Within ten minutes they were ready for action again. Karen was now propped up on a single mattress from the store room, and Laura had exchanged her black cocktail dress for a chef’s jacket and trousers. She would become Karen’s ‘hands’ for the evening, and along with Igor, the KP, and Michelle, would be instructed by a chef who delivered commands with a ferocity that made Gordon Ramsey look like a pussycat.







Four hours later.

Laura swivelled around the mattress Karen had held court from before she left for A & E, so it ran parallel with the unit free wall in the kitchen. With Igor and Michelle on either side of her, they sank down with their legs stretched out before them. It had been one hell of a night, and it was now time to relax and take the weight off their feet. Like zombies, they all stared ahead while Ted, the KP, mopped the floor around them so he could finish for the night.

     ‘I can’t believe we pulled that off…’ Michelle admitted before taking a swig from her glass.

     The bottle of red wine usually used for Karen’s sauces was clutched in Igor’s left hand.

     ‘I think we do good,’ he decided with a satisfied grin. ‘You want more?’ he asked Laura when he held up the bottle.

     Laura shook her head. She just wanted to sit there for a few minutes more as the events of the evening played through her head. She still couldn’t believe they’d pulled it off either. When Karen had her accident, she thought they’d have to turn away all the diners who had booked for the restaurant opening, but thanks to Karen’s forward planning, and a team effort that could only be likened to an athletic relay, against all odds, they got every plate out looking and tasting superb.  

     Igor turned to Laura with a sad smile. ‘I think Karen still hate me though...’  

     A snort escaped Laura’s lips when she remembered how Karen had harangued the poor Polish chef all evening. ‘Come on, you Polish plonker!’ she had shouted at him from her throne on the floor. ‘Shift your arse!’ The three double brandies Karen had to numb the pain hadn’t numbed her sarcasm. Believing Igor was the one who nearly ruined the evening by dropping oil on the floor before she fell, made her feel justified in making him her whipping-boy for the night.

     Laura patted his knee as she turned to him.

     ‘You were a star, Igor. Considering the circumstances, you did really well... honestly! Karen doesn’t hate you. As I helped her into Mark’s car, before he took her to A & E, she told me to tell you how impressed she was.'

     Igor's face lit up with a radiant smile. ‘She did! She say that?’ 
      
     Well, not exactly, but Laura realised how important Karen’s opinion of him was, and she’d given him such a hard time, Laura decided to embellish the ‘tell the Polish plonker he might not be sacked after all,’ to something more encouraging. Laura didn’t doubt Karen would make Igor suffer a bit more after she got back, but there was no question about it, he was an excellent Sous chef. After each dish was put on the counter under the warming lights, he set to work making it look like a delectable masterpiece with glazes, garnishes, and delicately drizzled sauces. However cross Karen was with him for spilling the oil, she’d be an idiot to get rid of him.

     ‘It’s just a severe sprain!’ Mark announced when he popped his head around the kitchen door after he’d taken Karen home. ‘The doctor’s strapped up her ankle and told her to keep her weight off it for a day or so, but he says she’s going to be just fine.’

     All three of them let out a sigh of relief. Laura didn’t doubt they could cope for another couple of days without Karen, but anything longer would be impossible.

     Michelle stood up and went to retrieve her jacket and bag from the staff toilet behind the kitchen so she could get a lift home with her father. When she returned, she gave both Laura and Igor a hug before saying goodnight. After she left, Laura also decided it was time to call it a day.

     ‘Are you sure you’re up to doing breakfast on your own tomorrow, Igor?’ she asked as she tried to stifle a yawn. ‘I can always come down and give you a hand.’

     He assured he was. With just twenty-two guests in the hotel, it was an easy job for one person.

     ‘I just need key,’ he told Laura after she stood up.

      Laura didn’t understand. ‘What key?’

     Igor jumped up and pointed to the key in kitchen door that led to the carpark.

      ‘If I have key, then I can lock door when I go, and open in the morning. You no need to bother.’

     Laura thought that was an excellent idea. Jenny wouldn’t be in till seven to man the reception desk, so it meant she wouldn’t have to come down from the staff flat at the top of the building just to let him in.

     ‘No problem,’ she agreed. ‘Why don’t you chill out for a bit and enjoy what’s left of the wine before you go home? You certainly deserve it after tonight.’

     Igor looked grateful. ‘You very kind,’ he told her before saying goodnight.

     After she’d gone, Igor put the bottle of wine back on the shelf before picking up the mattress from the kitchen floor and dragging it through to the dry store. He then pulled his secreted rucksack and sleeping bag out from behind the rack of spare dining chairs, and pulled out his bottle of Polish vodka. Laura’s offer had been very kind, but after the night he’d had, a glass of his homeland nectar was required.

     ‘Witaj w domu,’ he toasted under his breath after he poured some into his glass.

     If he'd lost his job at the Bedford, his new life in the UK would be over. The fact that he didn't have a home would have to remain his secret for now. If Karen found out he was actually living in the dry store, God knows what she might do to him...