The party is over. For both Pierce and I.

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 we have the final instalment from my Brosnan chapter.

Friday 14 May 1999

What a mad day!  I am back at Matthew’s having a much deserved glass of wine and trying to make sense of what the hell was going on in the Brosnan household today.

After saying yesterday that he no longer wanted any kind of celebration today for his birthday – no cake or anything – Pierce then decided to call this lunchtime and announce that it was all back on and the family were still coming over so it would be eight people for dinner.

I took a cab to the Highate house  and whipped up a quick Pavlova, stuck it in the Aga then cabbed it down to the Hampstead fishmongers to buy up everything they had.  Managed to get six live lobsters for the risotto but had to get crab for the salad.

Back at the house, Caroline the lovely secretary popped into the kitchen and handed me a bunch of papers.  “It’s a confidentiality agreement which we all have to sign before tomorrow.”  I told her I could only sign it when I had time to read it and that was not going to be before I left tonight.

I made a carrot cake as per Keely’s original request and then set about dropping the live lobsters into boiling water, as instructed by Peter Soros.  Unfortunately, Pierce and Keely managed to walk in as the first four lobsters were trying to climb out of the bubbling pan. Keely let out a scream and left the room and Pierce simply said, “You will go to hell for that, Gill”.  I could see his point.

Amazingly, by the time everyone arrived for dinner all was ready and I was calm again.  Then, just as I was finishing the risotto Pierce decided that he should go off to the pub with his son Sean.  And did not come back for an hour and a half!  The lobster risotto was not happy about being kept waiting and neither was I.

Everyone eventually managed to get to the table but it was so late and most of the group were so sloshed that they all wandered off before dessert, leaving Pierce on his own.  I put the enormous raspberry Pavlova in front of him and wished him a happy birthday.

“You’ve given me a plate of breasts for my birthday.”  he said, trying to focus on the raspberry topped mounds.  Then he wandered off, leaving the meringue to go soggy.  I considered dancing into the sitting room, singing Happy Birthday with 46 candles blazing on the cake but instead decided to clean up, leave the cake on the kitchen table with the pack of candles and a lighter and go home.

I have now poured myself a second glass of wine and read the contract. It says that I am not allowed to discuss it with anyone or even show it to my own solicitor, that I can be fired at any time without being given a reason and (this is the best bit) if any personal details were to reach the media about Pierce or his family at any time then I agreed to let Mr Brosnan’s lawyers pursue me for unlimited damages. Does he really expect anyone in their right minds to sign this?

I was trying to distract myself from the fury I felt by having another glass of wine and reading The Times when Matthew came home, so we read it together.  Scotland Yard has announced rewards totalling £150,000 for the capture of Jill Dando’s killer.  They are still looking for a blue Range Rover and think that maybe a gang of three men worked together to carry out the killing.  The gun used was either a Walther PPK or a Beretta, known as ‘the woman’s gun’. The article says that the PPK gun is used by undercover Police in Germany.  Matthew says he heard that it is also the gun used by James Bond, and sure enough when we look it up on the internet it says that the early Bond used  a Beretta but was later issued with a PPK Walther.

Saturday 15^th May 1999

Tonight is Pierce’s big, birthday bash so I was not working but I did drop by to return the contract – unsigned.  In the entrance hall on a central table was the biggest display of purpley-blue delphiniums I had ever seen.  They were so beautiful that they momentarily distracted me from the nasty business which had brought me to the house.   Then Caroline the secretary appeared and I asked her if she had read the ridiculous contract.  It seemed she had flicked through it but had signed anyway.  She thought it made no difference to her as she was leaving soon to marry one of Sting’s musicians.

“But you are agreeing to be hounded by Pierce’s legal team if anything personal gets into the press about him, even if you’re not working for him anymore.  You must not sign it and neither must Maria.”

I have a sneaky suspicion that I may be returning to Torquay very soon. But I may just give Rhubarb, the company who is organising Pierce’s party a call first.  Just to see what they are all about.  Their delphinium display has captured my interest.

Sunday 16^th May 1999

Today the newspapers ran a story about how Mr Brosnan has a problem getting out of the James Bond role when he is at home.  Well where did that story come from, I wonder?  Certainly not from me but if I had signed the contract then I would have agreed to let Pierce’s heavy mob try to sue me for damages anyway.

Monday 17^th May 1999

Pierce ‘phoned today to talk (argue) about the contract and strangely asked if I was alone which made me a touch paranoid.

Then an hour later Katherine the agent called and said, “Oh no, what happened?  Pierce says he doesn’t want you to go back.”

Well what a surprise.  Do I book a train ticket to Torquay or should I give Rhubarb a ring?

Tonight’s Evening Standard has a piece, complete with photographs, of Pierce doing a speedboat scene at Docklands.  The article says that despite the studio’s best efforts to keep the location a secret, someone has let the cat out of the bag.  My mum is absolutely convinced that it was me because I had already told her how Pierce chats away every evening about what he’s been doing and where he’s been filming that day. Of course my mum knew all the details so maybe she told them.  Maybe not.

I know I should be going back to Torquay and the part of me that is feeling very hard done by and disillusioned with this cooking for celebrities lark is very tempted to crawl back to Jackie with my tail between my legs.  But another part of me is saying that there is no going back.  See what turns up and get writing the bloody book.

So there you have it, the concluding part of my Pierce Brosnan chapter.  If you’ve enjoyed it please feel free to share, leave a comment on my blog and sign up for e mail updates from gillwatson.co.uk – Food, Family and a Few Famous Friends.  Thanks for reading.