A Sprinkle of Sabotage by Fiona Leitch (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📗

food truck was still in safe hands, death by poisoning notwithstanding, and that I would keep him informed of further developments.

Mum and Daisy were looking at me, having only heard my side of the conversation. Knowing that it was terribly unprofessional, but reminding myself that as I wasn’t a professional anymore I didn’t have to worry about stuff like that, I filled them in on Gino’s bombshell.

‘Wow!’ said Daisy.

‘Fudging heck!’ said Mum.

‘Innit?’ I said. ‘I didn’t even know there was such a thing as non-toxic pufferfish. And Zack obviously didn’t, either.’ I thought back to what Mike Mancuso had said earlier – that he’d allowed Zack to go ahead and serve the fugu because Gino had told him he would make sure it was safe. But he hadn’t told him how he’d do that.

‘I’d better tell Nathan,’ I said, frowning. I caught Mum looking at me curiously again, but there was no way I was going to tell her about him leaving when I didn’t want to even think about it, let alone discuss it with someone who wouldn’t let me pretend I didn’t have any feelings for him… I have tackled drunken hooligans waving broken bottles at me, and disarmed a knife-wielding maniac more than once, and yet at that moment I would rather have faced one of them than Nathan. Physical risks I’m okay with; emotional ones, not so much.

‘I need another cup of tea,’ I said, and wandered over to the kettle with my phone. While I waited for it to boil, I typed a text message to Nathan. Yes, I am a coward. I’ve never pretended I wasn’t.

Just spoke to Gino and he says the fish was a NON-TOXIC variety. So was definitely NOT the fish!

I hesitated for a moment, then put:

J x

Then hesitated again and added:

xx

And hit send before I wussed out and deleted them. And then of course I wished I hadn’t put three x’s at the end, because, you know, one could be a kiss from a friend, like the way you kiss someone hello on the cheek, two could possibly be construed as being European (one on each cheek), but three … three kisses was definite I’m-thinking-about-snogging-you territory.

Maybe I was overthinking it…

My phone pinged almost immediately with a reply. Nathan.

So THAT’S what he was going on about lol. He was a bit overexcited when he rang me and he put the phone down on me before I could work out what he was saying. He’s like an Italian Gordon Ramsey lol.

(I’d never seen so many ‘lol’s in one of his messages before, and I imagined him giving a nervous laugh as he typed each one in).

Can you talk?

Yes, and I rarely stop, I thought, but I didn’t type it. No, no, no, I also thought, but I didn’t type that either. You are SUCH a coward, Parker, I berated myself, but fair’s fair, it had been a very emotional day one way or another, and I needed to be in control of myself before I spoke to him again.

Not really. Got a terrible headache and about to go to bed.

I hit send and got a reply almost immediately.

Sorry, I hope you feel better after a good sleep. Talk tomorrow? xxx

I wanted to cry. But instead I just typed:

Definitely xxx

And made some more tea.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I spent the evening watching TV and playing Scrabble with Mum and Daisy, studiously avoiding any thoughts of Nathan, Tony, or the case. But mostly Nathan.

It was almost impossible, though. After a very healthy dinner of salmon (brushed with sweet-chilli sauce and baked in the oven), served with brown rice and stir-fried veg, which I thought might almost get the Kimi seal of approval, I made mini microwave chocolate lava mug cakes, which definitely wouldn’t. Daisy had requested them specially, as she enjoyed making them with me almost as much as she enjoyed eating them.

I watched as she measured the ingredients out into the mugs: a quarter of a cup of flour, a teaspoon of baking powder, two tablespoons each of sugar and cocoa powder, and a pinch of salt, mixed with two tablespoons each of vegetable oil and milk. She repeated the same amounts for each mug and then mixed everything to a paste, adding a touch more milk here and there to loosen the mixture.

As she did that, I grated the zest of an orange and added that to each mug, along with a squeeze of juice. Then the final ingredient: a big wedge of chocolate orange, tucked into the middle of each cake.

‘Oh my God, they smell amazing…’ Daisy inhaled deeply and I laughed.

‘Yeah, Nathan really liked it when I made him one the other night…’ I said, my laughter trailing off before I knew it was happening. Luckily Daisy was too intent on popping a mug into the microwave to notice my sudden downer. And fifty seconds later, I had a hot chocolate cake with an oozy, orangey, chocolatey centre to console myself with.

It almost worked.

I took Germaine for her nocturnal walk around the block, but Nathan had joined me on that walk several times, so it was difficult not to think of him. I remembered the night he’d come for dinner and then walked with me, when his phone had rung and he’d said to his mum, ‘Yeah, her.’ I’d read so much into those two words; they meant he’d told his mum about me, which surely he wouldn’t do if I was just a friend? But if I was more than a friend, then he wouldn’t still be debating whether or not to take this job offer, would he?

I sighed, and at my feet Germaine cocked her leg and sighed too, before unleashing a torrent on a poor, unsuspecting weed.

I went to bed early that night, not long after Daisy and Mum – not because I was tired, but because I was bored and restless. Nothing on TV interested me, and I couldn’t get into the book I was reading even