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The line is quiet for a second before Daryl replies, ‘Oh, who have you been speaking to?’
‘It’s inconsequential, Daryl. We need to get a few things sorted out before any of this gets completely out of control.’
‘Sir, I’ve been following the accounts and—’
Hearing Daryl useSirputs me on edge. Daryl didn’t seem to listen to people at the best of times and he certainly didn’t like to play second fiddle to anyone. ‘Daryl let me explain something to you. Against my better judgement, I kept you on when I should have started over. Based on what I have been hearing I’m really starting to regret that decision.’
He whines. ‘I completely understand where you’re coming from, and I would admit that there have been a few recent issues but let me reassure you that these things happen in the restaurant business.’
‘Recent issues.’ I can feel the anger rising in me. ‘I think that is an understatement. Earnings aren’t what they should be and that’s extremely concerning because it means places are going to close and people are going to lose their jobs.’ I hate having to be so aggressive and blunt with Daryl, but I don’t think he understands anything else. I continue, ‘La Mezza should be our top-earning restaurant and it’s not anymore. It’s bleeding, Daryl, and we need—’
‘Oh ‘ey, boss it’s okay.’
The sound of his voice grates on me. Daryl always sounds like he trying to sell a used car or organise a drug heist.
‘I’ve spoken to the boys at La Mezza, and we’ve tweaked a few things so I bet the next quarter will be much better.’
‘What do you mean you’ve tweaked a few things?’Shit, I think to myself. This is what I get for not stepping in earlier.
‘You know, just tidied up the menu, sourced a few other vendors for items that were costly, seen what we could do with the seating inside the place. Just basic stuff, you know?’
The truth was, I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything about running a restaurant, let alone several. Daryl had been a hanger-on from when my stepfather ran things. When I first took over, I thought, given how little I knew about the business, having some continuity would be a good thing for everyone. But there was something about Daryl I didn’t trust. I had had a long day and there was no way we were sorting out things over the phone. ‘Daryl, I need to go now but I really think we should have a meeting soon. I’ll be in touch.’
‘Okay sounds like a plan. But, honestly, Mr Stanhope, I know you’re busy and I don’t want to put any added pressure on you. Youcouldcome and visit if you like, but the next quarter’s earnings will be a much better indicator... Don’t you think?’
Cheeky bastard. Could come and visit—it’s my bloody restaurant! I hate to admit it, but he’s probably right about the earnings, and the thought of heading over to deal with him and the restaurant in the middle of term, while I’m teaching, is going to be incredibly stressful. So, I’ll let him push the meeting for now, but what he doesn’t know is that I am already planning on visiting the restaurant without Daryl’s knowledge to check things out for myself.
‘Fine. But Daryl, if anything happens in the meantime, I need you to let me know. As the business manager I really need you to be on top of this.’
‘Absolutely, Mr Stanhope. You can count on me.’
I smile wryly as I hang up. I figure that a major part of the problem with the restaurant is that Daryl can’t actually count for shit. That’s what worries me.
I slip the phone back into my pocket and walk back into the pub, doing my best to put the conversation with Daryl, and worries about the restaurant business, out of my mind.
I head through to the back bar, the one away from the students, and I can hear my colleagues before I see them. Over the last ten years a group of usyoungerprofessors have formed a bit of band-of-brothers driven together largely though our common complaints about life, and our jobs. Occasionally, like tonight we also play football and grab a post-match beer.
‘Here he is! Jack’s back!’ Bruno shouts as I pull up a seat at the table. Domenico, or Dom, as we call him, hands me a pint.
I nod to them all, and take a sip of the pint, trying hard to keep my expression neutral. While we did play football earlier in the evening, our Wednesday get together could more accurately be described as ‘a midweek booze up with the lads,’ even though we’re far from being called lads anymore. We’re all pushing forty and everyone, except Iain, spends the week pretending to be respectable professors in different departments at Castle Eden University. Wednesday is a much-needed escape valve, a time to talk shit, mostly about one another, and to let off some steam.
In fairly typical fashion, Iain has everyone in stiches with a story about a recent book signing in York.
‘—so it turns out that the bookshop owner had mixed up the booking.’ Iain pauses and takes a swig of his beer. ‘They thought they had booked, Iain Lockheart, not yours truly. And Iain Lockheart is not a literary fiction author but rather a bestselling non-fiction author ofSummer of Bush – A comprehensive guide to summer shrubbery.’
We all burst out laughing.
I wipe a tear from my eye and when I manage to stop laughing long enough, I ask, ‘So what did you do?’
Iain shrugs. ‘What could I do? I had to help out a fellow bookshop owner. If I had done nothing, he would have had a full-scale pensioner riot on his hands. So, I explained the mishap, then proceeded to give a public reading of some of the best bits fromSummer of Bush.’ Iain turned and looked at me, ‘You know it really is a classic, so maybe one for the curriculum next year,’ he smiles.
As the laughter dies down, Dalton says, ‘That could only happen to you Iain. I wish I had been there.’
Iain put his pint down, ‘It was a great night,’ a smile crosses his lips and he adds, ‘You would have loved it Dalton, there were some real bush enthusiasts there.’
We all start laughing again.
Bruno leans back in his seat, ‘Every time we play, I feel it in every muscle,’ he admits, stretching his back as if to prove a point.
