Otto, however, did not seem to have noticed her dress. He was far too busy ushering them over to one of the tables and commanding that they sit down, before assuring them that he would look after their every need. No sooner had Pepper deposited her bag on the floor and arranged herself on a chair than Otto was back, four bottles in one of his big bony hands and three large wine glasses in the other.
‘This one,’ he said, brandishing the first of the wines, ‘is fucking beautiful. You have to try it.’
‘Oh, I really shouldn’t, I’m––’ Pepper began, but Otto was having none of her excuses.
‘Drink,’ he instructed, thrusting a glass into her hand.
Pepper bowed her head obediently, sniffing the small measure of white wine before taking a sip.
‘That is delicious,’ she said. ‘So light and sweet.’
‘Like me, heh?’ Otto’s entire body seemed to rock with laughter as he reached for another bottle. His light-brown hair kept slipping over his forehead and covering his eyes, and every time it happened, he flicked his head to one side as if he had a tic. In fact, Pepper thought, as she swilled the next measure around in her glass, Otto never seemed to stop moving, whether he was pouring, fetching bottles, drinking, or telling a story that required him to make a huge number of exaggerated gestures. Pepper could not work out if he was drunk, high, or plugged into the nearest socket.
After he had given them tasters of six different wines from various regions, Otto was distracted by the arrival of a group of young women, and promptly swept off to greet them, kissing each of their cheeks and waving his arms around like a human windmill.
‘Wow,’ Pepper said to Finn, raising her glass. ‘He is . . . Wow.’
‘Ja,’ he agreed. ‘Wow is exactly the right word. He has always been like this – the wave machine of a party, the one who will supply the midnight oil and keep it burning until morning. Sometimes, he can seem too much, too exhausting – but,’ he added, his eyes following his friend as Otto retreated behind the bar at speed, ‘everyone loves him. He is very good for our business, even if he does drink his way through our stock.’
‘He does?’ Pepper stared at the empty glass Otto had abandoned on their table. ‘And that’s OK?’
‘Of course.’ Finn shrugged. ‘It is not all that much really, and it helps him to stay energised. It is hard to be an entertainer every single night of the week, but Otto is an expert.’
Pepper was far too sozzled herself now to condemn anyone else’s drinking habits.
‘So,’ she said, her hand seeking out Finn’s muscular thigh, ‘if Otto runs things in here and Clara is the head chef next door, that means you get to enjoy both?’
Finn tapped the side of his head. ‘Ja! That is because I am the brains.’
‘Well, obviously – the brains and the beauty.’
She had meant it as a joke, but Finn didn’t disagree with her.
‘Do you ever muck in?’ she asked him. ‘Chop vegetables or collect empty glasses?’
Finn pulled a face. ‘Only if I have to, when somebody is ill or something. But I prefer to be behind the scenes.’
Otto skidded to a halt beside them.
‘Everything all right here, fuckers?’
Finn put his exasperated head in his hands.
The restaurant next door was full to capacity, so it wasn’t until much later that Clara joined them. Pepper’s first thought was that she was tall – almost as tall as Finn – with long chestnut curls that she quickly untied and shook out over her shoulders. Despite wearing striped chef’s trousers and a stained white apron, she looked as if she’d strolled in right off the end of a catwalk. As soon as she realised who Pepper was, she dragged her stool closer to the table and began chatting away to her as if they’d known each other for years.
‘It is great to have someone to practise my English on,’ she confided, even though she was clearly as fluent as Finn. ‘Sometimes, I think, I choose the wrong word, and the true meaning can turn out to be something crazy.’
‘You have nothing to worry about,’ Pepper assured her. ‘You are pretty much perfect, as far as I can tell.’
‘Finn is supposed to teach me,’ she said, nudging him with an elbow. ‘But he is always away, off doing this or that, travelling around the world while the rest of us are sweating like dogs in this place.’
Otto, who was passing, let out a long howl.
‘Dummkopf!’ Clara shouted at his departing back. Then, leaning in closer to Pepper, ‘He is even crazier than a dog.’
‘I think he’s brilliant,’ she said. ‘People must love him – look how busy it is.’
The bar was full of people now, as was the street outside. Everyone seemed to know not only each other, but Otto, Clara, and Finn, too. He wasn’t exaggerating earlier when he told her how popular Freunde was – it was after two in the morning and the night was showing no sign of winding down. Pepper, who was starting to feel the effects of an early morning flight, followed by sex and multiple hours of exploring, drinking and singing, gave in to a yawn that she had been trying to suppress for ages, and rested her head against Finn’s shoulder.
‘Your girl needs sleep,’ Clara ordered, tossing her curls around like the star of a shampoo commercial. At some point during the course of the past hour, she had swapped her chef’s uniform for cropped jeans and a plain white shirt, and had painted her lips fire-engine red. She also chewed gum incessantly, explaining to Pepper that she was trying to quit smoking.
‘Every day, I wake up and I feel sick from it,’ she said, wrinkling her pretty nose. ‘I stand out on the street there every night, talking, drinking, smoking – it is not good for me.’
‘Shut up and have a fucking shot, heh?’ put in Otto, who had overheard as he scooted past from one of his many trips to the bar. Clara swatted him away like she would a fly, then smiled helplessly at Pepper.
‘Now you see what I am up against?’
Finn, who’d had his back turned talking to a couple at the next table, looked round and kissed Pepper lightly on the lips.
‘Shall we go home?’ he asked, and she nodded, elated at the prospect of more time alone with him. It had been such an enjoyable evening, but she guessed that Clara was probably only chatting to her to be polite – she almost certainly had other people to catch up with.
As they stood to leave, Clara put a hand on her arm.
‘Finn told me just now that you went singing?’
Pepper grinned. ‘We did.’
‘Not once in twenty years have I seen that man sing,’ Clara exclaimed. ‘And he is very, what is the word? Entspannt – relaxed. You are bringing out a side to him that I have never seen.’
Impossibly touched, Pepper gripped Finn’s hand a fraction tighter.
‘You are good for him,’ Clara added with a brisk nod. ‘I hope that it is the same for you?’
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ Pepper assured her, wondering if she had ever been so happy.
Because it was true, wasn’t it? It didn’t matter if she found herself lacking, because Finn liked her exactly the way she was.
Chapter 25