Blocking out the other diners as much as possible, he looked around the room. Much to his surprise, he liked it. The aged oak flooring, a beautiful calming grey tone, was met by white walls and a white ceiling bisected by large oak beams, from which hung baskets with ivy and strings of pearl and hearts pouring downwards from the containers. They picked up the same fresh green colours that dominated the wall behind the worn wooden countertop that looked as if it was made from scaffolding boards. Surrounded by a frame of weathered wood, fresh herbs hung in huge swathes. Oregano and thyme spilled over the frame and downwards, while basil and sage were leafy and full. He thought he could also see beets and Swiss chard towards the edges, bringing flashes of burgundy to the broad leafy mix.

He craned his head, noticing for the first time the skylight that topped the entire counter section, presumably providing light for the herbs and bringing brightness to the restaurant during the day. Turning back to the restaurant, he saw that floating oak shelves were covered in black-and-white pictures but he couldn’t quite make them out.

On the tables were old bottles of Hawkesbury estate wine with candles plunged into their necks, dribbles of white wax stark against the dark glass, speaking to long-term use. He frowned, taking in the names of new wines and years, long after he’d left the estate. Ten years ago, his father had only planted the Bacchus and Pinot Noir. But as he scanned the labels he saw it had stretched to Rondo and Schönburger. His father might have thought he’d not been interested in or aware of the work required for the vineyard, but Henry hadn’t forgotten. He hadn’t forgotten a damn thing.

‘You did really great this evening, Kevin,’ Lily said to the young KP. ‘Really good work,’ she added as she started to wipe down the surfaces. The early dinner rush had been quick and intense, but Kev had risen to the challenge. Usually, Vihaan would have been there to pick up the slack, but her chef de cuisine was taking a much-needed holiday before returning the following week so that Lily could focus almost exclusively on … the wedding that might not be happening.

In Vihaan’s absence, Kev had really stepped up, the seventeen-year-old flourishing within his new-found responsibility. And the mise en place had been done for tomorrow which meant that Lily didn’t even mind that there was a mound of washing-up in the sink. The joy practically vibrating from her KP was totally worth it.

‘Thank you, chef.’