The Piano Man Project Page 0,58
watched as they seemed to tug the tray back and forth between them, each man entrenched in winning the battle.
Billy peered hopefully between them. ‘Is it tomato?’ he boomed, still holding the loudhailer.
Christopher clenched his teeth and yanked hard at the tray, sending the food flying, the soup landing all down the front of Billy’s overalls. It was hard to say if it was deliberate or not, but either way Billy made the most of the situation, turning to the press, virtually in tears.
‘It’s burning,’ he moaned into the loudhailer, loud and pitiful, even though it had at best been lukewarm and he could barely feel it through the boiler suit and his clothing beneath it.
Honey ran across the pavement to help but found her way blocked by Patrick, who puffed himself up to Popeye proportions and swung a left hook at Christopher’s chin, sending him sprawling.
‘You just assaulted an OAP!’ the chef thundered, puce in the face.
‘And you just assaulted your boss!’ Christopher yelled back, sliding around the pavement on his backside in the sandwiches.
‘Up yours! I resign, ya great streak of piss!’ Patrick shouted, louder than Billy even without the aid of a loudhailer. He unfastened his striped apron and dragged it over his head then threw it at Christopher’s head before storming back into the building.
The press pack scribbled furiously and flashed their cameras, hardly able to believe their luck. This was turning into the story that just kept on giving. Honey stepped around Christopher to help Billy step out of the soup-covered overalls, revealing the slogan-painted t-shirt beneath it. ‘You say old, I say experienced. Fancy dinner?’
‘How do I look, darling?’ he winked.
Honey grinned at how much Billy was obviously enjoying himself. ‘Never better, Billy.’
He turned to smile winsomely for the cameras, and Honey stepped back into the shadows, hoping it was all going to be enough. Billy might seem clownish to the passers-by, but behind all of his showmanship was an elderly man who was genuinely frightened for his future, and that wasn’t funny at all.
‘We’re all starving, Honey. Skinny Steve is trying his best, bless him, but he’s wet behind the ears and burnt all the toast this morning. Old Don almost broke his false teeth trying to eat it.’
Honey grimaced in sympathy at Mimi and pushed a pack of shortbread towards her. Patrick’s dramatic exit from the home had seen his seventeen-year-old apprentice, Skinny Steve, elevated to head chef overnight. Wet behind the ears and eight stone on a fat day, he was never going to be up to the job of caring for the delicate diets of a bunch of fussy elderly residents. It was Christopher’s job to sort out a replacement, but as he’d been last seen sitting on the pavement in a pile of sandwiches the day before, it clearly wasn’t on his priority list.
‘What will we do at dinnertime? It’s alright for me and Mimi, we’re as strong as oxes,’ Lucille said, her face pinched as she sipped the sweet tea Honey had made for her. ‘But some of the others are really frail, Honey. If they go without food, well … it just doesn’t bear thinking about.’
It was a problem alright, and despite her assertion Lucille and Mimi were nowhere near as strong as oxes, despite their sprightliness.
‘Okay. Look.’ Honey smiled at the sisters with more confidence than she felt inside, noticing that they’d already eaten half the packet of biscuits between them. ‘You ladies hold the fort here and I’ll nip across and make sure Skinny Steve’s on top of lunch.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Skinny Steve wasn’t on top of lunch. He was in a complete flap, his usually pale face pink and sweaty.
‘I can’t do this,’ he’d said, staring at her wild eyed as soon as she’d walked into the kitchen. ‘There’s hardly any butter, and the bread’s still frozen!’ He looked up at the clock. ‘Lunch is due out in two hours. What am I going to do?’
He really was asking the wrong person, but Honey could see he was on the edge of a panic attack so held up her palms in a calming way.
‘Steve. Calm down. Take some nice, deep breaths. I’m here to help.’
His skinny shoulders sagged with relief as Honey almost felt him hand over the baton of responsibility to her. His face brightened considerably as he slipped gratefully back into his apprentice role and awaited instruction. Which would have been absolutely fine, if Honey had any clue how to run the kitchen.
‘So, err