Yes Chef, No Chef - By Susan Willis Page 0,27

the peace and quiet to concentrate on how much lovely money you could make. Although she did remember Sarah telling her once that there was a national average and it was up to the individual whether they charged clients more or less. She looked admiringly at one of Sarah’s black and white designs hanging above her desk and wondered what it felt like to be self-employed? She loved the idea of being your own boss with nobody to answer into and when she considered some of the crap managers she’d worked for over the years it sounded like heaven. But, she decided, there would probably be pros and cons to self-employment, the same as everything else in life.

She picked up a marker pen from Sarah’s cluttered desk which looked a complete mess compared to her meticulously tidy desk and wondered how on earth she could concentrate and work in a muddle like this? Rolling the pen between her fingers she remembered Frances once telling her that she must have OCD because she was always so much in control and everything had to be planned to within an inch of its life. Replacing the marker carefully she fought the urge to tidy things into piles and make some order out of the chaos and then wondered if Tim had found her a control freak to live with in the apartment. And could it have been one of the reasons why things had gone wrong?

Hearing Lisa’s car pull up, she shook herself and then cursed angrily. Shit, here she was tearing herself to bits looking for flaws and deep down she knew that if he’d loved her as much as he’d said he did it wouldn’t have matter whether she had OCD or lived like a tramp. Hearing Lisa calling her name from downstairs she fled from the room, wiping all the negative thoughts from her mind and out to the car.

The next day her mobile tinkled with an email.

From tim.davies to katie.charles

Thanks for the email, Kate.

Not sure there’s really much more to say, after all you made the decision to walk out. I presume you still have your key, therefore you may return anytime to collect more clothes.

Tim.

Katie read the message over and over again because she couldn’t quite believe this was happening, and it was obvious that he still thought of himself as blameless and that it was all her fault. Of course she’d made the decision to walk out; there wasn’t a woman in London who would put up with being spoken to in that manner - was there? She supposed there could be women with so little self-esteem they’d accept his arrogance and patronising attitude just so they could say their partner was head chef in a London restaurant. And that, she decided angrily was the crux of the matter - she simply couldn’t become one of those women, even if she wanted to.

Pulling her shoulders back she lifted her head and looked around the office - she was a major player in this big professional team of people and her job was every bit as important as a head chef, probably more, Frances would argue and she deserved to be treat better than this.

“Well that’s it I suppose, we’re no longer a couple,” she said to Frances after reading the email to her.

“Crikey,” Frances cried shaking her head in disbelief. “Who the hell does he think he is? You know, I can’t believe this is the same man. I mean, I’ve known Tim even longer than you have, Katie.”

“I know. It’s like there’s somebody else masquerading in his body.”

Frances looked warily at her. “Not sure if this is the right time to say this because I don’t want to upset you even further but…”

Katie rushed to Frances’s desk and perched on the end of it. Whatever Frances had to say be it good or bad might help and God knows she needed some uptake on this. “There couldn’t be a better time. Just tell me?”

“Well, after you two had got together Tim told me one night that he often felt inferior or that he had to take a back seat when it came to work mainly because you are so fantastic. I remember him saying he’d have to work for years and years to become as proficient as you…”

Katie cried out in protest. “But that’s ridiculous!”

She stared at Frances hoping for some type of further explanation but none came. “Fran, I can’t believe that. I mean, I’ve