Twenty-Seven

Anna had thought her escapade with Young Robbie beneath the cliff had been the second shoe she’d been waiting to drop, but she was wrong. That came a few days later on Thursday, when Anna was about to begin service at the Fishergirl’s Luck. Seeing her baby and then being able to talk to Pat and Frank about it had lifted a weight from Anna’s shoulders that she hadn’t known she’d been carrying. As a result she floated through the week, still tired but with a new happiness that made her buoyant.

‘Enjoy it,’ Cathy told her. ‘I’m so glad you’re surrounded by good people, Anna. I hate that I’m not closer.’

‘I know,’ Anna said. ‘Me too. But I know you’ll visit when you can. It would be so good to see you.’

The frequency of her phone calls to Cathy had lessened, and Anna realized that this was an indication of how close her newer friendships were becoming. Roots, she thought to herself, as she shaped gnocchi with a swift, practised twist of her thumb. I’ve put them down here. They’re taking, despite the rock.

She prepared for service with a sense of confidence that had only developed since she’d been in Crovie. This was her place. Maybe she didn’t know it as well as someone like Douglas McKean or Robert MacKenzie, but she had the rest of her life to learn it, and she had decided that was exactly what she wanted to do.

The six successful guests had been seated – there were always still a lot of people who hung around, as if she might miraculously be able to produce another table for them to eat at – and she was inside organizing drinks when Anna heard a commotion outside. It began as a loud murmur followed by a storm of clapping, over which she could hear a voice speaking. She went to see what was happening and stopped dead on the step.

‘Well, well, well, here she is,’ said Geoff Rowcliffe, his television smile firmly in place. ‘Anna Campbell, the girl of the moment.’

Anna could feel the blood draining from her face. ‘What are you doing here?’

Geoff turned to the gathered crowd, spreading his arms and widening his smile. There was a smattering of laughter. ‘I wanted to see first-hand how my protégé was getting on, of course!’ he said.

Anna could feel her throat seizing up. She felt cold. ‘Your protégé?’

The celebrity chef turned back to her. His smile was still in place, but she knew him well enough to read the knife-edge in his eyes. ‘Twenty years in my kitchens has obviously stood you well, hasn’t it? Thought I’d come and show my support.’

She swallowed. ‘I’m afraid the table’s full for today,’ Anna said. ‘There’s no more room.’