But there had been no fixing it.
All over the city – in fact all over the country – great restaurants had been forced to close their doors. Gino’s wouldn’t be the first and it wouldn’t be the last, but at least he had a chance to salvage something out of the closure.
He’d been out of time and options when the American offer had come in via the Fieldow Financial Group. They wanted the building, and they were offering a fair price, enough to let his dad have a comfortable retirement, to clear their debts and to pour some cash back into the family reserves. Dario wasn’t worried about himself – someone with his length of experience in the hospitality industry would find work somewhere, and if need be, he could get his tools back out and go into a kitchen. He’d been the chef here for thirty years before Matty had taken over and Dario had moved out onto the floor. But if he sold up, he’d be destroying his father’s legacy, wiping out the old man’slife’s work. He’d also be obliterating the future his son had always been destined for. Matty had talked about taking over Gino’s since he was a boy, and that had been the whole point of his years of study to be a chef. The understanding was that it would all pass on to him when Dario was sixty. Now there was a looming probability there would be nothing to pass on.
He couldn’t see any choice but to accept the offer. Legally, this was his business, and his to do with what he chose. What were the alternatives? To try to continue riding this out, taking out more loans and credit lines until the debts were worth more than the assets and they had nothing left to show for their efforts? The truth was, much as he knew that didn’t make financial sense, he’d tried it anyway, but so far none of the banks would lend him any money right now because one look at the books made it perfectly clear they were in trouble and no-one wanted to lend to a failing business.
The one thing he hadn’t done was take a mortgage out on the building that housed Gino’s. His great uncle had bought and paid for the bricks and mortar when he’d settled here in the forties, so Dario wasn’t prepared to do that. However, he wasn’t prepared to leave his family destitute either.
Meanwhile, on the other end of the phone, Brodie was still, literally, breathing down his neck.
Dario exhaled as deeply as his friend. ‘I know, Brodie. Listen, I’ll give you the answer today. I’m just not ready to do it right at this minute.’
‘Well look, I’m coming to the restaurant tonight anyway. Wouldn’t miss a Hogmanay at Gino’s. If I don’t hear from you before, I’ll speak to you then. I wish I could do something else to help, my friend.’
‘Thanks, mate. Your table will be ready as always. I’ll see you then if I don’t call you this afternoon.’ With a deep sigh, and an overwhelming feeling of desolation, he hung up.
What was he waiting for? He had no idea. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t already had over a week to think this through. His whole Christmas had been consumed by trying not to screw up his family’s festive period, while wrangling with what to do for the best.
Now his hand was being forced.
He couldn’t lose this deal.
It had to be today.
He had to make the decision, and he had to tell his dad and his son.
It was time to clean the slate, ready for the new year and the next chapter for their family.
Today was going to be the day that he changed all their lives for ever. He just hoped that he didn’t lose the people he loved in the process.
4
MINNIE RYAN
Minnie heard the phone ringing, but for a moment she thought it was on the television. Then she realised that Angela Lansbury wasn’t answering a call onMurder, She Wrote, so she pushed herself up out of her armchair and took a few steps to the phone next to Henry’s chair. He’d always liked to keep it by his side. That way, he could answer it quickly or take his time to make sure he got the right number if he was voting for a smashing act onBritain’s Got Talent. He liked that show. It didn’t rile him up likePanorama, orNewsnight. Henry was the sweetest man with the biggest heart, but ineffective or lying politicians delivering or defending unfair policies always set him off. ‘Clowns, every one of them,’ he’d grumble as the current affairs programmes ended. ‘That shower of idiots in the government should go invade an uninhabited island and stay there. That’s a show I would watch.’
At which point, Minnie would pause the clacking of her knitting needles and suggest they switch over toStrictly Come Dancing, or maybe a Louis Theroux documentary, then she’d pick her needles up again, click-clack her way through it, until she had a fresh batch of tiny hats for the premature baby ward atthe maternity hospital. Or new woolly toppers for the post boxes in the village.
That’s what she’d been doing since 5a.m. this morning, when she’d woken up with the birds. It was one of those strange twists of life, that you didn’t need so much sleep when you got to her age. She could have done with extra hours in the day when she was a young mother, juggling four boys under five. An extra pair of hands would have been useful too. Later, she would have appreciated more time when the boys were teenagers and she was run ragged cooking and washing for them. Or when the grandchildren came along, and she found it impossible to spend enough time with them all, especially as two of her sons made their lives in Canada and one lived down in Cornwall. Four kids, and only one, Eric, had stayed and brought his family up in the city he’d grown up in. Visiting the ones that had left had made for some lovely holidays over the years, right enough. Longer days would have been lovely when she and Henry were lying on sun loungers on a beach in St Ives.
But now? Who needed more hours when – other than chatting to Henry – it was so difficult to fill the time? What should she be doing when she woke up at 5a.m., and then couldn’t fall asleep again until midnight? She must have read every large-print book in the library by now. And there wasn’t an episode ofCoronation Street,The Clydeside,River CityorEastEndersthat hadn’t been watched at least once. In normal weeks, there were the social clubs, the coffee mornings, and her line dancing class in the town hall, but they had all stopped for the festive season. So now it was almost 10a.m. on New Year’s Eve, and she and Henry were on their third episode ofMurder, She Wrote, while she put the finishing touches to the post box topper she’d go fit today, in between getting everything ready for tonight’s visit to the restaurant where they’d celebrated Hogmanay for decades.
‘I’ll get it, Henry, love,’ she said, as she picked up the phone handset and cleared her throat. ‘Hello?’ she answered, in the posh voice that was reserved for telephone communications and conversations with councils, customer service departments and cold callers.
The voice on the other end was female. Young. Maybe in her twenties, like her granddaughter, Emmy. That reminded her – she must give Emmy a call and thank her for the lovely Christmas dinner she’d brought over. Such a kind, considerate lass, that one. Eric had popped in too with that new girlfriend of his. Minnie never liked to talk badly of anyone, especially her darling boy, but she had plenty of thoughts on that whole situation and she’d shared them all with Henry. What was Eric thinking? After all those years with lovely Ailish, he just upped and went off with a woman young enough to be his daughter. A disgrace, that’s what it was. And to break Ailish’s heart like that. Minnie had been outraged because she loved Ailish like she would her own daughter. Eric had let them all down so badly. Although, the whole time she was talking to Henry about it, she knew what he was thinking. ‘They’re grown adults and it’s not our business, Minnie. Best we just stay out of it.’ Minnie had pursed her lips and knitted up a storm to take her mind off it.
The voice on the phone cut through her thoughts. ‘Mrs Ryan? Hello, this is Katie from Gino’s Trattoria. We’re just calling all our customers who’ve reserved tables tonight to confirm the booking. Can I just check that you still want us to hold your table?’
‘We’ve been coming there on Hogmanay for the last fifty years, dear. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘That’s great. We’ll see you tonight then,’ Katie replied, in a soft Glasgow brogue.
Minnie wasn’t sure she’d ever met this caller, but after a lifetime of being Gino’s regular customers, she considered most of the staff to be family friends.
Replacing the handset, she bustled on into the kitchen, shouting, ‘Right, Henry, I’ve told them we’ll be there, so you’d better get your glad rags ready.’
There was a tug of sadness, as she thought how this year would be so different from bygone times. That’s what happened when family traditions fell away for whatever reason. They’d always had one of the biggest tables in the restaurant, what with their four sons in the early days, and then Eric, Ailish, Emmy and all their friends as the years went on.
