Vanilla Salt (23 page)

“A
sitting
duck, it’s a
sitting
duck, though what that’s got to do with the price of eggs I wouldn’t know. Well, if you’re a duck, I’m a drake. Never mind, your decision isn’t a sign of weakness but a demonstration of your humanity, and in Can Bret humanity can never get in the way of business. Graça and Frank have helped both of us. That box of fish he’s been leaving at the door is like all my Christmases coming at once, an incredibly valuable gift that can’t be measured in terms of the quantity or quality of the goods. What counts is the message, because Frank, by doing this, is trying to encourage me and, even more importantly, to show that he trusts me. Remember what I told you last night, about how my parents had no faith in my ability to get on at school? Well, trust is essential for everyone to feel strong enough to cope with what life brings. At the time, when things were going so badly with the restaurant, I didn’t throw in the towel, because Frank was saying to me through those little fish, ‘I’m sure you’ll get through this. You just need a bit of time and a helping hand to pull you out of the hole you’re in.’ Graça took you in to her home without asking for anything in return.
A packet of rice and a few euros aren’t enough to send her to prison, and what’s pushed her to do it is love for her kids.”

Annette has listened very attentively, not to say devotedly, to everything Àlex has to say. It’s so beautiful and he’s right: she’s tidy, methodical and serious when she’s working, but most of all she’s humane. Thanks to his words, the thorny cactus that just fell on her head when she learnt about Graça’s thieving has turned into a beautiful bunch of roses. Well, like a rose, life is full of thorns, but sensitive people don’t worry about being pricked, as they prefer to enjoy the marvellous fragrance.

“By the way… do you have children?”

“I only explain you my life if you invite me for to listen classical music.”

After lunch, Annette offers Graça a cup of tea, which they drink at one of the dining-room tables. It’s a brief but difficult conversation. Stammering as if she was the guilty party, Annette doesn’t mince her words and tells Graça what she’s discovered. Graça cries. She didn’t want to do it and it won’t happen again, she promises.

“Graça, all my heart hope this no happen again, so we have trust in us. This surprise me, make me disappoint, but I very hopeful, because I think it episode that no will happen again. I have right?”

“My childs need things… computer. I no want they no be like other childs of school,” Graça confesses.

Àlex, Annette thinks, is really savvy. He can see what people need at a glance and, following his sound advice, she suggests, “I think you must take home all the days servings clients no eat and you no spend money for dinner of childs. We do this?”

“You very good woman,” Graça says.

“We must try for to be humans and for make business work, because this affect all us.”

Embarrassed, Graça gets up from the table, takes her cup into the kitchen, washes it and puts it back on the shelf. It won’t happen again.

Annette watches her and prays that everything will be all right now. If only everything were as easy as putting away a teacup. She really likes Graça, but also wants the restaurant to succeed, as this is the biggest project of her life. She sighs deeply, stands up, takes her teacup into the kitchen, washes it, dries it and puts it back on the shelf.

She sits down at her computer, ready to spend the whole afternoon catching up with her online publicity work. She goes to the old Friends of Antic Món page on Facebook and finds a whole heap of comments, including a debate about the pros and cons of the restaurant’s change of direction. Glancing through a very diverse array of opinions, she sees that a lot of them are from Carol, all of them favourable. Wow, she’s been working at this even while she’s been travelling in Asia. Annette’s happy, because it’s clear that Carol wants to help make the restaurant work. Òscar’s also contributed, saying that Roda el Món, the new restaurant run by Madame Escargot and Àlex Graupera, is excellent. Annette suddenly shivers. He’s been careless and brought her virtual name, Madame Escargot, into the real world, and now anyone who cares to can seek her out. Of course he hasn’t done this in bad faith, but she feels increasingly exposed and with fewer and fewer possibilities for hiding. If anyone wants to know who’s hiding behind the name of Madame Escargot, it will be very easy to find out.

However, on second thoughts, she doesn’t believe that anyone will want to know who she is, or who she has ceased to be, or why she uses an alias to identify herself online.

She gets to work answering each of the comments and creates a new Roda el Món page, which is full of surprising enticements. All the comments on Facebook have been very encouraging. She suggests foodie games, posts riddles, photos and recipes and also launches a promotional offer for young people: “Come and try our tasting menu. If you’re under thirty, the amount you pay will be the age you are.”

“Looks like business is good.” Carol has just appeared online.

“Carol! Where are you?”

“I’ve been back in Catalonia for two days, but didn’t contact you because I’ve had tons of work reworking some texts and publishing my travel notes. And the jet lag is hell. I’m completely done in. There’s no way I can get to sleep even after a whole day dragging myself around like a snake in winter. And what about you? Are you OK? You haven’t appeared even once on Facebook. Brilliant. I’ve been hoping to see you, wanting to chat and know what you’re up to, but not a bloody word from you. Sometimes you’re very disagreeable, far too reserved…” she gripes.

“Sorry. We busy, very busy. I want thank you for article in newspaper. That give us many customers.”

“I was only too delighted to write it. You need a helping hand, especially when you’re in such an out-of-the-way place as Bigues i Riells. But you deserve it. Are many of them coming back? I mean are you getting regulars?” Carol is genuinely interested.

“Yes. We have clients come back many times. One man he come very often and for dinner some couples they come back also.”

“The owner of 7 Portes, one of the famous restaurants in Barcelona, says, ‘Restaurants are not made by people who leave, but by those who come back.’”

“That very nice. Yes, we have also those who come back.”

“You just have to look after the customer so he feels well attended. That’s the most important thing. Then, make sure that Àlex is cooking well with clearly defined flavours and generosity on the plate. Most especially watch the prices. It’s not the time now to be inventive, when the golden rule of ‘good taste, good looks and good price’ is more valid than ever for any business that wants to survive,” Carol pontificates. “I want to see you. I’ll come soon. How about tomorrow?”

“Good, that very good. You come when you want.”

“You’ll do it, won’t you? You’ll give me this pleasure?”

“What you want, Carol?” Annette asks, fearing the answer. She’s a little fed up with this game.

“You’ll let me take you out to dinner one day and you’ll wear the dress and lingerie I got for you in Granollers. You will do it, won’t you?”

What a drag, Annette thinks. Now she’s in a right old mess. Carol’s convinced that they’re an item and going from strength to strength. Annette has no interest in continuing with the relationship, but she’s also got to keep Carol on side and, most importantly, happy. It’s a pain in the neck and so embarrassing too, Annette thinks. She feels soiled. She’s never done anything like this – literally selling, well, prostituting herself – before. She knows that if she does what Carol wants it will be very good for business, but the price is very high.

Carol wastes no time in appearing at Roda el Món, the way she usually does, turning up without letting them know in advance. She simply walks in at dinner time, wanting to try Àlex’s new dishes, or so she says, but it’s hardly a secret that the real object of her interest is Annette.

The restaurant is quite full, with enough customers to keep Annette very busy and thus able to avoid her for a while. Sitting at her favourite table, Carol sips at an exceptional Mallorcan wine, Ànima Negra, and is titillated by her close scrutiny of Annette, whose busy thighs, viewed through the rosy haze of alcohol, have an extremely alluring, arousing effect. No sooner has Annette finished waiting on the tables than she literally orders her to sit down and have a brandy with her.

“I’ve had a very good dinner, sweetheart. Simple, interesting and natural food. I’m not surprised you’re so successful, because this is exactly what people are looking for. The price is right! And the product is great!”

“Thank you, Carol… Now I must go for to clean in kitchen.”

“No way! Now you’re going to have another drink with me. We’ll have a little chat to catch up a bit and then we’re going upstairs. I can hardly
keep my hands off those lovely strawberry-mousse boobs of yours – I was dreaming about them all the time I was away on that long, boring trip around Asia.”

“I must to clean up,” Annette insists.

“You can do that tomorrow. If you want, I’ll pay that little helper of yours for a few extra hours. I’ve been waiting for this far too long. It’s my turn now.”

“Carol… um, er…”

“Don’t come to me with your ums and ers.” Carol is not to be deterred. “Listen, sweetie, if the problem’s money, you don’t have to worry. I’ll pay your helper as many hours as you want. Now you have to look after me. Come on, let’s go up to your room so you can put on that underwear. You haven’t used it yet, have you? You’re only allowed to wear it when you’re with me. Understood?”

Just then, Àlex bursts into the dining room. He hasn’t been able to speak to Carol yet and wants to say hello. Thank Heavens, he’s saved the day, Annette thinks, and hastens to ask him to sit down with them. Carol isn’t at all happy about Àlex’s irruption onto the scene and is very put out by the fact that Annette has asked him to join them. She’s waited long enough, what with an almost month-long trip abroad and a seemingly endless lonely dinner on top of that. There’s no room for any third party in this space of tingling, itchy desire.

“How was the trip, Carol?” Àlex asked.

“Long. Tiring.” She’s not wasting words.

“Carol she like the menu, Àlex and I tell her the new ideas. She say they very good and we will go good.” Annette does her best to keep Àlex at the table, hoping that Carol will end up so inebriated that she’ll sink deep into a drunken slumber, but they need time for that, another bottle and more chitchat to make sure that Carol gets completely wasted. But she forgets that Carol is a veteran drinker and rarely gets drunk. Alcohol
doesn’t knock her out but, on the contrary, works in her favour by breaking down all inhibition, which means she enjoys herself even more.

Annette’s nervousness gets the better of her. For every glass she pours for Carol, she pours two for herself. In order to keep the conversation going, she tells Carol about Roda el Món’s first few days and the funny situations she and Àlex have had to deal with. He chimes in, describing how he saw things from the kitchen, and they both giggle like a couple of kids, not noticing that Carol neither laughs nor speaks. Annette and Àlex are talking to each other, leaving Carol out, and she’s not interrupting, not at all amused by their stories or the closeness between them that she can now detect.

“That day was horrible. We are full and three more people come, but we have only two chair. You remember Àlex when customer he have table but he no have chair for to sit?”

“How could I ever forget! You flew into the kitchen, so stressed out you were bouncing off every surface like a basketball! Round and round you went. I didn’t have a clue what was happening, because instead of saying ‘steak’, ‘fruit salad’ or ‘fried sand eels’, you were shouting ‘chair, chair!’ I thought you’d gone crazy or were asking for some dish in French and I couldn’t understand which one. Or worse, that you eat chairs in Canada!”

“We eat chairs in Canada!” Annette laughs her head off, imagining her family about to tuck into a dishful of grilled chair at their beautifully set table.

“You know what happened in the end, Carol? The customer went back home to get a chair. Yes, he brought his own chair!” Àlex is guffawing now.

“Well, it’s evident you’re having a whale of a time here at Roda el Món. There have been big changes in this regard. That’s all very well, but you’ll have to excuse me now, because I’m very tired after my trip. Goodnight.”

“Carol’s quite uptight tonight… or maybe…”

But Annette is in no state to know. She’s smashed and has passed out with her head on the table amid brandy bottles, empty glasses and breadcrumbs. Àlex carries her up to her room, puts her to bed and kisses her tenderly on the forehead like a loving father, but she’s unaware of it.

The next morning, with the most excruciating hangover, she says to Àlex, “I no remember what happen last night. We finish very late?”

“Not too late,” he lies. “You had a couple of glasses of brandy and then you went upstairs. I cleaned up the kitchen.”

Carol phones Àlex. She wants to see him one afternoon this week, but not in the restaurant. They decide to meet today, after lunch. Àlex can tell from her tone that this isn’t about a couple of old friends having a drink together.

They meet in Granollers, in a drab, rather gloomy bar not far from the station. Carol doesn’t mince her words: “You and I have a plan, and that is to bring down Roda el Món, so you can get your restaurant back and get rid of that woman and her partner. Remember? I’ve done my bit, everything I promised. I’ve made sure that the restaurant’s working nicely. I’ve done a good job. Annette’s happy, trusting and optimistic. Do you want to stick to the plan or are you a little lapdog nowadays? That woman’s got to you, hasn’t she?”

“Whatever makes you say that?” He feigns innocence.

“The other night you were carrying on like two little lovebirds sitting on a power line. You only need to get dressed up like a knight in the Middle Ages, go down on your knees and ask for her hand in marriage. She’d be thrilled to accept, because she’s got the hots for you. I can just see you both, clasped together forevermore, dancing a waltz in the Palace of Eternal Love.”