Chapters (39)
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Epilogue
- Author’s note
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
‘Review?’ Anna said. ‘Do you mean on TripAdvisor? Did someone post a photo?’
There was a pause. ‘You mean you haven’t seen it? The Fishergirl’s Luck has got a splash review in the Observer today. It’s a great one, Anna – five stars and a wonderful write-up.’
Anna’s mind went blank. Then something clicked into place. ‘Adrienne Gail.’
‘Yeah, she’s the critic. Absolutely loves you.’ Brigitte laughed again. ‘If she raves about my place the way she did about yours when we finally open, I’ll be on cloud nine.’
Anna remembered the woman at the bench the day before and kicked herself for not recognizing one of the UK’s foremost food critics.
‘I didn’t recognize her,’ Anna said. ‘I’ve never met her in person myself, she always dealt with Geoff. I’ve only seen her in photos and on screen. Oh, God.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that – she probably prefers it when restaurateurs are clueless about who she is,’ Brigitte said.
‘But it’s only a bench in my garden! I’m not a real restaurant. I’m not even planning to run beyond the summer!’
‘Well, whatever you’re doing, you’re doing it right. Good for you. I’d love to come and visit myself, but it’s going to be months until I have time. But listen – could you put me in touch with this potter friend of yours? I’d really like to talk to her about custom flatware for this place.’
She and Brigitte talked for another few minutes before hanging up, but Anna was no longer really concentrating on the conversation. A review in the Observer – she had to know what it said. The minute she’d put the phone down she was opening her iPad to find the article online.
THE FISHERGIRL’S LUCK, ran the header, in huge bold type. Below it the standfirst read: ‘A Tiny Hidden Jewel on the Wild Scottish Coast.’
It was, as Brigitte had said, a rave review. Adrienne Gail had apparently loved everything about her experience of eating at the Fishergirl’s Luck, from the unconventional entrance into the village itself, which for her apparently constituted a perfect transition into the experience – ‘I have never in my life before had to hike down a cliff to get to an eatery, and it is only now I see what a tragedy that is’ – to having to queue with her five fellow guests. The food she called, among other rapturous descriptions, ‘an inspired fusion of idea with practicality, skill with passion’ that ‘sat perfectly in its lonely, ocean-front setting’.