Hungry for More (2012) (8 page)

“No,”
Paul whimpered, shifting his weight agitatedly from foot to foot and already regretting his agreement to the plan.  “I’ll fix him something special when we’ve got the stuff,” he added quickly, sensing that the nanny was about to voice some sort of disapproval.

“Well, I suppose that might be all right,” Bridget frowned.

“Good.
Please
go and get him?”

As Bridget went to wake a sleepy Tad, she wondered if accompanying Paul to the market was her brightest idea.  She didn’t
want
to get in his way, but she did need him to start spending time with his son.

Tad was like a sleepy little zombie, barely opening his eyes as Bridget washed and dressed him.  He stayed in his stupor all the way to the subway station. Then he suddenly sprang to life.

“Where are we going again, Nanny?” he asked, looking around in wonder.

“Daddy’s taking us with him to the market. Won’t that be exciting?” Bridget smiled, no longer feeling terribly eager as she was jostled and pushed about by the other passengers on their way to the train.

“On the subway?” Tad asked eagerly.

Paul had just returned with tickets. “Yeah, on the subway.  Come on guys, there’s a train leaving in one minute!”  He ushered them through the barriers and started walking at a blistering pace.

“Mr. Devoe!” Bridget called, having to shout to be heard over all the noise.  “Tad can’t walk that fast!” 

Paul solved this problem
not
by slowing down, but by scooping Tad up and carrying him on his hip.  To Bridget’s surprise, Tad let out a little laugh of glee, and then to her even greater astonishment, Paul reached back and grabbed her hand so they didn’t get separated. 

He must really want to catch this train!
  She thought to herself. She tried not to notice how strong his grip was, or the way it was making her whole hand tingle. 

Paul
just
made his train.  It was crammed full of people, but he managed to find a seat. He instructed Bridget to take it and then popped Tad onto her lap.

“Isn’t this cool,
N
anny?” Tad asked, twisting so that he could see out of the window. 

Bridget smiled and nodded, embarrassed that she was out of breath. 

Paul wasn’t paying them the smallest bit of attention now.  He was staring intently at a piece of paper that he’d pulled out of his pocket, muttering under his breath and making marks with a pencil. 

Bridget noticed a few of the other commuters give him a second glance as though they recognized him from somewhere, but he didn’t encourage any of them to say hello.  She was faintly exasperated that he couldn’t even spare
Tad
some attention, but the subway
was
very noisy and crowded.  She decided to wait and see how he did at the market before she made a fuss.

As soon as they came out of the tunnel on the other side of the Hudson, Paul got out his phone. Bridget couldn’t make out who he was talking to, but she felt sorry for whomever it was. At least sixty percent of the conversation consisted of angry swearing which she hoped that Tad wouldn’t try to repeat!

“Why the…do I have to tell you every… thing to do. You and the other little lazy…in the kitchen ought to be …your pants right now, because when I get in this afternoon all of you … are…”

Bridget filtered out the cursing as she eavesdropped on Paul’s conversation.

“LOOK, Tad. We’re in the Bronx,” Bridget said loudly, hoping to drown out his father. She tried to keep the boy occupied until they got to their stop.

The fish market wasn’t directly off of the subway line. Paul had to hail a cab. It was a difficult task, which led to more swearing. He continued yelling into his cell phone until the car came to a stop in front of a gigantic, but otherwise unremarkable metal building.

At least, it was unremarkable until she got out of the car.

“Oh, my God!” Bridget gasped, nearly reeling from the smell that assaulted her nostrils when she stepped onto the sidewalk. It was
disgusting
- like a trash bin left out in the sun!- but Paul didn’t seem to notice. Tad appeared delighted.

“Ewww!” he cried, clapping his hands happily as Paul led them inside.

Bridget was amazed at what she encountered when they stepped through the doors: row after row after row of crates and counters. Shoppers buzzed around like a hive of angry bees and hawkers’ voices cried out over the crowd.

A quick glance at the sellers closest to the entrance showed Bridget nearly every kind of seafood that she could imagine:
mussels
, clams, shrimp, lobsters and fish of every shape and size. Paul ignored them.

“This stuff is crap,” he pronounced, and looked worried. “I hope that we aren’t too late.”

He started to turn down one of the pathways, but took a minute to check himself. Bridget was delighted when he turned to scoop up Tad again. “You don’t want to get lost in this place!” he told the boy. Then he set off again, leaving Bridget to trot in their wake.

Bridget was far less pleased with Paul’s parenting skills once they reached their destination: the booth which appeared to be Paul’s supplier of choice. There was an irate exchange about the quality of the seafood that was in the case. Aspersions were cast about the provenance and age of the current offerings and then there was a heated disagreement about the price. She could understand those things- but wished that there was some way for him to get his point across without swearing so badly. Tad had already picked it up.

Her young charge gleefully yelled a curse word at a passing stock boy.

That, at least, gave Paul the grace to flush.

“Uhm…why don’t you stand over there with Nanny,” Paul said to Tad, as he approached another counter. “Daddy will just be a minute or two.”

Bridget held Tad a tactful distance from his father while the man went to barter for some swordfish to be delivered to the shop
.
She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but from the angry gestures that accompanied the conversation, that was probably a good thing
;
but Tad was clearly itching for Paul to return. It made her smile to see just how excited Tad was when Paul bent down to scoop him up again.

“All done?” Bridget asked hopefully. She assumed that the last transaction had ended well, because money changed hands, and she mouth-read Paul’s directions for the purchase to be delivered to the restaurant.

“Not quite…” he said apologetically. He explained that, when it was first opened, the market had only been for fish, but now there were fruits and vegetables too.

“The fu-…uhm…
stupid
,” he corrected himself before swearing in front of Tad again, “
sous chef
didn’t fill our vegetable order this morning, so I have to go and see if there’s anything decent left. I promise it won’t take long! I just need some eggplant and zucchini…and salad greens…and tomatoes…and cherries and….er…” He looked sheepish. “Actually, why don’t you and Tad go to the café? They have some muffins and stuff that is decent.” He handed Bridget some money. “I’ll catch up with you both in a bit.”

Tad was heartbroken to be abandoned, although Bridget understood why it was done. She tried to console him with a chocolate donut and the bubble-popping game on her mobile phone until his father returned.

Paul actually didn’t take as much time as she expected. Tad was having his face wiped clean of frosting when the chef poked his head inside the café.

“All ready to go?” he asked.

Bridget nodded, but Tad began to shake his head. “Not yet! Oh,
please
D
addy! Can’t I see the fish up close?”

Bridget was sure that Paul was going to say “no” and had already started gently letting down Tad’s hopes, “Daddy is very busy
,
darling, he has to go into work…”

Paul surprised her again.

“Just for a little while…” he said, and led them back onto the market floor.

The main corridors of the hall were so busy that Tad risked being trampled
.
Paul’s arms were full of packages now, so he couldn’t carry the child, but Paul quickly led them off into a quiet side hall where Tad could stare goggle
-
eyed at crustaceans crawling over one another in tanks, eels wriggling in barrels, and giant shark carcasses dangling from hooks.

“What’s
that
,
D
addy?” Tad asked, jabbing his chubby finger at a pile of silvery fish so fresh that they were still oozing blood onto their beds of crushed ice.

“Mackerel…” he said, “And those are plaice…sea bream…trout…”

Bridget was interested in what Paul had to say- and also amazed with his patience as he explained, not only what things
were
, but how they were served.

“We use that mainly in soup…” he said, picking up the limp tendril of an octopus arm to let Tad touch it.

“Do you cook the sucker parts?” Tad asked, fascinated. He actually listened to Paul’s explanation before moving on to gawk at salted anchovies and then packets of fresh smoked kippers.

“Oooh! We eat those at home, Tad!” Bridget exclaimed, pleased to have something to add to the conversation.

“Would you like to try them?” Paul asked his son, and then handed over some cash.

By the time they left the market, they had purchased nearly as much for themselves as for the restaurant, or so it seemed to Bridget. She didn’t see how they were ever going to have time to prepare all of the little morsels that Paul had promised to let Tad try before everything spoiled, but she held her tongue. She was really pleased that Paul had found a way to connect with his son- even if it did make her jealous.

“Are we REALLY going to eat shark,
D
addy?” Tad asked as they rode back into Manhattan. He didn’t wait for his father to answer. Instead, he turned to the nanny. “Did you see that man chop up the shark? It was a
real shark
,
N
anny!”

“I know!” Bridget said, making sure that she sounded impressed. “I can’t wait until
D
addy has lunchtime off so he can cook it at home!”

“Actually,” Paul said, looking thoughtful, “We could have it today.”

Bridget arched a brow, trying not to get too hopeful. “Oh? I thought you had to go in…”

“I do,” Paul told her, “But we don’t have lunch service on a Tuesday. The guys are just doing prep. The restaurant should be nice and quiet if you’d like to stop by.”

“Oh, but I- aren’t you going to be busy?” Bridget said anxiously.  The thought of going to the restaurant instantly made her feel ill.  Not only might she be expected to
eat
, but also people who knew Paul would
see
her! 

“I’m not too busy to cook lunch for the pair of you,” he said, casting a strange look in her direction.

Bridget thought that he was probably remembering how she had laid in wait for him that morning to hound him into spending some time with his son. Now that he was offering his time of his own accord she was acting like a ninny.

“Please can we go, Nanny? 
Please?”
Tad begged.  “I want to see where Daddy works.”

Bridget couldn’t possibly refuse that plea.  “Of course we can go.  If it’s really okay with your dad
.
” She glanced at Paul, almost praying that he would change his mind, although she felt guilty for her wish.  Tad looked so excited to get to spend more time with his father.

“Of course it’s okay!”  Paul gave the cab driver the new directions and sat back in his seat until they reached the Chatterly. 

Bridget’s stomach was in knots by the time they arrived, but Tad was practically bubbling over with excitement.

“Is this your restaurant, Daddy?” he asked in awe, as Paul lifted him out of the cab.

“Yeah…”

Bridget thought she detected an odd inflection in Paul’s voice as he gave his answer, but then decided that she must have been imagining things. 

“In we go then,” he said, paying the driver after collecting all his bags. 

Paul took them in through the back entrance. For one horrifying moment Bridget thought they were going to have to walk straight through the busy kitchen, but to her relief the door opened onto an empty corridor.

“Why don’t you go on ahead to the dining room?  It’s that way.  I’m just going to drop this stuff off in the kitchen and make sure the
co
-,
bas-
…er…
guys
in the kitchen haven’t f- …uhm…messed up anything I can’t fix.”

Bridget giggled softly as Paul struggled to tone down his language.  Bless him.  He
was
trying.

“All right. Come on, Tad,” she said, taking the little boy’s hand.

“Can’t I go with you and see the kitchen, Daddy?” Tad asked desperately.