Pierce Brosnan and Peter Soros fight over me. Little me!

EATING MY WORDS is the book recording my time as Private Chef to Pierce Brosnan, a bulimic model and an arms dealer who shot his last chef.  Today I am posting the second instalment of my Brosnan chapter.

Tuesday 4 May 1999

 Last week I trialled for a position as Private Chef to the financier Peter Soros and his wife, the writer, Lady Antonia Fraser.  Peter Soros has offered me the job but I have decided to trial for Pierce Brosnan before making any decisions. 

Peter Soros now has my mobile number.  I know this because he woke me up this morning.  “Gill, it’s Peter Soros.  Did your agent tell you that I offered you the job?”

 

He said everything I cooked was exceptional and he knew we would get on etc etc.  I did not even bother with the ‘I have to get back to Torquay’ line.  Instead I told him I had started a trial with Pierce Brosnan yesterday.

 

“Promise not to take a job with Brosnan until you have spoken to me first, okay? What did you cook for him, anyway?”

 

“Lobsters and risotto.  I had a spot of bother killing the lobsters though and they were running around the kitchen with knives sticking out of their brains.”

 

“Look, I have spent every summer of my life in Maine.  The quickest way to kill a lobster is to drop it in boiling water.  Forget what everyone says about mashing their brains.”

“Ok. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve finished the trial.”

“Or I’ll call you.  I’m going to track you down wherever you are chef and hound you until you work for me.”

Nice.

In the mean time I have to get myself over to Brian Lay Greengrocers in Hampstead to shop for tonight’s meal at the Brossies although Pierce will be absent as he is dining out.  The Michanicou greengrocers in Holland Park have recommended Brian Lay but have told me I have to ignore the rubbish on the shelves and ask to see their cold room. Sounds interesting.

 

Wednesday 5 May 1999

 

Early morning alarm call from Peter Soros.  “Guess who was sitting opposite me at dinner last night? Pierce Brosnan.”

I thought he was joking but apparently not.  They were at a dinner hosted by Ralph Lauren at Mirabelle.  Peter Soros said he had leant across the table and told Pierce, “Mr Brosnan, you look ravenous. Did you not eat too well last night?”

But Pierce replied, “I ate exceptionally well actually”

“So I told him straight, Gill.  I said, ‘Yes, I know because my chef was cooking for you.  Leave off or I’ll spike your Martini.’”

I tried to tell him that threatening James Bond would probably get him killed with a poisoned dart but the man is too scary to care.  He asked why I was considering taking a temporary job with the Brossies when he was offering a permanent position.

Becoming momentarily brave I said, “I’ve been told that none of your chefs have lasted longer than a couple of weeks so I see no security in taking the position with you.”

“I have never offered a chef a permanent position.  They have all been on month long trials.  You’ve done your trial.  To stop you worrying, I’ll make you a deal.  Become my chef then if you decide you cannot work with me after one month I will still pay you up until the point where your job with Brosnan would have ended.”

“You are making my life very difficult by making such ridiculous offers” I told Mr Scary.

“No Gill, I am making your life very, very easy.  You have no decision to make.  Now can we talk about a permanent position?”

“We’ll talk on Friday when I’ve finished the Brosnan trial.”

 

I must say it is rather nice to feel wanted but I am scared I will end up saying yes to Peter Soros just to shut him up. I have two more days with the Brossies. If they definitely do want me then I will have to decide what the hell I am going to do – if I take one of the jobs or I go back to Torquay, Jackie and the restaurant.

To be continued tomorrow when I make my decision and seal my fate.