The night of the next live video arrived far quicker than Esme had hoped for. Even though the video with Daniel had gone down really well, winning over the anti-swearing lady, Esme couldn’t help noticing the horrible sense of pressure tensing her body.
Despite all her planning, she was even more nervous than the first time, and poured herself a glass of wine to steady her nerves. As she prepared all the ingredients for a special Christmas recipe, she took a sip and gazed around. Since Joe had bought her the tree, the cottage had smelt of pine and she’d come down every morning smiling as soon as she saw it. The decorations brought a life to the cottage she hadn’t imagined it could have when she first moved in. It was brighter, more comforting and homely. And now her crazy salt dough angel sat on top, tied on with ribbon.
The thin covering of snow had disappeared just as quickly as it had come, but it had been fun while it lasted. As it was only four days to Christmas, she’d decided to make some old-fashioned Christmas staples of sausage rolls and cheese scones, but with a twist. The sausage rolls would have a spicy chilli ketchup added under the pastry and the cheese scones would be made with a fantastic cheddar that had garlic and herbs added in.
Esme sipped some more wine as she chopped the onion to add to the sausage meat and grated the cheese for the scones. Before long, her glass was empty. She checked the time; it was still only eight-fifteen. Forty-five minutes till she went live. Esme topped up her glass once more and checked the camera was in the right place. When she viewed the screen, the kitchen sparkled with the fairy lights. She had even bought some sweet red tea-light holders, dotting them over the countertop, and the flame inside flickered gently. Esme had found three large glass jars in the pantry cupboard and filled them with pine cones collected on her walks. They sat by the butler’s sink, finishing it off. It looked as good as any Christmas cookery show, better even, as it was lived in, not a sterile set designed by boring men in an office.
While she weighed out the flour and butter she needed for the scones, the negative comments posted on her blog, and the blacklisting from the industry she loved, jostled in her brain. She tried to ignore it all but before long, a nausea was rising in her stomach and she was chewing the inside of her cheek. What if this one went wrong as well? What would she do then? People would hate her. At some point she’d have to give up and find a new career. She grabbed the wine from the fridge and topped up her glass. It somehow felt worse to be hated by someone you didn’t know. At least if they got to know you first and didn’t like you after that, you’d had a chance to put your best foot forward. Being rude online was just mean. She was grateful for Penny85, though, who always seemed to be fighting her corner, commenting almost daily. Esme pictured a kind old lady similar to her grandma. Wherever Penny85 was, she was sure she was a nice woman.
When the clock showed five minutes to nine, Esme took a final swig of wine and switched on the camera to begin. She focused on her notes but the writing seemed more squiggly than normal; she’d have to type it up next time. She took a deep breath and began.
‘Hi again, everyone. Thanks for joining me tonight. If you haven’t had a chance to watch the salt dough video, then please check that one out. It’s great if you have little ones to keep occupied. Also, you might not have noticed but Grandma’s Kitchen has been Christmasified! Do you like my fairy lights? About time, isn’t it?’ Esme gestured around her. ‘Tonight we’re going to make two fantastic snacks that you have to have at Christmas. Well, in my family you do. We’re going to make sausage rolls and cheese scones. But never fear, these aren’t normal, boring sausage rolls or bland, forgettable cheese scones. We’re making spicy ketchup sausage rolls and ramped up cheesy cheese scones.’
Esme’s mouth felt dry. She looked for a glass of water but hadn’t got herself one before filming. Another rookie error. She saw her wine and took a sip. ‘So, we’ll begin with the sausage rolls, but these ones have a little surprise in them — a nice kick of chilli ketchup.’
A voice in her head said, ‘You’re going to screw this up,’ and she swallowed hard.
‘To begin, we need to flavour our sausage meat. You can use good sausage meat from a butcher if you can get it, but if you can’t, just use good-quality sausages from the supermarket and take the meat out of the skins …’ As she went on to talk about herbs, her brain said, ‘Don’t forget anything, you idiot.’ She cleaned her hands and took another swig of wine.
‘So now, for the chilli ketchup. You can make this yourself if you like and I’ve put a recipe on my blog for those who want to. But if you haven’t made some already, you can make a cheat’s version now using normal ketchup.’ She added a big squeeze to a bowl. ‘Now some paprika, cayenne, onion powder and garlic powder.’ She mixed in each of the spices. ‘You can even add some Worcestershire sauce if you like, or hot sauce. It really depends on your taste buds. Just try it and see what you prefer.’ What the hell do you think you’re doing? No one’s going to watch this rubbish! Esme gave herself a mental shake. ‘This recipe came about completely by accident one year. I was making normal sausage rolls with a ketchup-type dip, so I had a bowl of ketchup out on the side that I was going to doctor up afterwards, then I tripped over my shoelace and knocked it over onto the pastry. I decided to carry on and it kind of went from there. I love making these because they’re my dad’s favourite Christmas snack now.’
She took the puff pastry out of the fridge and decided to take out the wine as well, as the doubts were beginning to fade, she topped up her glass. ‘Now, roll the pastry out into a sheet. You can buy ready-made puff pastry, which is a great cheat. Making proper puff pastry takes like, a gazillion years, and to be honest, you’d never know the difference. Paint on a nice thick layer of chilli ketchup, leaving a one-inch margin on all sides. Now, roll out the sausage meat into a long, well … sausage, and place it about an inch from the top. Egg-wash around the side and fold over the pastry.’
She assembled the sausage roll, which took an inordinate amount of concentration. ‘Now, cut it into about nine pieces, egg-wash the top and let’s get it in the oven. ‘She picked up the tray to move it to the oven and knocked over a knife. ‘Oops.’ She picked it up and placed it on the worktop, silently congratulating herself for not swearing, and slid the tray in the oven. Her head popped up from behind the counter.
‘Boo!’ she shouted, then giggled to herself. ‘Now onto the cheese scones.’
Esme sautéed some onion, ‘Just until it’s soft and translucent, you don’t want it coloured, otherwise it’ll look like flecks of poo in your scone.’ She giggled to herself again. ‘Sorry, just made myself laugh. Now, once that’s cooled we can mix all the ingredients together.’ She put that bowl to one side and grabbed another. ‘While they’re cooling, in this bowl I’ve got some flour, butter and two different cheeses. I’ve got this lovely Cheddar with garlic and herbs in it and a Red Leicester. I love the colour Red Leicester gives to scones as well as the taste. And the garlic cheese is amazing. It’s like the garlic has been slow-roasted, so it’s really sweet. I’ve also included a little parsley and some chives.’
She threw everything into the bowl and mixed it with her fingers. ‘Once it’s formed into a ball, flatten it out to about an inch thick and cut them with a one-inch cutter.’ As she started to cut them out, she wanted to make sure they were cut all the way through so started shouting ‘bang’ every time she pressed down extra hard. ‘Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.’ Once they were done, she placed them on the baking tray and added those to the oven.
Picking up her wine glass, Esme leaned on the counter, relaxed and happy. Everything had gone well for once. She took a sip.
‘The best advice I can give is to use a timer. Don’t assume that you’ll remember when you put the bits in the oven. I know professional cooks who’ve put something in, then forgotten about it or the phone’s rung and before you know it, poof! The scones are burnt and the house is full of smoke.’ She turned on the timer and placed it on the countertop so the viewers could see it too.
She took another sip of wine. ‘The other thing people forget is the egg wash.’ She saw it on the counter and giggled again. ‘Which I’ve done too.’ She sipped the last of her wine and waved her hand dismissively. ‘Never mind, but, if you can remember, I’d definitely recommend brushing on some egg wash. It gives them a nice golden colour on top. Never fear though, they will be fine without should you forget. Oh, my glass is empty.’ Esme topped it up and leaned on the counter to continue chatting with her viewers.
‘So, how are you lot today? Having a good day? I hope so.’ She brandished her glass around in the air as she spoke. ‘I’m doing okay at the moment. It’s been a rough few weeks though, I can tell you. I won’t go into details, I’d probably get sued if I did, but this is my new job.’ She motioned around her kitchen. ‘Doing this blog — vlog — video thing. It’s quite hard changing direction, especially in your thirties when you’re supposed to have your life all figured out, but my friends keep saying it’ll all be worth it in the end. Have you ever done that? Changed direction? Let me know, especially if you have some good advice. I could use it. I can’t talk about it though, so ssshhhh!’ She signed, zipping up her lips and throwing away the key. ‘My poor heart.’ She pressed a hand to her chest then leant back on the countertop, leaning in conspiratorially. ‘Let me ask you a question, have you guys ever liked a guy but then people keep saying things about them so you don’t know what to do? Do you follow your gut, even though your gut seems quite confused, or do you use your head? Or do you do nothing?’ She shrugged. Thankfully though, this was all going well and she felt relaxed for once. All those people who’d made negative comments could naff off. She was good at this.
‘I know I should make a load of these in advance, so that I can whip them out and be like, “Here’s some I made earlier, aren’t they perfect and golden brown and shiny,” but it’s much more fun to have a chat, isn’t it?’She took her wine glass and checked the timer. The numbers seemed to be upside down. She picked it up and turned it back the right way, but the numbers were still wrong. Her feet felt a little wobbly and all the muscles in her legs were wiggling about of their own accord.
Esme realised with a sudden sinking in her stomach that she was drunk. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. The timer would sound when it was ready, but that was assuming she’d set it right in the first place. See, I knew you’d screw it up, her brain said. ‘Oh, shut up!’ Esme shouted. Then realising she’d said it out loud, she added, ‘Oh, sorry, there was a bird.’ Shit. She had to stay on top of this, she couldn’t let it all go wrong. People would never watch her again.
‘I’m just going to check the sausage rolls.’ She placed her oven gloves on and bent down to the oven. Her head swam and it took all her concentration to keep her eyes focused. She opened the oven and the sausage rolls were golden on top. The scones needed a few more minutes, but were rising. ‘Here we go,’ she said taking out the tray of sausage rolls and placing it on the side. As relief steadied her a little, she moved her wine glass away. ‘Don’t they look delicious?’
They did. The golden pastry smelt buttery and the chilli ketchup was oozing out a little from under the sausage meat. ‘We just need to wait a few more minutes for the cheese scones but they’re turning a beautiful golden brown.’ Esme leaned on the counter again and glanced at the camera then back down. ‘I wish we could have a proper conversation. It feels weird talking to myself. And a bit lonely. When I was little, I used to pretend I was filming a cookery show all the time. Did you guys ever do that?’
She picked up her wine glass again and took another sip. Sod it. She was already way past tipsy and on her way to legless, she might as well enjoy it. There was no point in drinking water now. She’d never be sober before the end of the show and the wine was nice. ‘Write on the blog, won’t you, and let me know if you ever played cookery shows when you were little. And let me know what you made.’
The timer sounded and she removed the cheese scones. ‘I wish you could smell these guys,’ she said, placing the hot tray on the countertop. ‘They smell so delicious. You can almost taste the onion and garlic without taking a bite and the cheese has melted going all gooey.’
Esme placed them down one side of a Victorian platter, next to the sausage rolls and showed them to the camera. ‘So here you are, these are the staples in our house at Christmas. No matter what else we eat, we always need sausage rolls and cheese scones.’
She lifted up her wine glass to the camera. ‘And the best thing is, they are so easy you can even make them drunk. Cheers, everyone!’ She took a final gulp of wine and tottered unsteadily to turn the camera off.
*
Joe switched on his laptop, laid back on the sofa with a beer in one hand, the other propping up his head and readied himself to be swept up in Esme’s magic. After seeing the first video she’d made, he’d worried that something else might catch alight. But as he watched Esme getting more and more drunk as time wore on, his head sunk further and further down, like a turtle hiding in its shell. He couldn’t decide if this was better or much, much worse. She hadn’t set her kitchen or anything else on fire, but here she was slurring and waving a wine glass around when she was in charge of an oven. An oven that had fire in it.
He sighed, but as he watched on, a smile began to creep over his face until he felt it in his cheeks and the endorphins filled his body. She was incredibly endearing, even when drunk. Her cheeks were growing pinker with the booze and the heat of the oven. The way she was leaning on the counter and chatting, like you were there in the kitchen with her, was new and different to all those static TV shows where it was more like a lesson at school than being in a friend’s home. This could really take off if she kept going. If only those people on the blog would stop making mean comments.
He grabbed a handful of peanuts. The last time he’d watched her blog he’d made the mistake of calling Siobhan to try and make amends. Just when he felt his heart was cold and dead, it had taken another knock and one he thought he’d never recover from. But each new day had come and with it the possibility of running into Esme, or the thought of watching one of her videos, and it had got him out of bed every morning. The strangest thing was that she didn’t seem to have any idea of the effect she had on those around her. She was completely clueless to the positivity and love she radiated. Watching her now, Joe felt the overwhelming urge to ask her out for a drink the next time he saw her. He hadn’t felt like that about anyone in such a long time that it felt strange, but not as scary as he’d expected.
Esme was leaning on the counter, chatting. He hoped people loved this vlog as much as he did. She needed the boost right now. But who was this guy she was talking about? The ex? He really hoped she wasn’t thinking of going back to him. If people were mean about the blog, would she go back if he asked? The idea filled him with dread. She deserved so much more and a flicker of hope started in the back of his mind. If only he could get himself together, could he be the man for her?
*
‘She’s knocking back that Pinot a bit quick,’ said Mark, leaning back and rubbing his chocolate-covered fingers onto his old sweatpants. He and Helena were huddled together on the sofa with an enormous bag of Maltesers, watching Esme on Helena’s laptop.
‘She’s doing well so far,’ Helena replied. ‘Her personality shines through much better than a lot of the boring people we’ve worked for.’
They watched as she took the tray full of sausage rolls from the countertop and knocked over a knife. Helena grabbed Mark’s arm and he placed his hand over hers. They waited for the swearing, or for blood to start pouring from her stabbed foot, but it didn’t. Mark sat back and exhaled.
‘That was close,’ said Helena, just as Esme popped her head up and shouted boo. ‘What the hell is she doing now?’ They exchanged worried glances. ‘At least she hasn’t set anything on fire this time.’
Mark narrowed his eyes at the screen. ‘I’m really not happy with the number of glasses of wine she’s had.’
‘No, me neither.’
‘Drink some water!’ Mark shouted. ‘You’re in a kitchen, woman, just turn around, get a glass and fill it.’ They grinned at each other and Mark raised his eyebrows.
‘There’s nothing we can do about it now,’ Helena replied. ‘If we ring or text we’re just going to disturb the broadcast and that would completely throw her off. Just cross everything you have.’ She sipped her own glass of wine and popped a Malteser in her mouth.
They watched on as Esme prepared the cheese scone mix.
‘Did she just talk about poo?’ asked Mark, giggling. Helena nodded. ‘Oh God, I love that girl.’
Helena giggled too. ‘It feels like we’re all there with her. Can you feel the atmosphere she’s creating? It’s more like she’s preparing for a party and there’s that excitement in the air. Do you know what I mean?’
‘I do.’ A few minutes later, Mark paused, his glass of wine untouched he was so absorbed in Esme’s monologue. ‘Christ on a bike, she’s completely pissed. She only ever gets this chatty when she’s pissed.’
Esme’s voice rang out in front of them. ‘I won’t go into details. I’d probably get sued if I did.’
‘Not probably!’ shouted Helena. ‘Definitely. You will definitely get sued! Esme, don’t you dare mention Felicity’s name.’ She picked up her phone ready to interrupt the video if required. She didn’t want Esme to land herself in more trouble.
‘Wait, wait,’ said Mark. ‘It’s okay, she’s changing topic.’ He leaned back against the soft sofa cushions. ‘I nearly had kittens then. That would’ve been a mess even we couldn’t clean up.’
‘She would totally have got sued,’ repeated Helena.
‘Let’s hope she doesn’t start on about Leo. It’s one thing for us to listen to it, but another for the general public.’ Mark rubbed his forehead. ‘She is, isn’t she? She’s talking about Leo now. Bloody hell. What was that? Is she thinking of going back to him? She never said.’
‘No, she didn’t, did she. She wouldn’t though, I suppose. He’s such a knob sometimes I really hope she doesn’t. I was hoping she might get together with that Joe. He seemed really nice.’
‘And he was gorgeous with a capital G.’
Helena nodded in agreement. ‘She’s going to have a raging hangover tomorrow.’
‘Who’s she shouting at? Did someone come to the door or something?’
‘She said it was a bird.’
Mark shook his head. ‘That’s it, she’s officially lost it.’
Esme signed off and said goodnight, and Mark and Helena both let out a deep breath.
‘Pass the vino, love,’ said Mark. ‘I need a top up after that, I’m exhausted.’ Helena passed the wine and he topped up their glasses. ‘She is bloody brilliant though, isn’t she?’
Helena smiled. ‘She certainly is.’