the coordinators and asked where she could find the bags. Clearing up was easy, and she wasn’t that tired, no more tired than after a shift at the restaurant. But there was something very uplifting about this. Andie was glad she’d done it; chalk one up for new experiences.

She didn’t come across Dominic again for the next hour or so, he seemed to be staying put in the kitchen to help with the clean-up there; something he certainly never had to do at Viande. Andie enjoyed wandering around the tables, the guests who remained were in good spirits, and so full of gratitude, Andie found it humbling.

Finally the original coordinator approached Andie. ‘Hey, you’ve been at it all day,’ she said. ‘We don’t want to wear you out. You should feel free to go any time.’

The place really was starting to empty; perhaps the organisers appreciated some time together to debrief at the end of the day. Andie didn’t want to outstay her welcome, so she dumped the last full garbage bag into a skip bin at the rear of the building, and went back inside to the change room. She took off her apron and pulled the cap from her head, shaking out her hair, before gathering up her things and walking out the door, and almost straight into Dominic Gerou.

‘I was looking for you,’ he said, taking a step back. ‘I thought you must have already gone.’

‘No, just leaving now.’

‘Is there somewhere you have to be?’ he asked.

‘Oh, no . . . um, they said I should go, there was nothing much left to do.’ She slipped her bag off her shoulder. ‘Why, do you need some help?’

He was shaking his head. ‘No, that’s not why I was asking. I’m finishing up now as well.’

Andie nodded, waiting.

He took a breath. ‘I was thinking, if you didn’t have to be anywhere . . .’ He seemed oddly nervous. ‘Well, maybe you’d like to get a drink? You know, for Christmas.’

That was quite possibly the last thing Andie had expected him to say. ‘Um . . .’ she hesitated.

‘Never mind, it’s been a long day.’ Now he looked embarrassed.

‘No, no, it’s fine,’ she said quickly. ‘Sure, why not? Let’s go for a drink.’

He seemed relieved now, and there was the hint of a smile in his eyes. ‘Good then. Give me a minute to clean up, and I’ll meet you out front.’

‘Okay.’

Andie stood waiting on the footpath outside the main entrance. Why did she say yes? This was going to be excruciating. Going out for a drink with Chef . . . Dominic . . . Chef . . . She groaned. If she didn’t even feel comfortable calling him by his name, how was she going to sit across a table from him for half an hour . . . though it would probably be longer, wouldn’t it? More like an hour. And how would she excuse herself politely? He was her boss, she couldn’t just say to him, well, I’ve had enough of you, time to go. Not that she’d say it like that of course, she wasn’t that stupid, but however she put it, he was going to know that’s what she was thinking. It would be like when you got stuck talking to someone you didn’t know at a party, and you ended up having to make some excuse, like getting a drink or going to the loo, when it was quite obvious that you’d exhausted the conversation and you really just wanted to move on.

She sighed inwardly. What was wrong with her? Where was her confidence? It was just that she hadn’t dated in a long time . . .

Hold on, she was getting way ahead of herself here. This wasn’t a date. Why did that term even come into her head? Chef . . . Dominic . . . he was a colleague. All right, normally he was her boss, but today they had been coworkers, and they were simply going out for a friendly drink after work. This should be no more awkward or strange than staffy’s on a Sunday night.

Yeah, right.

‘Andie?’

She looked up. He was standing right in front of her, waving his hand in her face. Oh God, what an idiot, she must have been a million miles away.

‘You were a million miles away,’ he said.

As she suspected.

‘Sorry,’ said Andie, with an apologetic smile. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Yes.’ He’d discarded his chef’s jacket and was wearing an open shirt over a T-shirt and jeans. Okay, that helped, he looked like a regular person.

‘Do you know anywhere around here?’ he asked.

Andie shrugged. ‘I wonder if anything’ll even be open on Christmas Day?’ She also wondered if her tone was giving away that she hoped there wouldn’t be.

‘Oh, there’s sure to be something open up in the Cross,’ he said.

Dandy.

They walked in the direction of the main drag making very small talk, minute talk, in fact. He was really not an easy person to talk to. Maybe his position made it difficult for him to fraternise . . . Oh, why did that particular term have to come to mind?

Anyway, he was the one who had extended the invitation, he was only trying to be friendly, so Andie really needed to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’d relax over a drink, let his guard down a little. She might even get to know Dominic the man, rather than the chef. Then she might even manage to actually call him Dominic without breaking into a sweat.

He led the way to a bar off William Street. Andie was relieved when they walked in. It was small, but not so small as to feel intimate; quiet, but not so quiet they would have to huddle and speak in hushed tones; there were enough people to mask any potential awkwardness, but not so many that it was crowded. It was just right. Andie was beginning to feel like Goldilocks.

And now she was thinking of bears. Dangerous predatory bears, not cute ones you cuddled in bed.

And now she was thinking of cuddling in bed. She really had to stop thinking.

Dominic went to get the drinks and Andie grabbed a table smack in the middle of the place, well-lit and right out in the open. She watched Dominic at the bar. He wasn’t bear-like at all; he was tall, but slim, not skinny. Andie wasn’t keen on skinny men. Though what that had to do with the price of fish . . . Sometimes she wished she could just stop the voice in her head from prattling on. It always got worse when she was nervous. He was heading towards the table now with their drinks, thank God, Andie was in dire need of some Dutch courage. She snatched up her glass as soon as he set it down, taking a healthy gulp. Dominic looked a little disconcerted. She probably should have waited for him to sit, raise their glasses. Oh well, faux pas the first, the way she was going it was unlikely to be the last.

She glanced at his drink, a long glass of soda and something. ‘So, vodka drinker?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I’m guessing it’s vodka in that soda,’ she explained. ‘It doesn’t agree with me so much these days, I tend to stick to wine. But vodka and I had some very good times together, back in my twenties —’

‘It’s just a club soda,’ he said, his expression clouding over.

‘Oh, you’re not having a drink?’ she stammered.

‘I am, it just doesn’t have any alcohol in it,’ he said. ‘I have to drive home.’

Andie wondered if her face had gone red; she decided it must have, because his next question was, ‘Are you driving?’

She swallowed. ‘Yes, but I’ll only have this one.’

Yeesh, he looked so . . . disapproving.

‘We could go for coffee, if you’d rather?’ she offered.

‘No, we’re here now,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you won’t be over the limit after one glass of wine.’

It sounded like he was trying to reassure himself. At least she had an excuse now to call it a night after one drink. Captain Temperance here would obviously be more than okay with that.

‘So . . .’ she said, desperately searching for something to say to lighten the mood. And fill in the silence. Why did the man ask her for a drink when he didn’t want to drink, and he didn’t even seem to have much to say? Why did everything about this have to be weird and uncomfortable?

‘How are you enjoying working at the restaurant?’ Dominic asked.

‘Very much.’ Andie was relieved. Work should be a safe topic. ‘Everyone’s so nice, and helpful.’

He nodded. ‘You’re doing well, Tang and Cosmo both have good things to say about you.’

‘Oh, that’s nice.’

Couldn’t she think of another word than ‘nice’? Hold on, what was that he just said? They reported to him about her? He was interested?

‘They’re both such great guys,’ said Andie.

Great guys? She sounded like a teenage girl. They were her superiors, her mentors, they were professionals, not ‘great guys’. Well, they were great guys, but . . . Why wasn’t he saying anything? Because he thought she was a twit probably. God, this was some kind of endurance test. Andie took another gulp of her wine. Keep talking about work, say something intelligent, or at least sensible . . . even fawning would do.

‘I haven’t had a chance to thank you,’ she said.

‘That isn’t necessary,’ said Dominic. ‘I was only concerned you were all right, that he wasn’t bothering you.’

What was he talking about? ‘No one’s bothering me,’ she assured him. ‘Like I said, everyone’s been great.’

‘Oh . . .’ He looked slightly thrown. ‘What were you thanking me for?’

‘For the second chance,’ she explained. ‘For giving me another trial.’

‘Of course,’ he nodded.

‘What did you think I was talking about?’

He shrugged. ‘Nothing, it doesn’t matter.’ He picked up his glass and took a drink. ‘It’s none of my business anyway.’

Then it hit Andie. He thought she was referring to the scene in the carpark with Ross.

‘Oh, of course, I do want to thank you for that as well,’ she said. ‘You know, what happened, that night, with my husband . . . my ex-husband.’

‘It isn’t necessary, really,’ he said, staring down at the table again.

This strain between them was such a . . . a strain. Andie didn’t think she could take much more of this. She decided to be more upfront.

‘No,’ she said firmly, ‘I think it is necessary. I should apologise for bringing my private life to work like that.’

He met her gaze then. ‘You didn’t bring it, it seemed to me it came looking for you.’

‘Hm,’ she nodded. ‘Ross, my ex, well, he’s not my ex yet . . .’

‘Oh?’

‘Only a matter of time,’ she dismissed. ‘It’s in the hands of the lawyers as we speak. Well, probably not as we speak, it is Christmas Day after all.’

She smiled, but he didn’t. She probably shouldn’t make jokes about a pending divorce. Another faux pas. Andie wondered if he was keeping count.

‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘the thing is, Ross showed up that night because he was upset I’d been to a lawyer. He’d been hoping it wouldn’t come to that.’

‘It’s really none of my business,’ said Dominic.

Fine.

‘So you’re the one ending it?’ he asked.

And now it was his business.

‘In a manner of speaking,’ said Andie. ‘I’m ending it because he had an affair. Is still having an affair, as far as I know.’

He looked faintly embarrassed. Too much information for him? God, she had no idea what to do with this conversation.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said finally.

‘What for?’ Andie wasn’t following him.

He hesitated. ‘Well . . . for your loss, I suppose,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure how to put it.’

‘Oh, thanks.’

‘Were you happy?’ he asked.

‘I thought we were.’

‘No, I asked if you were happy.’

She looked at him. ‘Sure. I thought we’d be together forever.’

‘So you have no idea why he decided to have an affair?’

She shrugged. ‘Why does any man?’

‘Or woman. I don’t think it’s gender-exclusive.’

‘Still, I think men may have the jump on it, statistically,’ Andie said wryly.

‘Not any more. Statistically, women are catching up.’

What? Did he make a study of this?

‘So you really don’t know why your husband had an affair?’ said Dominic, returning to his original question.

‘No, I don’t,’ she said tightly. She didn’t like his tone. ‘What are you implying?’

He looked abashed. ‘Nothing, it’s none of my business.’

No, it wasn’t.

‘Only, I was wondering what you think about the theory that an affair is only likely to happen in a marriage that’s already troubled?’

She glared at him. ‘What exactly are you trying to say?’

‘Nothing, really,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it.’

‘You think it was my fault somehow?’

‘No —’

‘Look, you can say whatever you like to me at work where you’re the boss,’ said Andie, flustered. ‘But I don’t think you have the right to ask me out for a drink and then . . . insult me.’

‘That wasn’t my intention, I assure you,’ he said.

She felt like sculling the rest of her wine, but she wouldn’t give him any more ammunition against her. So she took a sedate sip and pushed her glass aside, standing up.

‘I have to go, thanks for the drink,’ she said, picking up her bag and heading for the exit. She felt rattled, and embarrassed. Why would he jump to the conclusion that there was something wrong with her marriage? And why did that bother her?

He caught up to her at the door and held it open as she strode out past him.

‘Andie, wait,’ he said, stepping out onto the footpath.

She turned around, but fixed her gaze down the street, away from him. He didn’t say anything, so after a while Andie stole a glance at him. He was just standing there looking bewildered.

‘Look, I really do have to go,’ she said.

He stirred. ‘Can I walk you to your car?’

‘No, I’ll be fine.’ She could not figure him out. ‘Thanks again for the drink.’ She turned on her heel and started down the street, in the opposite direction they had come from. She’d have to retrace her steps later, but that was preferable to spending any more time in his company. What an arrogant, opinionated prig he’d turned out to be . . . wait, he’d always been.

When she finally made it back to her car, Andie took out her phone and texted Jess to see where she was. She didn’t want to go home to the empty house and sit there stewing about this, which she knew she would. She was hoping things might have wrapped up for Jess and they could meet for a drink.

Her phone eventually beeped in response, and she picked it up off the passenger seat to read the message.

Still @ mums! Come rescue me!

Jess had apparently been drinking since late morning, so she was in no state to drive herself home, and she had Buckley’s of getting a cab, deep in suburban Concord on Christmas Day. It was looking like she was going to have to stay the night, so Andie’s message came at the right time. Jess gave her strict instructions not to enter the premises, as she may never make it out again. Andie was worried that might seem rude, but Jess reassured her that no one would even notice, that she should just prank her phone when she arrived, and Jess would come out.

‘So how was your day?’ asked Andie as they drove away down the street.

‘Oh, the usual, too much food, way too much Christmas cheer. I’m all familied out,’ she groaned, throwing her head back. ‘Who invented families, honestly? We should all be born in pods, like in that movie . . . with that guy . . . oh, you know the one, he has absolutely no expression, his face is a blank.’

‘The Matrix,’ said Andie.

‘Yeah, but what’s his name again?’

‘Keanu Reeves.’

‘That’s it.’ She seemed relieved. ‘So what were we talking about?’

Andie glanced at her with a smile. ‘I have no idea.’

Jess smiled back. ‘So, tell me, how did it go at the shelter?’

‘It was great, really,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad I did it, thanks for giving me the push.’

‘Pleasure,’ she slurred.

‘A funny thing happened, though.’

‘Oh?’

‘Guess who showed up there today?’

‘Not Ross!’ Jess exclaimed, sitting bolt upright.

‘No,’ Andie scoffed. ‘As if Ross would set foot in a place like that. No, it was my boss, Dominic Gerou.’

‘Seriously?’

Andie nodded.

‘What was he doing there? Not looking for a feed, I hope?’

That made her laugh. ‘No, he was volunteering as well. Apparently he’s been doing it for years.’

‘Hm . . . small world,’ Jess murmured sleepily.

Andie was beginning to wonder if she’d have company tonight after all. ‘Where do you want to go, Jess?’

‘Oh, just home,’ she said. ‘I have all those leftovers Mum gave me. We’ll be all set.’

Andie couldn’t get much out of Jess for the rest of the drive back to her flat, she dozed most of the way. Maybe she would have to go home by herself after all, it was no less depressing an option than bunking down at Jess’s place if she was only going to crash as soon as they got there. But Andie couldn’t help feeling disappointed. She wanted to talk to Jess about what happened today. She knew exactly what she’d say – that Dominic was an arrogant wanker and she should just ignore him – but Andie needed to hear her say it. Fortunately, Jess seemed to get a second wind from the car to her flat, and once inside she buzzed around the tiny kitchen, putting out leftovers and opening wine.

‘So, you know how I was telling you that my boss was there today?’ Andie began.

‘Yep.’

‘Well, he asked me out for a drink afterwards.’

Jess turned to look at her. ‘He asked you out? And you didn’t go?’

‘No, I did go.’

‘Then how are you here now?’

‘We only had one drink. I didn’t even finish mine,’ said Andie.

‘Why, what happened?’

‘He’s just so arrogant,’ she said, feeling her hackles rise again.

‘He’s a chef,’ Jess shrugged, like that was a given.

‘He asked me out for a drink, and then all he did was lecture me.’

‘About your job?’

‘No, no, that’s all fine.’ Though how she was going to face him at work again, she had no idea. ‘We got to talking about my marriage break-up . . . breakdown . . . ups and downs.’

Jess frowned as she passed Andie a glass of wine. ‘What on earth made you go into that murky territory?’

‘I was thanking him for the way he stepped in when Ross showed up at work that night.’

‘What the hell?’ Jess looked shocked.

‘Didn’t I tell you about that?’

‘Tell me about what?’

‘It’s not a big deal,’ Andie dismissed. ‘It was a few weeks ago now. Ross waited in the carpark after work to talk to me, because I hadn’t been answering his calls. Anyway, Dominic happened to come out of the restaurant just as Ross was getting a little . . . worked up.’

‘What was he doing?’ Jess’s voice rose along with her heightened imagination.

‘Nothing, honestly. I thought I told you all this?’

‘No,’ she said airily, ‘you never tell me anything any more.’

Andie ignored that. ‘Back to today . . .’

‘So you’re really not going to tell me what happened with Ross?’

‘It’s not important. In fact, I haven’t even seen him since then —’ It was true, she realised as she said it. He’d finally got the hint and backed off – for good, Andie hoped. ‘It’s all in the hands of the lawyers now.’

‘Well, that’s something,’ said Jess. She picked up her glass and a platter of food and walked into the living area. ‘So what about this Dominic?’ she said, sitting down on the sofa. ‘You two are on first name basis now?’

‘Not really,’ said Andie, taking a seat next to her. ‘He started asking me all these intrusive questions, and next thing he’s implying that I must have done something to make Ross go off and have an affair.’

Jess blinked. ‘He actually said that?’

‘Yes.’ Kind of. Something like that. That was the inference anyway. Wasn’t it? God, she didn’t even know any more.

‘What a prick,’ said Jess. ‘He doesn’t even know you.’

‘I know, right?’

‘Where does he get off?’

‘Exactly.’ Andie felt so much better already. She gulped down half her glass of wine, at least Jess wouldn’t have a dig at her drinking habits. Clearly Dominic Gerou had issues left and right. Andie didn’t have any issues, she knew exactly what had destroyed her marriage. Her husband had an affair. That was that. Dominic obviously empathised more with Ross because he was a man. He’d probably dumped a string of women with the same excuse – that there was something wrong with the relationship. Piffle. Jess was right. ‘Arrogant prick,’ she said out loud.

‘You didn’t say that to him?’ Jess looked worried.

‘No,’ she chided. ‘I said something like, he didn’t have the right to insult me, and I walked out.’

‘On your boss?’

Andie’s heart dropped. ‘Oh shit.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Jess. ‘He can’t do anything to you – it was outside of work.’

‘You think?’

‘You didn’t abuse him or anything?’

Andie thought about it. ‘No, definitely not. I thanked him for the drink and left.’

‘You’ll be okay then.’

Andie sighed, resting her chin in her hand. ‘You know, during the day I actually thought I might have made a good impression on him.’

‘Obviously, if he asked you out,’ said Jess.

‘He didn’t ask me out out,’ said Andie. ‘It was just end-of-the-day, coworker-type drinks.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes,’ she said uncertainly. ‘I don’t know, how can you tell?’

‘You’ve been out of the game a long time, haven’t you?’ Jess smiled.

‘No, I’m sure this wasn’t anything,’ Andie decided. ‘He’s not like that. He doesn’t even hang around at work for staffy’s.’

‘Yet this was only a friendly coworker drink with you?’ Jess raised an eyebrow.

‘It had to be,’ she insisted. ‘Think about it, if he was coming on to me, he had a funny way of showing it. Throwing insults at me about my marriage failing.’

‘Hm . . . that is weird,’ Jess mused. ‘Anyway, it’s just as well, fraternising with the boss is never a good idea.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t be doing that again in a hurry.’

‘Though, I have been meaning to say,’ Jess went on, ‘you really should be thinking about getting back on the horse, Andie.’

She rolled her eyes and leaned her head back against the sofa.

‘I’m serious,’ said Jess. ‘Put it off and it’s only going to get harder. When’s the last time you had sex?’

Andie frowned. ‘When’s the last time you had sex?’

‘About two weeks ago.’

‘Oh, well, it’s longer than that.’

‘It’s months, isn’t it?’ said Jess. ‘You know, if you were a guy, you’d have gone out and picked up someone the very next weekend, if not the next night, to salve your ego.’

‘Well, I’m not a guy.’

‘You still have needs. You said so yourself.’

‘The ink isn’t even dry on my divorce papers, Jess . . . Come to think of it, the divorce papers haven’t even been printed yet. I’m just not ready.’

‘So you’re not over Ross?’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Andie!’ Jess exclaimed.

‘I’m only being honest,’ she returned. ‘I’m not pining for him, I have no intention of going back to him. But I guess on some level I must still love him. Feelings don’t go away overnight, they need time to fade.’

‘Hm, like a rash.’ Jess grunted. ‘Surely there must be a cream for that?’

Andie snorted a laugh. ‘Yeah, vanishing cream, perhaps?’

‘What was vanishing cream anyway?’ said Jess. ‘You never hear of it any more. I wish it was still around, I could use it on my nether regions instead of boiling wax.’

Andie winced. ‘So you went through with it?’

‘No,’ she sighed. ‘You two made me feel like I’d be betraying the sisterhood if I did. But when I’m still single in the nursing home, I’ll be cursing you.’

Andie considered her. ‘I didn’t think you were that bothered about being single.’

Jess shrugged. ‘I don’t know, maybe I’m getting a bit old for one-nighters, or the one-nighters are getting a bit old.’

‘Are you telling me you want to settle down?’ Andie was almost shocked.

‘I’m never going to be bored, or old, or crazy enough to get married,’ she declared. ‘But you know, it wouldn’t be so bad to have a regular guy, someone you could hang out with on a wet afternoon and watch a DVD, someone you could actually have a conversation with . . . someone just . . . nice.’

‘Isn’t that what gay friends are for?’ said Andie.

‘Yeah, but they don’t like to have sex with girls.’

‘Like I always say, you can’t have it all.’

Boxing Day

Andie slept pretty soundly on Jess’s fold-out, but she woke earlier than she would have preferred on a day off, the street noises around here being somewhat more intrusive than in quiet suburban Roseville. She only had a mild hangover, nothing that a good hot breakfast wouldn’t fix, so she went to check out the refrigerator. Not only was it brimming with leftovers from Christmas, there were also eggs and onions and herbs and good cheese – you could always find decent basics in a chef’s fridge. When Jess finally emerged, Andie had almost finished cooking a ham and cheese frittata, with a hash she’d made from leftover baked potatoes. Together they made short work of it. It was warming up outside, and they briefly mused about going to the beach, until they remembered that Boxing Day was probably the most popular beach day of the year, and the crowds would be horrendous. Andie decided she better just head back to the house.

‘It’s a good chance to get some more packing done,’ she told Jess. ‘I still have a couple of boxes of stuff I haven’t been through yet.’

‘I guess it’s an appropriate way to spend Boxing Day,’ Jess quipped.

When Andie arrived home and got out of the car, it was really getting quite steamy, but because the house had been shut up since the day before, it was relatively cool inside. She had a quick shower and changed out of the clothes she’d been wearing since yesterday, before dragging the boxes out of the wardrobe. These were the last ones from amongst her mother’s things. She sat down cross-legged on the floor and opened the first, lifting out an old concertina-style file. She flicked through the alphabetised sections, they appeared to be full of old bills, receipts, guarantees. She knew the solicitor had the deed for the house and all her father’s financial documents, Andie was pretty sure these were just household records. The whole thing could probably go straight into the recycling, but what if there was something relevant, instructions or a valid warranty, for example? She really didn’t feel like sorting through it all now, so she decided she’d hold on to it for a couple of months after the new owners had moved in, and if no issues surfaced, she’d toss the lot then. There was another file in the bottom of the box, an old manila folder marked ‘Certificates’, tied with a thin, faded ribbon. Andie lifted it out and laid it on the floor in front of her. She untied the ribbon and opened the folder.

Her heart lurched. On top was an envelope marked ‘Death Certificate’. Andie gingerly picked it up, only to reveal another, identical envelope underneath. Oh God, one must be her mother’s, the other had to be Brendan’s. Andie held them both, just staring at them, her hands trembling. There was no need to open them or look at them, it would only make her sad. She held them close to her chest as her gaze landed on the next document on the pile, titled ‘Coroner’s Report’. It wasn’t in an envelope, it was just lying there, barefaced. Phrases jumped out at her before she could block them . . . compound fracture to the skull . . . death – instant . . . Andie turned away, quickly placing the envelopes aside and the report face-down on top of them. She hoped it wasn’t all going to be this depressing. She looked back to the pile, relieved to see their certificates of confirmation and first communion next, printed on pages featuring quaint pictures of angels and the Virgin Mary and Jesus – the anglicised version, with fair hair and blue eyes, in flowing, luminous robes, children clustered around him, all blue-eyed and rosy-cheeked. They looked like characters in an Enid Blyton book, dressed up for a nativity play perhaps, Andie smiled to herself. Their baptismal certificates followed, less colourfully adorned, and finally copies of their official birth certificates.

The last few documents were her parents’ original birth certificates, and their marriage certificate. Andie picked it up and read the florid script. They were married at the Church of the Holy Redeemer, on the twelfth day of September, nineteen hundred and . . .

That couldn’t be right. Meredith was going to be forty next year, in just a few months, the maths was pretty straightforward. Andie sifted back through the documents and found Meredith’s birth certificate, checking the year of birth against the date of her parents’ wedding. Unless the Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages had made a mistake, Meredith was born six months after they were married.

Why had they never mentioned it? Andie wondered if Meredith knew, and decided she probably didn’t. Her mother had clearly kept it a secret from everyone all these years, like a hidden shame. Andie only ever remembered seeing one photo from their wedding, a very long time ago, when she was just a girl, it was certainly never put out on display. Her mother had worn quite a severe grey suit, and Andie had asked her why she didn’t wear a real bride’s dress. She said it would have been a waste of money, because you could never wear it again. Andie remembered being perplexed about all the other brides she had seen in proper wedding dresses that would never be worn again, and wondering whatever happened to them.

If her mother was pregnant she certainly wouldn’t have been able to wear the grey suit for much longer either. Andie leaned back against the wardrobe behind her. She believed her parents loved each other, she wanted to believe that, though she supposed she hadn’t witnessed much affection between them. There was respect; she couldn’t recall her mother ever criticising her husband, and she never heard her father say a bad word about his wife. But if they hadn’t really loved each other, if they’d married because they had no choice . . . well, that was just too sad to contemplate.

Her dad had seemed to get joy out of all his children, but Andie was sure Brendan was the only one who brought her mother any joy. She was perennially worried about her daughters, always so insistent that they had to make more of their lives, so she never let her guard down around them, at least not around Andie anyway. She and Meredith seemed to understand each other, speak the same language. And she was entirely different with Brendan; she must have felt she didn’t have to worry about him, he was going to be a man in what she still considered was a man’s world. He would be all right. No wonder she was so destroyed by his death.

Andie stirred after a while, glancing over at the other box. She wasn’t so sure she felt like uncovering any more family history, but she might as well get it over with. She dragged the box closer and opened it. Lying on top was a large dark blue photo album. Andie opened the cover. On the facing page, in her mother’s own hand, was neatly written ‘Brendan Patrick Lonergan’, followed underneath by his date of birth, at St Margaret’s Hospital, Darlinghurst. She turned the page, and there were his hospital records, his newborn photo, and his ankle and wrist identification bands, all glued neatly into place. This was Brendan’s baby book. Andie had never seen it before, she was surprised her mother had even kept such a thing, she wasn’t a sentimental sort at all. Though she was different with Brendan, her beloved son. Perhaps she had worked on this after he died, as a memorial to him, but surely Andie would have noticed, she was with her most of the time throughout her last year.

She lifted the album onto her lap and flipped through the pages. He was such an adorable baby, and then toddler, always grinning mischievously at the camera. All his milestones were recorded faithfully, and once he was at school, his class photos and yearly reports were interspersed with paintings and handwritten stories, tests with impressive scores. The photos and reports continued all the way to Year 12; the last photo taken at his formal. He wore a plain black dinner suit, but with a lime green tie, braces and shoes – he’d had to get them specially dyed, Andie remembered. There were more pages, but they were blank. Brendan had died the following year, so there were no graduation photos or anything else. She wondered if he’d ever seen this album, but she doubted it, he would have told her.

Andie closed the cover and hugged it to her chest, thinking of Brendan in those crazy green shoes. Their mother had pleaded with him to reconsider, but of course in the end he’d cajoled her into going along with what he wanted, as usual. Andie looked down at the album in her arms, she was so relieved she hadn’t decided to turf all the boxes without going through them.

She lay it gently on the floor next to her, and leaned forward to lift the next album out of the box. As Andie opened the cover she drew her breath in sharply. Her own details were recorded on the first page, just like Brendan’s. Her heart beat faster as she turned page after page; the same meticulous care had been taken recording her milestones, preserving her childhood paintings and stories, handmade Mother’s Day cards, school reports, photos. Andie was overcome and tears filled her eyes. Why had her mother never shown her this? Did she plan that they would only be found after her death? But why? What a shame not to share these with her children. Then it occurred to Andie, maybe she hadn’t done them for her children at all, maybe she’d done them for herself. Perhaps her own regrets and disappointments faded when she looked at the lives and achievements of the children she had borne. Andie hoped she had felt proud, that creating these albums had given her some of the joy that seemed to be missing from her life.

There was one more album at the bottom of the box, and it was Meredith’s. Andie quickly flicked through the pages; it was the same as the others, except at the end there was a photo of Meredith graduating from university. At least her mother had been around to see one of her daughters achieve that.

Andie went back through the certificates and separated out Meredith’s, slipping them between the pages of her album. She’d pass it on to her next time she saw her. She sorted her and Brendan’s certificates and put them inside their respective albums. She didn’t think Meredith would mind if she held on to Brendan’s, so long as someone did. Andie considered her parents’ papers, wondering what to do with them. She didn’t want to tell Meredith; her parents had kept it a secret, perhaps from some misplaced sense of shame, but Andie would respect their intent. Besides, what would it achieve telling Meredith? It was the kind of thing that was likely to upset her, so there was nothing to be gained from it. Finally Andie slipped the documents into the back of her own album, and then she packed it back into one of the boxes, along with Brendan’s album, and the concertina file. She sealed the box with tape, and wrote ‘To Be Kept’ across the top, in thick, black marker.

Viande

Andie fronted up for work the day after Boxing Day, feeling sad, and sentimental, but also a sense of peace as well. Her perspective had been radically altered, though she had to admit, largely for the better. She knew one thing for certain – a life shaped by regrets was half a life, if that. Her mother had a solid marriage, and children she obviously loved, but she wouldn’t allow herself to get much joy out of any of it. Andie’s marriage had failed, and she didn’t see herself having a baby now, but she just couldn’t let those regrets define her forever. She was lucky enough to find herself in her dream career, and she wasn’t going to waste a minute of the opportunity. Even though it wasn’t the career her mother had envisaged for her, Andie hoped it would still have made her proud.

So she was keen to get out of the house and back to work – though she was not so keen when she remembered she’d have to face Dominic . . . Chef . . . bloody hell, it was just going to be awkward and uncomfortable, or worse.

It had been stupid to have anything to do with her boss outside of work; this job was too important. Andie should have just said a polite no in the first place – better to have risked offending his ego ever so slightly than to have this hanging over her. With anyone else, working at the shelter together would have been a bonding experience, but the best Andie could hope for was that things would be as they were before, and they would have very little to do with each other.

As it turned out, she didn’t lay eyes on him the entire first shift back at work, Cosmo and Tang ran both the lunch and dinner services. She wondered if Chef was sick, or had gone away . . . or maybe it was something more serious? He couldn’t have left outright without there being some sort of announcement, surely?

When he hadn’t appeared by halfway through the shift again the following day, Andie decided to ask Tang at her first opportunity. But she had to get the wording right, she didn’t want it to seem like she was asking after Dominic, as such.

‘So you and Cosmo have had a promotion?’ she said to Tang when he came by to collect the vegetables for garnish. ‘You’re running the place now.’

He smiled at her. ‘It’s only temporary. Chef’s having a week off.’

There. Mystery solved. For the most part. Was it a holiday? Was he visiting family? Was he unwell? Was it any of her business?

Andie put it out of her mind and got on with her week, relieved she had been given a reprieve for now. The restaurant was open on New Year’s Eve, and she was more than happy to spend it working . . . and thus avoid the whole dilemma about what to do on New Year’s Eve. It had always been a romantic night for her and Ross. They didn’t get invited to many parties in the beginning, as a new couple they didn’t really fit in with old groups of friends. So they made it a special night for just the two of them. They had watched the fireworks from a suite overlooking Sydney Harbour, relaxed in a luxurious spa retreat in Byron Bay, they had even flown to New York one year. But even the years they spent at home were special; they had each other, they didn’t need to be at a big party with lots of people. Though that was exactly what they had done last year, as it turned out. Ross accepted an invitation to some swanky corporate soirée, and though Andie objected, he said it might be fun for a change. It wasn’t, Andie had never been so bored in her life. She kept hinting at Ross to leave and he’d say ‘Soon’, but they didn’t end up getting home until nearly 3 am. It had been her worst New Year’s Eve ever, and she had no intention of topping it this year.

Working was by far the best antidote for whatever emotions threatened to surface on the night, especially as they were flat chat the whole time. They only had one sitting for dinner, serving a special degustation menu which carried the diners through to midnight. Andie was given more responsibility, with some of the regular staff on leave; she even got to actually help assemble the amuse-bouche – tiny butter puff pastries topped with a single, perfect scallop poached in white wine with lemon and dill. It was as close to plating up as Andie had ever been, and she couldn’t believe the thrill it gave her. She worked on New Year’s Day as well; again the restaurant only offered one sitting, at lunch, but it was a huge seafood-based feast this time. Chef was still away, and Andie had put the whole thing to the back of her mind, she was so immersed in her work. So she was startled when he turned up on the second day of January – literally startled, because she bumped right into him as she was carrying a large rack of bread across the kitchen.

‘Hello, Andie,’ he said, with a slight bow of his head.

‘Chef,’ she nodded. ‘You’re back.’

‘I am.’

They stood for a moment longer, in awkward silence, till Andie finally excused herself. ‘I best get on with it.’

‘Of course.’ He moved out of her way. ‘Andie,’ he called after her.

She looked back.

‘Happy New Year.’

She felt her face go hot. ‘Same to you, Chef.’

At least he didn’t seem angry or pissed at her. Maybe all her worrying had been for nothing, and he was going to pretend it had never happened? That suited Andie just fine.

At the end of the shift, she was cleaning her work station after most of the staff had gone for the night. Andie tended to be one of the last to leave; she took her time, she was never in much of a hurry to get back to the house. She heard someone clearing his throat behind her and she looked around. Dominic was standing at the end of the bench, watching her.

‘Oh, you gave me a start,’ she said, her heart pounding.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to.’

‘Is there something you need?’

He hesitated. ‘Could I speak with you for a moment, Andie? I won’t hold you up long.’

‘Okay.’ What was this about? She had a bad feeling.

‘Do you mind?’ he said, indicating the doors to the restaurant. ‘We can talk in there.’

‘Sure.’ He walked ahead, and Andie followed him. Bugger, was he going to give her the sack or something? Because he felt awkward around her now? That hardly seemed fair. She hadn’t done anything wrong; she had as much right to volunteer at the shelter as he did, and he was the one who had asked her to go for a drink anyway, and he was the one who had started asking personal questions, and making outrageous assumptions. So she had walked out. All right, maybe that was a bit of an overreaction on her part, maybe he hadn’t said anything all that outrageous. But she’d taken her leave politely, and he wasn’t bloody royalty. How could that be a sackable offence?

It didn’t have to be. When you were employed on a contract basis, a boss only had to take a dislike to you, or decide he felt awkward around you, or that he just didn’t like the cut of your jib for whatever arbitrary reason, and he was under no obligation to renew your contract the next time around. Right now Chef could say she wasn’t working out, and as her contract was up in a couple of months, maybe she should start looking around . . . There was no use fighting it, or she’d never get a job anywhere else. He had all the power, Andie had none. She was best to take it gracefully and hope he’d at least give her a reasonable reference.

She followed him into the main room of the restaurant. The tables were stripped, the chairs stacked on top of them, ready for the cleaners in the morning. She waited as he turned over a couple of chairs and set them down on the floor, then indicated for her to take a seat. Andie felt vaguely nauseous as she stepped forward and sat down.

‘Can I get you a drink, or anything?’ he asked.

She looked up at him. ‘Look, Chef, if you’re going to fire me, I’d rather you just cut to the chase.’

‘I’m sorry?’ he said, as though he wasn’t following her. It was clearly an act. ‘I’m not going to fire you.’

‘Yeah, okay, you can’t actually fire me,’ she said. ‘But you’re letting me know you’re not going to renew my contract, right? And you’re going to suggest I start looking around for alternatives. It’s the same difference.’ So much for taking it gracefully.

‘Andie, I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he said. ‘Your position here is perfectly safe.’

She was instantly relieved, and then instantly confused. ‘Then what’s this about?’

He breathed out. ‘May I sit?’

Why was he asking her? She nodded.

He sat down opposite her. Andie would have preferred to have the table between them, some kind of barrier, but he’d placed the chairs at the end of the table, facing each other.

‘What this is about . . .’ Dominic began hesitantly. He seemed nervous again, like when he asked her for a drink. And that made Andie nervous.

‘I wanted to apologise,’ he said finally, ‘for the other day, after the Christmas lunch. For the things I said.’

She hadn’t seen that coming. ‘There’s no need to apologise.’

‘Yes there is,’ he said. ‘I upset you, not that I meant to, I was only trying to make conversation.’ He paused, he seemed to be thinking about what to say next. ‘I’m not very good at this. It’s been a long time for me.’

What has? Making conversation?

‘When you showed up at the shelter like that, out of the blue, well, it felt like an opportunity was presenting itself . . .’

What was he talking about?

‘Sometimes you think these things are meant to be, but I don’t know. I don’t know if I even believe in fate.’ He became lost in thought for a moment. ‘But anyhow, I stuffed it up entirely,’ he went on. ‘I don’t have to tell you that, you were there. I offended you somehow, and that was the last thing I intended. And, so . . . well, I’d like to make it up to you.’

What?

‘You don’t have to do that,’ Andie said, feeling uneasy.

‘But I want to,’ he said quickly. ‘What I mean is, what I’m asking is . . . I’d like to know . . . if you would like to go out . . . sometime?’

Her throat went dry. ‘What?’ she croaked. ‘You want to go out . . . with me?’

‘Yes,’ he said quietly.

Andie would have been less surprised if he had sacked her. ‘Why?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Why do you want to go out with me?’

He looked perplexed. ‘I’m not sure what you’re asking.’

‘It’s not that difficult,’ she said. ‘You don’t seem to like me very much. You hardly know me. I don’t understand why you want to go out with me. If it’s just to make up for upsetting me —’

‘No, it’s not just that,’ he assured her.

But then he didn’t offer anything else.

‘Well, I don’t get it,’ said Andie, folding her arms.

He stared down at his hands for a moment, clasping and unclasping them. Finally he looked up at her. ‘I’m sorry you think that I don’t like you,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve given you that impression. I said I’m not very good at this.’

‘That doesn’t answer my question,’ she muttered.

‘I’m attracted to you,’ he said bluntly.

Andie just stared at him.

‘You’re a very attractive woman, Andie. I can’t be the first man to have told you that.’

She sighed. ‘No, you’re not,’ she said, her heart sinking. ‘And if you’re trying to flatter me, sorry, but it’s not going to work.’ She got to her feet. ‘I didn’t do anything to look like this, it’s not an achievement, and it hasn’t done me any favours. I seem to “attract” men who want some kind of trophy, and they get bored with me eventually and dump me . . . sometimes they even break my heart.’ She swallowed. ‘So if attraction is all you’ve got, it’s not enough. Thanks anyway.’

She started for the door.

‘Andie, wait,’ said Dominic. ‘Please.’

She stopped, but she didn’t turn around. She felt embarrassed, and self-conscious, and, weirdly, a vague feeling of disappointment.

‘When you first showed up at the restaurant,’ he said, ‘I thought you were a pretty face and not much more, it’s true. Especially the way you ran out that night. But you surprised me when you came back. And you’ve kept surprising me ever since, by how hard you work, how determined you’ve been. I noticed, I know I don’t mix much with the staff, but I noticed. And then you turned up at the shelter, and you surprised me again.’ He took a breath. ‘I think there’s a lot more to you than just a pretty face, and I would like the chance to get to know you better.’ There was a long pause. ‘Andie,’ he said, ‘please turn around.’

She did as he asked, slowly turning to face him again, though she couldn’t actually look at him.

‘Do you remember when you asked me for a second chance?’ he went on. ‘You said you weren’t prepared the first time. It was the same for me. I wasn’t prepared when you turned up at the shelter, and I screwed up. So now I’m asking you for a second chance.’

Andie stood there, trying to breathe normally, while her heart nearly pummelled its way out of her rib cage. He was asking her out on a date? Was this for real?

‘Is this for real?’ she said out loud.

He dropped his gaze for a moment, before looking up at her again. ‘I’m sorry, Andie, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, or put you on the spot. You can go.’

‘It’s just, you’re my boss, you know?’

‘I know. It’s okay, please, feel free to go.’

Oh God, he was misunderstanding her, and he looked so crestfallen.

‘I’m not saying no, I didn’t say no, did I?’ she blurted.

He looked confused now.

‘I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all,’ she stammered, her heart racing. ‘After the other day, why would I?’

‘I understand,’ he said. ‘And I apologise —’

‘Stop. You didn’t do anything wrong, I was being sensitive —’

‘No, it was my fault —’

‘You don’t have to keep apologising,’ she interrupted him finally, catching her breath. ‘Just give a girl a minute to catch up.’

Andie detected the beginnings of a smile on his face, and something stirred inside her. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘if you could see yourself when you smile, you’d smile a lot more often.’

His eyebrows lifted slightly, and now he looked at once embarrassed, coy, even a little vulnerable. Andie began to think there might be a lot more to Dominic Gerou than the arrogant chef persona he wore so well.

‘What are you thinking?’ he asked after a while.

This may turn out to be the stupidest thing she’d ever done. Jess would probably freak. But suddenly Andie couldn’t help herself. How had he put it before?

‘I’m thinking that an opportunity has presented itself . . .’

He smiled then, a proper smile. And that sealed it.

‘See, that’s not so hard, is it?’

January 4

They had settled on Monday night, their only night off, which meant they had to get through a whole shift on Sunday first. Andie wasn’t worried about being fired any more, now she was only worried about where Dominic was at any given time, if he was watching her, what he was thinking. He smiled at her more in one shift than she had seen him smile the whole time she’d been working there.

He had said he’d noticed her, a lot; that meant all those times she’d thought he was watching her, he probably was. Andie vacillated between feeling flattered and feeling self-conscious, but mostly she just wondered why she had said yes. She had been beating herself up for even accepting to have a drink with him, and now she was going on a proper, not-to-be-mistaken-for-anything-else, real live date? And since when had she decided to date anyone again, let alone her boss? It was too soon, for one thing. Wasn’t it? Not that it was serious, not that it was actually anything yet. She had far more important priorities to attend to – like finding her own place and establishing her career – before she even thought about starting a new relationship.

But who said anything about a ‘relationship’? It was definitely too soon for that. She would be crazy to even contemplate it. She needed time and space to get over the last one – the last one being a ten-year-long marriage that she had thought would last forever. This was only a date, it might turn into a few dates, or it might go nowhere. She really needed to chill out. That’s what Jess would say, if Andie told her. But Andie hadn’t told her because she knew Jess would have a problem with the whole ‘fraternising’ with the boss thing. She would also remind Andie that she’d thought he was an arrogant prick, only a week ago. That was true, this date could turn into an unmitigated disaster of unparalleled awkwardness, given their track record so far. Their track record being one drink, which is where Andie really should have let things lie, if she had any brains . . . But instead she’d been swayed by all his talk about how he noticed her, how she kept surprising him . . . how he wanted to get to know her better . . . the way he smiled . . .

‘Are you all right, Andie?’

She stirred, Cosmo was watching her across the table. Somehow she had made it through the shift today, on autopilot she suspected, and she was getting ready to go home when she noticed everyone was gathering for staffy’s. She’d forgotten it was Sunday.

She took a gulp of her drink. ‘Sure, I’m fine thanks, Cosmo. Everything’s fine.’

He nodded. ‘You seemed a little distracted today.’

Andie’s eyes grew wide. ‘I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?’

‘No, of course not,’ he assured her. ‘I think you could do most of your regular tasks on autopilot now.’

Just as well.

‘You really stepped up over New Year’s,’ he went on. ‘I was impressed. In fact, it’s getting time we moved you up. I’ll have a talk to Chef.’

‘Don’t do that,’ she blurted.

Cosmo was taken aback. ‘Why, what’s wrong?’

She starts dating the boss and suddenly gets a promotion, that’s what’s wrong!

‘I just don’t think I’m ready,’ said Andie. ‘It’s too soon, isn’t it?’

‘Why do you say that?’

She hesitated. ‘Because it is . . . isn’t it?’

Cosmo shook his head. ‘I’ve known chefs who have trained for years, but they don’t have that . . . that something.’

‘What something?’

He was thinking about it. ‘It’s like the secret ingredient that lifts a dish from the everyday to something special.’ He looked at her. ‘That’s what you have, Andie.’

‘I do?’ she blinked. She had a secret ingredient? ‘Can you tell me what it is?’

Cosmo smiled at her. ‘You need to trust your own instincts. You know what you’re doing, start believing it.’

Cosmo’s words were still jangling in her head when Andie woke this morning, D-day. She was actually feeling a little sick . . . Sick enough to cancel? she wondered. Probably not, seeing as she was only feeling sick at the thought of this date. Notwithstanding all the other issues – and there were enough of them – she just hadn’t been on a date in so long, more than a decade in fact, as long as she’d been with Ross. And look how that had turned out.

What the hell was the matter with her? She was ten years older, and wiser – she hoped – and Dominic was a mature man . . . who was probably around the same age as Ross when she met him, it just occurred to Andie. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that . . . but then she remembered she was not a naive twentysomething any more, and besides, Dominic was not Ross . . . and besides besides, this was just a date! She really had to stop overthinking it.

She had to ring Jess, she needed someone to knock some sense into her. She picked up her mobile and dialled Jess’s number, but it went straight to message bank. So she said, ‘Call me when you get this,’ and hung up. Damn.

Now she had no choice but to get out of bed. She was making herself a cup of tea when her mobile rang. She was relieved to see it was Jess calling back.

‘What’s wrong?’ Jess said breathlessly as soon as she picked up. ‘What’s happened? Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ Andie reassured her.

‘My God, you sounded so grim in your voice message.’

‘Did I?’

‘Yeah, I’ve put the “Back in five” sign up and locked the door.’

‘Of course, you’re at the shop today,’ said Andie. ‘I forgot, I’m sorry.’

‘Forgot you had a shop?’ Jess said wryly.

‘I know, I really need to come in, very soon.’

‘Well, what are you doing today? It’s your day off, isn’t it?’

Andie sighed. ‘That’s what I was calling about. I have a date.’

‘Whoo! So you’re taking my advice, getting right back in the saddle. Good for you.’

‘No, you don’t understand, it’s not good.’

‘Why not?’

‘Don’t freak . . .’

‘You’re not going out with Ross, are you?’

‘No!’ she insisted. ‘Jess, would you stop always thinking everything is about Ross. I promise you, he’s out of my life.’

‘Okay. So what’s the problem then?’

Andie took a deep breath. ‘The date is with Dominic Gerou.’ She winced, waiting for her reaction.

‘Hold on, I’m confused,’ Jess said, her voice surprisingly calm. ‘That wouldn’t be Dominic Gerou, the same guy you said was an arrogant wanker? The same guy who happens to be your boss.’

‘All right, I get it, you’re going with sarcasm.’

‘Are you nuts?’

‘Probably.’

‘How did this happen? When did he ask you? Why did you say yes? Tell me everything.’

Andie sat down at the kitchen table, jiggling the tea bag in her cup. ‘I haven’t even seen him since Christmas, he’s been off work. He was back Saturday, and he approached me at the end of the shift.’

‘Sounds keen.’

‘Hm. Anyway, he said he was sorry about the other time, he never intended to offend me, and he’d like another chance.’

‘Yikes, now that sounds serious.’

She groaned. ‘What am I going to do?’

‘Do you like him at all? Even a little bit? Does he do anything for you?’

Andie was flummoxed. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

‘Well, you are going on a date with him.’

‘But the issue is not whether I’m attracted to him.’

‘Then what is the issue?’

‘That he’s my boss!’

She heard Jess sigh. ‘Okay, granted, it’s probably not the smartest idea to date your boss, but you’re not working in some government department where it’s against regulations, and you’re not a twenty-year-old intern where he’s the CEO of the company. This is not exactly unethical, Andie. In this industry, if you don’t date people you work with, you don’t date.’

‘But it’s still a minefield,’ she said. ‘What if he asks me out again?’

‘Why don’t you wait and see how this one goes first?’

‘No,’ Andie said decisively. ‘I really don’t think I should take it any further after tonight.’

‘Then, if that’s how you really feel, you’ll just have to tell him.’

‘How am I supposed to do that?’ she protested. ‘If I go out with him, it’s uncomfortable, if I don’t go out with him, it’s going to be uncomfortable. I’m damned either way.’

‘Okay . . .’ Jess said slowly, thinking about it. ‘Then what you have to do is totally kill the attraction.’

Andie frowned. ‘How do I do that?’

‘Play it cool, act bored, be boring, or be outright offensive – swear a lot. Do you think he’s the type who’d be turned off by that? A lot of guys are, even if they’ve got mouths like sewers themselves.’

‘I don’t know . . .’ Andie said vaguely.

‘What about his politics, do you know which way he votes? If he’s to the right, act like a leftie green wingnut, if he’s to the left, start complaining about boat people and say you don’t believe in climate change.’

‘Jess, don’t you think that’s all a bit extreme?’

‘Maybe, but if you play it right, he won’t ask you out again.’

‘And he probably won’t renew my contract either. He’ll think I’m a crackpot.’

Jess groaned. ‘Then stop stressing. You’re only going on a date, do you know how many dates I’ve been on that have never gone anywhere? That would be most of them. So go, have a nice time. On the bright side, you might even get laid.’

‘Oh, don’t even say that.’

‘Do you good.’

As if things weren’t already complicated enough. ‘I still think it’s too soon,’ said Andie. ‘I was married to Ross for ten years. I can’t just hop into bed with the first guy that comes along.’

‘Ross did . . . not with a guy, but you know what I’m saying.’

‘Yes, and you think he’s a bastard.’

‘That’s totally different,’ said Jess. ‘But hey, there’s your way out – honesty. Just tell this Dominic that it’s too soon. He’ll probably run a mile once he realises you’re fresh out of a marriage break-up.’

‘He already knows, remember, we talked about it over drinks.’

‘He is keen then.’

Now Andie groaned.

‘You know Andie, there are worse things than having a guy keen on you.’

‘Not when he’s your boss,’ she said glumly.

‘Look, tell me the truth, did you only say yes because you felt pressured?’ Jess asked her.

‘No,’ she sighed, ‘he didn’t pressure me, he gave me the chance to bow out gracefully.’

‘Then why did you say yes?’

Andie thought about it. There was his smile, but that would just sound lame. ‘I suppose it was what he said – that I keep surprising him, that he thinks there’s a lot more to me than just a pretty face, and he’d like the chance to get to know me better. He said he screwed up, and he asked me if I’d give him a second chance.’

‘Sounds like a bit of thought went into all that,’ Jess mused.

Andie released a loud sigh.

‘Do me a favour, Andie, and stop thinking so much. Just go out and enjoy yourself. It’s a date, you’re not going in front of a firing squad.’

‘Okay, you’re right.’

‘Yes, I am,’ she said firmly. ‘Now, enough of this, what are you going to wear?’

‘Oh God, I haven’t even thought about that.’

She hung up and went to investigate her wardrobe. Most of her ‘date’ clothes must still be back at the apartment she discovered. She had plenty of clothes for everyday wear or working at the shop, and that was about it. So she made a mad dash to the nearest shopping mall, but once she got there, she had no idea what she was looking for. Dominic had suggested dinner, but that was no help – anything from semi-formal to jeans and a nice top might be acceptable, depending on where they were going. Things were very loose these days, not like in her mother’s era when there were rules about what you wore where and when. There was something to be said for all that at a time like this.

Andie went in search of a coffee shop, she needed caffeine to help her think. It was no use calling Jess again, she didn’t know where they were going either. There was only one person who could tell her that. She and Dominic had exchanged mobile numbers the other night – which had felt significant in itself – so she took out her phone and scrolled to find his number. She sat contemplating it as she sipped her coffee. Should she really call him to ask him what to wear? Would it sound ridiculous? Would it be better than looking ridiculous later? She conjured up a mental picture of Dominic in jeans, and her in a formal dress, or her in jeans and him in a suit. She pictured his face. Andie held her breath and pressed Call.

He picked up after a few rings. ‘Hello, Andie?’ He sounded tentative.

‘Hi.’

‘Is everything all right for tonight?’ he asked.

‘Yes and no. Please don’t think I’m silly, but I don’t know what to wear.’

Andie heard a loud sigh, and then he started to laugh.

‘Don’t laugh at me.’

‘I’m not, I’m laughing out of relief. I thought you were calling to cancel.’

He was relieved . . . He was worried she might cancel . . . that was actually quite sweet.

Hold on . . . exactly how much stock was he putting into this date?

‘Casual is fine,’ he was saying. ‘Or, actually, you can wear whatever you like, if you want to get more dressed up, I’ll —’

‘I’m happy with casual,’ she interrupted him.

‘Okay. So I’ll see you at seven?’

‘Are you sure you still want to come all the way over here?’

He had insisted the other night that he would pick her up, even after she told him where she was living. It was quite an act of chivalry, her mother would have been impressed. Then again, Andie wondered later if he was just worried about her drinking and driving.

‘It’s already settled,’ he said. ‘See you at seven.’

‘Okay.’

Andie glanced at the clock again; it was almost seven, only a minute or two away. She had been ready for forty-five minutes, and that was after several complete changes of hairstyle and one full makeup reapplication. So at a quarter past six she found herself pacing the kitchen floor, wearing the most expensive pair of jeans she had ever owned in her life, and a much more moderately priced top, and dying for a glass of wine to calm her mounting nerves. But she worried Dominic might be able to smell it on her breath, not that she was assuming he was going to get that close, but alcohol was more noticeable on someone else when you hadn’t been drinking yourself. Then she had a debate with herself for ten minutes about what was the problem anyway, and just because he obviously had a thing about drinking and driving didn’t mean he was anti-alcohol altogether – he was head chef at a licensed restaurant for godsakes – and so finally she had that glass of wine and then spent another ten minutes brushing her teeth and rinsing her mouth and applying more perfume so she didn’t smell like a toothpaste factory.

Why was she putting herself through this? Dressing up, worrying about her breath, going on a date with her boss . . . Going on a date, full stop.

Finally there was a knock at the door.

It was Dominic, not surprisingly. He was wearing jeans and a dark collared shirt . . . Okay, why was it that he seemed to be getting better looking every time she saw him? What was that about? Was her mind playing tricks on her?

‘Hi,’ he smiled at her. ‘You look . . . just right.’

Like Goldilocks.

Despite Andie’s trepidation, the conversation flowed throughout the drive over the bridge and beyond. Dominic asked her lots of questions about where she grew up, went to school, that kind of thing, with none of the intrusive tone of Christmas Day – giving her the cue to ask similar questions of him, questions that didn’t require information about past relationships or anything else potentially touchy. And so they made it all the way to Bondi without any obvious awkwardness; faux pas count – nil.

Before the road took them down to the beachfront, Dominic pulled over at a small shopping centre, right in front of a restaurant that appeared to be closed. Andie peered out through the car window at the name on the door – Elliot’s. She’d heard of this place, it had created quite a buzz. They didn’t take bookings, and had people queuing around the block on weekends. There was no queue tonight, and the building was in darkness. Maybe this was just a convenient parking spot, and they were going somewhere further along. Dominic was already walking around to the passenger side, and he held the door open as Andie stepped out onto the kerb. She looked further up the block, but it seemed very quiet. It was a Monday night after all, not exactly a big night for dining out.

‘So, here we are,’ Dominic announced, turning to face the restaurant.

‘It doesn’t look like it’s open,’ said Andie.

He gave her a smile. ‘It isn’t, at least not to the general public.’

He led her around to the side of the building where a light shone above an alcove and another entrance. Dominic knocked loudly on the door, and Andie heard a muffled call from inside. Presently the door burst open.

‘It’s about bloody time,’ declared the man who appeared in the doorway.

‘What are you talking about? It’s just on seven-thirty now,’ Dominic protested, glancing at his watch.

‘I’m saying it’s about bloody time you finally bothered to make an appearance at my restaurant,’ he said, with a friendly thump on Dominic’s shoulder, to which Dominic responded with a shove, and which finally morphed into a man-hug with the whole mandatory backslapping thing.

Look at that . . . Dominic had a mate?

His friend turned to Andie. ‘And you are a bonus, my dear,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘To whom do I owe the pleasure?’

‘Andie Lonergan,’ said Dominic, ‘I would like to introduce my very charming, and oldest friend in the world, Elliot Mason.’

Andie shook his hand. ‘It’s great to meet you, Elliot,’ she said. ‘I’ve heard wonderful things about this place.’

‘Why thank you, and for that I’ll even let you inside.’

They bypassed the restaurant proper and followed Elliot into the brightly lit kitchen.

‘My, my,’ he said, smiling at Andie. ‘I can see why you’ve waited so long, Dom, you were obviously holding out for someone perfect.’

Andie felt herself blushing, and she didn’t know where to look.

‘Happy now?’ said Dominic. ‘You’ve embarrassed my date.’

‘Sorry, Andie,’ said Elliot. ‘I’ve always been a sucker for a beautiful woman. You didn’t tell me how beautiful, Dom.’

‘Oh, I hadn’t really noticed.’

Andie smiled at that.

‘But speaking of beautiful women, how are Sally and Ava?’

‘Exceptional,’ Elliot replied. ‘Sal wants to know when you’re coming to visit your goddaughter, before she grows so much you won’t recognise her.’

Dominic turned to Andie. ‘Sally is Elliot’s wife, she’s far too good for him, but thankfully their baby girl, Ava, takes entirely after her mother.’

‘You have a baby?’ Andie cooed.

‘That’s code for “you want to see a photo” right?’ said Elliot, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He flipped it open and passed it to Andie.

She gazed at the picture of the blonde blue-eyed infant. ‘Oh my God, she’s so gorgeous.’

‘Told you, she takes after her mother.’

‘You’ll keep,’ Elliot said to Dominic.

‘I feel bad that you’re here cooking for us on your night off,’ said Andie. ‘You should be home with your wife and baby.’

‘I had the day with them,’ he assured her, ‘and this boofhead hasn’t set foot in my restaurant yet so I had to get him here while I had the chance. But Sal said next time you’ll both have to come to our place for dinner.’

Andie glanced sideways at Dominic. What did he think about all this talk of ‘next time’ and cosy dinners with other couples? He seemed unfazed.

‘So what are you going to feed us tonight?’ he was asking Elliot.

‘Well, I hope you don’t mind, Andie, I was planning to experiment a little,’ he said. ‘It’s too good an opportunity with him here, I have to make the most of it.’

‘When you say experiment . . .’ Dominic said warily.

Elliot launched into a rapturous account of the milk-fed venison he had lately sourced, the cheek of which he planned to gently poach in a stock made from its own marrow, and serve with a crème fraîche blended with Jerusalem artichokes on a bed of truffle soil.

Andie was speechless.

‘You enjoyed that, did you, El?’ said Dominic. ‘Little joke at my expense?’

Now Andie was confused.

‘What are you really cooking?’ Dominic persisted.

‘Paella . . . with my own inimitable twist, of course.’

‘That’s more like it,’ said Dominic.

‘So there’s no milk-fed venison cheek?’ asked Andie.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Elliot, ‘we shouldn’t be having private jokes.’

‘You see, Andie,’ Dominic explained, ‘Elliot favours a rustic style of cooking —’

‘Good, honest, time-honoured recipes using real food,’ he broke in. ‘Whereas Dom is into food as art, the kitchen as laboratory . . .’

‘I’m not into it,’ Dominic defended. ‘It’s what people expect at the top end of fine dining.’

‘If we’re going to have this argument again, I better get us drinks first.’

‘I’m driving,’ said Dominic. ‘I’ll wait for dinner.’

‘Then I hope you’ll have a drink with me, Andie?’ said Elliot. ‘Why didn’t you guys just come by cab?’

‘That’s my fault,’ said Andie. ‘I live miles away, up in Roseville, though I hope not for much longer.’

‘White, red, bubbles?’ Elliot asked her, standing in front of the glass-fronted refrigerator.

‘You choose, I’ll drink anything,’ said Andie, before she could stop herself. ‘Anything in moderation, of course,’ she added lamely.

‘Anything it is, then,’ said Elliot, grabbing a bottle of white wine. ‘So why do you hope you won’t be in Roseville for much longer?’

Andie explained the situation in brief, her father dying, and the house needing to be sold, while neatly sidestepping any mention of her marriage collapsing.

‘So now I have a few weeks to find somewhere to live,’ she said.

‘That doesn’t give you much time,’ said Elliot, passing her a glass of wine.

‘I know, but there wasn’t any point looking over Christmas, especially around here.’

‘You want to move over this way?’

Andie nodded, taking a sip of her wine. ‘This is lovely, thank you.’

‘I might have a lead for you,’ said Elliot. ‘Right here in Bondi.’

‘Seriously?’ said Andie.

‘Yeah, one of the young guys working here, he wants to move in with his girlfriend. Her flatmate just left, and she can’t afford the place on her own, but he can’t break his lease. So they’re stuck paying for both places, and she’s going to have to get someone in to share again.’

‘Why doesn’t she just move in with him?’

‘Place is too small.’ Then Elliot winced. ‘Ah, sorry, I should have said, it’s only a studio.’

‘No, that’s perfect,’ Andie exclaimed. ‘That’s exactly what I was looking for.’

‘Serendipity,’ he declared. ‘Well, I can’t promise anything, but last I heard he was putting the word out for someone to take over his lease. Give me your number before you leave tonight, I’ll see what’s going on tomorrow and get back to you.’

‘That’d be so great, Elliot. Thank you.’

He smiled. ‘I aim to please.’

‘Do you aim to start cooking any time soon?’ asked Dominic.

‘If you get off your lazy arse and give me a hand.’

‘Can I do anything?’ Andie asked.

‘No, you sit, relax,’ said Elliot. ‘Traditionally paella is made by men, on a Sunday, to give the women a day off from cooking.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ said Andie.

‘It’s really peasant food,’ Elliot was saying. ‘They used to cook it up in a big paella pan – the paellera – over an open fire outside, and they’d put in anything they had on hand, or that they’d caught in the fields. Originally it included chicken, rabbit, ground snails, even field rats.’

‘Oh God, what are you planning to put in it?’ Dominic looked suspicious.

Elliot grinned. ‘Don’t worry, I haven’t been catching rats out in the back alley. Whenever paella is made by the sea, it includes seafood, so as we are by the sea, this paella will have prawns.’

‘Not mussels? Aren’t they traditional?’ said Dominic. ‘I remember having paella with mussels in Spain.’

‘I’m not as fussed on mussels,’ said Elliot. ‘I mean they look great in the dish, but then you’ve got to make a mess pulling them apart. Really, the three most important elements are the broth, the rice, which has to be calasparra, and the saffron. If you get them right, you can bung in anything you like. So along with these fantastic tiger prawns, I’m also going to add chorizo, and – wait to be impressed, Dom – jamón ibérico de bellota.’

‘Okay, I’m impressed.’

‘I’d like to be impressed too,’ said Andie, feeling like they were speaking in a foreign language. Which they were, come to think of it.

‘It’s Spanish ham,’ Dominic explained. ‘Arguably the best in the world.’

‘But that’s not all, Andie,’ said Elliot. ‘It only comes from black Iberian pigs that range free in the oak forests on the border of Spain and Portugal, and for the final period before slaughter they are fed solely on acorns.’

Andie frowned. ‘Okay, so this is another one of your private jokes?’

They both laughed. ‘No,’ Elliot assured her. ‘Although I know it sounds like something wanky that’d be served in Dom’s kitchen, just wait until you taste it.’

Andie sat back, sipping her wine and watching the two men cook, as they riffed off each other, bouncing insults and one-liners with the synchronicity that came only after years of friendship.

‘Now, the final secret of a good paella is the layer of toasted rice at the bottom of the pan,’ said Elliot. ‘At the end of cooking, you place the pan over a high flame and listen for the rice toasting. Once the aroma wafts upwards, remove it from the heat,’ he said, lifting the pan and setting it down on the bench. He covered it with a tea towel. ‘The towel will absorb the remaining broth, and it’ll be ready to eat in about five minutes.’

He placed it on the centre of the chef’s table and passed around bowls so they could dish up themselves.

‘I’d like to serve it like this in the restaurant,’ said Elliot. ‘To have parties of four or even six order it for the table. I don’t know if it’ll work.’

‘This is so good,’ Andie said, savouring her first forkful.

‘What’d I tell you?’ said Elliot. ‘This is real, unadulterated —’

‘You can’t say it’s unadulterated,’ Dominic scoffed. ‘It has been cooked, it’s what separates us from the animals.’

‘But, Andie,’ Elliot appealed to her, ‘isn’t this better than eating some indistinguishable, tortured piece of something or other, placed on the plate like a work of sculpture rather than a meal?’

‘If you’re referring to Dominic’s food, I’m the wrong person to ask, because I think it’s extraordinary,’ said Andie.

‘Ha, good choice of word – “extra-ordinary”. Out of this world. Like sci-fi, or postmodern art.’

‘So what if it’s like art?’ she said. ‘The best art fills the senses, excites, makes you see things in a different way.’

Dominic nudged Elliot. ‘What she said.’

‘All due respect, I don’t know that I agree,’ said Elliot. ‘I reckon fine dining has become more like those fashion shows. Regular people wouldn’t be seen dead in what they parade on the catwalk, in fact, most of it’s unwearable.’

‘Maybe,’ said Andie, ‘but surely there’s room for both – food that nurtures and satisfies and feels comforting and familiar. And food that pushes the boundaries, and offers an experience that simpler food can never achieve?’

Elliot looked at Dominic. ‘She’s very diplomatic.’

Andie smiled. ‘So how do you two know each other?’ she asked.

‘I had the misfortune of meeting Elliot at high school,’ said Dominic.

‘What are you talking about?’ he retorted. ‘You only survived high school because of me.’

‘That’s true actually.’

‘He was such a nancy boy,’ said Elliot, ‘straight off the boat from England. If not for me he would have been beaten up on a daily basis.’

‘Really?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ Dominic admitted. ‘I had to pay him protection money.’

‘No,’ said Andie, ‘I mean, you immigrated from England when you were in high school?’ So that really was an accent, he wasn’t just being pompous. ‘Were you one of those Ten Pound Poms?’

‘How old do you think I am?’ he objected.

But Elliot just laughed. ‘Can you imagine if your old man heard that? That’d make his aristocratic blood boil.’

‘Gerou doesn’t sound very English?’ Andie asked, curious.

‘It isn’t,’ said Dominic. ‘It’s my mother’s name, actually. An odd blend of French and Greek, of all things, but a long way back.’

‘He was still Dominic Chamberlain when I first met him,’ said Elliot.

‘Why did you change it?’

He hesitated. ‘My father and I didn’t see eye to eye on much back then. So in a fit of youthful petulance, I dropped his name for my mother’s. Just to piss him off, really.’

He couldn’t just leave that hanging in the air. To Andie’s surprise, he didn’t.

‘My father was a QC,’ Dominic went on. ‘I was expected to follow the same path. So I took law at university, but I wasn’t very good at it, so I dropped out.’

‘You hated it,’ said Elliot.

‘But I wasn’t doing well.’

‘Because you hated it,’ he repeated.

‘Did you always want to be a chef?’ Andie asked Dominic.

Elliot laughed at that. ‘He needed a job once he got kicked out of home.’

‘They didn’t kick me out,’ Dominic chided. ‘My father just gave me some ultimatums that I chose not to meet.’

‘Now who’s being diplomatic,’ Elliot muttered.

‘It’s the truth. Besides, they were going back to England, and I wanted to stay . . .’

‘I was an apprentice chef at the time,’ Elliot explained, ‘and Dom was sleeping on my couch. I got him a job as a kitchenhand so at least he could pay for his own food.’

‘That’s how you got started?’

Dominic nodded, with a faint, almost sheepish smile.

Andie was amazed. He was not some elite, cordon bleu career chef, he was almost an accidental chef. ‘So then you fell in love with it?’

Dominic and Elliot exchanged a glance.

‘It was a job,’ Dominic shrugged, ‘no better or worse than anything else I could have got at the time. I needed to support myself.’

‘He worked really hard,’ Elliot broke in. ‘Never complained, did every shitty job that was given to him, which was impressive for a boy with blue blood running through his veins. My boss ended up putting him on as an apprentice, and the rest,’ he said grandly, ‘as they say, is history.’

‘Thank you for a wonderful meal, I had such a great time,’ said Andie as Elliot saw them out the side door.

They agreed to finally call it a night when they noticed it was past eleven. They all had to work tomorrow, and Dominic had to do the round trip across the bridge and back to take Andie home.

‘Thank you for getting this guy to finally come to my restaurant,’ said Elliot.

‘It had nothing to do with me.’

‘Oh, I think it might have,’ he said cryptically, giving Dominic a thump on the arm. ‘So, Sal will give you a call, Dom, we’ll make a night at our place. I’ll look forward to seeing you again then, Andie.’

He stood in the doorway as they walked down the side of the building towards the street where the car was parked.

‘And I’ll be in touch about that apartment,’ he called after them.

‘Thank you, I appreciate it.’

‘He’s great,’ Andie said after they drove away.

Dominic nodded. ‘I thought you’d like him. He’s been a good friend to me, the best.’

‘I could see that.’

He glanced at her. ‘I hope you didn’t mind sharing the date with him?’

‘No, of course not.’

Sharing the date with Elliot in fact had been a revelation. Dominic was the most relaxed she’d ever seen him, and she was certain she wouldn’t have learned so much about his background if Elliot hadn’t been there, goading him along and filling in the gaps. It was so different to the Christmas lunch where he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer a straight question. Now she knew a lot more about him, and she found herself wanting to know even more.

‘Do you mind if I ask you a question?’ she said as they joined the expressway that would take them to the bridge.

He glanced at her. ‘Go ahead.’

‘Do you have a problem with drinking?’

Now he turned his head fully to look at her.

Andie winced. ‘Sorry, that sounded like I was asking if you’re a problem drinker.’

‘I don’t have a problem with drinking,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Though I think this country might have a problem with drinking. It seems that if you’re moderate, you’re immediately suspect.’

‘I’m sorry, you’re right. I shouldn’t have brought it up.’

‘It’s okay,’ he said kindly. ‘I don’t mind telling you that in my deep dark past, I made some stupid mistakes that I’m lucky to have lived through. Nowadays I just don’t like that feeling of being out of control, I suppose it brings back too many bad memories, those that I can remember, at least.’

‘You have a deep dark past?’ Andie raised an eyebrow.

He gave her a cryptic smile. ‘Did I say that?’

When he pulled up outside her house, he jumped out of the car so quickly he was opening the door for her before she’d picked up her handbag. Andie wondered if he was hoping to be invited inside, but he seemed too . . . reserved, or gentlemanly, or something, to be expecting to bed her at the first opportunity. Whatever Jess had to say about getting laid, it really would complicate things. Because he was her boss. Andie decided she was going to have to say something. He was standing holding the door now, offering her his hand. Andie took it as she stepped out of the car, but as soon as she was on her own two feet, he released her hand again.

‘I had a really nice time tonight, Dominic,’ she said.

‘Me too.’ He had that nervous look about him again; maybe he was the kind of guy who wanted to jump into bed on the first date?

‘So, I was wondering . . . well —’

‘I would ask you in,’ Andie said quickly, ‘but it’s my parents’ house and —’

‘No, no.’ He looked almost shocked. ‘I wasn’t suggesting, I wouldn’t suggest . . .’

‘Okay,’ said Andie.

‘I was only wondering if you would like to do this again,’ he said. ‘Go out, again . . . sometime.’

She hesitated. ‘Oh.’

He was watching her. ‘I see. I’m sorry, I thought it was going well.’

‘No, it is,’ she assured him. ‘I really did have a nice time.’

‘But?’ he prompted.

Just say it. ‘You’re my boss, Dominic. I still feel uncomfortable about this.’

He nodded. ‘I don’t want to make light of your feelings, Andie, but I just don’t think it’s an issue. You got the job through your own persistence and determination, and you’ve earned it on your own merits. Keeping it isn’t reliant on you making nice with the boss.’

Andie was thinking. ‘All right. But what if you decide, well, that you don’t want to see me any more, or I don’t want to see you, or it just ends . . . for whatever reason. We work together, it’d be awkward.’

‘Well, then you would have to leave.’

Her eyes widened, but he was smiling down at her.

‘I’m kidding,’ he said. ‘Andie, do you think, before we worry about messy break-ups and things getting awkward at work, that perhaps we could go out on a second date?’

She gave him a coy smile.

‘Are you usually given to such negative thought patterns?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know, I’ve been told I have a tendency to overthink things.’

‘Well, I’d like to assure you, right now, that I wouldn’t let anything that happens between us, away from work, compromise your position at Viande.’ He paused. ‘Okay?’

She nodded. ‘Okay.’

They stood there, facing each other. Andie sensed an air of expectation. What now? Was he going to kiss her? Probably. It was a first date, and they’d just decided on a second, it was customary . . .

‘Would you like me to walk you to the door?’ Dominic said, breaking the silence.

‘It’s okay, it’s just there,’ she said. ‘I can find my way.’

His face dropped. ‘All right then.’

Oh, blast, that was part of the etiquette, wasn’t it? He had to walk her to the door to kiss her goodnight, and she’d more or less turned him down. Andie was so out of practice she had no idea. But she could hardly turn around now and say, yes, okay, walk me to the door.

‘Well, I best get going then,’ he said.

‘Thank you, again,’ said Andie. And then impulsively she took a step closer and reached up to kiss him. She had been aiming for his cheek but he turned his head slightly and their mouths met. It seemed to surprise them both and they hesitated, allowing their lips just to linger against each other, as his hand felt for hers. It was really a bare whisper of a kiss, but it still made Andie feel light-headed. After a few moments, she drew back again, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. ‘Goodnight, Andie.’

‘Goodnight.’ She turned to walk up the path. When she got to the door she looked back, and he was standing in the same spot, watching her. He hadn’t moved. Andie raised her hand in a wave, he waved back, and she opened the door. He still hadn’t moved when she closed the door behind her.