Cooking the Books (38 page)

He leant on Ms Atkins’ shoulder. She patted his curly head.

‘My son,’ she said in her compelling throaty voice. ‘Oh, my son.’

There was a silence. Then Ethan asked, ‘Well, who was playing the tricks?’

‘You played one,’ I said. ‘I saw you squeeze your pocket. You made an electronic doodad to make Ms Atkins’ scales register higher so that when she weighed herself she seemed to have put on kilos. Did you play any of the others?’

‘No,’ said Ethan. ‘Really,’ he protested. ‘I thought they were trying to frame me! They were all hot spices, and you know how I love hot tastes.’

‘Exactly. Who would want to injure Ms Atkins and frame Ethan and ruin Tommy? Someone who had been bullied unmercifully by Ms Atkins, and rejected by Ethan, who had replaced her with someone from the kitchen. You weren’t trying to ruin Tommy, were you, Emily? Just Bernie.’

‘I thought she’d be sacked,’ muttered Emily. ‘Then Ethan’d come back to me.’

‘No chance,’ Ethan told her, taking Bernie’s hand.

‘Emily!’ exclaimed Tash.

‘There’s more,’ I said, holding up a hand. ‘Let me tell you a story.’ Out of the corner of my eye I could see Gordon and Kendall taking notes. Curse them. Everything is grist to a writer’s mill. ‘A young boy who knows he is born in the wrong body. He is told that all sex and probably gender is sin. But it is too painful to stay in a body which is totally wrong for him. Then he gets a sign from God. He wins the lottery. He has enough money for gender reassignment surgery. In some distant land, where no questions would be asked and no one would know. Thailand, perhaps.’

‘Malaysia,’ someone muttered.

‘Zephaniah is soon dead,’ I said. ‘And home to Australia comes . . . Emily.’

‘It’s true,’ said Emily. ‘I played the tricks. I did change sex. I am Ms Atkins’ child. Now let me go . . .’

She made as if to stride to the door, but Harrison and Ms Atkins caught her in their arms. She resisted for a moment, then subsided into their embrace, weeping freely.

‘And that is all,’ said Daniel, taking my hand.

‘And I got it,’ said Ethan with great satisfaction. I realised that he had been filming throughout. The whole thing. The tiger, the accident with Ms Atkins, the wholehearted confessions. I just stared at him. He grinned.

‘All in the can,’ he told me.

I couldn’t help it. I began to laugh and couldn’t stop.

‘But tell me,’ said Harrison to Emily. ‘Did you know about me?’

‘Of course not,’ she told him. ‘How could I know? I haven’t seen you since I was born.’

‘Sister,’ said Harrison, rolling the word around his tongue.

‘Brother,’ said Emily, through her tears.

‘Daughter,’ said Ms Atkins, getting into the act. ‘Son.’

Soap operas.

Tash cleared her throat. ‘Well, that’s all been interesting,’ she told the assembly. ‘Now back to work. We’ve got the last scene to finish. Tonight we party, but today we work. Ethan, you ready?’

Ethan was clutching Bernie’s hand.

‘I never knew,’ he said dazedly. ‘I never knew she was a trannie. I never thought . . . I never noticed . . .’

‘It’s all right,’ Bernie assured him. ‘We all have things to regret. I once tried to make a fish-flavoured chocolate mousse. Don’t stress on it.’

‘Ethan?’ Tash’s patience, which had been much tried, was audibly wearing thin.

‘Right,’ said Ethan, kissing Bernie and putting her firmly aside. ‘I shall summon my minions. All right, minions?’

The crew resumed their places. Makeup artists flocked in to repair faces. Ali grumbled about the sound quality. Abby complained that collapsing onto the keyboard had ricked her back. Emily dried her tears. Ms Atkins stood up and shook herself. Kylie and Goss, who had indulged themselves with hot chocolate, smoothed their costumes and pushed back their hair. In an incredibly short time the TV crew were filming the last bits of
Kiss the Bride
.

Daniel and I withdrew to the kitchen to help with the pre- parations for the conclusion-of-filming party. All that emotion, despair, terror, joy; it was instantly put away. How could anyone do that? I was still feeling shaky.

But there were cocktails to mix and sorbets to freeze. The set broke for lunch, which we duly served. Bernie’s gyngerbrede was very moreish. Then the actors returned to their profession and Daniel and I were out of a job.

I have never been so delighted to be unemployed.

‘So you don’t mind about Bernie taking your job?’ asked Tommy. ‘I told her I wouldn’t take her on if you objected.’

‘Oh, I don’t object,’ I said. ‘But what will you do if Bernie goes to LA with Ethan?’

‘She’ll be here for months,’ said Tommy. ‘By then Alicia’s leg will be recovered. And Ethan hasn’t won any endurance awards for his affairs. Either way I’ll get some very good cakes. And she’ll get some useful experience. Things are hard in the catering trade at present. Everyone who’s seen
Masterchef
thinks they’re God’s gift to cuisine. You’ve really got to shine to get noticed. So you’ll come to the party tonight?’ she asked, handing over an envelope which rustled. ‘Don’t forget to take your knives and so on, will you, when you leave?’

‘I won’t forget,’ I told her. ‘It’s been . . . fun,’ I added.

‘Sure has,’ said Tommy. She shook my hand.

I collected my apron, my knives and my cap. I stuffed them all into my bag. I kissed Bernie goodbye and agreed that her Green Lady cocktail was very acceptable for a hot day. Daniel accepted his payment from Tash and waved to the crew, who were involved in a ferocious discussion about using a green screen.

Then we left the studios and walked into blessed sunshine.

‘That,’ said Daniel, ‘was weird.’

‘Tell me about it,’ I agreed. ‘I’m a bit at a loss. I’ve finished my job. I’ve been given an honourable dismissal from Maitresse.’

‘I’ve finished my job too,’ said Daniel. ‘We’ve revenged Lena and Pockets, found the bonds, found the trickster. That sex-change came as a bit of a shock. How did you work it out?’

‘It just came to me,’ I said. ‘There was a bit in the paper about gender reassignment clinics in Thailand. I don’t know that anyone would operate on a fifteen-year-old in Australia. Not without parental consent. And I couldn’t see those parents consenting. But Zephaniah had the money. It must have seemed like a gift from the deity.’

‘It might have been,’ said Daniel. ‘I have always thought that God had a funny sense of humour.’

‘But I got the motive quite wrong,’ I told him. ‘I was looking for a familial one—but Emily just wanted to get rid of Bernie. And to be revenge on her mother, too.’

‘This will be a salutary lesson for Ethan, too,’ said Daniel.

‘Yes, I expect it will. And Bernie’s position seems relatively secure,’ I said.

‘And the tiger was not injured or even more than passingly affronted,’ said Daniel.

‘And the girls are probably forgiven by now,’ I mused. ‘Things move fast in the TV world.’

‘But that does leave us at a loose end,’ said Daniel. ‘Would you like to see a film? Visit a museum? Art gallery?’

‘No, I’m knackered,’ I realised.

‘Then let’s go home and take Horatio for his walkies and lounge about and do nothing, until we go to this party tonight,’ he suggested.

That sounded like a very good idea. When I checked my email I found one from my friend Lucy, offering me a couple of weeks at her house in Apollo Bay. Sun. Sea. Good food. I would have to ask Daniel how he felt about a holiday. I was coming round to the idea that they might be a good thing, after all.

It looked like a promising party. I now felt differently about the actors. I had not wanted to feed them. I had been blackmailed into being Tommy’s pastry chef. But I was now out of a job, free, clear and unemployed. Daniel had been enthusiastic about Apollo Bay and Jason had agreed to feed the kitties in exchange for unlimited access to my cable TV. I felt light and sociable. Everyone who had been involved in the production was invited. There was a party from Insula; Meroe, invited by the girls, Therese Webb, Kylie and Goss, Jason (probably invited by Bernie) and Mrs Dawson, who accompanied the Professor, who was invited by Kendall, who had attended his Latin classes at the university before embarking on a literary career. The world is full of people who went to Professor Dion’s Latin classes. There seemed to be more actors and crew than I had seen before. These, I realised, were the behind-the-scenes people: editors, computer people, technicians. All of whom were hopping into the cocktails with an avidity born of relief. Filming was over.
Kiss the Bride
was, as Ethan had said, in the can. Its future fate could be left on the knees of the Gods of Film.

Bernie carried a tray of drinks towards us.

‘White Lady, Green Lady, Sex on the Beach,’ she said.

‘In my experience, sex on the beach is productive of sand in the underpinnings,’ I told her. ‘I’ll have a Green Lady.’

‘And I’ll have a White Lady,’ said Daniel, smiling at me. ‘How’s it going, Bernie?’

‘Good,’ she said. I did not know if she was referring to the party or her own career. ‘Everyone seems to like the drinks. What a day! Is every day going to be like this?’

‘Once you get off this TV set,’ I told her, ‘your career will be of unexampled dullness. Why? What’s been happening?’

‘That triangle—’ Bernie jerked her chin at a clump of people on the set ‘—has been carrying on since you left. Dull . . .’ She thought about it briefly. Then she nodded her neat little head. ‘I could get to like dull. Thank you, Corinna.’

She passed on through the crowd, dispensing drinks. Daniel and I clinked glasses and sipped. Icy and profound. Gin, lemon juice, white of egg, something green. I could feel it doing me harm. Lovely.

Mrs Dawson had accepted a cocktail, but Professor Dion had somehow prevailed on a server to fetch him a glass of red wine. Kylie and Goss bobbed up beside us.

‘Corinna!’ said Goss. ‘The tiger man’s here and looking for you.’

‘Leonidas Cohen?’ I asked. ‘Where?’

‘Here,’ said Leonidas Cohen, surfacing. ‘They asked me to the party but not Tabitha.’

‘How is she?’

‘She drank a lot of water when she got home,’ he said. ‘How many anchovies did you give her?’

‘As many as we had,’ I told him. ‘Two jars. Well, one and a half.’

‘Oh, that’s all right then,’ he said, relaxing. ‘She’s quite a big tiger, she can stand that much salt.’

‘Yes, she is big, isn’t she?’ I recalled.

‘I’m so glad you were there,’ he said, taking my hand.

‘My pleasure. Has there been any legal trouble about it?’

‘No,’ he said decisively, snapping his white teeth. There was something intensely cat-like about Leonidas Cohen. ‘Everyone heard me tell that fool photographer that Tabitha was getting bored. She didn’t do anything wrong. When she couldn’t get her treat from me, she went looking for the scent of anchovies. When that idiot cook panicked, you took over, very intelligently, and had the sense to isolate her from the mob. Then it was just a matter of me getting out from under the collapsed set and putting her back in her cage. Tabitha was completely vindicated,’ he said, and took a deep draught of his cocktail.

I got the impression that Leonidas didn’t like people much. But I was glad that Tabitha was well. She was the most beautiful cat I had ever seen. Leonidas passed on to talk to some animal-loving editors.

Daniel and I drifted towards the centre of the room. A mathematician friend of mine once told me that you can map the movement of people at parties. The drift looks random, but it isn’t. There is always a focus, sometimes two foci, around which the party revolves in slow circles. The focus of this party was the triangle of Harrison, Emily and Molly Atkins. They were holding court in the middle of the space, sitting on plastic chairs and accepting homage.

Daniel and I, accompanied by the Insula group, drifted that way accordingly.

‘My, they are handsome,’ said Mrs Dawson. She had taken a second drink, which was unusual for her. She was also right. They were beautiful. Now that I looked at Harrison and Emily I could not believe that I had not noticed their resemblance before. Both slim, dark, lovely. The hormones and the surgery had given Emily rounder, more female contours, but the bone structure was their mother’s. What anthropologists call gracile. Graceful. Sweet flesh lay gently on fine bones.