By the time his sister and her partner were ready for mains the other diners had departed. It looked like it was going to be a very early night. It had also started to rain.

Hans stood in front of the glass, peering out into the carpark. This place needed a garden or something in front of it, to give it a bit more ambience or whatever that word was that made things look better. It would be much nicer than looking at bitumen.

He and Gretal had cleared the other tables, and she was now off putting the tablecloths in the washer dryer he’d purchased for the restaurant last week. He sighed. Fennel loved the bloody thing so hopefully the purchase would redeem itself at some point. If not, he supposed they’d just go back to hiring the laundry service, and he’d give the damn thing to Solway.

‘This tarragon sauce is amazing,’ she said from behind him.

‘That’s good,’ he replied distantly. Puddles had started to form in the carpark and were reflecting the overhead lights.

‘Are you going to sit down,’ asked Bart. ‘Looks pretty quiet?’

He turned around. They looked right together, for reasons he couldn’t fathom. ‘Just give me a minute,’ he replied. ‘I need to go to the kitchen.’

Solway widened her eyes at him around a mouthful of pork.

‘Stop it, Sol. I’ll be back in a tick.’

He passed Gretal on the way through. She carried an armful of tablecloths.

‘Can I fold these behind the bar tonight,’ she asked.

‘Sounds good.’

‘Are you okay?’

He frowned. ‘I am, thank you. I think we’ll call it.’

‘We still have patrons.’ She looked over at Solway and Bart.

‘They’re with me, if you didn’t notice.’ He smiled. ‘It’s raining, Gretal. We can get onto all the other things you need to learn sooner than you thought.’

‘Alright then. Thank you Hans.’

Hans nodded, smoothed back his hair and kept walking. ‘No problem. Fennel!’

Fennel looked up from whatever he was covering at the stainless steel bench. ‘Are you calling it?’

‘I am, yes. We only have one table left, and they’re with me.’ He could hear the rain on the roof in here, so there’d be no point in mentioning it.

‘Makes sense. It’s starting to bucket down,’ said Fennel, glancing at the ceiling. ‘Are your people having dessert?’

‘I can cover that. Think you can start on cleanup? Who’ve we got left?’

Fennel glanced over at the sink. Shane had begun tackling the pots and the sous chef was stacking the sink behind her. ‘One of you two can go home. Which one is it going to be?’

‘I’ll stay,’ said Shane.

The sous chef didn’t look very happy about that.

‘You’re working for free, remember?’ Hans frowned at her. He didn’t want this woman messing with the existing staff.

‘Doesn’t that make sense? How late do you usually open on Sundays?’ She looked pointedly at the clock on the kitchen wall. It had only just gone seven thirty.

‘Not that late,’ Hans replied. Why did he feel like snapping at her every time she spoke?

The sous chef stayed quiet. She knew this was an early call too, but was far too clever to say anything.

‘You’re the boss, Hans. What would you like to do,’ Fennel asked.

The Shane woman looked stricken. ‘You’re the what?’

‘The boss,’ Fennel said gently. ‘He owns the place. And several others besides. It’s highly possible I should have mentioned this earlier.’ He didn’t look in the least bit remorseful.

‘Figure it out amongst yourselves,’ Hans growled. He took a deep breath. ‘Sorry. But, I’d like to take some time with the people out there.’ He nodded towards the restaurant. ‘Fennel. Where’s that bottle?’

Fennel gave him a wink. ‘I’ll get it for you shortly. Might even join you, if that’s alright. I think I’ll clock off myself and leave these two to clean up the kitchen.’

‘Finally, a good idea.’ Hans had had quite enough of these people for one night. ‘See you shortly.’

‘Right then,’ Fennel said loudly as he exited the room. I’m giving you a list. Put your hearing aids in.’

That made Hans grin, even if only for a moment. He wondered if he should get Bart another beer.

to be continued…