Page 78 of New Beginnings on Railway Lane

He shook his head. ‘It won’t work,’ he replied.

‘Why? Because you’re scared?’

He looked up at her. ‘That’s a bit personal, don’t you think?’ he muttered.

‘I think we went beyond personal when you carried me outside in the middle of the village in my pyjamas,’ she told him, putting her hands on her hips.

Ryan gave a start as he looked up and down at her pyjamas as if he had only just noticed what she was wearing. For some reason, she found herself blushing at his long, scorching look.

‘Sorry,’ he said, suddenly looking utterly aghast. ‘I was so angry. I didn’t think. Here,’ he added before he stood up to take off the hoodie that he had been wearing and held it out for her to take. ‘I apologise. I didn’t mean to embarrass you like this. Of course you can go back upstairs. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable. I totally overreacted.’

She shrugged on the hoodie as he sank back down onto the bench. Something was wrong, she thought. This wasn’t just their normal back and forth tug-of-war over business. This was something else. Something bigger. He appeared almost defeated.

She sat down next to him, curling up her bare feet underneath her so that they were away from the cold pavement. ‘Tell me,’ she said softly.

He sat in silence for a moment.

‘Trust me,’ she told him, reaching out to touch his arm and give it a squeeze.

She wanted to help him. Not just because of the business opportunity but because of him. The man. Ryan. She was falling in love with him.

And the shock of being carried outside in her pyjamas faded into insignificance compared to that bombshell.

41

Ryan sat on the bench, trying to find the words to tell Katy just how ridiculous an idea it was that he should open another restaurant.

He stared out across the platform and the railway tracks to where the fields lay beyond, a sea of faded green and yellow in the low autumnal sun. A kestrel soared over the tops of the trees in the soft breeze.

‘So you know that I was a top chef in Rome,’ he began.

He felt Katy nod but didn’t turn his head to look at her. This was hard enough without seeing the disappointment in her eyes. He was already disappointed in himself.

‘I was sacked.’

‘Why?’ she asked.

He sighed. ‘It started off with a glowing review by one of the big superstar Italian footballers six months ago. He came in and posted on Instagram how great the meal was. Which was nice.’

Katy didn’t interrupt him and he was grateful for that. It was hard enough to get the words out.

‘Suddenly our little reasonably popular restaurant went into the stratosphere. Table reservations were full every night. You couldn’t get a table for months on end. It was crazy. And too good to be true.’

He carried on staring at the tracks, but he no longer saw the fields and the beautiful English countryside. Now he saw the line of paparazzi outside, the people demanding that he came out of the kitchen to have his photo taken and the never-ending mealtimes which grew and grew until he was working all hours of the day and night.

‘I got so tired,’ he carried on. ‘The hours were already long, but they became brutal.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, one night, some Z-list celebrity came in and decided to make a fuss about one of the dishes that he received. Said that it had given him food poisoning.’ He finally looked at Katy and saw the sympathy in her eyes. ‘The joke was on me though because the guy had actually been poisoned by some mushrooms he had foraged for and eaten for lunch the day he came into the restaurant for dinner.’

She reached out to squeeze his arm and he was grateful for the contact.

‘It didn’t matter though,’ he carried on. ‘Pretty quickly, I was a pariah. Bookings were cancelled. The celebrity circus moved on to the next restaurant and ours was left empty. So the owners decided that they had to start again with a new chef and I was the scapegoat.’

Katy blew out a long sigh as she digested all that he had told her. He knew that it was a lot to take in.

‘So why didn’t you tell your family?’ she finally asked. ‘They all think you’re here on a sabbatical.’

‘It happened the night before Mum walked out,’ he said, remembering the horror of that day. ‘The lie was easier and less painful than everything else that was going on when I got back here.’

She nodded. ‘I see.’