Secret Deceptions: Amatore's Restaurant Part One

By James Sillwood

The first seven chapters from Amatore's Restaurant.
This book takes the reader on an atmospheric journey from Berlin to Venice, Marseilles and Amsterdam cleverly interweaving themes of seduction and deception. What are the characters' true motives? Are their feelings genuine or are they just playing games? It soon becomes clear that nothing is as it seems.

Chapter 1: Audition
Cordelia, tired of playing the passive role, picks up a man at a bar in Berlin, takes him back to his hotel room and seduces him. Determined to take the lead, by the end of the evening she proves that she can take a dominant role.

Chapter 2: The Venetian
Frustrated with her life in Venice, Chiara attempts to show her girlfriend, Lucia, just what her cheating husband is capable of. Her plan of seduction works and Lucia can no longer deny the truth. But will she react in the way Chiara hopes?

Chapter 3: Narcissus Through the Window
One afternoon, while rehearsing her striptease in front of the mirror, Emily discovers she has an unwelcome spectator. Accustomed to paying audiences only, she vents her anger by hurling a plant pot at the onlooker.

Chapter 4: Blind Man's Bluff
Pierre is amazed when an Algerian girl and her elderly blind companion arrive at the restaurant. Thinking back to the time in Marseilles when, after a successful drugs deal, he attempts to trick his young companion only to discover later he is the one who has been well and truly duped.

Chapter 5: The Waitress's Bus Stop
Freya is biding her time in Amsterdam, unsure of what to do next, when she is seduced by Ana, a German actress she meets in a café. But there is something strange about Freya: something she's hiding about her past.

Chapter 6: Bodywork
Jane takes her husband's beloved car for an emergency repair and meets up with a man who reminds her of her past. She readily submits to his demands, finding sexual fulfilment through his aggressive and controlling personality. It's only when she returns home and reads the national newspaper she discovers her lucky escape.

Chapter 7: Reflections on a Journey
One Wednesday afternoon the outwardly prim and proper Miss Gray meets an elusive and handsome stranger on her regular train journey. As she sheds her inhibitions little does she realise how her life will be changed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Sillwood
• Release date: Dec 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370741045

James Sillwood

Living in the peace and quiet of Southern Brittany, James Sillwood readily acknowledges that the peaceful surroundings at his cottage inspire an atmosphere conducive to writing. After an itinerant early life, James has now settled in France and divides his time between writing and music. As an accomplished musician he plays regularly as a soloist and with a Latin jazz group. It is here, at his secluded home in Brittany, that Amatore's Restaurant has been completed. This book, along with West Quarry Farm and two other novels, have been long term projects; the first ideas for the plot and characters taking shape well over ten years ago. It has only been in the last year or so that he has been able to focus on finishing these works. When taking a break from performing and writing, James takes a keen interest in Breton culture and local history, enjoys trying out regional recipes, visiting local markets and exploring the surrounding area.

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Secret Deceptions: Amatore's Restaurant Part One

by

James Sillwood

Secret Deceptions: Amatore's Restaurant Part One

by James Sillwood

Copyright © 2014 James Sillwood

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover photo courtesy of Amber Roberts

To Caroline

for all her help and dedication over the years

CONTENTS

List of Characters

Prologue

Chapter 1 Audition

Chapter 2 The Venetian

Chapter 3 Narcissus Through the Window

Chapter 4 Blind Man's Bluff

Chapter 5 The Waitress's Bus Stop

Chapter 6 Bodywork

Chapter 7 Reflections on a Journey

Epilogue

About the Author

Other publications by James Sillwood

List of Characters

Afou Nadwi [Guest of Raul]

Albie Carpenter [Props]

Ana Kirschenbaum [Actress with Freya]

Antoine Petit [Visiting Chef]

Ashley Dobbs [Costume with Jake]

Charlotte Bates [Director with Natalie]

Chiara Montefiore [Waitress]

Clive Bush [Patron/Investor with Dawn]

Colette Durrent [Guest of Richard Tennant]

Colin Bowers [Guest of Samantha]

Cordelia Davies [Actress]

Dale Andrews [Waiter]

David Taylor [Guest of Rachael]

Dawn Bush [Actress with Clive]

Emily Gray [Actress with Prudence]

Ernesto Burton [Promoter with Stephanie]

Freya Henley [Guest of Ana]

Gino Macari [Resident Chef]

Hermana Schmitt [Actress]

Ibu Adebayo [Actor]

Jake McDowell [Actor with Ashley]

Jane Bentley-Parks [Actress with Rupert]

Jethro Jenkins [Posthumous Author]

Jöran Engstrom [Actor]

Lucia Amatore [Wife of Mario]

Lucy Sutton [Patron/Investor]

Luisa Rodriguez [Actress]

Mario Amatore [Restaurant Proprietor]

Michael Henley [Husband of Freya]

Natalie Bouvier [Guest of Charlotte]

Nicole Petit [Wife of Antoine]

Pierre Dupchant [Waiter]

Prudence Gray [Guest of Emily]

Rachael Taylor [Stage Manager with David]

Raul du Perie [Scenery Designer with Afou]

Richard Tennant [Actor with Colette]

Rupert Bentley-Parks [Producer with Jane]

Samantha Bowers [Actress with Colin]

Stephanie Burton [Guest of Ernesto]

Prologue

In the dining hall at Ristorante di Amatore in Kensington, London, three long tables were joined together. The linen table cloth, last used during the Carnival back in Venice that year, had been brought out to cover the length. Thirty places had been set. Signore Mario Amatore, standing at the head of the table, made yet another adjustment to the nearest name card. He straightened up and sighed. With one last look around the room, he turned and headed for the kitchen, the click of his polished shoes echoing through the empty hall.

Chapter 1 Audition

Twelve miles to the north-west of Kensington lies the London suburb of Watford. In the bedroom of No.22 St Mary's Mews, Cordelia Davies, dressed in her underwear, stood before the open door of her wardrobe. She pulled down the turquoise Bou Bou gown and ran her hand through the folds of satin. "Goes so well with my Aso Oke head-wrap, she thought. If only I had the confidence." She returned the dress to the rail and moved the hangers further along.

On her bedside table stood an alarm clock; a yellow, green and black affair adorned with the face of Bob Marley, two brass alarm bells clamped over his dreadlocks. Propped up against it was an invitation. She picked it up and read through again.

Congratulations on the success of this season's production of Night of the Porteño. The Recreative Theatre Company are delighted to invite you and your guest to dinner at Ristorante di Amatore in West Kensington on Wednesday 21st November 8.00 pm. Dress: Black tie. (Please see directions below). If you wish to attend please complete the menu choice attached and return it to the office a.s.a.p. Kind regards, Janet Thompson (secretary)

She wished they'd sent a guest list. Then she'd know if that American guy, Brad what's his name, was gonna be there. But what was his real name? Something ridiculous like Spartacus or something. God, let's hope he doesn't recognise me.

She tucked the letter under the clock and, for the third time that day, calculated how long it would take her to get from Watford to West Kensington. The traffic wouldn't be too bad at that time of evening. Probably take her about forty minutes. No, no. Not if I have to go along the M25. Better get movin' girl.

She moved back to the wardrobe. The black dress? Lord no – this is a dinner party, not a funeral.

Her mobile gave a gentle chime: a text from Jake.

Hi cor. Held up on m1. Can u let duke and fizz out pls. Cheers. J & L xxx

Cordelia gave another glance at her bedside clock: 6.36. A detour to Chalfont St Giles would add about another twenty minutes. Shoot! I'm gonna be late.

She pulled on the macaw-print cocktail dress (the one she always wears for these occasions) and hoped nobody would notice. She clipped the violet bow into her hair, slipped into her heels and raced downstairs to her front door.

The traffic was clear until she reached the Watford by-pass.

When she agreed to watch their place, Jake and Ashley definitely said they would be back in time for the dinner on Wednesday. Why does this always happen? Why, whenever she does someone a favour, do they always take advantage? If it wasn't for Duke and Fizz. Of course, Jake knows I wouldn't neglect the dogs. What a hassle!

The traffic was clear once she turned off the Watford by-pass. As she headed for Chalfont she thought about the American guy in Berlin. "Oh yes, I remember his name now – Ernesto. That's it. His folks must have been out of their minds, no wonder he called himself Brad. The man wouldn't stop talking about himself all evening.

I remember the name of the restaurant in Berlin too. I'd been there a few times on my way back from work – The Ming Haus – a cheap Chinese in Rykestrasse. The place had already started to fill up when we got there and we were lucky to get a table. Not that Brad seemed to notice – the man was only interested in himself.

From the moment we sat down he started off with his monologue. I gave a resigned smile, but this only seemed to encourage him.

Of course, financial investments in the provincial theatre back home amount to billions of dollars . . . The man picked at his beef, separated the slices of red pepper from the bean-shoots and pushed them to the side of his plate. I personally, have the responsibility for arranging grants for a number of British theatre companies and. . .

I did my best to appear interested but it became more difficult as time went on. I'd known this man for less than an hour and was already having doubts. Perhaps this was a mistake.

When I first saw Brad he seemed fine. In fact the guy looked fit; clean sharp features, nice blue eyes. It all seemed to be going well until we sat down here. From that moment on I'd had to put up with a torrent of verbal drivel. If only he'd just shut up for one second. Was the man so wrapped up in his job he'd lost all sense of conversation. Maybe he was just trying to impress me. I was past caring by then. I really didn't give a damn.

I wish I hadn't suggested a meal – particularly at this restaurant. I'd already finished my chow-down number 39 (or whatever it was) at least twenty minutes before and now had to listen to him prattle on and on. Maybe I should just dump him and try for someone else. I looked at my watch: 10.43. Probably too late now. Perhaps I should just go home.

Earlier that day, on my way back from work, I was determined to go through with my plan. Every affair I'd been lured into over the past year had come to nothing. I made a resolution and decided that from now on I would take the matter into my own hands. For some time now I toyed with the idea of meeting someone for a brief encounter, and, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Why sit back and be taken advantage of? It's time to take control; turn things around, make them work my way for a change. The more I thought of the idea, the more it excited me.

When I arrived home (if that's what you call the concrete block in Grünenweg) I scanned the stacks of mail neatly arranged on the table in the hall. I hoped to find a letter from England but there was nothing for me. It was probably too soon: the auditions weren't due to take place until October.

The lift was still out of action, so I made for the stairs and set off on an ascent of four flights. When I reached the top floor I turned the key in the latch of the last door on the landing and stepped into a room which I affectionately called 'the pigeon hole'. I looked around; single bed tucked along the wall, cheap old wardrobe with the split down the middle of the door, a self-assembly bedside cabinet, and the dining chair I had found out in the hall. Could I really bring someone back here?

I checked inside the wardrobe. The black dress was there (Good! Lucky I brought that with me,) and the pink shoes too – perfect! What else? I pulled out the drawer of the bedside table and emptied my collection of underwear onto the floor. After wasting valuable minutes trying to sort through them, I sat back on my tiny bed and made a face at what was left on the rug.

I checked my watch and grabbed my bag from the back of the chair. I rummaged through and found a letter (a tax demand which should have posted over two weeks ago). Taking my stubby pencil, I scribbled a list on the back of the envelope and headed downstairs. After a quick tour around the shopping centre next to the Volkspark, I was back in my room within an hour.

I laid my purchases neatly across the bed; matching bra and briefs, sheer black seamed stockings and neat