‘Charming is as charming does,’ said Peggy with a scowl. ‘I was married to a man like Simon.’
‘I didn’t know you were married,’ Christa said.
‘Because I come across as an old spinster?’ Peggy answered, with a small laugh but it wasn’t a bitter laugh, Christa thought.
‘No, maybe, I don’t know,’ Christa said. ‘You’re very guarded. It’s hard to know you.’
Peggy stirred her tea, the spoon making a sweet chiming sound as she tapped it lightly against the side of the cup.
‘Before I worked here, a long time ago, I owned a hotel in Manchester with my husband.’ She paused, as though dragging up the memories to the surface from the deepest parts of her mind. ‘Oh, he was handsome and charming, just like Simon, but how he lied. That man couldn’t lie straight in bed. Always another woman, gambling, debt, and even a child I didn’t know about until we were married.’
‘I’m sorry, Peggy,’ said Christa, hoping to hell Simon didn’t have a child she didn’t know about.
Peggy shrugged. ‘It’s been ten years since we divorced, and I ended up with nothing but that was enough. I had my freedom and my truth. I was sick of being told I was the weak one in the relationship, that I would have nothing without him.’
Christa nodded, understanding where Peggy was heading with the story.
‘That man you married is a chameleon, becoming what people want so he can get what he needs. He sucks you up and then turns you into ashes, taking all your fire and spark.’
Christa felt her eyes burn with tears ready to spill, and Peggy put her hand on her arm.
‘Don’t let him take anything away from you now, not when I see the light around you when Mr Ferrier is nearby.’
The tears fell then and she looked up at Peggy, her unlikely friend. ‘Can you see it?’
‘That you like each other? Yes.’ She smiled.
‘But I’m just a cook and I’m working for him.’
Peggy shook her head and ate a piece of cake and then wiped her mouth with a linen napkin.
‘No, you’re a chef and a very good one. You’re probably twice the chef your ex is.’
Christa didn’t answer, though she knew it was true. Everything Peggy said was accurate and more.
‘Also, I wanted to thank you for introducing me to Peter. We’re seeing a film on Thursday night.’
Christa was shocked. ‘You aren’t! That’s amazing.’
‘It’s a film, not a trip to Paris – no need to overreact,’ said Peggy.
‘I’m not overreacting, I’m happy he and you are friends. You’re both lovely people.’
‘He’s lovely; I’m less so but somehow we get along.’
Christa giggled. ‘Perhaps that’s the key. Balancing each other out. Like good food, the flavour is all in the balance.’
They finished their tea and cake in comfortable silence.
Finally, Christa stood up. ‘Speaking of which, I need to start cooking. I have to do a meal for Avian and Simon and a different one for the rest of the family.’
‘Surely she can just have some chicken feed in a bowl. It’s organic, vegan and good for birds,’ said Peggy with uncharacteristic humour.
Christa laughed, thinking of serving Avian the food as a healthy snack. Part of her wanted to do it but she never would. Avian was a nightmare but she was also the mother of the boys, whom Christa adored.
While peeling potatoes for dinner, stuffing chickens and preparing the salads and vegetables, Christa thought about what to make for Avian and Simon. She knew roast chicken was Simon’s favourite meal, especially this recipe where she had brined the chickens the night before so they were so tender and ready for roasting.
This was one of their signature dishes at Playfoot’s, and one Simon had taken the credit for over and over again.
