I like this side of Scottie. ‘How did you get into cooking?’ I ask him.
‘I got bored at school, no attention span like Angus. Left at seventeen, got my first job in a pub making bacon club sarnies, but loved it. I don’t know what it was about being in a kitchen but I felt calm and focused for the first time in my life. I find cooking cathartic,’ he says, sticking a fork into one of his chicken thighs to see if it’s done.
Monika raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m gladyoufind it cathartic. Sometimes Scottie, being with you in a kitchen is more stressful than being in an intensive care ward.’
Lauren giggles as she whisks the egg whites.
‘Jeez, I’m notthat bad, am I?’
Lauren, Monika and my silence says it all.
‘Cooking is therapeutic,’ he stresses again. ‘It takes my mind off things.’
‘What things?’ Monika asks.
‘What to do about my wayward brother,’ Scottie says, just as Angus appears at the door, breathless and even more dishevelled than usual.
‘How’s the head?’ Scottie asks.
‘Don’t. I’m not in the mood for another lecture.’
‘You’re late. Most of the work’s done.’ Scottie’s tone is clipped. Unforgiving.
‘Don’t,’ Angus warns him again. ‘I’m here now.’
‘You’re here now! Aren’t we lucky!’
‘I’m trying, Scottie.’
‘Well try harder.’
When Scottie is out of earshot Angus tells me he’s a sanctimonious prick.
‘I heard that,’ Scottie says, sticking his head through the hatch. ‘Believe it or not, I love you. I might have a funny way of showing it, but I don’t want to see you throw your life away.’
Angus curses under his breath. ‘How are you, Lauren?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Need a hand with anything, Holly?’
Ignoring Angus, I tell Lauren the only thing we have left to do is make a chocolate sauce to go with the meringues.
‘Pat made hers with evaporated milk,’ she says.
‘Who’s Pat?’ Angus asks, as surprised as I am that Lauren has volunteered this information.
‘I lived with her,’ she replies. ‘We had mint choc chip ice cream and chocolate sauce every Sunday. I used to drink it out of the jug when she wasn’t looking.’
‘Why don’t you help me make it then?’ I suggest, still avoiding eye contact with Angus. ‘Let’s ask Nina for some money.’
‘I heard my name,’ says Nina, rushing into the kitchen in her usual scruffy T-shirt under dungarees, her hair tied back in a ponytail today.
I ask her if we can have some cash for a few tins of evaporated milk.
Nina produces from her pocket a twenty-pound note. ‘There’s a Tesco Express round the corner,’ she tells Lauren. ‘They should have some.’
‘I’ll go, need some fags anyway,’ Angus says, only to be shut down immediately by Nina.
