The Way to a Woman's Heart (44 page)

‘Mmm, I can imagine, and I can’t wait to taste them. I must say I do love all these old recipes you use, and –’ he looked knowingly at the camera ‘– if you remember, the cooks here at Hideaway Farm not only use old-fashioned recipes and home-grown ingredients, but also cook using old-fashioned kitchen implements. It’s just like a trip back in time, isn’t it, Gabby?’

‘It is –’ Gabby shimmied her tiny scarlet figure in between Poll and Ella ‘– although probably to an era that you remember far better than I do. Now, Poll, you said you were also going to produce something cheesy?’

‘I am. I’m making a bread and cheese pudding.’

‘R-e-a-l-l-y?’ Gabby managed to give the word far more syllables than it deserved. ‘Now that’s something I’ve never heard of before.’

‘It’s a popular old country dish from the war years.’ Poll seemed totally unfazed by either Gabby or the cameras this
time as she cut her bread into neat triangles. ‘But of course, I’ve made it my own by the addition of home-made goat’s cheese and a selection of herbs from our own kitchen garden.’

Nigella, eat your heart out, Ella thought in admiration.

‘So, it’s a savoury version of bread and butter pudding, is it?’

Poll nodded as she moved on to skilfully chopping chives. ‘Along those lines, yes, but maybe not quite so simple. And the bread I’m using is also home-made –’ she did a Princess Diana-style coy downwards eye flicker along the table ‘– by Billy.’

‘My, my,’ Gabby said testily. ‘We’re really having a down home supper tonight, aren’t we?’

‘Of course my particular favourite thing to make is pastry,’ Poll carried on cheerfully, clearly forgetting the “speak when you’re spoken to” rule. ‘Any sort of pastry, but the cooking time we have on the programme would have meant
skimping
.’ She looked coolly at Gabby. ‘And I hate skimping or cutting corners. So when we devised our menu, it had to be dishes that were perfect for your allotted time slot.’

Ella gave her ten out of ten and a gold star.

‘And,’ Poll continued, ‘I shall be serving it with scalloped potatoes – from another nineteen thirties recipe – and sweet grilled tomatoes.’

Gabby bared her teeth. ‘Super. Absolutely super. And now, um, Ella… you’re our pudding queen. That very strangely named Athole pud you made for us last time was a real triumph – so what are you going to top that with?’

‘Er…’ Ella worked some saliva into her mouth. ‘Um, yes, tonight I’m making Eve’s pudding, but again with a seasonal and local slant.’

Phew – she’d managed to speak without burbling.

‘Lovely, and I’m sure you have a wonderfully light hand with sponge, but it’s a bit early in the year for apples, though, isn’t it?’ Gabby primmed her glossy lips into a little moue.

Ella nodded. ‘Which is why I’m using currants instead… red, white and black – and again, like the rest of tonight’s food, picked fresh from the garden this morning.’

‘Oooh, yes! Aren’t they gorgeous?’ Gabby indicated that the camera should pan in on the currants. ‘Like lots of tiny jewels, and we all love jewels, don’t we, ladies?’

‘And,’ Ella said manfully, deciding that if Poll could suddenly become assertive then so could she – even without the love bit to spur her on – as she started to top and tail the currants, ‘I shall be making an original nineteen fifties custard sauce to accompany it.’

Gabby again looked a bit put out that Ella had also volunteered un-asked-for information. ‘R-e-a-l-l-y?’

‘With, um, vanilla pods and grated nutmeg and lemon zest.’

‘That sounds absolutely delightful! Well, don’t let me hold you up. I think I’ll just tiptoe along to the other end of the table and see what our favourite ice-cream man – the g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s Ash – is doing at the hob.’

Ella glanced at Ash and smiled to herself. He looked petrified.

Gabby squirmed herself very, very close to him. It seemed
to make it pretty impossible for him to fry his garlic, onions, leeks and potatoes without burning one or other or both of them.

‘Sooo, Ash, this all smells like heaven to me. How are you feeling?’

‘Um, fine, thanks,’ Ash muttered. ‘Goody. You certainly look fine to me. And sooo fit.’

Gabby shot a malicious look at Tom. ‘Very fit indeed. It’s wonderful to see a man who can still look like a Real Man in the kitchen instead of a limp rag, isn’t it, ladies?’

Tom winced. Ella suddenly longed to comfort him. Poor man. How ever did he cope with this constant, and very public, humiliation?

Gabby squeezed even closer to Ash, leaning across him to peer into the saucepan. ‘Oooh yes, Ash, you certainly know how to bring things to the boil, don’t you?’ She licked her lips lasciviously. ‘The lady in your life is sooo v-e-r-y lucky. I’d say both you and your soup have simply oodles of va-vavoom.’

Oh, double yuck.

Still, Ella thought, as they chopped and grated and mixed and stirred in unison, and the kitchen filled with delicious scents, it would soon be over. Tom and Gabby would leave. Hideaway would return to normal. They might even win. They might not. But at least this time it had all gone really, really well.

Afterwards, Ella
knew
she should never have allowed her thoughts to stray in that direction. It was just asking for trouble…

The kitchen door flew open and Trixie, dressed in something long and flowing in blue and red, and with a lopsided garland of red and blue plastic flowers atop the bubble perm, frolicked in.

Oh my God – noooo!

Ella whimpered as Trixie waved an armful of larkspur round and round her head. Christmas cracker rubies glittered on her fingers.

Fortunately, Ella thought, pulling wild ‘sod off’ faces at Trixie, so far she’d managed to frolic out of camera shot, so maybe she’d just frolic off again… Ah, no – sadly not.

Poll, Ash and Billy spotted Trixie merely seconds after Ella did but luckily before Gabby and Tom. However, the film crew, doubled up with silent laughter, were clearly way ahead of them.

Trixie stopped frolicking, pirouetted unsteadily on one foot and started to sing in a tiny, wavering voice, ‘Hooray! Hooray!/It’s Ruby Larkspur Day/When all the fairies come out to play!/Wearing blue for larkspur sweet/Together with red for ruby heat/Always means you can’t be beat!’

Then she curtsied.

The kitchen was paralysed for a second. Then Gabby’s face turned the same scarlet as her frock.

‘Get her out of here!’ Gabby hissed, ferociously angry. ‘One of you! Get rid of her! Now!’

The crew were still soundlessly doubled-up and shook their heads helplessly.

Ella looked frantically at the rest of them. Ash and Billy were well into the last delicate stages of their starter, Poll was
just about to check on her scalloped potatoes – none of them could leave their food. It was going to have to be her, wasn’t it? Her Eve’s pudding was in the oven and the custard sauce only needed heating. Yep, it was going to have to be her.

Backing away from the table as discreetly as possible, she grabbed Trixie by the arm and hustled her out of the kitchen and into the hall, just as the producer and director, shoulders still shaking with laughter, indicated that the cameras should zoom in on the table to cover her absence.

‘What the hell did you think you were doing?’ Ella ripped the microphone from her red vest and yelled, as, still clutching Trixie’s arm, she bundled her up the twisting staircases. ‘You’ve probably ruined it for us now! And you
promised
. You absolutely promised!’

‘I promised not to tell Ash that you loved him,’ Trixie chirped merrily, her garland now round her neck and gaily strewing a trail of larkspur petals behind them on the stairs. ‘I didn’t promise not to sing you a winning fairy song, dear, did I? I didn’t promise not to celebrate Ruby Larkspur Day. I didn’t promise not to…’

‘OK, maybe not
promised
, but you said you wouldn’t involve the fairies tonight. You said –’ Ella peered at her as she bundled Trixie along the corridors towards her room ‘– loads of things – and why the hell are all the doors open up here?’

None of them ever locked their doors at Hideaway, but they were always closed.

‘I was letting the fairykins have the run of the place. It’s a special day for them, dear. They hate to be confined.’

‘They’re bloody fairies,’ Ella roared. ‘They fly everywhere! They don’t need open doors!’

Oh God, she thought, listen to yourself.

Trixie tittered.

‘Trixie, are you drunk?’

‘I may have had a little herbal tincture or two by way of celebration, dear.’ Trixie smiled, cross-eyed above the lopsided garland. ‘It’s a very special day for the fairykins, after all.’

Ella pushed Trixie into her room. ‘I don’t have time to argue with you. I’ve got custard to see to. Just stay there. Take those flowers off before they strangle you. Drink gallons of black coffee, go to bed – and don’t even think about bringing the damn fairykins downstairs again. OK?’

‘OK, dear.’ Trixie beamed. ‘There’s no need to shout. And anyway, I won’t need to go downstairs again, dear. I’m quite happy up here now because I’ve left my fairy friends, Larkspur and Ruby, to help you and Thistledown and Pumpkin and Kalen in the kitchen.’

Dear, dear heavens, Ella thought, firmly closing Trixie’s door, then tearing along the corridor, slamming every other door shut as she went – first Billy’s and then Ash’s…

Ash’s…

Oooh, nooo. Holy, holy shit…

Tumbling over her long blue skirt, skidding down the stairs, sliding through the hall, Ella belted into the kitchen.

Gabby was just telling them they had five minutes before plating up. Tom was discussing the joys of scalloped potatoes with Poll. Billy was carefully removing his cheese biscuits from their baking tray.

Ella sidled back along the table and grabbed her custard. Stirring as she went, she moved towards Ash who was in the throes of crumbling his Hideaway Blue.

‘Ash!’

He looked at her but didn’t speak.

Oh, lordy, she thought, this was no time to continue the sulky cold shoulder stuff.

‘Ash, when did you last feed Roy?’

He indicated the microphone, shook his head and turned away.

‘Mine’s off,’ Ella hissed. ‘Have you fed Roy today?’

He frowned at her and nodded.

‘And you locked the vivarium properly?’

He frowned again, thought, then nodded again, doing a silent mouthed, ‘Of course. Well, at least, I think so – yes, I’m sure. Why?’

‘Because,’ Ella said faintly, ‘Trixie’s opened all the damn doors up there, and when I closed yours I could see the tank – and it was empty.’

‘Right!’ Gabby clapped her tiny hands. There was a smile in her voice but murder in her eyes. ‘Time’s up. Stop cooking. Finish your plating up. Now!’

Ash and Ella exchanged frantic glances. The producer, giving her a thumbs-up, was also indicating that Ella should reattach her microphone – quickly.

Her fingers fumbled as she did so.

Now not only had Trixie managed to foul it up with her damn fairykins, but she had cold custard, and there was a python loose somewhere in the farmhouse.

Could things possibly get any better?

Poll and Billy, oblivious to anything but each other and clearly just relieved that Trixie had been dealt with, plated up on the fat roses and forget-me-not china with skill and pride. Ash, his hands shaking, slopped soup into a bowl and haphazardly added his blue cheese. Ella retrieved her – perfectly
cooked, hallelujah! – Eve’s pudding from the oven and decanted her lukewarm custard into a little jug.

‘Well done!’ Gabby spat angrily, glaring at Ella as if Trixie’s interruption had been her fault. ‘Exactly on time! Well, Tom, doesn’t this all look quite, quite amazing?’

‘It does,’ Tom said. ‘And just as well, because I’m starving. Right, shall we start with the first course?’

‘Well –’ Gabby raised sarcastic eyebrows ‘– what a novel idea! Of course, we’ll start with the first course…’

She dipped her spoon into Ash’s soup.

‘Oooh, yes! Again, yes-yes-yes!’ The fury left her eyes and she purred, almost rubbing herself against him. ‘This is nectar. Food for the gods. My word, Ash, you are a man and a half, aren’t you?’