The Chainmakers (22 page)

'At least another six months,' the manager replied. 'And by then no doubt other buildings will be under way. Hampsons is doing very well Mrs. Sullivan, and there is no reason why you should not expand your business along with ours.'

His tone held a hint of patronage, and Anna smiled.

'That is good to hear,' she replied. 'I ask because I have been approached by several businessmen with a view to putting in a catering service for their factories, and in one case an entire office block. I do not wish to take on too much, and as Hampsons were our first clients, they will, of course, always have priority.'

A raising of the eyebrows and a decided look of dismay on Mr. King's patrician features made Anna giggle a little as she made her way from the manager's office back to the kitchen. She did not mean to upset Mr. King, but felt he was pompous and condescending. She had not told him that most offers of future work had come from businessmen who had lunched at some time at Hampsons. The manager had unwittingly been her best advertisement, as he boasted of the quality of meals provided for the Hampsons workforce. His guests had taken the opportunity of testing his claims by sampling the food on their plates. There had been more offers of contracts than Anna and Clancy could possibly consider, especially as the baby was due in under a month. As she entered the kitchen Mr. Sung looked up.

'You look velly pleased,' he said, 'Like cat which eats the cleam.'

'Very good, Lee,' Anna smiled, 'Except we usually say "The cat that got the cream."'

'Got the cleam,' Lee repeated. 'It is not easy language.' He stirred the huge saucepan on the stove and held out the steaming spoon to Anna. 'What you think? More pepper?'

Anna fetched a teaspoon and took some stew onto it, tasting it carefully. 'Mmmm...that's good Lee, but yes... I think a little more pepper. I'll get it...'

She went to the kitchen larder, a large deep cellar which was ideal for storage. How or why it happened she was never to understand, but as she began to descend her foot missed the step. Even as she fell, a reflex twisting action enabled her to protect her bulging belly to some extent, but her shoulder caught a shelf opposite and she crashed heavily to the floor.

Lee Sung was there in seconds, his face horrified. 'Oh, Missis, Oh Missis...'

Anna gathered her wits. 'It's alright Lee, I don't think anything is broken, but I hurt my side.' She attempted to rise and a sudden wave of nausea and searing pain overwhelmed her. Lee Sung rounded on the kitchen maid, who seemed dumbstruck.

'Go quick Jennie, fetch someone... quick!' He cradled Anna's head on his arm. 'Then fetch Mr. Sullivan... quick Jennie!'

The last thing Anna remembered was Lee Sung's anxious face, and the sight of the big spoon still held in his free hand. Then the tearing pain enveloped her, racking her whole body with spasmodic shuddering, which rolled her back and forth like a rag doll, the pain increasing its terrible intensity until at last she sank into sweet oblivion.

~

Clancy stared at the doctor. It had been a long night and his brain would not function.

'I don't understand...' he managed at last. 'You said... I thought you said my wife was alright...'

The doctor, a kindly man with greying hair and a tired look, explained again.

'Yes Mr. Sullivan. Your wife will be fine in a few weeks, provided of course there is no infection. And the baby seems very healthy after all he's been through... a fine boy.'

'Then what...?' Clancy was still bemused.

'As I explained there were some injuries which made the birth difficult. We had to take... measures to save the baby and Mrs. Sullivan. Your wife no longer has the ability to bear further children.'

Clancy sat down on the hard chair which had been his seat during the horrendous hours of waiting. Their four lovely children... no five, he corrected automatically, the last one was a mistake... He put his head in his hands.

The doctor patted Clancy's shoulder in sympathy. 'Come on old chap,' he said. 'Your wife and baby are both doing well now.'

The doctor reflected briefly on the selfishness of men. After all that poor woman had been through... most families had too many children anyway.

'Your wife needs your support now,' he said firmly, and Clancy nodded and said, 'Thank you doctor, for all you did tonight.'

The doctor smiled. 'Well, you can go in now and meet your son, and remember, his being the only one is not the end of the world. It's not as though you haven't any children at all.'

Clancy nodded again, and entered the big ward, where he found Anna in a bed near the door. She had a large bruise on her cheek, and her eyes were bleak and dark rimmed with fatigue.

'There ye are darlin'. How are ye?' She noticed his accent, stronger now as always when he was upset.

'Oh Clancy, I'm alright now... but...'

Clancy smoothed strands of hair gently from her face and kissed her lightly.

'Sure ye look as if ye 've been in the wars, so ye do! That's a nasty bruise...'

'Oh Clancy...'

'And aren't we the lucky ones? A lovely boy, so the doctor said...'

He followed her eyes to the small crib at the foot of the bed. He got up and carefully looked in. When he turned to face her again his eyes were brimming. 'Can I pick him up?'

'Yes, I think so...' Anna glanced at a hovering nurse, who turned her back and walked to attend a nearby patient.

Clancy picked up the tiny bundle and brought him to Anna.

'He's a darlin' so he is. What shall we call him?'

'I had already thought... if you agree... I had a brother who died,... James. I'd like to name him for James.'

'James he is then.'

'Clancy...  Clancy I’m sorry...’

He looked surprised. ‘What for?’

Her face creased. ‘You know what for... I can’t have any more children...’

‘Oh that!’ Clancy said lightly. ‘Who would want more when we have this little darlin’? He’s just perfect,’ he added, bending so that Anna could see the child. ‘Would ye believe the tiny fingers? Just look Anna...’

Anna smiled weakly. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘He’s lovely.’

The kitchens at the Plaza hotel were beginning to return to some sort of order after the hectic madness of the lunch period. A waiter entered and after a quick glance around, realised it was now or never and approached the Chef with some trepidation.

‘Excuse me Chef... would it be convenient...?’

The great man’s eyebrows narrowed, and the waiter readied himself for a torrent of abuse. Instead, Chef simply barked ‘What is it?’

‘There is a customer, a lady who insists on speaking to you...’

‘I don’t speak to customers.’ The tone was dismissive.

‘I know, I told her. She said she would wait until you could spare her a moment.’

A faint memory stirred, and a look of enquiry crossed the Chef’s heavy features. ‘What is her name?’ he asked, with some interest.

‘Mrs. Sullivan,’ the waiter replied, pleased that he had not been sent away with a flea in his ear. ‘I have no idea who she is, she is not a regular.’

‘No matter,’ Chef interrupted. ‘I have been expecting Mrs. Sullivan.’ He glanced around the kitchen. ‘Tell her I shall be five minutes.’

The waiter scurried away, altering his gait to his usual smooth glide as he entered the restaurant. He approached a small table in the corner where the elegant Mrs. Sullivan was making a late lunch.

‘Chef will be here in about five minutes ma ‘am.’

‘Thank you so much.’

Anna gave him a winsome smile and ordered claret jelly for dessert. As she finished it Chef arrived.

‘Mrs. Sullivan?’

‘Chef, how kind of you to spare me a few moments, I know how busy you are. Will you join me?’

‘That... would not be quite correct Mrs. Sullivan...’ For once the Chef was discomfited. He had been told she was attractive, but was unprepared for such stunning looks. She turned the smile on again.

‘Oh, don’t be so stuffy Chef, sit down...’

She indicated the chair opposite and Chef sat down gingerly, it was unfair of her to put him in this position, he thought.

‘I wanted to congratulate you on a perfect lunch,’ Anna said enthusiastically. ‘The lobster cassolette was superb. Just the right touch of tarragon, and Calvados... I think?’

Her tone invited him to confirm the ingredients, and Chef pulled himself together.

‘You may be having success at other establishments Mrs. Sullivan, but not at the Plaza.’

‘I am not sure what you mean...’ Her lovely face held a look of polite enquiry.

‘I do not wish to appear ungracious Mrs. Sullivan. I appreciate your compliments on the meal, but I have been expecting you. Why did it take you so long? We are after all, the best restaurant in New York.’

Anna suppressed a half smile. ‘I did have an excellent lobster thermidor at the Ritz Carlton...’ Seeing the Chef’s face change, she relented quickly. ‘Come now Chef, I was only teasing, the cassolette was even better. You say you were expecting me? I did not realise I had been... noticed.’

One could hardly fail to notice you, Chef thought. Aloud he said, ‘I do not often meet my culinary rivals...’ He corrected himself, ‘Or those who believe they are my rivals... but I do have a few friends in the business. I have heard of you, Mrs. Sullivan. You eat in the best restaurants, usually choosing a speciality for which the place is famous. Then you ask to see the Chef to congratulate him... and wheedle as many tips and secrets from him as you can...’

‘Wheedle? Did you say wheedle?’ Anna looked quite shocked.

‘What would you call it?’ Chef asked sardonically. You had to hand it to her, he thought, she was quite an actress.

‘I would call it an interesting exchange of information, and recipes of course... among people who are all interested in food...’

‘And what is your purpose?’ The Chef was not to be deflected. ‘I know you are not in the restaurant business, at least not in “haute cuisine.”’

‘No, I am not. I am interested in good cooking, that is all. I have lived in New York for three years now, and have discovered that even the most wealthy people eat out. Any special occasion, even a family dinner party, is held in a restaurant, as the standards at home are just not good enough.’

Chef smiled. So that was it, he thought. This elegant lady hoped to climb the social ladder by giving dinner parties at which the food compared with the best the hotels and restaurants could offer. ‘That is quite true,’ he smiled. ‘In any case, women cannot cook, not at the highest level...’