Taste of Love Page 11
"You don't understand."
"You're damned right I don't understand. How can you just sit down and throw your arms in the air and not even try to make things work? That's beyond pathetic."
"Don't you dare talk to me like that." Anger flamed inside Janine, burning away the worst of the grief. It was almost a relief to feel it. "I've fought every step of the way, ever since Nan died. What the hell have you done? Screwed up the décor and sacked my staff, and bullied your way into my Nan's restaurant. My restaurant." She knew even as she spoke that she was being unfair and unreasonable, but she couldn't stop herself. The poisonous words simply shot out of her mouth like dripping arrows.
"Oh, thanks." Matthew's sarcasm matched hers. "It's nice to know I'm appreciated." He folded his arms and gave her a cold look. "You know what your real trouble is? You give up too easily. You've had everything handed to you all your life, so the moment you're faced with the least bit of resistance to anything you want to do, you just fling your hands in the air and give up completely."
"That's not true." Anger seared Janine's throat. "I don't give up easily, and my life hasn't been all sunshine and roses."
"Really? What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you, then?"
Janine hesitated. She knew there must be something, but she couldn't find the words to frame it. Vague thoughts and images floated through her mind. Falling over as a child and ripping all the skin off her knee -- she could still feel the burning weeping pain of it. The time she got her exam results, and realised they weren't good enough to get her into physiotherapy training. She'd got on the course through the reserve list, and was thankful for it every day. Losing Nan.
"Mine was walking into the kitchen to find my dad's corpse," Matthew said brutally. "Not just that he killed himself, though that wasn't a great deal of fun either. But actually being the one who found him."
Janine tried to make her lips move, but they were dry and numb. She wanted to say she was sorry, but no sound came.
"If you want something," Matthew said, "and I mean really want it, you go after it with everything you've got. But the trouble with you is that you've never really wanted anything in your life. You've never had to. It's just been there, served up and ready. So now that you're getting a taste of what real problems are like, you have no idea what to do or how to deal with them. Well, I've got a suggestion for you. Start by growing up."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Janine found her voice at last, but she didn't like it much. It was a sharp, thin, shrewish voice, more like Mrs Sutcliffe's than her own.
"It means deal with things like an adult. Talk to the bank. Talk to the insurance company. Get a solicitor to handle it. Do whatever you need to do to make this restaurant work. If you don't, how can you expect anyone else to?"
"I don't know," Janine said wearily. "And I never asked you to get involved."
"Well, I am involved." Matthew's voice softened. "Not just with the restaurant. With you. And I need to know whether you're willing to stay and fight for this. Because if you're not, I have my own life and career to think about."
"Of course you do." Janine rubbed her hand across her eyes. "I'm sorry. About everything."
"Don't be," Matthew said. "I don't need you to apologise to me, not for anything. I just need to know where you stand, and where I stand. That's all."
Janine drew a shuddering sigh.
"I'll have to think about it," she said. "Please. Just give me a little bit of time to think."
***
"I have a solution," Stella said.
Janine blinked. It seemed so improbable, especially coming from Stella of all people.
"Go on," Janine said.
"Well." Stella knitted her hands together in her lap. "You know I work in this café in Scarborough? It's doing really well. The woman who owns it had been talking about starting up something similar in Whitby. She wanted me to look around for a good site. I was just thinking, she could do a fabulous job with your Nan's place. Turn it into a little tea room with food at lunchtime, sort of like the Monk's Haven."
Janine pondered. She had expected to feel hurt or angry or even insulted at Stella's presumption. But actually, she felt only relief.
"It would be much more like how the place used to be," Stella said. "I love Matthew to bits, and I think he's a great guy, but I just don't agree with his new vision for the restaurant. I loved the way your Nan used to run it, and I think she'd like it better that way, too."
Janine put her head on one side. This was starting to sound like a dream come true.
"I'm willing to be persuaded," she said. "But if we're to rescue the business, things need to happen fast. It might already be too late."
"I could phone her," Stella said. "If you're interested. Maybe the two of you could talk it over right away. Like I said, I know she'd be thrilled at the opportunity. And it means you wouldn't have to stay here and build the restaurant back up again. Since they need you at the clinic, I mean. You could go, and just leave everything to me and Dot. That's my boss, Dorothy."
Janine looked at Stella. The blue eyes were steady and earnest, the face grave. She remembered how fondly Stella had spoken of Nan, how much the restaurant had meant to her. Maybe Stella even used to have the same dream Janine did once, about working with Nan to keep the business going.
"Please do phone her," Janine said. "I'd love to hear what she says."
***
Dot turned out to be a crisp and efficient woman with a cheerful voice that warmed Janine's heart.
"How utterly awful," she exclaimed at the end of Janine's story. "I can see that you're in a pickle. Are you willing to sell? Because if you are, I can have a word with the bank. It's in their interest to get their money, so they might be willing to listen. Will you let me talk to them?"
"Go ahead," Janine said. She felt as if she were living in a dream. "And yes, I am willing to sell. I was never really meant to run a restaurant -- I realise that now. It's what I always wanted, but to be honest, it isn't something I'm very good at. Besides, my patients need me."
"It's not as much fun as you'd think to see it from the outside, is it? Mind you, I think you do more worthwhile work as a physiotherapist anyway. My Mum had two hip operations, and I don't think she'd be walking now if it weren't for the fabulous work she had done. Now it's her shoulder, but she's getting wonderful help for that as well. Some woman in York, she said -- she lives just outside York."
"Does she?" Janine gasped. "Perhaps I know her."
"Her name is Mrs Flora Jameson."
Janine giggled.
"She's one of my patients. I'm so glad she's happy with the care she's getting."
"Oh, she can't praise you enough. 'This lovely young woman -- blonde, you know, it's so fashionable.' I never did get a name out of her."
Janine laughed. She felt ten years younger, and ten pounds lighter.
"I'd better get back and treat her," Janine said. "Make sure she stays well and happy."
"I'll phone the bank," Dot said. "Leave it to me."
***
"You've done what?" Matthew yelled. He towered over her, his shoulders tense with rage. Janine had to actually force herself not to take a step back.
"I've sold the restaurant," she said. "As a going concern. The bank agreed to reconsider, on condition that the new financing arrangements are in place within thirty days. Dot -- Dorothy Stewart, Stella's boss -- is happy with that, and so am I."
"I'm not. What about my work? My career depends on this."
"No, it doesn't." Janine breathed deeply from her ribs to steady herself. She'd had the chance to rehearse this little speech before confronting Matthew. She'd guessed how he would take it, though witnessing his reaction in person was very different from imagining it in the safety of Nan's sofa. "You can do a lot better than a struggling little place two minutes down from the arcade. There are good restaurants both here and elsewhere -- in York, for one thing. You won't have any trouble getting work. If you need
a glowing reference, you know you don't have to look further than me to get one." She put a hand on his arm, pleadingly. "Matthew, listen to me. I'm not cut out to run a restaurant. I never was. I wanted to, so very badly, because it was something I felt I owed my Nan. But no matter how hard I work at it, she isn't coming back. And that's really what my dream was. I realise that now. It was never really about the restaurant itself -- it was always about Nan, and my memories of her, and how much I loved her when I was a child. I wanted to keep all that going. But you know something? It's gone. I have to accept that and get on with my own life, and my life is in York, at the clinic, with my patients. Not here. Not in a restaurant."
"And what about me?" Matthew demanded. His eyes were dark with anger and pain.
"I'd love for you to be a part of my life," Janine said. "But it needs to be my life. Not someone else's. Not a child's dream that can never become real. It needs to be my life as it is now, and as I want it to be."
"In York?" Matthew sounded calmer, as if he was seriously thinking over her words.
"That's where I live," Janine said. "That's where I want to stay. And I'd love to have you there with me."
They looked at each other. Steadily now, without either anger or hurt.
"I don't know," Matthew said. "I've got things to keep me here."
"You mean your Mum?" Janine asked, as gently as she could. This had to be Matthew's decision, she knew, though she ached to beg him to make the one that was right for her.
"Mainly," he admitted. "Mum and Stella. If I leave, it'll break Mum's heart. I don't want to do that. And it leaves Stella with all the responsibility for her, again. I don't want to do that either. They both need me here."
Janine nodded. It cost her to do so, but she forced herself to smile.
"I understand," she said. "We can still see each other. York isn't all that far away."
"Sure," Matthew said. But he didn't sound as if he meant it, and Janine wasn't absolutely sure that she did either. Her heart screamed and cried, but she kept her face calm until she was out of the door. Once it shut behind her, she let the tears run freely down her cheeks and drain into the soft red wool of her scarf. The breeze froze the trails of them, leaving her shut behind a grid of icy bars.
***
Janine put the last of her clothes into the suitcase. She felt oddly relieved. Although she still loved this house, it had never felt right to her without Nan in it. Staying here without Nan was almost like a betrayal. Janine was glad that the house would be sold. She hoped the new owners would love it, and care for it, and be happy here. She looked around at the familiar patterned wallpaper, the worn once-fashionable carpets, the dainty lace curtains, and felt a flood of fond memories gush from her heart and paint the air in shimmering gold.
"Goodbye, Nan," she whispered.
The shuffle of steps in the kitchen downstairs startled her. It must be Stella, popping in to finalise some details about the care of the premises after Janine left. They had agreed that Stella would keep an eye on the house until it was formally sold.
Janine closed the suitcase and hefted it off the bed, then cautiously made her way down the steps. This was not the time to slip and twist her ankle as Mrs Sutcliffe had done.
That thought turned out to be oddly prescient. Her visitor was not Stella, but Mrs Sutcliffe.
"I thought you wouldn't mind if I let myself in," the old woman said. "I brought you something of your Nan's that I thought you might like to have. She gave it to me as a present years ago. Anyway, here it is." She placed a small package on the kitchen table.
"Thank you so much," Janine said politely. "How is your ankle?"
"Much better, thank you. I talked to the doctor and that nurse who came over, and they're both very pleased with my progress. I like the nurse. We had a good chat yesterday."
"I'm glad," Janine said truthfully. She knew, although Mrs Sutcliffe didn't mention it, that the nurse was from the local mental health clinic. Mrs Sutcliffe's GP had agreed that counselling might be effective.
"She asked me about the singing. You know I was going to join the choir?"
"I remember," Janine said.
"Well, I went to the first practice session yesterday, and I loved it. They've already asked me to sing a solo part."
"That's wonderful," Janine said. The smile spread through her heart and onto her face.
"Yes, I'm quite excited. Of course, I'll be a little bit rusty, but I don't think they'll mind that. They seemed very pleased to get a new member. Apparently they don't have many sopranos. Anyway, I knew you'd be pleased. You always were a dear girl." She came closer, and patted Janine's hand. "You mustn't mind the things I say sometimes. I know they're not very kind, and I'm sorry. But my knee hurts so badly most of the time, and I get lonely sitting at home by myself, and so I just seem to turn crotchety. I don't mean any harm by it."
"I know," Janine said, conveniently forgetting her previous thoughts on the matter. "Please don't worry about it. And do talk to your GP about the knee. Maybe she can prescribe you something for it."
"I don't like to take pills."
"There are exercises you can do as well. I see a lot of elderly patients with knee problems, and almost all can be made better by exercise. Ask to be referred to a physiotherapist. There should be something he or she can do."
"Of course, I keep forgetting. Your are one, aren't you?"
"Yes -- and I'd love to give you a free consultation, but my bus leaves in half an hour. Besides, follow-up is everything. But if you want to ask any questions, please do feel free to phone me. Stella has my number." She didn't mention Matthew. In a moment of black doubt, she couldn't believe he would ever call.
"Thank you, love," Mrs Sutcliffe said. "You always were a good girl. I'm forever saying so."
CHAPTER 8
"Is that better, Mrs Jameson?" Janine asked, though she could see for herself that it was. The old lady sat much straighter than before, and the tension lines had eased from her wrinkled face. You could just about glimpse the young girl she had once been.
"That's wonderful, dearie." Mrs Jameson moved each shoulder in turn, then carefully wiggled her back. "I'm as good as new."
"Well, you make sure you take good care of yourself this week, and we'll see you back here on Tuesday as usual."
"I'm looking forward to it." The old lady preened. "My daughter's coming to visit me next week. It's my birthday, you know."
"I hadn't realised," Janine said, glancing at the patient notes. "Of course it is. Happy birthday for next week!"
"Thank you, dearie. She says to tell you that everything is going well, and they're scheduled for reopening before Christmas. I don't know why she wants to go and open another café when the first one is doing so well, but there you are. Young people will do their own thing. It's no use trying to talk to them, you know."
"I'm sure it's not." Janine suppressed an irreverent image of Mrs Jameson meeting Mrs Sutcliffe. They'd either hate each other on sight or become bosom friends. Janine wasn't sure which possibility worried her more. "Do tell her I'm ever so pleased, and I wish her the very best of luck. Next time you talk to her, I mean."
"I will," Mrs Jameson promised. "But she doesn't phone very often, you know. I can sometimes go a whole week without a phone call. And when you're old like me, the days do pass so slowly. Mind you, she keeps telling me to move out there, but I don't really like to think of it. I've always lived in this area, and I don't think it's right to up sticks and move at my time of life. I always say -- "
"Reception will make an appointment for you," Janine said, kindly but firmly. She knew from experience that Mrs Jameson would chatter on for another half hour or more, given the slightest bit of encouragement.
Once she was by herself again, Janine heaved a sigh of relief. This was her last appointment of the day. A mountain of paperwork awaited her next, and after that she would go home to her tidy little flat, make herself some dinner, and watch a nature programme of some sort.
Part of it was the non-holiday she'd had. She'd been working hard at trying to save the restaurant, and the disappointment of failure was a strain of another kind. Part of it was grief. She had finally let herself accept that Nan was dead and gone, that her own dream of running the restaurant was just an illusion, and that the world would never be the way she remembered it from childhood. It would never again have that clarity, that vividness of colour and light, that sense of unending possibility.
And another part of it, she admitted to herself, was Matthew. She didn't know how things stood between them. He hadn't phoned, and neither had she.
In truth, she was afraid to know.
When she got home, she spent the best part of an hour sitting by the phone, reaching out every so often to dial Matthew's number, then withdrawing again.
In the end, she gathered up her courage and rang him. She wanted to find out, either way, and perhaps by talking with him she would break through to some deeper understanding about just what her true wishes were.
"I'm glad you rang." His voice, warm and cosy like a soft blanket, wrapped itself around her. She longed to relax into it, as she had done into his embrace, and just lie there forever, safe in the knowledge that she was loved. "I've got some great news."
Janine's heart beat faster. He was coming to York, she thought dizzily, he would come here and they would be together again.
"I've been offered a job in Paris. A friend of mine -- we trained in London together -- has been working there for the last couple of years, and now he's decided to open a little bistro of his own. He's asked me to be head chef. I've said yes."
Janine's insides turned to ice.
"It'll be great," Matthew enthused. "And I want to say I'm really sorry about the way I acted when you decided to sell the restaurant. You were right, and I was wrong. It just wasn't the place I envisioned at all. But this will be. Your decision was the best thing that could have happened. It means I'm free to head out there right away and get things going. We'll design the menu, drum up some good publicity, and we're set to open in a month. Wish me luck."