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Minnie composed a blank expression, trying not to react. A few of the other commis chefs looked on sympathetically; they knew Rob went too far with Minnie. The first week she’d worked there, a few of them had gone for a drink after their shift. Rob had made a pass at Minnie after a few too many beers. She’d pushed him away as politely as possible, but Rob wasn’t the kind of guy who could brush off a perceived slight. He acted as though any woman working in his kitchen was another ingredient in his pantry, to be used as he saw fit.
‘If you’re packing on a few extra pounds, it’s not my problem, Minnie,’ Rob hissed. ‘If you’re going to overwork the crème like an amateur, you’d better taste every batch before it leaves this station.’
Minnie had tasted it; it wasn’t overworked. She cleared up the mess and picked up a new piping bag. If she could endureone more week she’d move out from Rob’s rotation, maybe then life at the restaurant would get easier.
‘Don’t let him get to you,’ hissed Danna, giving Minnie’s elbow a squeeze as she walked past. Danna worked in the fish section and hardly ever spoke to Minnie. She was Norwegian, aloof and as ambitious as the rest of them. If she was being sympathetic then it must have looked bad.
At ten to midnight, Minnie had just plated up two miniature puddings for table fifteen. Rob breathed down her neck as she added the final garnish, a delicate holly leaf and a sprinkle of edible gold glitter. He glared at them and made a low growling noise. Even he couldn’t find anything to fault and they were now too busy for him to be inventing problems.
‘Service!’ Rob called to the serving staff on the other side of the line.
Minnie was almost done, her shift ended at one o’clock. She needed a shower, she needed to sleep, she needed to not see another miniature crème-patissière-filled Christmas pudding for a very long time.
She started cleaning up her station, wiping down the surfaces and collecting utensils for cleaning when she heard Rob’s voice screaming across the kitchen.
‘Minnie, did you send a pudding to table fifteen?’ Rob strode across the room towards her, holding his hand – balled into a fist – out in front of him.
‘Yes … ’ she said, nervously.
He opened his hand, pointing at the remains of a pudding in his palm. Inside, was a tiny, chewed piece of clear plastic.
‘Just been sent back. Plastic in your piped filling.’ He spoke slowly, relishing every syllable.
Minnie looked down at his hand and her face went pale. It looked like a piece of the plastic from the piping bag she’d been using. How could that even have come off, let alone got in the filling? Then she remembered she’d started a new one, cutting the end off to let the crème run out. Had she definitely cut off the end properly?
A grin spread across Rob’s face as he waved the tiny piece of plastic in her face.
‘I’ve just been waiting for a reason to fire you,’ he said quietly, his crooked front tooth snagging on his bottom lip.
Minnie felt numb for a second. If she got fired she wouldn’t get a reference, it would all have been for nothing. Every mean thing Rob had ever said flashed through her mind and she didn’t feel numb any more, she felt angry.
In her mind, she visualised picking up the piping bag from the counter next to her, aiming it at Rob’s face and squeezing it as hard as she could. The crème pat would spray out in a perfect consistency, covering his face and hair. He would freeze in shock, or rage, rooted to the spot. The kitchen staff would all turn to see what was happening; a few brave people would whoop and cheer.
‘Go, Minnie!’ Danna would yell from the back.
Minnie’s heart raced. She would reach out for a handful of holly leaves and add them to Rob’s head as a garnish.
‘And don’t forget the glitter,’ she would say, picking up a handful of gold and adding it with a flourish to his crème-covered face. ‘Service!’ Minnie would shout.
She would hear laughter all around her, people with hands clasped over their mouths – she would be a hero! Rob would wipe the crème from his eyes, his grey skin now puce, his mouth hanging open in shock. Minnie would pull off her hairnet, turn and walk out of the kitchen with her head held high, a soundtrack belting out Aretha Franklin’s ‘Respect’ at full volume as she danced from the room and everyone watched her go.
In reality, there was no soundtrack, no spraying of crème pat, Minnie would not dare. She simply picked up her apron and left with her hat in her hand. No one watched her go and the sea of the kitchen closed around her, like water filling the space where a small fish used to swim.
6 January 2020
‘It sounds like Leila’s fucked this up royally,’ said Greg.
Greg and Minnie were having breakfast in Greg’s Islington flat. After dinner with her parents, Minnie had gone back to Greg’s for the night. He’d been busy most of the weekend with a deadline for an article on offshore fishing titled, ‘Mussel-ing in on Salmon Else’s Water; This Whaley Needs to Stop’. Sometimes Minnie wondered whether Greg didn’t just think up titles first and then decide what news needed writing. She didn’t know if he was still sulking about New Year’s Eve, but when she’d turned up on his doorstep he’d given her a much-needed hug.
Greg asked her not to go into the details of why she was upset last night, he found it hard to sleep after ‘emotional downloads’ from other people. So they’d gone straight to bed and now, over breakfast, she was explaining the bleak situation the business was in.
‘Leila hasn’t done anything wrong,’ Minnie said. She was perched on the bar stool at Greg’s narrow kitchen counter brushing her wet hair after a shower. ‘We’ve probably only survived as long as we have because of her.’
‘I don’t agree. You were in charge of cooking – you delivered. She was in charge of funding and finance – she’s the one who failed.’ Greg reached out and took the brushfrom her hand. ‘Please don’t do that in the kitchen. I find your hair everywhere.’
Minnie shook her head. She felt a vertical line crease between her eyebrows.
‘You’re not being very helpful, Greg. It’s not Leila’s fault. We were doing fine, we’re just being suffocated by loan repayments.’
