‘And tomorrow is the management meeting,’ Nick said. ‘And your lovely line manager, Heather, needs to catch up, but can’t be arsed doing it herself.’
‘Not for me to comment,’ Emma replied, trying to be diplomatic. She poured the water into her mug and splashed in some milk. ‘Anyway, nice to meet you, Nick, but I’ve got to go. Health and safety waits for no one.’
* * *
The coffee helped her focus and once she had everything in order, by room and date, it was easy enough to input it into the database. An idea came to her to set up a spreadsheet by room and type of document, with dates for when everything needed to be renewed. Rather than writing a list, she could send the spreadsheet to Heather. She knew Heather would pass it off as her own at the meeting, but at least Emma would have a copy she could update so Heather wouldn’t be able to spring any last-minute surprises on her in the future.
As she worked, Emma thought about what Liz had said. How was she going to get inside Heather’s head, to find out what was really going on? She decided she’d try again to invite her out for a drink again or for a coffee. If she kept on, surely even Heather would run out of excuses.
* * *
In the office at Diva’s, Jay was planning the functions for the next few weeks. If he could get ahead, he’d finally be able to have a look at the recipe book, which was burning a hole in his bag. Although he anticipated that the recipes would be rustic, providing proper working-class East End food, he hoped they’d give him the basic principles to work on and finesse for the competition.
He was putting together a food order when Liz walked into the office. For a moment he was startled by her appearance. There were dark smudges under her eyes and she was even paler than usual.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked as she sat down at the desk next to him.
‘Yes, I’m fine. Think I must have a touch of food poisoning.’
‘That’s not good!’
‘Oh, not from anything we’ve cooked! Must have had some dodgy shellfish. We went for a trip to the coast yesterday. You know how I can’t resist.’
He frowned at her. Liz was gushing. She never gushed and he knew a cover-up when he heard it.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, of course I’m sure,’ she said sharply.
Liz didn’t snap at him either. Something was definitely wrong and he hoped it wasn’t what he was thinking. She’d worked hard to overcome the anorexia she’d been hospitalised for when she was seventeen, but he knew that it could betriggered at any time. Something bad must be going on because, even when her father had died and there had been all that trouble with Nikki and Alex, she hadn’t allowed it to affect her recovery. So what on earth could it be?
‘If you’re ill, maybe you’d be better off tucked up in bed,’ he replied gently.
She brushed him off. ‘No, I’m fine. I’m sure the worst is over. And we need to get on with the plans for the week.’
‘I’m ahead of you there. I’ve been working on them already.’
She smiled wanly at him. ‘That’s good, then.’
‘Can I get you anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?’
She paled even more, if that was possible, at his words,. ‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’ She reached in her bag and pulled out a bottle of water. ‘Probably better to stick to this for the moment. It seems to be the only thing I can keep down. So come on, tell me where you’re up to.’
They spent the next hour focusing on the week ahead, making sure they had enough staff booked in and detailing who would be in charge of each event. Then they put plans in place for bookings further ahead, so that they could get staff on board. When they’d finished Liz sank back in her chair, looking exhausted.
‘And now I insist that you go home.’
She nodded. ‘I will. Now that I know we have everything covered, I should be able to get some sleep.’
‘Yes, that’s the best thing.’ He paused and decided to ask the question regardless of her reaction. ‘Look, you can tell me to mind my own business and I suspect you probably will, but is it really just food poisoning? I’m worried in case you’ve . . .’ He trailed off, not knowing how to voice his fears.
‘You’re worried in case I’ve lapsed.’ She finished his sentence for him.
‘Well, yes, I’m sorry but . . .’
‘There’s no need to be sorry. I can see why it would look like that, but I promise you that isn’t happening. I never want to go back to that place again.’
‘Okay, I believe you.’ He studied her face and saw the telltale crease that appeared across her forehead whenever she was thinking about something that troubled her. ‘But you know I’m here if ever you need to talk. Not just as your business partner, but as your friend.’
