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He led Andre through the small opening swept aside by the plastic curtain and into the large room beyond.

Once more, the wallpaper had been stripped and the whole area needed ceiling lights, new paint and new furniture. Pete was sure that it would soon look far more modern and less like, well, a building site.

He brought out his phone to show Andre his ideas for the decoration of the restaurant and was somewhat relieved to see the chef nodding in approval.

‘Very nice,’ said Andre eventually. ‘Now where I will create my masterpieces?’

‘That too is a work in progress,’ said Pete as he led the chef past the bar and towards the kitchen area. ‘But it’s all in hand.’

He hoped he wasn’t laying it on too thick, but he felt a certain desperation at that point. Andre was the only person to have replied to the advert. The rural location had put off many potential cooks from replying. So he really did need to ensure that Andre was going to stay with them to get the place up and running.

He kept his fingers crossed as they entered the kitchen. The old units and out-of-date appliances had already been stripped away, leaving the bare bones of the room. But now that it had been plastered it began to look a little bigger, given the blank canvas that it now was.

‘You have the designs for the kitchen?’ asked Andre, somewhat imperiously.

Pete suppressed his snapped reply at the man’s snobbish attitude. It would just take a little getting used to, that was all.

Once more, Pete showed him the plans that he had agreed with Mr Reynolds.

Andre nodded. ‘It is adequate, I suppose,’ he said, with a sniff.

‘Of course, the menus will be entirely up to you,’ said Pete, still anxious to butter the man up. ‘With my approval, of course.’

‘I work only by using the best ingredients,’ said Andre. ‘When you begin to cut corners, then the quality plummets.’

‘I agree wholeheartedly,’ said Pete. ‘We’re going to open with a gala dinner at the end of the month, inviting local dignitaries and reviewers. Give it the best possible start and press release that we can.’

‘That will not be a problem when they see my food,’ said Andre imperiously. ‘What staff will be you providing for me?’

‘Staff?’ said Pete, with a small gulp. That would mean extra wages and heaven knows how the books were going to balance as it was with Andre’s steep wage demands.

‘I will require a commis chef at the very least to help preparations,’ Andre told him. ‘You cannot expect me to prepare everything, surely?’

‘Not at all,’ said Pete, smoothly. ‘In fact, we have a local chap all ready to go. He’s fully trained and keen to work.’

Whether Dodgy Del’s nephew was up to the task was another worry to add to Pete’s growing list.

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Andre.

‘So?’ asked Pete. ‘What do you think? Would you like the job?’

The silence stretched out.

For one awful moment, Pete thought Andre wasn’t going to accept. He was the only one that had replied to the advert. The only hope for getting the gastronomic experience he had decided on for the inn. The future of the whole inn hung in the balance at that moment.

Finally Andre nodded. ‘I think we shall give it three-month trial and go from there,’ he said.

‘Excellent,’ replied Pete, grinning with relief.

When they were back at the front door, the two men shook hands before Andre left.

Pete sagged against the door frame briefly. They had a chef! The man might be somewhat annoying in his snobbish attitude, but Pete didn’t care as long as he could cook like a dream.

At last, the future looked bright. He hoped.

But still, deep down, there was the nagging thought that the restaurant would be missing something when it opened. He just didn’t know what it was.

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