Marble’s Marvels

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Kate Marble wanted to cry. Although she was inputting a pre-order for thirty starters, mains and desserts, the large bill wouldn't help much. Her beloved restaurant was gasping her last few breaths.

The hardest thing about their situation was remembering how Marble's Marvels used to be. On the night of the crash, she and Aidan had seen their thirty tables turn over twice, some three times. So, while she had been behind the bar getting drinks orders ready, and while her husband had been on the line in the kitchen, her son Vinnie was being cut out of his Vauxhall Astra, along with two of his friends. The two in the other car died as well.

Printing the bill off, Kate saved the tab on the till. Looking at her place now depressed her. With only two tables in use, the amount they made from lunch didn't cover the wages, much less the bills. Kate didn't want to start down the path of closing if she was empty, knowing it was a short step away from shutting her for good. If people couldn't rely on Marble’s to be open when they needed them to be, her customers would go elsewhere.

Taking her laptop to table thirty, at the far end on the right, Kate sat down, her clipboard in front of her. She and Aidan were expecting a notification of their credit application from The Roderick's Foundation, a small charity offering loans to businesses unable to secure finance from more traditional channels such as banks.

Lord knew she had attempted securing investment from every bank possible. Every executive she spoke to considered investing in Marble's Marvels a huge risk; they couldn't foresee that miracle she needed happening. One manager suggested they compete with Elio's on two-for-one meal deals, which they tried. It didn't make a dent.

The biggest problem she had was her husband. Or rather the shell of her husband, who resided in the kitchen, producing average food at best. Since Vinnie died two years earlier almost to the day, Aidan had lost his passion for the job. If they had a full restaurant now, she would be offering free drinks to every table in compensation for their lacklustre experience of dining at Marble's. It was no way to run a business.

She only wished she could talk to him about it. Before the crash, Aidan was wonderful, a devoted father, loving hubby, magnificent chef, and loyal friend. Kate couldn't have been happier with her choice of partner. They had everything going for them. For fifteen years they owned a successful business that brought in a great income, enough to put Vinnie through private school, and for three family holidays a year. Then there was the house, a five-bedroom palace on the outskirts of Bishops Drake. And the cars. While he drove a top-of-the-line Range Rover, Kate owned a red MG convertible, her baby.

Their lives so different now, she and Aidan still lived in the same house. Now up to its neck in mortgages, they had to re-mortgage it twice to keep the restaurant afloat. What counted for their savings amounted to a few thousand, which alarmed her. If they didn't come up with a new line of credit soon, she would be forced to close Marble's doors forever, and file for bankruptcy. Kate would do anything to prevent that.

It wouldn't have been so bad if Aidan talked to her, but he didn't. Her husband bottled his feelings, letting them build up until they exploded, which they had on a couple of occasions since losing Vinnie. She would have left him by now, except that she knew he was a good man, and in spite of his flaws she still loved him so. It was this attitude that had caused most of the other staff to leave, although they would have had to let them go eventually anyway.

The only thing keeping them together was Aidan's occasional displays of affection. He could be a blank piece of wood for weeks, hardly saying a word, and then one night, he would want s*x. Desperate for a bit of normality, Kate would oblige, clinging on to those moments, hoping he might open up, let her in.

It never happened, though. Aidan couldn't mourn Vinnie's death, it seemed. He never confided in her his true feelings, but Kate didn't need psychic abilities to realise that he carried a lot of guilt over Vinnie’s death. They both did, but she unloaded on her sister. Kate cried often, wondering what would have happened if she and Aidan had let Vinnie quit university? Would he have been in his car at that time?

Vinnie and Aidan had argued so intensely that afternoon about their son leaving his architects course at the University of Southampton. Kate had joined in, backing her husband; she didn't want to see him throwing it all away over a silly notion to go travelling for a year. "Go abroad after," she'd said. "Take two years out if you need to but finish your degree first."

Her words were ignored. Aidan and Vinnie kept arguing until she thought her husband would explode. At the height of their row their son flounced out, like he always did when losing an argument. Kate ran after him. Outside, on their driveway, she tried to stop him driving angry, but he closed the Astra door too quickly. "Wait! Don't go like this, Vin, please."

Those were the last words she said to her son. Why couldn't she have told him she loved him? Still, it could have been worse. Aidan's last words to Vinnie were, "You're a bloody fool, do you know that?"

Francesca approached the elderly couple's table with the card reader. Kate watched the couple prepare to leave when her waitress apologised for their first meals. She overheard the woman tell Francesca the replacements were fine. Not great, not wonderful, just fine.

They had eight customers over lunch, and two were unhappy. Kate shook her head. "Unbelievable!" After the couple had left the premises, she beckoned Francesca over. "What was all that about?"

Her best waitress attempted to cover for Aidan. "Come on, Fran, I heard you apologising over there. Tell me what happened, please."

"A small complaint, honest, nothing big. The woman complained her shepherd's pie was dry, and the man's chips were overdone."

Kate's temper rose. "You're kidding me! We're getting chips returned to us now? I don't believe this."

"They were a bit brown, sure, but there was nothing wrong with them, Kate," Francesca tried to reassure her. "She complained for him; he was happy with them."

Standing, Kate regarded Francesca. "I appreciate you're covering for my husband, I do, but you shouldn't. He's probably not changed the oil in the fryer. I keep telling him to keep up with the cleaning. You watch, I'll go in there only to find him on his mobile playing some stupid game."

Why had she let it go on like this for so long? For months he'd neglected his duties, preferring to play games on his phone. Marching into the kitchen, she caught him leaning against the stainless-steel salad counter, phone in hand, thumbs poised in some stupid game, usually Angry Birds. "What's this I hear about two complaints, Aidan?" She stood in front of him, her arms crossed.

He looked up. "I dealt with them." He went back to his game.

Grabbing his mobile, Kate's eyes narrowed, her face growing redder by the second. "Those two customers represented twenty-five percent of today's lunch trade; did you know that? We've served eight mains all day, and a quarter of those sent their food back."

Aidan leaned against the salad bar, his face blank.

"Well? What have you got to say?"

He had the ability to make her so mad she wanted to punch something, anything, just to relieve herself of the anger and frustration. He stood in front of her, not caring one bit. "Do you want this place to close?" He shook his head. "So why are we having so many complaints, huh? Talk to me!"

Aidan walked towards the double sink. "What can I say? She found the pie dry. I made it yesterday; it's been in the fridge overnight. You know how food dries up in there. I prefer my shepherd's pie to be dryer myself. There was nothing wrong with it."

Kate strolled over to the double deep-fat fryer. "What about the brown chips you sent out?" She inspected the fryers. "When was the last time you changed the oil? It's disgusting in there."

Meeting her at the fryers, Aidan threw his marigolds at the basins behind him. "Monday. And what's the matter with you anyway? You're acting like we receive complaints every service."

She stopped staring at the oil. "How can we when we don't have any customers? You chased them all away with your less than average cooking." Her husband walked back to the sink, putting his yellow gloves on. "That sign out front, the one that says, 'Where the Magic Happens,' should be changed to, 'Where the s**t Happens,' because that's how you're running this kitchen now."

He turned to her, a yellow finger pointing at her. "Oh, it's my average cooking, is it? Rather than customers coming in to find you with a long face every day. If I were greeted at the door by you, I think I’d turn on round and go across the road to Elio's as well."

How dare he? Kate was the strong one in this relationship; at least that was what her sister kept telling her. "Me? I’ve done all I can to build this place back up again. I couldn't have put more effort in if I tried."

Francesca burst through the double hinged door. "Will you two stop fighting, please. It's not helping any, is it? We need to bring this place back before it's too late. Now, stop blaming each other, and don your thinking caps, will you?"

After receiving Francesca's mouthful, Kate stared at the dirty floor. "What's that?" She pointed at the red, grease proof lino. "It's filthy, Aidan. Look at it. No wonder we've only got a hygiene rating of three from the FSA."

"Don't even try and bring that up." He turned the hot tap off, placing plates in the soapy water. "You know as well as I do my kitchen got passed last time. It was the building's structural integrity that brought our stars down. If customers research us, they'll find my food hygiene in here is impeccable. Go ahead, honey, check my day dotting, temperature charts, the works. It's all there, look at the logs."

Kate couldn't argue with him. The important stuff he was fanatical about; her husband did everything the way it should be done. There was no chance of any of their customers getting poisoned from Marble's food, Aidan personally probed every piece of meat he sent out. If it wasn't at seventy-five degrees or higher, it didn't go. "It's fine, I believe you. Please clean this floor, though. It is disgusting."

"Yes, boss." He saluted her.

Back out in the restaurant, Kate thanked the table of six suits. She picked up the remainder of their plates and carried them through to the kitchen, where Aidan took them from her, sinking them in hot bubbly water. "I wish Roderick's would contact us. I'm sick of all this waiting."