Chapter Three

Ella

Is it me, or does it seem really dumb that the person who has to create the content for theses cookery shows, and who bears the title ‘culinary consultant', gets no say in what will actually be cooked?

I understand that Kennedy's choices might make ‘good television', but based on the first one, they're going to be pretty damn hard to make interesting… or even watchable. And if they're all like that. The next ten weeks are going to be a lot more challenging than I'd expected.

Kennedy's responses seemed uncalled-for, and even if Ruby and Blake tried to be kind about it, I wasn't really in the mood for kindness, or for discussing it anymore. I hope neither of them thought I was being dismissive. Because I wasn't. I was just trying not to cry. It wouldn't have looked good on my first day, and although there were tears in my eyes, I kept them at bay, and with any luck, neither of them noticed.

One thing I couldn't fail to notice was how differently Kennedy behaved toward Blake. Sure, she was a little testy in her replies, but she was nowhere near as scathing to him as she was to me. Was that because he's the ‘talent'? He so clearly is, judging by the way everyone fawned over him in the meeting, and the makeup artist doted on his ‘perfect' skin, and ‘beautiful' eyes just now. And while I'm not saying he doesn't have perfect skin, or beautiful eyes, I'm feeling belittled and humiliated, when the reality of the situation is his skin and eyes won't count for anything, if I can't come up with exciting content for the shows.

As I look around the studio, I'm still struggling to understand why they'd bother to deconstruct and re-construct the kitchen so often… but I'm not about to query their decisions anymore. I've learned my lesson.

Blake is looking around too, while Ruby repeats the mantra she's spoken several times so far this morning, about the schedules being tight, and I wonder for a moment why he introduced himself as ‘the presenter', rather than ‘the chef'. It seems like an odd way for him to have described himself, but maybe he was concerned about there being two chefs on this project, and didn't want to appear to be stealing the limelight… not that it matters to me. I always knew I'd be working with someone else. It was my primary concern when I was interviewed. I had no desire to appear before the cameras, and I still don't. It's never appealed to me, and I told Kennedy that when she interviewed me. I was still in Paris at the time, and was reeling from the fact that one of my tutors had recommended me for this job. Pierre had never seemed that impressed with my abilities. In fact, he'd been quite dismissive, and I'd assumed he'd thought of me as a waste of space; someone who was only there because she couldn't think of anything else to do… a poor little rich kid, I guess. When he told me he'd been made aware of this opportunity and had put my name forward for it, I was speechless… grateful, but speechless. I was excited too. Despite my training, I had no interest in working in a hotel or restaurant. The hours really didn't appeal, and neither did the atmosphere. It wasn't until I'd thanked Pierre that I started to worry… would they want me to be on camera? The thought was terrifying. It was the first question I asked Kennedy during my interview, and she was very reassuring. My role would be strictly ‘behind the scenes'. It would be my responsibility to create the menus and recipes, cook the dishes that would be used on the shows, and assist the chef. She used the word ‘chef', even though Blake didn't, and I suppose it was that, and her insistence on so much secrecy, that made me wonder if the ‘chef' might be a celebrity.

Except it seems not, because I don't recognize Blake at all.

One thing Kennedy didn't mention at any point, was scriptwriting. I have no idea what that might entail, but I find it odd that I'm not allowed any input into deciding which questions will form the content of the shows, but my ‘culinary knowledge' is evidently going to be ‘invaluable' in writing the scripts.

Go figure…

"I—I know Kennedy said the shows weren't going out live, but we're not recording in front of an audience, are we?"

For the first time this morning, it's Blake's turn to sound nervous and I turn to look at him. He's frowning at Ruby, and I can see why now. Behind him, there are rows and rows of seats… probably enough for at least two hundred people.

Ruby shakes her head, seemingly as patient with him as she's been with me, even though I get the feeling he's much more experienced in the ways of a television studio than I am. "No. Each show will probably take the entire day to shoot, and they'll be full-on days. It's going to be stressful enough as it is, without throwing a live audience into the mix."

Blake seems relieved by her answer, nodding his head, and relaxing. For myself, I'm not sure I like the sound of what she's saying. It all sounds very pressured… and I'm feeling enough of that on my own account. I suppose I should be grateful, though. At least there won't be an audience to witness my inevitable mistakes.

We head for the door again, and I wonder where we're going to be taken next. I'm getting sick of carrying my knife case around, I could murder a cup of coffee, my head is already spinning, and even though I've got something of a reputation for being outgoing, I've never felt more like running away and hiding. I feel so completely out of my depth.

Once we're out in the hall, we retrace our steps, going back through the double doors, and coming to a halt outside the rehearsal room.

"I'm gonna leave you to get on," Ruby says. "Unfortunately, even though schedules are normally tight, this week is gonna be even more crazy."

"It is?" Blake frowns down at her.

"Yeah. As I said in the meeting just now, the way we've organized this is that, in a normal schedule, Ella will have planned out the following week's content on the previous Friday."

"When the rest of us are re-recording any problems that might have arisen the previous day?" he says and Ruby nods her head.

"Won't I be needed in the studio?" I ask.

"You might," Ruby says. "But there should still be plenty of time for you to do your planning, so when you guys arrive on the Monday morning, your ingredients would be set up and everything would be ready for you to get straight down to work, practicing the dishes. Then, sometime on Monday afternoon, the rest of the team would join you and we'd start working on the script, so we could begin full rehearsals as soon as possible. Everything has to slot into place, you see…" She turns to face me. "As it is, we're running late."

The clock is ticking and I'm not allowed to forget it.

"Where do we work?" I ask, as it hits me that, not only are we going to be recording this week, which I hadn't expected, but I have less time than I usually would to do my job… a job I don't fully understand yet.

"In there," she says, nodding toward the rehearsal room, her eyes darting from me to Blake and back again. "Don't look so worried. My office is just across the hall… here." She turns, taking a step back, and opens the door behind her. "If you need anything, just ask."

There are so many questions… like why I thought I was good enough to do this job in the first place… who was the idiot who thought we'd be ready to record our first show just three days from now… and why I'm wasting time standing in the hall, when I should be working…

"Shall we?" Blake says, and I startle, realizing Ruby's office door is closed. She must have gone inside, and I didn't even notice. Blake is standing by the door to the rehearsal room, holding it open, and I pass through, taking a deep breath to calm myself.

I can do this .

I gaze at the table for a moment, but by-pass it and wander over to the kitchen area. It's my natural domain and I feel more at home here. Blake follows, standing on the opposite side of the island unit. Between us is a five-ring hob and plenty of preparation space, which I suppose makes sense. This is a replica of the kitchen that will be used in the show, which means I'm standing where he would be when he's presenting. Just thinking that makes me feel nervous again, and I put my knife case on the countertop, placing the file Kennedy gave me on top.

"Do you have your own set of knives?" I ask, looking up at Blake.

"No," he says, frowning and evidently surprised by my question. "Do you?"

"Of course." I may not have paid as much attention as I should during all of my classes, but one thing I can remember is that all self-respecting chefs own their own knives. I bought mine the day after I graduated, by way of celebration. To prove the point, I push the blue file to one side and open my silver knife case, revealing the blades inside. Blake leans over, getting a good look, and then stares down at me again.

"Impressive," he says, smiling.

I can't see why he'd be impressed by a set of knives, but that's the least of my problems, and I close the lid again, letting out a sigh. "Is it me, or does this all feel a bit rushed?"

"It feels very rushed. I hadn't realized we were going to be recording this week."

"No. Neither had I."

He shakes his head, his smile fading. "I'd assumed there would be a more gentle breaking-in for both of us… with a few production meetings first, before we got down to recording next week."

He seems to understand the process a lot better than I do, but I nod my head anyway. "I think they must have had the production meetings in our absence, don't you?"

"I'd like to think so. But if that were the case, they ought to be more prepared than this."

My stomach churns, my nerves returning, as I realize how much of this process depends on me. "I suppose we should get on, really…"

I open the file, pulling out the sheet of paper I glanced at earlier.

"How complicated is the first question?" he asks, before I even have time to look at it again, and for a second or two, I wonder if he's being facetious, trying to remind me of Kennedy's reaction in the meeting. I don't comment, but hand the page over to him. He looks down, reading it to himself, and then looks up again. "You think the answer to this is common sense, do you?"

"Of course it is." I can't see why he wouldn't think so, too. "It's just logic."

"Not to me, it's not."

What's he talking about? Have I given him the wrong document? Is there something more complicated to come later in the season? I hope so…

I hold out my hand and he gives it back to me, waiting while I read it for myself…

‘My boyfriend has invited his parents for dinner, and his dad's favorite dish is roast lamb. I've never cooked a roast dinner before, and I'm terrified I won't be able to get everything ready at the same time. I'm desperate to make a good impression… please help!'

I look up at him again, tilting my head to one side as I put down the piece of paper. "Are you seriously saying you couldn't prepare a roast dinner and get all the components ready at the same time?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No. I'm saying I couldn't get any kind of dinner ready."

"Why on earth not?"

"Probably because I can't cook," he says, still smiling.

I take a half step back, unable to help myself. "Y—You can't cook?"

"No."

"But you're a chef."

"No, I'm not. I'm an actor."

***

Mac

Her expression is priceless. It's a cross between blank bewilderment and building anger. She struggles, one emotion fighting it out with the other, until, in the end, anger wins.

"W—What do you mean, you're an actor?" She stammers over her words, pushing her fingers back through her hair, and while I try to focus on what she's saying, it just got seriously complicated. She looked amazing before, but now she's messed up her hair a little more, she looks insanely hot, and it's taking all my willpower not to walk around the island unit, grab hold of her, and kiss her. That's not something I'd normally do, but she's distracting the hell out of me. "Well?" she says and I realise she's waiting for an answer, and being distracted isn't helping.

"I'm an actor," I say, trying to focus. "I don't know how else to phrase that."

"But what are you doing here?"

"Acting, I guess." She narrows her eyes at me, but before she can yell at me for being flippant, I hold up my hands. "I don't know any more than you do, Ella. I was hired to present a cookery show."

"Even though you can't cook?"

"Yes. I told Kennedy when she auditioned me. I made it very clear I wasn't kidding, or being modest. Boiling water is a struggle for me. She said it didn't matter, and that someone else would take care of the cooking. All I had to do was speak my lines and act out the cooking part." I smile at her, tilting my head slightly. "I guess you're the ‘someone else'."

She rests her hands on the work surface, leaning over slightly and shaking her head. "I suppose I must be." She stares at me for a moment and then looks down at the piece of paper in front of her. "Would you excuse me for a moment?" she says, although she doesn't look up as she speaks, but steps away toward the end of the island unit. I meet her there, grabbing her arm before she can make her escape. Her skin is feather-soft, and we both seem to gasp at the same time, although she looks down at my hand, and I quickly remove it, wondering if I've overstepped the mark.

"Sorry… but where are you going?"

"To find out what's going on here."

"In that case, I think I'll come with you. I'd quite like to know myself."

She pauses for a second or two and then nods her head and turns, walking away. I follow – not that I was asking her permission – and we head for the door. She almost yanks it off of its hinges, and steps out into the hallway, stopping abruptly.

"What's wrong?" I ask, and she glares up at me, although she doesn't say a word, and I decide to keep quiet. She's gone frosty on me again, and she glances up and down the corridor, looking left and right, before she seems to reach a decision, and marches across the hall, to Ruby's door. She offered to help earlier, when she pointed out her office to us, but I'm not sure she anticipated Ella would barge right in there just a few minutes later. That's exactly what she does, though, without knocking.

I'm right behind her, so I'm there to see Ruby look up from behind her desk, her eyebrows raised in surprise. The room itself is small and sterile, with just her desk, and a couple of chairs in front of it, a tall cupboard against the wall behind Ruby, and a view through the windows, across the city.

"Can I help?" she asks.

"I don't know." Ella stands in front of her and takes a breath, like she needs to compose herself.

"What's wrong?" Ruby asks, sitting forward slightly. "Has something happened?"

Ella shakes her head. "Not as such, but I'd like to know why I wasn't told that Blake can't cook… and why you hired an actor, rather than a chef. I hadn't realised that training him to cook would be part of my role, but I've only got three days until we start rec—"

"You don't have to train him." The voice in the doorway makes us all jump and Ruby looks up, while Ella and I turn around to see Kennedy standing there, her face like thunder. I wish I'd closed the door now, especially as she takes her time stepping across the threshold while glaring at Ella. It's a tight squeeze for all of us to fit in here, and I move over, so I'm behind Ella, giving Kennedy space. "Cooking is your responsibility," she says, "and no-one else's. We hired an actor because this show isn't just about the food; it's about interacting with the guest who's brought in their problem, and knowing how to connect with the audience, through the camera." She tilts her head, narrowing her eyes slightly. "In future, Miss Bennett, if you have any questions about the set-up, perhaps you'd be kind enough to bring them to me, rather than bothering Ruby with them?" She's positively dripping with sarcasm, the smirk on her lips finishing the picture to perfection.

Ella takes a half-step closer to Kennedy.

"I would have done, but I didn't know where your office was."

"Then you should have made it your business to find out."

"I don't have time," Ella snaps, giving as good as she gets, which makes me smile. "You've hired a puppet, it seems, and you're leaving me to work out how to pull his strings."

Ouch …

My smile fades. Okay, so she's only saying the same thing as I've been thinking myself, but hearing the words on someone else's lips – especially when that someone is a comparative stranger – is a sobering experience.

I clear my throat and everyone turns to look at me. Ella's eyes lock with mine for a second, and I'm almost certain I see sorrow behind them… although I can't be sure, and even if I could, there's no way of knowing what she's sorry about. It could be her insult towards me, or that she's regretting taking this job… or just Kennedy's attitude to her, which sucks.

"I seem to be the problem here," I say. "But I—"

"Don't you dare say you're gonna leave." Kennedy interrupts me, stepping closer, so she's right beside Ella. She looks up at me, a pleading expression on her face as she shakes her head, and for a split second, I almost feel valued. "There's no time to find a replacement," she says, crushing the last vestiges of my ego.

"I wasn't going to say I'd leave." Apart from anything else, I've left the theatre company behind, and I need this job just to keep a roof over my head. "What I was going to say was, I'm a quick learner. I might never have succeeded at cooking anything in my life, but I'm sure I'll cope." I'm about to add, ‘It can't be that hard,' when I think better of it. Ella might have called me a puppet, but that's no reason for me to insult her… or her profession.

Ruby stands up. "This is my fault," she says and we all turn to look at her. She glances at me, then at Ella, smiling slightly, before she turns her gaze on Kennedy. "I forgot to show Ella and Blake where your office is, and I made a point of saying they could come to me if they had any problems, so Ella was just doing what I'd told her."

Kennedy sucks in a breath. "You're not responsible for personnel decisions, Ruby. You know that… and if Miss Bennett has an issue about her employment, or her contract, then she ought to have realised it should be brought to me, not you."

"How?" Ella says, raising her voice slightly. "How would I realise that?"

Kennedy turns to her, that smirk back on her lips again. "It's common sense."

"It might be common sense to you, Ms Black, but it isn't to everyone." That's almost exactly what Kennedy said to Ella earlier, in the meeting, and I can see the anger rising in Kennedy's face. Ella's taking tremendous risks here, unless she's trying to get herself fired.

"I think it's best if you leave me to handle this," Ruby says, trying to calm the situation. "It's not really a contractual issue. It's more of a… a time-management one." She struggles to find the right phrase to placate Kennedy, but gets there eventually.

"You're not wrong," Kennedy says, backing up towards the door. "Time is money. And so far, all you're doing is wasting it." Her eyes are fixed on Ella as she's talking. "I expect to see some results, young lady," she says, with a threatening tone to her voice, and then she turns and leaves the room.

"Well… that was only slightly patronising," I murmur, quietly enough that she won't have heard.

"Hmm… Kennedy's good at patronising." Ruby looks up at me, and then sits down again, sinking into her chair.

"I'm sorry." We both turn to Ella as she speaks. She's looking down at Ruby, biting her bottom lip. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

"Don't worry about it. Kennedy and I have these battles now and then, but she and I both know she can't afford to fire me."

"She can't?" I ask, feeling confused. "I wouldn't have thought Kennedy would let anyone have a hold over her."

"I don't have a hold over her, as such," Ruby says with a smile, and then leans forward, resting her elbows on her desk. "You've probably noticed that Kennedy doesn't pay very well."

"It hadn't escaped my attention," I say. "Although I'm getting more here than I was in my last job."

Ella looks up at me, a little confused, and then turns back to Ruby. "I can't say I'd noticed," she says with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Well, she doesn't… except in two departments."

"What are they?" I ask. "Certainly not acting."

"No. She thinks actors are two a penny."

"Thanks. I only came here to get insulted."

Ruby smiles. "Sorry. It's her opinion, not mine. The only people to whom she's prepared to pay the going rate, are directors and scriptwriters. She says they're the ones who can make or break a show. The rest of us are eminently replaceable."

"And you put up with that?" Ella's clearly shocked.

"Yes, but only because it suits me. I enjoy working here, because I actually get to see my husband." I don't think Ella or I do a very good job of hiding our surprise, judging by the smile on Ruby's face.

"Who's your husband?" I ask.

"Gavin."

"The scriptwriter?" Ella says.

"Yes. And that's why Kennedy can't afford to fire me. She knows if I go, Gavin will leave, too… and he's one of the best in the business."

"So, not eminently replaceable?"

"Anything but…"

"Did you meet here?" I ask, feeling intrigued, even though I know it's a personal question.

"Yes. Three years ago. That was when I started here. We've been married for eighteen months, but with the hours we have to keep, if we didn't work together, we'd never see each other."

"I don't think I've ever met a couple who worked together, as well as lived together… not successfully." I can't think of anyone, anyway, and I know I'd never have been able to do it with any of my exes.

"I have," Ella says, and I turn to look at her. "My brother's just got engaged to his PA."

"You see? It can be done," Ruby says, and we both look back at her to find she's smiling up at us. "Now… before Kennedy comes back and finds us all still talking, I think you two had better get back to work, don't you?"

Ella nods her head with a half-hearted smile and heads for the door. "I'll bring my ideas over as soon as they're ready," she says, although her lack of enthusiasm is hard to miss, and I follow her from the room, closing the door behind me.

Back in the rehearsal studio, Ella flops down into one of the chairs, puts her elbows on the table, and dips her head, resting it on her upturned hands. She's a picture of dejection and I wander over, standing beside her.

"I'm sorry," I say, resisting the urge to put a hand on her shoulder.

She looks up, frowning. "What are you sorry for? I'm the one who called you a puppet."

"I know, but it's not your fault."

"It's not yours either."

She's not wrong. I didn't ask to be here, or to be a puppet, but she's upset and I want to help.

She sighs, shaking her head. "I can't believe this…"

"Believe what?" I ask.

"This…" She waves her arm around the room, sitting back. "Doing this job was going to be complicated enough as it was, but I assumed I'd be working with a professional."

"Thanks…" I was trying to be nice, but I don't know why I bothered.

"What for?" She frowns up at me again.

"The half-arsed apology."

"Half-arsed?"

"Yes. You apologise for calling me a puppet, and then tell me I'm unprofessional."

She looks up. "Well, it's true. You're not a chef. You can't even cook."

I lean down slightly. "Maybe not, but from what I've seen, you know nothing about acting, or TV production, which I guess makes us even."

Things don't feel very ‘even', despite my words, and rather than risk any further insults, I beat a hasty retreat to the side kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

As I pour the water into the machine, I do my best to calm down. Ella has a point, after all. She wasn't told that I can't cook, so she'd expected to be working alongside a chef, not an actor. That's the aspect of this job that's been worrying me the most, ever since I was told I'd landed the role. Even so, I don't see why she needs to be so rude. We could be working together… helping each other. Let's face it, I wasn't wrong. My knowledge of TV production may not be all-encompassing, but it's greater than hers.

I grab a cup from the cupboard and consider taking down a second one. Should I offer her a coffee? I hesitate and then close the cupboard door again. What's the point? She'd only tell me I'd made it wrong.