Sea Glass (WAYHAUGHT)

Sharksfin

An empty bed greeted Nicole. She tugged off the duvet, grabbing one of the pillows at the same time, returning to the lounge where she'd tried to sleep the previous night. She hadn't bothered making further contact with Shae, realising there was little more she could say to change the situation. That decision left her numb inside, in limbo as to how to move on. If Shae decided to stay away longer than a few weeks, if Waverly decided not to take the job, she couldn't see how the restaurant would remain open. Businesses were struggling to find staff, getting anyone was next to impossible. Had it not been for Rosita wanting to return after restrictions to slow the spread of Covid were eased, they too would have been forced to delay the re-opening of the restaurant.

She should have seen this coming. Shae had been adamant she no longer wanted Rosita, reeling off a long list of all the times in the past Rosita got the drink orders mixed up, or had served the wrong meal to a diner, or left an empty wine bottle on a table, Shae's number one pet hate. Within a few weeks of Rosita's return, there had been words between the pair, Shae picking up on every small detail she considered below par, Rosita telling her to focus on her own job. Neither took the other's advice well. Caught in the middle, she frequently had to listen to Shae's petty gripes, placating her while at the same time cautioning not to push Rosita away, potentially leaving them with no one.

It was Shae who suggested approaching Waverly to replace Rosita. She agreed they all worked better together, less friction, fewer sparks, meaning fewer complaints from Shae. Rosita's attitude wasn't always her best attribute. She knew only too well from her time at The Connaught, frictions between staff, if left to fester, created a whole heap of trouble with delivery of a smooth service. Her boss, the renowned Michelin-star chef Abigail Atherton, warned against allowing staff to play out petty politics in the kitchen.

"Never a good mix," Abigail had said to her one time. "Too many knives laying around."

She now wished she had asked Waverly sooner, even if it didn't sit pretty with her principles, simply to keep the restaurant going.

Screeching gulls woke her early the following morning, realising she must have dozed off. The TV was on, a presenter standing in front of a weather map, hand sweeping from right to left to indicate the path of more storms. Nicole stretched. Her back ached, neck too, sofa sleeping not for her, deciding she would use the bed from now on, even if it smelt of Shae's perfume.

A long shower eased some of the discomfort, plus two painkillers washed down with strong coffee. That morning's to do list included a visit to Lobbs farm for supplies, and a discussion on next month's order. About to get in the car her phone rang. Waverly's name appeared.

"Hi, listen thanks for the job offer," Waverly began. "So, I've talked it over with Wyn. And..."

"And..."

"And, it's a yes. When do I start?"

"Great." The muscles in Nicole's stomach relaxed. "Err, tomorrow. I can manage tonight."

"I don't mind coming in, if you need me."

"Only six booked so far. I'll call if there's more."

"Is Shae not back?"

Nicole swallowed. "No, err...her mum's sick. Not sure how long she'll be away."

"Oh. And, you're sure you don't need me?"

"It's fine, really. But, thanks."

Ominous clouds bubbled overhead on the drive to Lobbs. She managed to reach the farm shop just as the rain started, running to the entrance as larger drops began darkening the gravel underfoot. Browsing their shelves she spotted Xavier, owner of the Sharksfin overlooking the harbour, doing the same thing. He approached, arms laden with the farm's homemade pies.