Wednesday 21st December
Afternoon tea
Cherry and coconut cake
Dinner menu
Figs, melon and parma ham
***
Tender beef casserole,
buttery mash, glazed baby carrots and garden peas
***
Amalfi lemon tart with whipped cream
This morning, I’m up with the lark, unable to eat breakfast because I’m so nervous about the day ahead. There’s a fizzing sensation in my stomach – and already my heart is pumping faster – but everything is prepared for my first day of cooking for Jed Turner, so hopefully things will turn out fine.
As I dash out of the house, a text pings through from Harrison.
As I draw up outside Erin’s, I’m still chortling at the thought of Harrison in full flamenco gear, with flouncy-sleeved blouse and trousers cutting off his circulation. His mum, Betty, is a forceful woman. What she wants, she generally gets. And poor Harrison will have to go along with it.
Then I remember I’m due in for a shift at the restaurant tonight and my heart drops like a stone. I’m going to have to phone in sick. It’s going to be so blatantly obvious I’m swinging the lead after Mrs Nutter turned me down yesterday. But what else can I do? At least I know Maxine is standing by to fill in for me, so my absence definitely won’t be leaving them short-staffed.
Erin comes down the steps, looking slightly preoccupied.
I’d assumed she’d be full of the joys because her Christmas break officially begins today. But she doesn’t even get excited when I suggest we splash out at the delicatessen for the parma ham. (She’s normally like a kid in a sweetie shop among all those exotic quiches, jewel-bean salads and German sausages.)
She perks up a bit as we drive along the bumpy road towards the Log Fire Cabin and she catches her first glimpse of the lake. It’s another crystal-clear, blue-skied morning and the reflection of the cottage and pine trees in the water is perfect.
‘It’s such a gorgeous setting,’ Erin murmurs. ‘Mark and I used to come here for picnics when we first got together.’
I turn in surprise. ‘Did you?’
‘Yeah, it was really romantic. He’d buy stuff from the deli and bring a cool box with a bottle of chilled fizz. On summer days, we’d spend hours and hours just lying on a rug on the grass, being daft. We never seemed to run out of things to talk about.’
‘Sounds heavenly.’ I glance at her profile.
She sighs. ‘Oh for the early days, when he was always trying to impress me.’
‘Perhaps you could revive the picnic days? You can borrow my cool box.’
Even this doesn’t raise a smile – and she loves that cool box! It’s an electric one that you can plug in to the car to keep your bits and pieces nice and fresh. Harrison bought it for our first picnic together. He gets a bit jumpy about ham going off in the sun and random insects landing on his food.
‘You know, Mark is so much more romantic than Harrison,’ I say, to cheer her up. ‘He buys you flowers for no reason, for heaven’s sake. And he sits through entire episodes of Hollyoaks because you love it and he wants to be with you. What bloke does that?’
‘That’s true. I’m just being stupid.’ She straightens up in her seat and points across the lake. ‘Ooh, wouldn’t it be lovely to buy that little cottage and do it up? It’s so unbelievably cute.’
‘It used to be a B&B.’
‘Really? Gosh, I don’t remember that.’
‘It was many moons ago,’ I say, recalling the creaky wooden stairs leading up to the sunny bedroom with its window seat and views over the lake. I loved that window seat. I’d sit with my feet up, curled sideways among the floral-sprigged cushions, gazing at the expanse of sky and the pine trees on the opposite side of the lake. That was long before the Log Fire Cabin was built. ‘They did a brilliant breakfast fry-up.’
I’m dimly aware that Erin is asking me something about the B&B, but I’m lost in the past, remembering how Mum refused to eat anything that morning. She just hugged a coffee with an expression on her face that suggested the milk was sour. I, however, was in my element, demolishing bacon, eggs and sausages as we chatted away. Alessandro brought Italy alive for me and I remember being entranced by his halting English accent. I hung on his every word as he transported me to the pretty town of Sorrento in the heat of the summer, and drove me along the stunning Amalfi coast to Capri in an open-topped car. I could almost feel the warm wind in my hair and breathe in the scent of the lemon groves.
I still can’t forgive Mum for not telling me the truth about Alessandro until it was too late and he’d gone back to Italy. But, looking back, I sometimes wonder if she was on edge the entire time he was with us because she could see I really liked him and she knew it could only end badly for me.
‘Are you okay?’ Erin is peering at me. ‘You were miles away.’
‘Sorry. I – er – I’m just trying to get everything sorted in my head for today.’
‘Exciting, isn’t it?’
‘Or terrifying.’ I force a smile, pushing Alessandro out of my mind. ‘I can’t decide which.’
I was up till three this morning, devising mouth-watering menus for the next twelve days, so I should be feeling exhausted but I’m not at all. Excitement is whipping up the adrenaline in my system, making me feel anything but tired. I feel like the battery bunny – I could probably keep going for days.
I’d emailed the menus and my quote through to Jed in the early hours and, by breakfast time, he’d emailed back to approve them. A wave of relief coursed through me. I’d been worrying I was charging too much but Erin told me quite fiercely that I wasn’t to undersell myself. I was a brilliant cook, she said, and I was charging a very reasonable rate for what she knew would be almost two weeks of first class cuisine.
The only picky eater, Jed noted in his email, was Ruby, Gloria’s teenage daughter. But he’d bought in a supply of her favourite chicken goujons and vanilla ice cream, so we were covered for all eventualities.
When Erin and I arrive at the house, I use the key Jed has given me so we can come and go as we need to, and I introduce an amazed Erin to the splendours of the Log Fire Cabin. The place is eerily silent. I assume they’ve all gone out.
‘Close your mouth.’ I grin at her. ‘Or you’ll catch flies.’
‘Oh my God, it’s gorgeous,’ she breathes, staring up at the Christmas tree. ‘Hang on, are they your baubles?’
‘Some of them. Yes.’ I pause to admire the tree myself, remembering how Jed had to decorate the topmost branches himself because I couldn’t quite reach.
We place our cartons and boxes on the breakfast bar in the kitchen and go back out to the car to collect the rest. When we return, Jessica is floating down the stairs in a silky Japanese-print robe and bare feet.
‘Good morning, Jessica.’ I smile. ‘This is my assistant, Erin.’
‘Hi there. Pleased to meet you,’ sings Erin. ‘What a beautiful dressing gown.’
‘Thank you. It’s a kimono.’ Her glance is frosty as she sweeps past us. I guess it’s not de rigeur for the hired help to initiate a conversation with a client.
We follow her into the kitchen and find Ryan making tea, wearing a skimpy cotton robe in dusky pink that shows off his fine hairy legs to perfection.
‘For God’s sake, Ryan!’ hisses Jessica. ‘I just bought that. It’s bloody YSL! You’d better not spill anything on it!’
He ignores her and turns to us. ‘Sorry about the lack of clothes, ladies. I thought we were alone.’
‘Oh, don’t mind us!’ I say breezily, setting down the box I’m carrying. ‘This is Erin, by the way.’
‘Ryan.’ He moves forward to shake her hand.
‘Pleased to meet you.’ Erin gives him a cheerful once-over. ‘Can I just say you look ravishing in pink. But did you know your belt is coming loose?’
I could truly murder her. But thankfully, Ryan seems amused. It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile properly, with his eyes, and he’s really quite handsome. He should definitely smile more often.
‘Any good at tying knots?’ he asks Erin with a suggestively raised eyebrow.
Jessica hustles him out, clearly not enjoying the banter one bit, and her irritation explodes when she thinks she’s out of earshot. ‘And by the way, I can just about bear to share a bathroom with that fat girl, and use towels that have the texture of rush matting. But I draw the line at wearing wellies!’
‘Prada heels aren’t the best for a tramp through sheep shit,’ points out Ryan.
‘Well, then, I’ll just stay indoors and you can go for a walk.’
‘Clemmy’s not fat, by the way. She’s voluptuous.’ Ryan’s voice grows fainter as they climb the stairs.
Jessica barks a laugh. ‘Yes, and her copy of Hello magazine is all about Einstein’s theory of relativity. What’s it doing in the bathroom anyway? Does she read it on the toilet?’
Their bedroom door slams shut.
I look at Erin and we both snort with amusement.
‘No prizes for guessing Jessica would rather be anywhere but here for Christmas,’ I murmur, rolling my eyes at Erin as I assemble the vegetables for her to prepare for the beef casserole.
‘I know. Poor Ryan. Why on earth has he saddled himself with her?’
I grin at her. ‘Apart from the obvious?’
‘Well, there is that, I suppose. She has got an amazing figure.’ She starts slicing an onion, screwing her eyes up slightly so that the spray doesn’t make her cry. Then she looks up at me. ‘This is it, then. The start of a whole new career. Your first real proper catering job!’
‘Mrs Morelli was real, wasn’t she?’ I laugh. ‘Not a figment of my imagination.’
‘Yes, but we knew her so it doesn’t really count,’ says Erin firmly.
I smile at her enthusiasm. I only wish I shared her confidence that everything will work out fine. I might have been up half the night thinking about every last detail, but you can’t plan for all eventualities. What if I have an unexpected cake disaster? What if the beef is tough? What if the lemon tart is too sharp/sweet for their taste?
I suddenly remember something and start hunting around in one of the boxes we’ve brought in. ‘Ta-dah!’ I pull out the gorgeous Christmas apron Erin bought me and put it on. Erin claps excitedly so I do a little curtsy.
‘Thanks again for this.’ I grin at her. ‘I’m ready for anything now.’
‘Are you making the cake first?’
‘Yes. I’m going to dazzle them with the lusciousness of my baking!’ I start delving in the boxes, setting out flour, butter, caster sugar, eggs, dessicated coconut and maraschino cherries. Then I start looking through the cupboards, memorising things. At home, I could probably bake a cake blindfolded because I know where everything is. But when you start cooking in an unfamiliar kitchen, it can be a little frustrating. Everything takes twice as long while you track down that vital piece of equipment – a whisk or a lemon-squeezer or a certain size of cake tin – that always seems to be in the very last place you look.
Erin has her iPod on softly, chopping in time to The Killers. We work away in silence for a while and, before too long, the kitchen is filled with the mouth-watering aroma of cherry-and-coconut cake baking in the oven.
The beef for the casserole is slow-cooking in a rich gravy of onions, red wine and stock with crushed garlic and a handful of fresh thyme. The beauty of the slow-cooker method is that it’s guaranteed to make the meat so tender, it will practically melt in your mouth. And it also gives Erin and I time to nip out for a quick sandwich.
But first, I take a deep breath, pick up my phone and call The Pretty Flamingo, hoping against hope that Mrs Nutter doesn’t pick up. Luckily, it’s Daisy, the lovely receptionist, and I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s so sympathetic about my imaginary flu, I feel a real fraud, then she tells me quite sternly that I mustn’t even think of returning to work until I’m completely better. Erin’s grinning broadly at me the whole time, which is a bit off-putting, to say the least. But I feel so relieved when I come off the phone, I actually laugh out loud.
‘Good for you.’ Erin, who’s clearing up, waves a tea towel at me. ‘You never take sick days. So don’t feel guilty.’
‘I’ll try not to.’ Grateful for her support, I go to check the cake, which is out of its loaf tin and cooling on the rack. I turn it over, hoping the cherries haven’t all sunk to the bottom. But it seems fine. I’ll slice and serve it with Earl Grey tea at four p.m. I check the slow-cooker, stirring the pot carefully, and Erin joins me, breathing in the lovely, rich herby aroma over my shoulder.
‘Another triumph,’ she says.
I make a face at her. ‘Wish I had your confidence.’
She shrugs. ‘You should. You’re brilliant. You were miles ahead of me on that cookery course we went on.’
‘Only because you were pining for Mark and texting him every spare minute.’
She laughs. ‘I’d only just met him then.’
‘Right, come on, let’s go and grab something to eat.’ I glance around the kitchen to make sure everything is in order and scoop up my keys before Erin has a chance to get despondent about Mark again.
I’m manoeuvring the car out of the parking area when a horn sounds loudly, making me pull on the break. A big blue people carrier skids to a halt on the road, just ten feet away. When I peer over, wondering whether to reverse back and let them in, a woman in the passenger seat with bright orangey-red hair waves cheerily then leans over and gives the horn an extra jolly toot.
‘Who on earth’s that?’ breathes Erin, as we smile and wave back. She says it in a ‘gottle o’ geer’ way, without moving her lips.
I frown and reverse back into a space. ‘I think it must be Jed and Ryan’s Uncle Bob and his girlfriend, Gloria.’
They park next to us, and two teenagers – a boy and a girl – emerge from the back seat.
I copy Erin’s ventriloquist act. ‘That’ll be Gloria’s kids – nineteen-year-old Tom and sixteen-year-old Ruby.’
‘Oh dear. Ruby looks pretty cross. Maybe they’ve had a row.’
‘She does look quite fierce,’ I murmur. ‘Her hair’s pretty edgy, too. What would you call that shade?’
‘Er … brown and purple with grey highlights?’
I unclip my seat belt and get out of the car to say hello.
Ruby’s door opens and her voice drifts out. ‘It’s total shit, Mum. When are you going to get on to the phone company and give them a bollocking? It shouldn’t just break like that. I barely touched the bloody thing.’
Tom, getting out on his side, snorts loudly. ‘You dropped it off the first-floor balcony onto concrete.’
Ruby reddens. ‘Well, it still shouldn’t have broken. I’m bloody sick of mobile phones.’
Gloria fixes her with a glare. ‘Is that right? Well, in that case, you won’t mind waiting till after the holidays for a new one. And stop swearing.’
‘Get real, mother.’ Ruby looks sulky. ‘Bloody is hardly swearing.’
‘Ruby!’ Gloria gets out and straightens her leopard-print top and lacy black skirt with a flourish, as if the action will herald a fresh start. She smiles a little desperately across at Bob, who’s emerging from his side. ‘Kids, eh? Who’d ’ave ’em? Of course, what our Ruby needs is a good feed. She’s always grumpy when she’s hungry, aren’t you, love?’ She tries to pat Ruby’s cheek but her daughter whisks out of reach.
‘I do not need “a good feed”. I just need a new phone. How am I supposed to do anything without a phone?’
Tom, who’s been calmly loading himself up with bags from the boot, suddenly hisses, ‘Ruby, will you bloody shut up about your stupid phone. We’ve heard nothing else since we left Newcastle. There were people hurling themselves off the train just to escape your whinging.’ He takes the bag his mum is holding and heads for the front door.
‘Ooh, snap your beads, Tom,’ calls Ruby. Then in a loud stage-whisper, just to wind up her brother, she says, ‘He’s fed up because he likes this girl, Charlotte, but he’s too scared to ask her out.’
Tom turns and murders his sister with a look. ‘I’m not scared. I just don’t want a relationship right now.’
Ruby rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, right. And I’m Lady Gaga’s costume designer.’
Gloria glances at Bob and laughs nervously. ‘Proper comedian. That’s our Ruby. Can I help, Bob?’
Uncle Bob has his head buried in the boot. From what Jed told me yesterday, the first time he’ll have set eyes on Gloria’s children would have been less than an hour ago, when he picked the family up from the station. I wonder if he’s regretting it already?
He straightens up, smiles at Gloria and lays a soothing hand on her back. ‘No, no, you go in, my dear. Make yourselves comfortable.’
He suddenly notices Erin and I, waiting by the car. His face lights up and he bounds across. ‘You must be our delightful Christmas caterers? I’m Bob.’
We shake hands and I explain that we’re just off for lunch but we’ll be back to serve afternoon tea at four o’clock.
‘Would you like some tea just now?’ I ask, unsure if it’s my place to offer.
His smile makes him look quite youthful. Jed said he was sixty-seven but he could pass for ten years younger than that. Bob’s very tall, like Jed. But unlike Jed – who’s broad and muscular – Bob has the slender frame of a marathon runner.
He shakes his head. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll get refreshments on the go. But thank you. Off you go and have your lunch and we’ll look forward to some fine dining tonight!’
‘Excellent.’ No pressure there, then!
‘Can I ask what’s on the menu?’ He twinkles.
I reel off the three courses and he nods approvingly. ‘Sounds delicious. Doesn’t it, Ruby?’ He smiles at her and she nods, trying to look enthusiastic but clearly not caring two hoots.
‘I don’t know about anyone else but I could eat a scabby horse!’ says Gloria. ‘What about you, Bob?’
Bob blinks at her. ‘Well, I’m not sure Poppy mentioned ‘scabby horse’, my dear, but we could always order it in for you. Do you like it medium or rare?’ He regards her solemnly for a moment and Gloria looks perplexed. Then, as a wicked smile transforms his face, she gets the joke and slaps him on the arm.
‘Ee, Bob. What are you like!’ She turns to Erin and me. ‘Sense of humour dry as a witch’s tit!’
Grinning, Erin and I clamber back into the car.
‘I’m already thinking about that Amalfi lemon tart!’ calls Bob.
‘Uncle Bob’s a sweetie,’ says Erin.
‘He is. I hope that cantankerous Ruby doesn’t spoil their Christmas by moaning about her phone all the time.’
Right on cue, Ruby glances around her in distaste and says in her broad Geordie accent, ‘Where’s all the shops, then? The nearest phone store is probably about five hundred miles away from this skanky pit—’
Gloria grabs her arm and whispers urgently into her ear before turning back to Bob and fixing on a bright smile.
‘Poor Gloria,’ says Erin. ‘Her first Christmas with her new man and she’s got an obnoxious teenager ruining her chance of romance.’
‘I’ve a feeling it’s going to be an interesting Christmas, one way or another,’ I murmur with a grin.