the sort of thing, and if there are not many businesses advertising their services out there then there must be a gap in the market?”
Frances continued to scribble while she talked. “You’d need a big kitchen and it would need to be inspected and approved of course,” she warned. “And money to start up and keep you going if there are lean times ahead.”
Katie pondered, “Well, at the moment I suppose it depends upon how much I get from Graham and I do have some savings but whether that’s enough for a deposit and mortgage for a place with a big kitchen,” she mused, chewing the end of her pencil. “And, if there are quiet times I could always pick up some freelance technology work for a few months?”
“Of course you could, especially with all your experience,” she said. “I remember reading a quote somewhere which said cooks make meals for people they know and love but chefs do it anonymously for anyone who pays the price, so make sure you charge enough. And I suppose at first you could get a lot of your bookings from personal contacts, and let’s face it we certainly know enough people between us?” she said, catching up with Katie’s enthusiasm. “What would you call the business?”
Katie giggled animatedly. “I don’t know yet. Let’s think of the important words I’d need in the name,” she said scribbling on her pad. Between them they came up with, ‘Outside Catering - Culinary Services for the Discerning Male’.
“Fabulous!” Katie declared. “All this brain power is giving me an appetite. Let’s go and eat lunch Frances, I‘m starving.”
“Lead me to it,” Frances said swinging her bag over her shoulder. “My secret in life is to eat what I like and let the food fight it out inside.”
But silently Katie had to dispute this great secret to life because when she followed Frances to the stairs she noticed her silk skirt caught in the crease of her large bottom. Not wanting to embarrass her she didn’t say anything just hoped that it would dislodge itself again as they hurried together down the stairs and into the staff restaurant.
While they settled themselves at a table she thought of how dreadful she’d felt two hours ago when they’d been there for coffee, and remembered one of her dads favourite sayings; ‘when one door closes another one opens’. She prayed the door to self-employment would open for her, and if it didn’t open automatically she’d wedge it open with her foot because one thing for sure she knew she didn’t want to carry on working for this company any longer. Change was coming and not only in her personal life, she thought grinning at Frances tucking into sausage and chips.
Sarah arrived that night just after seven o’clock bearing a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. She’d walked across from Carmalt Road rather than bringing her car and told Katie she’d take a taxi home.
“Oh, Katie the flat looks lovely, sort of more lived-in and homely,” she said admiring the flowers and then following her into the kitchen.
Katie opened the bottle and poured good measures into two glasses. “Yes, thanks. I’m really beginning to look upon it now as my little sanctuary,” she said taking a mouthful of wine. “Mmm, that’s good. I’ve made us tagliatelle carbonara, salad and some garlic bread because Lisa isn’t here.”
Sarah looked puzzled and she told her about the supper before the party and how they weren’t allowed to order garlic as there was going to be some serious snogging later and Sarah giggled.
“What’s she like!” she exclaimed. “And is this Adam every bit as gorgeous as she says he is?”
“And some,” Katie enthused.
Sarah sat at the table and picked at the green leaf salad while Katie strained and tossed the tagliatelle in the sauce. “Mmm, that smells divine, Katie, I must say you seem surprisingly upbeat after the horrible day you’ve had at work with not getting the job?”
Katie took the hot garlic bread out of the oven and put it down with the pasta and while they both broke slices from it she started to tell Sarah all about her new business idea.
The creamy carbonara sauce was delicious and Sarah drooled over the flavour and chunky pieces of ham. “You must give me the recipe for this, it’s so special compared to the pots I buy in the supermarket,” she said wrapping strands of tagliatelle around her fork.
“Thanks, but what do you think about my idea? I mean,