Selene pulled out her phone and typed onto the screen.
‘Okay, I have told them you’re interested. Let me see if I can get the price up though. You deserve birthday tax also.’
Christa laughed. ‘You’re the best non-agent I could have.’
Within a minute Selene’s phone rang and she picked it up and spoke.
‘Yes, that’s correct… Another ten. It is Christmas and she will be away from her family.’
Christa thought about her friends, all spending the time with their families. She would have been alone, not wanting to intrude on anyone’s lunch or dinner even though she knew she would have been more than welcome.
‘Correct, that should be fine. Yes. Email it through and we can review and return the paperwork and the signed NDA.’
Selene put down the phone.
‘It is done. You head to York on the third of December and stay until the third of January.’
‘God that’s longer than I thought,’ said Christa.
‘It’s also a fifteen-thousand-pound fee,’ Selene added.
‘What? Are you joking? That’s ridiculous money.’
‘I can ask them for twenty if you like.’
‘I mean that’s very overpaid.’
‘It’s what you could be earning in the restaurant though. Don’t undervalue yourself.’ Selene scolded her. Christa was silent as she knew her friend was right. She always undervalued herself in her work and in her relationships.
‘In York? You say?’ Christa sat back and tapped her chin. ‘York. Who is famous and rich who lives in York?’
‘The cast ofEmmerdale?’ Selene asked and Christa burst out laughing. ‘They are sending through the paperwork now. I will forward it to you to print out. And they want your bank account details so they can pay you half upfront.’
Christa felt her eyes prick with tears.
‘How do you always know when I need help and then just show up like some sexy French fairy godmother?’
Selene shrugged. ‘We are soul sisters, Christa. I will always support you. I chose you not Slimon in this divorce so whatever you do, I’ll cheer you on.’
Christa closed her eyes and felt her body relax for the first time since she and Simon split. She had a plan, even if it was only until January the third; but it was something to do and she was needed, and that was enough for now.
3
The city disappeared behind her as Christa sipped her coffee while she drove her Jeep along the A1. She had Christmas songs playing in the car to try and get into the Christmas spirit but she had the feeling that she might have bitten off more than she could chew.
Once she had signed the NDA and the money entered her account, a list of food to be avoided for some meals came through, including anything with gluten, onion, garlic, certain berries and fruits, and even spices.
She still didn’t know who she was cooking for but judging from the list of prohibited food she imagined they were very used to having things just the way they liked them and nothing else would suffice.
*
She stopped in Leicester for some lunch. The wind was biting when she got out of the car so she headed to the nearest café for a toasted cheese sandwich and a cup of tea to warm her up. Sometimes simple food was the best kind. Not every chef would admit they ordered takeaway food or made toasted sandwiches as often as they do. The last thing Christa felt like doing was cooking for herself when she was at home.
Now she had a month of cooking in a place far away from Simon and the memories of London. She loved cooking for people, although the list of banned food was a red flag. Probably Americans, she thought, maybe a movie star who was on a strict diet for a new role. She tried to guess who it might be as her stomach rumbled, reminding her she needed to eat.
The café she stopped at was very old-fashioned and the old tables looked like there had been forty years of news passed across them, but the tea was hot and strong. The best food often came from old places like this, which focused on what they were good at and ignored the trends. She could have done without the television suspended from the wall but at least the sound was turned down.
Christa bit into her sandwich when she saw a television advertisement playing for the new cooking show and Simon’s face came on screen. He was smiling at her as she ate her lunch, as though he was a benevolent food angel above her, sending blessings to the small café. She stared out the window of the café, thinking about all the times she let Simon have the spotlight because she didn’t think she was worthy of being proud of her work. God, she wanted to slap herself.
