“What the hell is this?” Mal’s voice came from inside the kitchen as Gwyn caught the last sack of flour the delivery guy threw at him. It hit him in the middle with a thump and he was breathless in the cold rain for a moment before he could haul it onto his shoulder and turn to face his boss.
“Flour delivery?” he said tentatively. It should be obvious.
“Who ordered this much?” Mal replied.
Gwyn opened his mouth to tell him he’d just rung through what Chef had put on the list, but before he could, Chef was there behind Mal, scowling.
“I left him to do the orders yesterday,” he said. “i***t. How much do you think we use?”
“I just ordered what you wrote down,” Gwyn said, moving past them to dump the sack with the other eleven on the counter inside the door and then turning back to the de
