Silver Service

By Susanne O'Leary

Ambitious and hardworking, Chris O’Shea is running a catering firm in Dublin during the last, heady days of the Celtic Tiger. Things are going well until her wild, reckless sister Becky returns home from New York and Chris feels duty bound to give her a job in the firm, which doesn’t help improve business. Her life is further complicated when she makes the acquaintance, in rather embarrassing circumstances, of a handsome Spanish businessman, who turns her thoughts, despite herself, from that straight and narrow path of career and ambition. This turn of events teaches her that you must love people they way they are and not how you would want them to be.

Set in Dublin and the Irish countryside, the story is brimming with fun, food, fashion and frolics all the way to its romantic conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susanne O'Leary
• Release date: Dec 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502260178

Book preview

Description:

Ambitious and hard working, Chris O’Shea is running a catering firm in Dublin during the last, heady days of the Celtic Tiger. Things are going well until her wild, reckless sister Becky returns home from New York and Chris feels duty bound to give her a job in the firm, which doesn’t help improve business. Her life is further complicated when she makes the acquaintance, in rather embarrassing circumstances, of a handsome Spanish businessman, who turns her thoughts, despite herself, away from that straight and narrow path of career and ambition. This turn of events teaches Chris that you must love people they way they are and not how you would wish them to be.

Set in Dublin and the Irish countryside, the story is brimming with fun, food, fashion and frolics all the way to its romantic conclusion.

British spelling and grammar.

Chapter 1

Chris O’Shea pulled up the car and peered at the number on the high wall. Was this the right address? The gates were ornate and the house she could glimpse at the end of the avenue looked imposing. She tossed back her long hair, pushed her glasses further up her nose and looked at the number again. Yes. Number 39. This was the house all right. She cut the engine and got out of the car and pressed the button on the intercom.

Yes? a tinny voice said.

Chris O’Shea, Chris said, of ‘Chefs Shea Vous’. I’m cooking dinner for you tonight."

There was no reply, just a buzzing sound. The gates slid soundlessly open. Chris ran back to the car and managed to drive inside before they started to close again.

She drove up the long avenue and parked in front of the steps sweeping up to the entrance of a huge neo-Georgian house. She had come to this address in Killiney, a smart Dublin suburb, to cook dinner for twenty people on a mild, windy September evening.

Eileen Moriarty, wife of property developer Sam Moriarty, had booked Chris two months earlier. Chris was delighted. Eileen was one of the best known hostesses in Dublin. To be asked to cook for her was a sure sign of success. At last a real contract, instead of making sandwiches and canapés for endless receptions.

Carrying her box of food for the dinner, Chris mounted the steps and rang the doorbell. But nobody came to open. After a few minutes, she gave the door a push. It opened slowly. Hello? she called as she walked in. Anybody here?

Is that the cook? a woman’s voice called from upstairs. Please, go straight into the kitchen. I’ll be with you in a minute. Big door at the end of the hall.

Thanks, Chris called. But there was no reply.

The big kitchen was an interior designer’s dream, but a professional chef’s nightmare. Chris sighed as she looked at the narrow granite counter tops with no space to do any real work. The trendy cooker with its stainless steel hood at the perfect height for banging your head on every time you looked into a saucepan. It was a type of show-house kitchen where no real cooking was done. Chris sighed again, as she wondered how she was going to produce a meal without going completely mad. She put on her big apron, tied back her hair and started to empty her box.

Hello Miss. A tiny dark haired Asian girl dressed in a black dress and a frilly white apron appeared at the door. I’m Mildred, the maid. Mrs Moriarty said to ask you what you want me to do.

Oh yes. Chris held out her hand. Hi, I’m Chris. Lovely to meet you.

Mildred shook her hand. Very nice, miss. What would you like me to do?

Could you start rinsing these rocket leaves? Then maybe you could to do the vegetables and I’ll make the sauce and brown the roast. Then it will only need an hour in a hot oven. And I can make the celeriac mash while it’s cooking. When do the waiters arrive?

No waiter miss. Just another girl but she should be here now, Mildred replied with panic in her voice. The table isn’t laid and the drinks tray has to be prepared. I hope she’ll come soon.

I’m sure she will. Chris started to make the sauce but was interrupted when the kitchen door swung open and a brassy blonde in a tight orange dress clattered in on her stilettos. She was talking into a mobile phone and smoking a cigarette at the same time.

Just a minute, she said into the phone, I have to talk to the staff. She shook hands with Chris. I’m Eileen Moriarty. You must be Chris O’Shea.

That’s right. Chris smiled. Nice to meet you.

I’m afraid we will be one waitress short, Eileen announced. The other girl has called in sick. You’ll have to fill in for her.

That will be a little difficult Chris twisted her neck in order to avoid bumping her forehead on the stainless steel hood. I’ll have my hands full with the cooking. And, as we’ll be serving on individual plates, it might be complicated for me to be in the dining room at the same time. She tried to look cool and aloof while she seethed inside. She had explained to the woman that she was not your typical catering chef, but a food designer, to whom the look and shape of the food on the plate was as important as the actual taste.

You’ll just have to manage, Eileen insisted. It’s a very important party. All of Dublin is coming. She sighed as she looked at Chris. You look barely presentable, but you’ll just have to do. Lucky you’re wearing a white shirt and black skirt. I’ll give you a white apron. And try to tidy yourself up a bit and lose the hat and the glasses. This dinner has to be done with style. Got to go. I have to dress for the party. Mildred will lay the table and prepare the drinks. See you later girls. She swished out of the kitchen.

Chris pushed her glasses further up her nose, tucked the end of her blouse into her skirt and checked her tights. I wish I didn’t have to parade around the table as well as doing the cooking. She tied up her hair and hoped it wouldn’t look too messy. How do I look?

Lovely, Miss, Mildred said, looking admiringly at Chris slim figure and long legs that seemed to go all the way to her waist. Like a model."

A blind model, if I can’t wear my glasses. I should have gone to collect my new contact lenses today but I didn’t have time. But please, Mildred, call me Chris. She blew on a lock of hair that was threatening to fall into her eyes. I’ll show them I can do it.

Quite who she was going to show she didn’t know. Maybe the girls in her class who had called her a boring nerd with glasses, who preferred to stay at home and try out a new recipe instead of hanging out with them at the local disco. She had been hooked on cookery programmes as a teenager and dreamed of becoming the next Nigella or Jamie.

She was never happier than when she was cooking Sunday dinner at home and placed a beautifully designed plate in front of her bewildered but delighted parents and younger sister. It was like offering them a work of art, every one unique and beautiful as well as delicious.

When she finished school, she didn’t want to go to university or travel abroad like some of her friends. Her mother had suggested a three month course at the famous Ballyhinch cookery school in County Wexford. Chris had hugely enjoyed the course and, after graduating, had been offered a job at a well-known restaurant in London, where she worked for five years. She enjoyed the work, thrived on the stress and loved the challenge. She developed her own style and twist on classic recipes, turning her cooking into a very unique and special art form that was popular with the sophisticated London clientele. When the Celtic Tiger started to stir, she decided Dublin was ready for this new way of enjoying good food and she went to Dublin to start her own catering firm.

Her goal was to eventually set up a guest house in the country, once she had enough money for a down payment on some small but perfect little manor house or even old farm house that she could do up and turn into a boutique hotel. She would grow vegetables and keep hens, maybe produce her own organic beef and become a unique and highly respected hotelier and even get a Michelin star or two... But she had a long way to go before she could realise her dream and in the meantime, her catering business was taking off.

The fact that her love life was less than exciting at the moment, and that her present boyfriend was just that- a friend- didn’t worry her. She didn’t have the time or the energy to be in love. Richard was all right; nice, kind and good looking enough to serve as both a fashion accessory and a prop when she needed a date for the theatre, cinema or a party. We do look great together, Chris thought as she shaved parmesan over rocket leaves, even if he is a little predicable.

The next hour went by very quickly. Mildred laid the table in the big dining room that had been painted red and furnished with antique furniture. There were two huge candelabras on the table, and another two on the mahogany buffet. Eileen liked romantic lighting at her dinners, she told Chris, because candlelight is very flattering.

Won’t it be a bit cramped in there if all of Dublin is coming, Chris said to Mildred when she came back to the kitchen. Who are these important guests anyway?

The table plan is on the hall table, Mildred replied.

I’ll have a peek in a minute, when I go in with the drinks and hors-d’oeuvres.

The guest list contained quite a few well-known names from Dublin society. Chris saw that Mary-Anne Duffy, a well-known socialite, was among the guests. I wonder who she’s sleeping with now, she muttered. Then there was Bobby Maloney, who was a kind of professional dinner guest. Nobody knew what he did but he looked great, smiled a lot and chatted like a hairdresser. Next was Tommy O’Brien, the property developer, then some man with a foreign name Chris didn’t recognise. An ex-model who ran a beauty salon and Lizzie Dobbin, the gossip columnist were the other names that stood out among the rest.

Is it a really swish party, then? Mildred wanted to know.

The swishest. Chris opened the oven door to check on the roast. Twenty more minutes, she thought.

We’re nearly ready to go, girls. Sam Moriarty came into the kitchen with two empty champagne bottles. He was a big man with grey hair and a round face. We had better get them sitting down before they get too sloshed. He grinned. I’ll get Eileen to get them moving. You can light the candles now. He shook his head. Don’t know why she wants the dining room to look like a bloody funeral parlour, but she says too much light is vulgar.

A few minutes later, they could hear Eileen shouting supper’s ready! and the guests started to wander into the dining room, chatting and laughing as they found their places. Chris and Mildred served the starter and passed around bread.

It’s so dark in there, I can’t see what I’m doing, Chris complained to Mildred as she came out of the dining room.

I know, miss, I mean Chris. Mildred giggled.

Never mind. We have to get these plates ready to bring in. Chris started to arrange the food on one of the plates. Could you put a little pile of celeriac mash on each plate like this, she said over her shoulder. Then I’ll place thinly sliced beef on top, drizzle a little of this red wine sauce and place two stalks of chives on the top. She showed Mildred a plate she had already prepared.

That looks beautiful. I never knew food could be so pretty.

"Food should look good. You carry on and I’ll go and take away the plates from the starters.

Madam is enjoying herself, Mildred said when Chris came back with the plates.

Looks that way. But the man on her right side looks a bit uncomfortable. Who is he?

I don’t know.

I thought he was that man with the foreign name. Chris balanced a stalk of chive on the last slice of beef. But he speaks fluent English with a very fruity accent.

It’s that Mr Maloney, maybe? Mildred suggested.

No, he’s at the other side with Mary-Anne Duffy. They’re talking about shoes. Very kinky. OK, here we go. Chris took two plates and went in to the dining room, where the party was becoming very lively. She served Lizzie Dobbins, who was sitting on the host’s right.

This looks lovely. Lizzie said. Eileen must be a great cook.

Not a bit of it, Sam Moriarty replied, this lovely girl’s done everything. And she’s pretty as well. He gave Chris a little wink. She smiled back and continued serving. Mildred had already come back with two plates. Chris went back for her next two.

Last week a girl was caught at the airport with a hundred thousand pounds worth of cocaine hidden in her luggage, she heard the man on Eileen’s right say as she came back. She’s a member of a very well-known rock band. I heard it from the chief of police at a party last night. He told me in confidence that her name is... He leaned closer to Eileen to whisper something in her ear. Chris cocked her head to hear, but was interrupted by a startled exclamation from the man she was about to serve.

What are you doing? he snapped.

Chris looked down. Oh, no, she whispered. Oh, God. Ooohh... As if in slow motion, the contents of the plate she was about to serve, slipped into the man’s lap; roast beef, celeriac mash and wine sauce. It all lay there in a mess and they both stared at it in horror.

Chris froze to the spot as a torrent of Spanish came out of his mouth. Mildred stood behind her with another plate, and there was complete silence in the dining room.

The man with the foreign name, Chris thought. He’s Spanish. What will I say? "Hola?" she tried.

The man looked up and their eyes met. Chris stared into his brown eyes, as if paralysed. God, he’s attractive she thought irrationally. Just my luck to cover him in food. Hysterical laughter rose in her throat and she tried to suppress a smile. Their eyes remained locked.

The spell was broken by Mildred’s voice. Let me help, sir, she said, and brushed past Chris. If I take up the napkin, I’ll be able to remove most of it. She swiftly lifted the napkin off his lap, taking most of the food with her. It’s all right, sir, she said, nearly all gone.

I am sooo sorry, Juan, Eileen said. That was incredibly clumsy. But it’s impossible to get good staff these days.

Yes, but it’s also a little difficult to serve dinner in the dark, the man replied, with what Chris thought was a hint of a smile in her direction.

I’ll make up another plate, ma’am, Mildred whispered to Eileen. The guests slowly resumed their conversations and Chris and Mildred went back for more plates.

Oh God, Chris moaned, when she got back into the kitchen. Bloody, bloody hell. She tore off the white apron and handed it to Mildred. Here, you serve. I’m too stupid.

Why did you do it? Mildred asked. You wanted him to notice you?

Yeah, right. No, I was just stupid enough to try to listen to the conversation and it just... it just slipped off the dish and into his lap. She sank down on a chair and buried her face in a towel.

We better go back in with the food, Mildred said. We haven’t served all the guests.

I can’t, Chris protested into the towel. "I can’t face them... him again.

I’ll serve, if you give me the plates, Mildred suggested. I think that’s better, no?

Oh, all right. Chris stood up and put her apron back on. Hopefully they won’t see me in the dark. She grabbed her glasses and put them back on. I think I’ll do better if I can see this time.

The rest of the meal went off without any further disasters. By the time they had got to dessert and cheese, Chris had calmed down and could breathe normally. The victim of her mishap didn’t give her another glance, except for a quick turn of his head when she brought in the port. His eyes gleamed in the dark, and she could feel him look at her again. But when she turned around to make sure, he was talking to his neighbour about the stock market.

Mildred, you saved my life, Chris said as they were washing up, you were magnificent.

Thank you, Chris. She started to giggle. It was very funny, I think.

Chris laughed. It was ridiculous. Had it happened to someone else, I would have been in stitches. That poor man and all the stuff in his lap. He must have had the shock of his life.

And he was very nice about it, Mildred said. He didn’t complain or anything.

Chris nodded. Even though he was furious. I could see he was dying to hit me or something.

They had nearly finished tidying up when the door to the kitchen opened,