Lucy was fed up. She’d met Finn a few times lately, and they had got on brilliantly, and she had waited and waited for him to be the one to phone or text her and ask her out properly, not just the two of them hanging out like they did. She really liked him, and she thought maybe he felt the same way, too, but he was doing nothing about it. Maybe he already had a girlfriend!
Phone me! Phone me, phone me! She willed for Finn to contact her … but there was a great big nothing.
At least she had managed to get a temporary Christmas job four days a week wrapping gifts in the Avoca Store, but on 24 December she would be back to being broke and unemployed as she faced into the New Year.
‘Well, if you want to do something in the New Year, why don’t you go and sign up for Alice’s cookery class?’ advised her mum as they began to put up the Christmas decorations.
‘Learn to cook?’
‘Yes, go and learn how to cook properly. I wish I had learned when I was younger. Alice, as well as being one of my best friends, is also an amazing cook. She’s a total professional,’ explained Nina Brennan, ‘and she is running the cookery course at home in the house. Why don’t you phone her?’ Nina, her face serious, sat down on the side of the bed. ‘It might be fun. Alice says it’ll only be a small group, and she really is a great cook. She worked as a chef in one of the top restaurants ever when she was younger. She gave it all up when she had the kids. But each time we eat over at Alice’s it’s like going to one of the best restaurants. She’s only taking a small group to teach, but maybe it’s something you might enjoy. You’ll definitely use it.’
Lucy had to admit her culinary skills left a lot to be desired. Her repertoire of meals was limited. She usually stuck to pasta in a homemade tomato-type sauce or curry with rice and salads.
‘Alice is nervous starting off this venture, worried she won’t get enough people wanting to learn to cook and join her cookery school, so it would be lovely to be able to support her a bit.’
‘Can I think about it, Mum?’
‘Of course. Your dad and I would make a contribution towards it, but with the proviso that once you started you would be expected to finish it. It is only one night a week, after all.’
Lucy flushed. She had abandoned the expensive nail-care course she had signed up to last spring, bored beyond reason at filing and polishing nails all day. Her dad had ranted about the money she’d wasted. She had never given cookery the slightest consideration.
‘Why don’t you call over to her?’ urged her mother, looking for the fairy lights. ‘I’m sure Alice can fill you in about what kind of things she intends teaching people to cook.’
Lucy thought about it. It was rather appealing, the idea of being able to cook something that involved more than a pot of boiling water and a non-stick pan. She’d probably be hopeless, but maybe tomorrow she’d drop in on Alice and ask her all about it.
Alice was trawling through her extensive collection of cookbooks and cookery notebooks, trying to build up a selection of recipes and dishes that she could use to demonstrate to and teach a class. They would only have two and a half hours together on a Tuesday evening, so anything too complicated or time-consuming, no matter how delicious, was ruled out. She had decided to teach them how to make one main course and either one starter or dessert per class. That would be enough for most people to take in; obviously she would add some accompanying vegetable or salad dishes if there was time.
Trying to whittle down her favourite recipes was a task in itself after a lifetime of cooking. Chefs, like most people, had a handful of signature dishes they cooked over and over again, and it was easy to get stale. A top chef should know it was good to introduce something new, something unexpected, and hopefully with a completely fresh taste sensation. She was determined not only to teach them how to cook some classic dishes, but also to encourage them to stretch themselves a little!
Reading back through some of her notebooks from the time she trained in Paris and from her days cooking with Myles Malone in Wilde, she had to admit her writing was hard to read. Even now she struggled to decipher some of the words as she began putting all the recipes up on the computer in a special folder she had set up for her cookery school. She was rereading a recipe for a cassoulet of beans when the doorbell went.
‘Hey, Lucy!’ She smiled, inviting her friend Nina’s daughter inside. She had always had a soft spot for Lucy, who seemed different from her sister and brothers. She was big into music and bands, and had lost her job and her boyfriend, and now was back living with Nina and David – which had to be awful for her, and a bit of a strain for everyone else.
‘Mum was telling me about the cookery classes you are going to give, and I wanted to find out more and talk to you about maybe joining.’
Alice led her down to the kitchen.
‘I was just about to make some coffee, would you like a cup?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
Lucy was a pretty little thing. She had the same grey-green eyes and perky nose as her mother. Alice got out the biscuit tin, hoping that Sean had had the decency to leave a few of the chocolate chunk and peanut cookies she’d made only two days ago.
She watched as Lucy studied her shelf of cookbooks and the notebooks lying on the table.
‘I’m just going through years of recipes to find ones to use for the class. Other people collect silver or glass or perfume bottles or teddy bears, while I collect cookery books! I hadn’t realized just how many I’d amassed. This notebook here, with the pictures of cats on the front … I began that one when I was a little girl, cooking in the kitchen with my mother. See that stain? That was from the sponge cake we were mixing together. I’d dip my finger in the mixture and eat it,’ Alice said, remembering.
‘Do you like cooking, Lucy?’
‘Yeah, I suppose so. I’ve always liked making stuff, and seeing it turn out all right. I get a kick out of it. Though there are only a handful of things I cook. I usually end up sticking to the same old recipes: like pasta and curry for my friends, or burgers, fried chicken or sausages at home. I wouldn’t mind learning how to make some new things, and how to do them properly.’
‘My aim is to take some wonderful dishes that are tasty and well-presented. And teach a selection: ones that are simple to cook and others that are a bit more complicated, but definitely have the wow factor. Especially if you are having a dinner party. Good food is really what matters, whether you’re cooking for one or for fifty people!’
‘Are you just going to demonstrate how to make things?’ Lucy asked.
‘Oh no. I’ll show everyone, but then they’ve got to turn around and make the dish themselves. It’s the only way to learn.’
‘I guess so, because Mum and I are always watching MasterChef and all those kind of programmes, but we can’t really make any of the things.’
‘Cooking is hands-on.’ Alice laughed. ‘And that is what these classes are all going to be about. The course will start after the New Year and run for sixteen weeks, and costs 320 euros which works out at twenty euros a night.’
‘It sounds great. I’d love to do something different. I don’t know if Mum told you, but the music store I worked in closed down.’
‘Yes, I was sorry to hear about it,’ Alice said gently. ‘There seems to be so much changing at the moment, and your generation is taking the brunt of it. It must be hard for you.’
Lucy nodded.
‘Change is always awful. We humans aren’t very good at it. Most of the time we want to curl up and hide and pretend it’s not happening to us, get our lives back the way they were … though sometimes that’s just not possible … we can’t go back … can’t turn back time no matter how much we want to … we have to go forward.’
Lucy was thoughtful, nibbling at a circle of biscuit.
‘So, Lucy, that’s what I’m doing … with this school … going forward. Trying something new, and hoping that the people who come along to learn will enjoy it, too.’
‘Sounds great,’ said Lucy. ‘I’d love to give it a try, if that’s OK, Alice.’
‘I’d love to have you.’ Alice laughed. ‘You’re the seventh person on my list.’
‘Can I pay you by the week?’ Lucy asked. ‘I’m not working at the moment, and I don’t want Mum or Dad forking out for this. I want to pay it myself, if that’s OK with you?’
‘Of course, Lucy, love, whatever suits you.’
As Alice watched Lucy walk down the path she had to admire the young girl. It would be a pleasure to teach Nina’s daughter how to cook.