In the Kitchen (31 page)

'Sort her out,' said Gabe to Gleeson, 'before I do it myself.'

'Little stressed in the kitchen today, are we?' Gleeson looked like a waxwork dummy, all stiff and unreal, not a single hair out of place.

'What is she – on drugs or something?'

'Come, come,' sang Gleeson, 'that's a serious allegation to make.'

'What is she on then? The end of your dick? Stanley, the girl's a fucking space cadet. Oh, hello, here she fucking comes. Ready on nine? Who's ready on nine? Stanley, get her out of my frigging kitchen, put her on coffees because if you don't, I'm telling you, I'm going to chuck her in a chest freezer and lock her the fuck in there until the end of service tonight.'

'Coming from you,' said Gleeson, a dishonest sparkle in his eye, 'I'll take that seriously. After all, there's been one death below stairs.' He prowled over to the Swedish girl and curved his arm solicitously behind her back as he steered her away.

'You piece of shit,' shouted Gabriel, only managing to find his voice as Gleeson reached the swing doors. 'You fucker! You fucking fuck!'

Gleeson turned with his hands over his ears and rolled his eyes. 'Temper, temper,' he mouthed. 'It'll get you into trouble one of these fine days.'

Oona joined Gabriel at the pass mumbling incantations. '"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matthew eleven, verse twenty-eight.'

'He's a fucking wind-up merchant,' said Gabriel, 'he's ...'

' "For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but lose their soul?" '

'Jesus Christ,' said Gabe, wiping his brow.

'M'mm,' said Oona.

'Look, can you take over? I need a break.'

Oona made little clucking noises. 'Didn't I just say so, darlin'? You go and get some rest.'

His cubicle was as hot as the kitchen. Gabe knocked the thermostat down another five degrees. He called Charlie on her mobile and the only word he'd spoken was her name but she said, 'You sound a little frazzled, fiancé, can you get away for a while?'

'No,' he said, checking his emails. 'Not really, but I will. Where are you?'

'On my way to the British Museum. Come and meet me. I'll bring you some smelling salts.'

At the newsagent where Gabriel stopped to get cigarettes there was a cardboard tray of adjustable 'sweetheart' rings on the counter for little girls to buy when they came in for a Curly Wurly or a copy of Sugar magazine. Gabe bought one and slipped it in his pocket. He walked north up Charing Cross Road. The walk was clearing his head. They'd try for a baby straight away when they got married. It wasn't as if Charlie had time to lose. The first few years would be hard, with him working all hours at the restaurant, but he guessed she'd bring the child in most days. He'd grow up in the kitchen. It would be like a second home to him. Would he mind being dragged along? I used to go into Rileys, thought Gabe. Never did me any harm. He smiled at the cliché. Well, it didn't. And the boy would learn at his side.

What would he teach the kid? What would the kid have learned today, if he'd been with Gabe? It wasn't a good day to witness. Was it so different from all the rest? Gabe sighed because it was all very well a generation ago, to take your son to work as Ted had done, and show him how to be a man. The values Ted preached at home he practised at work. But the world wasn't like that any more. Gabe wasn't proud of the way things were. And he wasn't ashamed either.

If he wasn't straight with Mr Maddox today, it was because that was how it had to be. The GM asked for loyalty. In the same breath he wanted Ernie to get the sack after thirty years. Trust, loyalty, commitment – they were only bits of management-speak. You had to have tactics, get into the meeting mindset, be seen to cooperate. It said nothing about a man's character, the way he behaved at work.

Family, thought Gabe, that's where you show what you're made of. He'd have his own family soon. He ran up the museum steps to where Charlie was waiting and wrapped her in his arms.

She kissed him three times on the lips. 'You must have been a boa constrictor in a previous life. This is a new coat you're crushing, you know.'

'Sorry,' he said, setting her free. 'I got you this.'

'Tiffany's,' she said, 'you shouldn't have. So now we're officially engaged.'

'We'll go and choose one together, but I couldn't resist the thought of putting a ring on your finger this afternoon.'

Charlie laughed and held out her hand. 'The silly thing is, I quite like this one.'

'Right. Orange is good, matches your eyes. Charlie, I've been thinking – let's not hang about too long, there's Dad to think of ... and, anyway, we could book a register office, nothing too fancy, just get it done.'

They were walking into the Great Court now, the glass dome stretching above, encasing the people, the buildings, like one of those snowstorms you shake and put on your desk.

Charlie took Gabe's arm and steered him towards the stairs. 'An incurable romantic,' she said. 'Don't I get to arrive in a coach with white horses?

Don't I get to wear a meringue?'

'We'll do it however you want,' said Gabe, wondering how quickly he could get her out of here. It was so airless. There were too many school parties. They always ended up looking at bits of broken old pots.

'So, tell me about Nana Higson,' said Charlie, 'and tell me about your dad.'

They trailed along the beautifully lit aisles speaking in the hushed voices of worshippers and stopping now and again to lean against a cabinet of ancient coins.

'I thought we'd go to Bronze Age,' said Charl
ie.
'There's a bit about feasting you'd like.'

They looked at numerous bronze ladles and buckets, and 'fleshhooks' made of pieces of bronze linked with crumbling shafts of oak. Feasts were important social and political occasions for the people of the Bronze Age, Gabriel read.

Hosting a feast could reinforce loyalty and bind guests in obligation. It provided an opportunity for hosts to display their status and valuable possessions.

'Don't you find it a bit ... you know,' said Gabe.

'What?'

'Boring.'

'Gabriel Lightfoot,' said Charlie, crossing her arms and tossing her flaming hair. 'Now that we're to be wed you're not going to come out of the closet as a secret philistine?'

'No way,' said Gabriel, 'I'm as cultured as they come. But I think I need some coffee. Let's go to the café.'

They got the coffees to take away because Gabe said he needed fresh air too, and sat on the wall that bounded the front lawn watching the coaches disgorge, the genteel bustle of Great Russell Street, the lazy lamp lights yawning on in the dimming afternoon. Gabriel sparked a Marlboro Light. 'I see,' said Charl
ie.
'That's why you wanted to come out. Since when have you smoked?'

'Gave up years ago,' said Gabe, 'before I met you. But ... I've not taken it up again.'

Charlie shivered and put her hands in her coat pockets. Her coat was cream with a dark fur trim and collar, just right for hailing a cab to the Savoy, not jumping on a bus back to the Edgware Road. 'I'm hallucinating,' she said.

'I've always had one or two, at work,' said Gabe. Why was he lying to her?

What was the point? 'Nip out to the loading bay, have a breather – no harm in that, is there?'

She looked at him. 'No,' she said, 'I suppose not.' Laying her head on his shoulder she said, 'Am I coming to yours tonight or are you coming to mine?'

Gabriel sucked courage and nicotine into his lungs. This was it. He had to tell her now. 'Charlie, this is going to sound ... Let me start at the beginning. Remember I told you about the porter – he was living in the basement.'

She pulled away. Already there was suspicion in the angle of her shoulders, in the tilt of her head, and he hadn't told her anything yet. 'Yuri,' she said, 'the one who died.'

He had to get it out quickly, not sound as if he was beating about the bush.

'There was a girl living down there with him, one of the dishwashers, we didn't know about her at first. Then I saw her, she came back to look for some money she'd hidden in the wall, and it had been stolen, and she'd come back to look for it and she didn't have anywhere to go. She had no money and nowhere to go and she was terrified – if you'd seen her – really terrified, that she'd be blamed for something, get in trouble, so I decided to help her. Didn't think about it, just offered her a place to stay.' He finished the cigarette and tossed the stub. It had sounded all right, he thought.

'You mean,' said Charlie slowly, 'that this girl is staying at your flat?'

'Yep,' said Gabriel, 'you'll meet her, skinny little thing, scrawny, terrible hair.'

'What's her name?'

'Lena. God, it's really freezing now. You know I go from a boiling kitchen into the cold like this – hot, cold, hot, cold, it's a wonder I don't get sick. Lena. The thing is, I found out, she told me about all these horrendous things – stuff that's happened to her, you wouldn't believe, she's only a kid.'

'Try me,' said Charlie, giving him a lopsided smile.

'The reason she was hiding out in the basement with Yuri is that she was running away from her pimp.'

'Oh God,' said Charl
ie.
'East European?'

'The pimp? I don't know. I guess so, he's called Boris. Lena's Russian, Belarussian. From Mazyr,' he added, embellishing unnecessarily, a liar's habit which he seemed to have acquired.

'She was trafficked,' Charlie said, as if explaining things to him.

'That's right.' He checked his watch. He'd have to get back to the Imperial soon.

'We have to help her,' said Charlie, taking charge as he had known she would, 'get her to the police and file charges, find her some counselling.'

'No, she won't go to the police. She's too scared of Boris. She thinks he'll get her somehow.'

Charlie put her hand on his arm. 'Gabe, those men, her clients, they raped her. There's no other word for it.'

'I knew you'd want to help,' said Gabriel. He hugged her, looking over her shoulder at the museum entrance, the learned Greek colonnade suffusing him somehow with the confidence that everything would be dealt with calmly now.

'So when did you find her?' said Charl
ie.
'Today?'

'No,' said Gabe, 'a couple of days ago. Will you come round later? I'm finishing at ten.'

'You mean before you went to Blantwistle? She's been staying at your flat since then?'

'I guess,' said Gabriel. 'Yes. You're shivering. Your poor little hands have turned to ice. We'd better get moving, don't you think?'

'You guess,' said Charl
ie.
'You guess? You came and stayed the night at mine before you left, do you guess she was at your place then? I see. Or maybe I don't. We spent the evening, the night, together but she slipped your mind, this Lena, because you didn't mention her.'

'Of course she didn't "slip my mind". Charlie ... don't be like that. This girl – if you saw her you'd understand. She's such a wretch. And she made me promise not to tell anyone about her. Maybe I should have told you, but I promised her, and now that I've won her trust a little, she's agreed ... she's agreed to let us help her.'

Charlie slipped down off the wall and stood in front of him, breathing frosty columns in the air. She turned her head, watching the people come and go, stepping crisply along the path. 'I have to ask you. I'm only going to ask this one time and then it's done.' She still didn't look at him. 'Did you sleep with her?'

He could tell her and they would get through it. She was big enough for that.

But he wouldn't do it to her. He cupped her chin and drew her face round.

'No.'

She smiled gingerly, as someone smiles after difficult dental work, risking pain. 'I had to ask.'

'It's OK.' He kissed her forehead.

'So, you ran into her in the basement and then she came home with you. You offered her a place to stay, just like that. Not many people ... they're usually scared to get involved. I'm sorry I asked you that question. You're a kind man, Gabe. You really are.'

Gabriel lit up a cigarette. 'Well,' he said, exhaling, 'you know me.'

Charlie watched him smoking. She didn't say anything. She looked down as he tapped ash, looked up as he blew smoke, tracked the progress of his cigarette, the arc that it travelled as he raised and lowered it again. 'Do I?' she said, finally. 'Do I know you? I didn't know you smoked.'

'I told you. I just have one or two. What difference does it make?' She looked angry; he'd have to tread carefully. Was she shivering or shaking with rage?

She shook her head and turned as if to leave and then turned again and flew at him, knocking the cigarette from his hand. 'You fucked her, didn't you? You coward. Sitting there smoking, you coward. Did you think I wouldn't know?'

Gabriel turned up his palms. He looked around to appeal to the judge and jury.

'What? Because I'm smoking, that means I fucked someone?'

'Yes,' hissed Charl
ie.
'Yes.'

He was calm. All he had to do was deny it. In a minute she'd be apologizing again. 'Look at me, Charl
ie.
' He paused a moment. 'OK, yes. I did it. You're right.'

Charlie hugged herself. A wind started up and blew her hair across her face.

When she pushed it back he saw, but did not quite believe, the damage that he'd done. She said, 'How many times?'

'Charlie ...'

'How many times? Well, was it once? Was it twice?'

'I don't know. It's not what you think. She needed—'

'—you to fuck her? Are you out of your mind?' Charlie was yelling and he could not make himself heard. 'This girl – this poor girl – who you say has been abused.'

'Please,' said Gabe, 'stop shouting. I know it was wrong. But I could have lied about it. At least I told you the truth.'

'You lied. My God, you lied, and I believed you.' Her eyes glittered darkly with tears.

'Not for long,' said Gabe softly. He reached for her. 'Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. Honestly, I don't know how I got us into this mess. But we can get out of it, can't we? And we can help her too.'