The Hunger and the Howling of Killian Lone: The Secret Ingredient of Unforgettable Food Is Suffering by Storr Will

Author:Storr, Will [Storr, Will]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror
ISBN: 9781476730448
Amazon: B00DPM7W4M
Goodreads: 24750012
Publisher: Atria Books/Marble Arch Press
Published: 2013-03-01T08:00:00+00:00

29

By twelve o’clock that night, the brigade was beginning its final clean-down. All the steel units were being pulled from the walls and washed and tides of soapy water were pushed around our feet as the floor tiles were scraped, scrubbed, mopped and dried. It was the only part of the day in which we were allowed to chat, although it was mostly abusive banter which acted as both bonding glue and mettle-tester, with any crack in composure caused by the insults watched for and feasted upon. Still not fully used to the eighteen-hour shifts, it was easy to allow my exhaustion to overcome me. The others, I could tell, felt energised and victorious, having beaten back the forces of another double service.

That night, though, I was scrubbing my unit with even more determination than usual. I became aware of Ambrose coming into the kitchen, nose pinked and smile hardened by a night spent, presumably, entertaining friends and generally celebrating himself at his usual table.

“Attention!” he clapped. “Please, mesdames, messieurs et gamins. Don’t stop what you’re doing, but I’d appreciate it if you could give me as much attention as you can spare.”

Everyone did as Le Patron had asked and popped their heads up. I paused, on my way back to the cleaning cupboard with a bucket, and noticed that someone was with him – Mr Mayle. He was holding a white presentation plate.

“Whilst you were all busy, Grosvenor House were doing their usual no doubt profoundly mediocre job of hosting the annual Young Saucier of the Year competition, a title that one or two of the wonderfully talented chefs present here have been shortlisted for in the past and, of course, the award our very own Max won years ago at the start of his long journey to international repute…”

The entire brigade had stopped. They could tell by the direction in which Ambrose kept looking that I was the winner. Carlo was smiling and nodding his head; the other apprentices spread their faces in expressions of simple astonishment. I dried my hands on my torchon and took a tentative step in the direction of Le Patron.

“It gives me great pleasure to announce the 1985 Young Saucier of the Year is our very own Killian Lone.”

As I made my way towards Ambrose, the rest of the brigade began to clap. I watched my clogs slapping on the damp floor tiles and kept my head bowed, in an attempt at hiding the daft grin that had erupted across my face. As I got nearer, the appreciation of these marvellous men grew in strength and I began to feel as if I could hear every individual palm slapping another and I tried to hold the sound in my head, so that I could keep it for later and replay it again and again. Even Patrick was striking his muttony hands together. Everyone was doing so, except Max, who was leaning against the wall with the air of someone awaiting a late-running bus.

I

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