âfucking coonâ. I should not have done that.â
He looked up to see Cooperâs reaction, but the curator gave him no relief. Cooperâs face was set in stone. He studied his man as dispassionately as if he had been a specimen under a microscope. Eventually he said, âCan you repeat for me the full sentence you used?â
Hugo swallowed. âYes. I believe I said, âFor Godâs sake move your arse, you fucking coon!ââ
Cooper nodded coolly. âThat tallies with what I have heard from others.â He leaned forward, earnest and unsmiling. âYouâre not stupid enough to think you can get away with this sort of thing.â It was a statement, not a question.
âI was stupid enough to say it.â
âTrue. I find that disturbing. Youâd better give me a full account of any extenuating circumstances. I know at least one complainant has sent a copy of his letter to me to the Chairman of the National Trust. I may have to account for my decision to him. Perhaps to Prince Charles, if news of the incident reaches him as our president.â
âYouâre really training the big guns on me, arenât you?â
âYou trained them upon yourself, Hugo, when you used those stupid words.â
At least they were back to âHugoâ. And Cooper seemed to be admitting heâd been no more than stupid. âI appreciate that. Iâve already said I was stupid. But you donât think of the repercussions when you shout something in a red mist of fury.â
âBut you should do, Hugo. In most respects, you have easier conditions here than in your previous post. As youâve pointed out yourself on occasions, you donât often operate far into the night and the standard of cuisine expected is not as high as Michelin three star. But you are working in a more public context than you have ever done before. When you took employment with the National Trust, you accepted that. You should have realized that a lapse like this could have far-reaching consequences.â
Hugo Wilkinson was suddenly sick of the man and his scoldings. Heâd taken a step down professionally when he came here. He could get other jobs, if he needed to. âLook, Dennis, if youâre going to sack me, stop pissing about and get it done. I wonât be short of offers, if you want me out of here.â
âYou might not find the offers you anticipate. Prospective employers are sure to ring me up to find out why you left here. Are you in fact saying that you wish me to terminate your employment here?â
There was a long pause, whilst Hugo strove to control his anger. His palms felt very damp. âNo. Iâm happy here. I can do the job and it suits me. You havenât had any complaints about the quality of the food or the way I run my kitchen.â
âNo. But youâre sitting in that chair today because of your own actions, not anyone elseâs. And you shouldnât have any illusions about this. It is a more serious complaint than someone finding your steak isnât tender or your broccoli is overcooked.â
âWe were three short on staff, on a day when we served more meals than any other day so far this year. Shoab Junaid was very slow when we needed speed. Everyone else was operating at maximum capacity and he was holding things up. Iâd already told him twice to get a move on. What I said was over the top, but I was under extreme pressure.â
âIt was racialist, Hugo. You might get away with obscenities under the stress of that situation, but not racialism.â
âI know that. I know the law. Iâve already admitted I was stupid.â
âThe question any barrister would ask in court is what this says about you. Did you reveal the real Hugo Wilkinson in a moment of stress? Is the racialist in you concealed only by a thin cloth of courtesy which is ripped apart by a bit of pressure?â
Hugo knew what he
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