Burnt Sugar - Part 4 (standard:romance, 5275 words) [4/7] show all parts
Author: damnation	Added: Oct 19 2009	Views/Reads: 2242/2176	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is an ongoing story set in Sydney, Australia. Centered around Taters, a small restaurant with character, Burnt Sugar is a concoction of love, drama, food and angst.This is an ongoing story set in Sydney, Australia. Centered around Taters, a small res

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"The Courthouse." Frances snuck a peek at Kristen. "You're welcome to
join me," she said, hardly believing her own words. But the events of 
this night had taken such an acute turn, it seemed apt to follow the 
trend. 

They crossed the street silently before Kristen shrugged. "Could use a
drink." 

Frances smirked. "You and me both." Then as they turned into Australia
Street, she said, "First round's on me." 

Kristen arched a brow in Frances' direction. "You sure? You might not be
able to afford it with the lowly kitchenhand wages you're pulling." 

Frances scoffed. "Oh, excuse me! You can get the first round then. And
all the rounds after, if that's what makes you feel butch and all... 
God complexified!" 

Kristen paused for a moment. "What the hell does that even mean?" She
shook her head. 

"I don't know," Frances said weakly. "It sounded better in my head."
Then she tried to backpedal and correct herself. "You know, chefs and 
God complexes...?" 

As they entered the pub, Kristen turned to smirk at Frances. "Butch,
huh?" 

Frances flushed and didn't know what to say. Amidst all that verbal fuck
up, 'butch' was what she fixated on? 

"I can do butch," Kristen said, tugging at the lapels of her leather
jacket. Even though she was still in her black work pants that sported 
a few faint splotches and only had a simple turquoise U-neck top under 
her jacket, Kristen knew that she didn't look too shabby. She might 
have to make a trip to the ladies but if there was one thing Kristen 
was confident of, it was the way she looked. 

Frances' jaw dropped as she followed the woman further into the pub, not
knowing what to make of what had to be Kristen's doppleganger. 

"What drink do you want?" Kristen asked, snapping Frances out of her
reverie. 

"I- I'm buying us drinks and don't you argue with me on this," Frances
said firmly as her mind reeled in confusion. She tried to focus it by 
concentrating on simpler things, like drink preference. "You staying on 
red or moving on to beer?" 

If Kristen was surprised that Frances had noted what she was drinking at
Taters, she did not let on. "All right, I'll let you do the butch act 
and go powder my nose instead," she said with a smirk and the arching 
of an elegant brow. 

Frances watched as Kristen sauntered away and had to pinch herself to
make sure that she hadn't sunk into a slumber and was actually dreaming 
this up. Then she scratched the back of her neck as a reluctant smile 
stole up upon her. Was Kristen just flirting with her? Then she 
frowned. That woman had gone off without answering her question. 

She decided to get them a bottle of red to share, then went off in
search of her friends. 

"How was work, darl?" Nell asked, giving Frances a hug when she finally
spotted and approached them. Frances gave the two other women at the 
table hugs before setting down a bottle of wine and two wineglasses on 
the small table that they were seated around. "That bad, huh?" Nell 
asked with an arched look towards the bottle of red on the table. "Two 
glasses? Just how bad was it?" 

Frances chuckled as she looked around them for a spare chair to pull up
to their table. Her friends had saved her a seat but Kristen didn't 
have one. "A, um, friend came along." She thanked the people at the 
table behind them when they allowed her to relocate one of their 
chairs. 

"Anyone we know?" Teagan asked, combing a hair through her thick blonde
locks. 

Frances shook her head. At this point, Kristen showed up at their table
and Frances glanced up at the woman. "Kristen, this is Teagan, Nell, 
and Eleanor. Guys, this is Kristen." 

Kristen shook everyone's hands politely and noted an openly appreciative
look that one of the women at the table directed at her. She smiled to 
herself, flattered by the unfamiliar attention. Her experiences with 
the dating game had been limited to men. It pleased her to know that 
some women found her sexually attractive as well. Then Frances slid a 
glass of red in front of her and she murmured her thanks. 

Nell covertly gave the newcomer a once over. Kristen's dirty blonde hair
fell past her shoulders in gentle waves. Her brows were shaped in sharp 
arches that intensified the sultry look the curve of her lips created. 
Who the hell was this woman and how did Frances land herself with her 
in the short time that she'd been back? 

"So how do you know Frances?" Teagan asked Kristen; Nell tuned in to the
conversation with interest. 

"I work for her f- I work at Taters." 

Nell frowned at the way Frances was gazing unseeingly at her wine glass.
She leaned closer to Frances and tapped a finger on her wrist. "What's 
up, darl?" 

Frances gave an unconvincing shake of her head and pushed her chair
backwards. "I'm going to the loo. Everyone good for drinks?" 

At everyone's acquiescence, Frances made a beeline for the ladies. She
was relieved to find herself alone when she entered and she finally let 
the mask that she had been holding in place slide. 

After splashing her face with water, she pulled off the elastic band
that held her hair up in a ponytail and slipped it around her wrist as 
she combed shaky hands through her long, dark hair. Her eyes looked 
slightly puffy and her countenance a little grey but apart from that, 
she didn't look too distraught. She wanted to talk to Nell badly but it 
would have to wait. Her mind was still reeling from everything that had 
transpired that evening, from the crazy fight with her father to the 
walk to Courthouse and the bizarre conversation that she had with 
Kristen along the way. 

Suppose she was tripping and forgot that she was on acid? 

She pursed her lips at her reflection and sighed. While that was
entirely possible, it was also impossible to ascertain. So effectively, 
it would not help matters an iota to pose that question. 

She gathered her hair was in the middle of tying it up with the elastic
band when the band snapped. Frances swore under her breath. She threw 
the elastic band into the bin forcefully, dissatisfied with the lack of 
impact it made. She had no choice but to leave her hair down. 

Then her gaze in the mirror wandered lower and she gingerly pulled her
T-shirt away from her body as she lowered her nose for a sniff. She 
felt gross. Even though she had worn a full body apron, the dirty 
kitchen water had still managed to soak through it and her top. 
Suddenly needing to feel cleaner, Frances threw a look at the door and 
hoped that no one would enter the ladies until she was done with her 
sprucing up venture. 

Frances removed her jacket and peeled off her top. Then she grabbed a
bunch of napkins, ran them quickly under the tap, and began to wipe 
herself. It wasn't until she had her jacket back on before the door to 
the ladies swung open. 

Frances nonchalantly zipped her jacket up to the point just above her
breasts and fussed with her hair a little. She tucked a side of it 
behind her ear and pursed her lips again, flashing a dimple briefly as 
she scrutinized herself. She felt a lot better now that she had cleaned 
up a little. Even though it was going to be chilly with just her jacket 
on, she was sure that the damp piece of T-shirt would not have served 
much purpose. 

When she returned to the table, she was glad to see that Kristen was
engaged in conversation with her mates. At least the woman wasn't 
bored. 

"So when are you off again, Frances?" 

All eyes swivelled on her and Frances felt a little self-conscious. "I
have to wait for my medicals and if all's good I'll have to apply and 
wait for a visa. Month or two maybe?" 

"What's it like living in Vietnam?" Teagan asked. Kristen lifted a brow
in interest. She didn't know anything about Frances save the fact that 
she was her employer's daughter who had just gotten back from... 
elsewhere. 

Frances played with a lock of her hair as she shifted in her seat. She
felt self-conscious talking about this in front of Kristen. "I-It's 
different. It made me realize just how fortunate we are to be born in 
our society. The roles that women play in Vietnam are so... well, maybe 
the roles themselves are not different, but what is expected of them is 
so different from what is expected of us." 

"And when we say we're poor... we don't know half of it. Some of the
peddlers I meet, they work all day, every day, for fifteen American 
dollars a month. They get ten days off after months of working to go 
back to their hometowns to see their families. Fifteen bucks.... We 
spend that in a day, if that." 

Everyone was looking at Frances intently and she suddenly felt silly for
rambling on about something so droll. "Anyway. I love my students. My 
classes hold kids from as young as five to adults; they rank them by 
their English standard, not by age. It gets a little tricky because 
it's really different teaching kids and adults and hard, really, to get 
them interested with the same materials...." 

"What about you guys? I don't wanna be talking about myself all night,"
Frances said nervously when everyone's attention did not seem to shift. 


"You just made me feel so superficial, Fran," Teagan said. 

"I- Sorry...." Frances started saying, irritated at herself for saying
all the wrong things that night. 

"Don't be sorry, darl!" Nell said, and Teagan shook her head vehemently.


"You just made us think, Fran, it's not a bad thing at all," Teagan said
earnestly. "How often do we feel sorry for ourselves? We should be 
thankful that we're sitting here with people that we love having a 
drink and not have to worry about not having enough money to feed our 
families. I admire you for what you're doing." 

Frances drained her wine glass. When she focussed on helping others, she
got to forget about her own problems. It was kind of selfish, in a way, 
and she said so. 

"Honey, that's not selfish. That's better than most of us," Nell chided
her. 

Kristen was listening silently, taking sips from her wine glass
intermittently. She had learnt more about Frances in the past five 
minutes than she had in all the time they were in each other's 
vicinity. Frances was a good person. And Russell... Russell was a 
broken man but he loved his daughter; he just failed miserably at 
showing it. They share the pain of losing someone they love dearly but 
they were unable to comfort each other because both of them probably 
felt that they had to be strong for each other. Neither of them knew 
how to communicate their grief to each other and end up pushing each 
other away. 

Teagan was now talking about the state of the world and Frances had
fallen silent, content to sip at her wine. Eleanor, a voluptuous 
redhead, frequently threw subtle glances at Kristen as she spoke. 
Kristen, who had found the attention flattering initially, was 
beginning to feel a little self-conscious. 

Usually, with men, she would have given them the go ahead by now to buy
her a drink and they would be hamming it up, trying to charm her pants 
off--literally. But with women, well, first off she had no experience 
whatsoever. And second of all, she wasn't sure she was attracted to 
them in a way to want to reciprocate any sort of advances. It probably 
wouldn't hurt to have a go--Kristen was always open to new 
experiences--but she was here because she wanted to make sure that 
Frances was okay and it would hardly seem appropriate to go off with 
one of her mates. 

Kristen glanced over at Frances, who looked like if she concentrated
hard enough on her wine, it would start bubbling over or something. 
"You okay?" Frances turned to her blankly, then smiled briefly with a 
tiny nod of her head. "I might leave then." 

"Oh. Okay. Thanks. Again." Frances said, motioning to her jacket. 

"Thanks for the wine. Next time it's on me." Frances gave Kristen a
funny look at that. "What?" Kristen asked, her eyes narrowing. 

"You're being so nice it's freaking me out a little," Frances confessed.
"Is that what wine does to you? If so, I'll buy you a bottle every time 
I have a shift with you," she joked. 

Kristen snorted. "You wanna turn me into an alcoholic like your Dad?"
she said without thinking and then froze. "Uh- shit. I-" she stuttered, 
feeling incredibly dumb and inappropriate. 

"Don't be. He is an alcoholic. And a lousy, horrible drunk. He can be
mean and abusive and he is also in a lot of pain." 

Kristen's impression of Frances rose as she watched the woman struggle
with the words to express what she was feeling. 

"But I don't think I can be there for him. I just don't know how. I
don't even know how to... Oh, God. You know, I- I can get through to 
people who don't understand English. I can get them to understand me. 
But when it comes to my Dad, I can't find the words. I- You must think 
that this is incredibly ironic," she said with a mirthless laugh. 

During the course of their conversation, both women had shifted in their
adjacent seats so that they were facing each other. Frances kept 
pushing her hair behind her ears unconsciously. Kristen did not know 
what to say to that. She wasn't sure how the dynamics of their 
relationship had shifted so much in such a short time that the younger 
woman would be confiding in her like this. Frances probably felt the 
same way because she said, "Sorry, that was totally... sorry. Anyway, 
I'll catch you later. I hope I didn't ruin any plans you might have had 
for tonight." 

"What, a long, hot shower, a cup of tea and some drawing? They're
overrated," Kristen said uncomfortably, trying to sound flippant. 

"Oh, what do you draw?" Frances asked, then she rolled her eyes. "Sorry,
you've been wanting to go since forever and here I am rambling on like 
some-" 

Kristen reached over and placed her hand over Frances'. "It's okay. I
don't have to go. I just thought I might leave you to your friends, 
seeing that I kinda gatecrashed." 

"You're all right," Frances said. "We're all just hanging out anyway, no
pressure. So if you don't have anywhere to be, you're welcome to stay." 


Kristen shrugged but gave Frances a small smile. 

"So you're staying?" Frances asked innocently. Her emotional moment had
passed with what she had unloaded and she was somewhat back to her 
normal self. At Kristen's nod, Frances' smile became cheeky. "Then I 
think 'next time' has arrived." At Kristen's uncomprehending stare, 
Frances motioned to the empty bottle of wine on the table between them. 
"You said next time it's on you. I believe it's 'next time', Chef." 

Kristen sighed loudly but could not help smirking at Frances. The woman
had switched from sombre to cheeky in a heartbeat. "Uh huh. Another 
bottle?" 

Frances shrugged. "Why not." 

Kristen pushed her chair backwards and slapped her palms on her thighs
when she got up. Eleanor followed Kristen's movement with her eyes and 
mimicked it. "I need another drink too. Another Carlton Draught, Nell? 
Teagan?" When her friends nodded, Eleanor hurried after Kristen. 

11 

Kristen liked working on Sundays. Taters was only open for service from
five till nine on Sundays, giving the staff a good lead in to their 
unanimous day off on Mondays as well as a few hours in the afternoon 
for the chefs to bake the cakes that they would need for the following 
week. Even though Kristen loved all aspects of cooking, the patisserie 
side of it was her real passion. 

As Kristen stirred the saucepan of water and sugar, Ramsey entered the
kitchen with a tray full of vegetables for his prep. 

"Been a busy few days?" Ramsey asked as he sliced into a tomato. "Tammy
says you guys had almost two hundred covers last night. Must have been 
hectic!" 

The man tended to answer his own questions. Kristen looked up briefly
from the stove but did not say anything. Her mind was on other things, 
like the burnt sugar syrup that she was making. 

"Looking forward to your days off?" Ramsey tried again. 

"Mm hm." Kristen wasn't on until Wednesday and she was rather looking
forward to the time off. 

"So what did you get up to last night?" 

Kristen shrugged. "Had a few drinks with some friends." Even as she said
the words, she could feel the dull throb in her head spike. She 
grimaced slightly. At the tender age of thirty-six, she was finding 
herself too old for late nights. But in all honesty, it had been an 
interesting one. 

Frances' friend, Eleanor, had been single-minded in her pursuit of
Kristen. She had trailed her to the bar and they had struck up a bit of 
friendly conversation; Kristen found herself falling into the familiar 
rhythm of courtship dance rather easily, despite her suitor being a 
woman. Of course, there were noted differences in the approach. 

Men tended overcompensate with their confidence. They would offer to buy
her a drink, compliment her hair, eyes or dressing, and then they would 
try to impress her with what they did, owned and regale her with tales 
of the exciting things that they did on weekends. Then they would lean 
in casually, place a hand on her thigh or waist, and try for a kiss. 

Eleanor, though unsubtle, wasn't too full on. She had seemed to know
when the time was good to press on and when she should pull back. She 
had teased Kristen with her body language, leaning her body close and 
initiating body contact when they spoke. Kristen had to admit that 
Eleanor had managed to intrigue her. So when Eleanor had finally closed 
the space between their lips, Kristen had allowed the kiss to 
transpire, curious as to how it would feel to kiss a woman. 

It was soft, warm and all the cliché things she had heard about two
females kissing. There were no stubble to scrape her face, none of the 
overpowering scent some men had, but no spark of lust igniting in her 
either. It was pleasant and enjoyable and she might even do it again 
but there was nothing more to it. 

"Here, drink this," Ramsey offered, breaking Kristen out of her reverie.
She looked at him in surprise and at the unknown concoction in 
suspicion. 

"What is this?" 

"Secret family recipe," Ramsey said. "Trust me." 

Kristen sniffed at the beverage suspiciously and tasted it tentatively.
When it did not make her barf, she braved a sip, then a gulp. When she 
was halfway through the glass, Tammy entered the kitchen with a flyer 
in her hand. 

"Look guys, a new restaurant's opening across the street from us in a
few weeks!" Kristen listened to Tammy's reading of the flyer with 
disinterest until the woman exclaimed at the name of the company who 
owned the franchise. "That's the company the guy who came by the other 
night was from! Canning & Cameron!" 

Kristen's stomach lurched nastily at that and she felt the insane urge
to duck and hide her face. Squelching the notion, Kristen quickly 
finished Ramsey's secret family recipe and prayed that it would work 
just as he said it would. 

"Russell kicked him out. He must have tried to buy over Taters or get
Taters to join their franchise or something," Tammy speculated while 
Ramsey scanned the flyer casually. 

"Russell kicked him out?" Kristen wanted to be sure. 

"Yup. Told him to get out. He can be good like that, protecting what he
loves," Tammy said with a warm smile. She had a soft spot for her stern 
employer. Kristen exchanged a quick smile with Tammy at that. "Oh well. 
No sense worrying about it, I guess. Time will tell if they have any 
impact on our business. Erskinville Road is a busy one after all. One 
more restaurant shouldn't make much difference." 

Kristen wasn't worried about Taters' business at all. There was no way
the new restaurant would have too much of an impact on them. What she 
was concerned about was getting recognized by someone who either worked 
at the new restaurant or by C&C personnel who came to the franchise. 
She knew she was being paranoid--C&C was a huge company after all--but 
it was a valid concern and she had to rethink her options. 

Her heart fell when her mind fast forwarded to one of the options. She
liked working at Taters and it seemed unfair if she had to leave 
because of the new C&C franchise. 

"Hey Kristen. How's the head feeling now?" Ramsey asked, peering at her.
Kristen shook herself out of her stupor and blinked a few times. Ramsey 
began to grin. 

"Wow, that did the trick, Ramsey. Thanks!" Kristen exclaimed, forgetting
her previous worry for a moment. "What was in it?" 

Ramsey shook his head. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret recipe
anymore," he said with a sage look. 

Kristen rolled her eyes. "Fine. Just as long as you promise you'll make
it for me every time I get a hangover, I don't care what's in it." 

Ramsey chuckled. "Deal." 

Kristen turned back to the stove and groaned at the dark mixture in her
saucepan. She had burnt her burnt sugar syrup. Despite its name, burnt 
sugar syrup did not actually involve burning the sugar. It was going to 
take her ages to get that muck out of the saucepan. 

12 

Frances was in the yard when Kristen got home from Taters. She must have
been reading before falling asleep in the hammock. Kristen's lips 
curled up in an amused smile at Frances' slightly parted lips and the 
crazy angle of her arm. The yard was lit by solar lamps that cast a 
faint glow on everything in their paths, including Frances. 

Curious as to what Frances was reading, Kristen went closer to take a
peek at the title of the book that Frances held against her chest. Huh. 
The Alchemist. It was one of Kristen's favourite books. 

An annoying buzzing sound caused Kristen to slap at her arm and the
sound stirred Frances. "Hey," Frances said groggily. She rubbed her 
eyes with her fingers. 

"Mozzies," Kristen said simply. "You must be eaten alive out here." 

Frances moaned when she tried to move her left arm which she had been
sleeping on and mumbled something unintelligible. Kristen lifted a brow 
as Frances swung herself upright in the hammock and massaged her left 
arm gingerly. "I eat Vegemite by the tubful," Frances said more 
coherently. "It's been suggested that eating Vegemite wards off 
mozzies. Must have some truth to it cos I hardly get bitten by 
mozzies." 

"True?" 

Frances nodded and yawned ungracefully. "Mm. Sorry. What time is it?" 

"Almost ten." 

"You're home early." 

"We shut at nine on Sundays." 

Frances nodded and hopped off the hammock. "You hungry? There's still
some stew left in the kitchen. Come have some after you shower." 

Kristen looked at Frances' retreating back in surprise. Their
relationship seemed to have evolved. She was about to reject the kind 
offer when her tummy growled audibly. "And I'll throw some fresh bread 
rolls into the oven," Frances threw over her shoulder before 
disappearing into the house. 

Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Kristen thought as she
sauntered towards her granny flat for a much needed shower. 

* 

The stew was good. Thick, rich, but not overly so. Kristen dipped chunks
of freshly baked bread into the gravy and hummed happily when the 
flavours came to life in her mouth. 

"Good?" Frances asked, and was satisfied by the look on Kristen's face.
"I take that as a yes." 

"Did Russell make this?" Kristen asked when her mouth was empty. 

"No. I did. It's my Mum's recipe," Frances said in an even voice.
Kristen peered at Frances, trying to gauge her temperament. "Dad thinks 
it tastes a little different but I reckon everyone puts different 
energy into what they make, so...." Frances shrugged as she sat down at 
the kitchen table across from Kristen. 

"Have you... spoken to Russell today?" Kristen asked casually. 

"You want to know if we've talked about what happened last night,"
Frances said bluntly. When Kristen nodded, she shrugged. "Then say 
that. I hate when people beat around the bush." Sensing that Frances 
wasn't trying to get her hackles up intentionally and was merely 
letting out some of her frustration at the situation, Kristen let the 
comment slide. "I don't think he remembers. If he does, he didn't let 
on. He's his same gloriously grumpy self. Went fishing." 

"Why didn't you go with him?" Kristen dunked another chunk of bread into
the stew and paused to let it soak up the gravy. 

"I need more time to get over what happened... because I know it's still
there and it'll happen again and again and I just... I don't want to 
say things I might regret," Frances said truthfully. She looked at 
Kristen oddly. 

"What?" 

"You're civil and acting concerned. Are you okay?" she teased in a
serious tone. 

"I generally take to people who feed me good tucker," Kristen said
dryly, popping the drenched piece of bread into her mouth. 

Frances chuckled. "More?" she asked, tipping her head at Kristen's empty
bowl. 

"I can help myself -" 

Frances was already up from the table and collected Kristen's bowl
smoothly. "It's okay. I like doing this," she said quietly. She placed 
the bowl of stew in front of Kristen and got her another bread roll 
from the warm oven. 

"Thank you. This is lovely," Kristen said uncomfortably, not used to
such treatment, especially from someone she didn't think she would ever 
take a liking to. She brought up a new topic quickly. "'The Alchemist' 
is one of my favourite books. How far along are you?" 

"I'm reading it for the ten billionth time," Frances said ruefully.
"I... like to read it when I'm feeling a little..." 

"Lost?" Kristen supplied. 

"Yeah." 

They sat in companionable silence as Kristen finished her second bowl of
stew, exchanging a look or two in the process. When Kristen was done, 
Frances shooed her out of the kitchen and proceeded to do the dishes, 
flustering Kristen with her behaviour. 

"You don't have to-" Kristen started, only to be cut off with a firm
look by Frances. 

"Please. It... calms me. My Mum used to... it calms me. And I'm happy to
do it. Next time, you get to serve me and clean up my dirty dishes. But 
today, just... why don't you make us cups of tea?" Frances suggested. 

Nodding dumbly, Kristen did as she was told. She half expected a smart
arse comment from Frances regarding obedience, but it seemed like the 
woman had tucked her artillery away for the day. It served Kristen 
well. She had things on her mind as well and it felt comforting to be 
around someone else without having to make small talk. 

She had expected to have a long, fretful night thinking about what she
should do, perhaps eventually resorting to drinking too much tea and 
watching mindless television to take her mind off things. All this... 
getting fed, having company, receiving comfort from both the food and 
the companionship... she did not expect at all. 

Even if she had to leave Taters, Kristen decided, she would continue
renting the granny flat. It was her home and she would be damned if C&C 
were to take that away from her as well. 

TBC


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