‘You’re an angel sent from heaven!’ said Caroline after a few stunned seconds. ‘Let me see what you’ve got. Megan brought chocolates that someone gave to her first – you can tell by the overdue sell-by date.’
‘First rule of regifting chocolates,’ said Fran solemnly. ‘Check the sell-by date.’
Caroline laughed.
‘So why did you make all this, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Caroline said a little later, after various containers had been inspected. ‘There’s masses!’
Fran shrugged. ‘I had all this milk. The track to Hill Top Farm is so bad the tanker couldn’t fetch it. It was all going to be thrown away so I went on to YouTube and saw what I could make with it.’ Somehow Fran felt OK about confessing all this to Caroline. It was because her kitchen was messy andshehad a kind heart; she wasn’t a critical yummy mummy like most of the others seemed to be.
‘You are clever!’ Caroline was clearly impressed. ‘I would have made a lot of custard and maybe frozen some milk but I never would have thought of making cheese.’
‘I had to use it up somehow. There was gallons of the stuff.’ Fran was glad to talk to someone about her milk surplus and equally glad that Antony wasn’t in earshot.
‘You need a market for this,’ said Caroline, digging a spoon into the mascarpone, rich and thick. ‘How did you make it?’
‘Mascarpone is the easiest: it didn’t need anything except milk, cream and some lemon juice. I’ve sent away for what they call grains, so I can make kefir, which I expect you know is fermented milk. Fermented foods are very popular. I bought rennet for some of the other cheese off the internet and luckily it arrived the next day – in time for tonight.’
‘But how are you going to sell your cheese? I’d suggest you tried for a stall at the farmers’ market but you’d have to wait ages for a space and there are regulations. Mind you, you’d probably qualify if a space came up.’
Fran had spent a lot of time thinking about this. ‘I think I might have to take it to London. I’ve got contacts there – I used to work in quite a few places.’
‘As a local girl, that seems a shame,’ said Caroline. ‘Now, I’d better put this on the table. Would youmindtaking the sponge in? I’ll take the tray with the cream and stuff.’
Fran didn’t have time to ask Caroline to keep quiet about why she’d made cheese. She sighed again. She was used to solving problems, making decisions and forward plans, but she wasn’t used to doing them without someone else to discuss them with. So far the only person who would have done that for her was Antony, but while she liked him, he was still classed as the enemy in her heart.
‘Hey!’ said Caroline, setting down the tray that now carried pretty bowls full of Fran’s various products. ‘Fran has made all this stuff from Amy’s milk. Isn’t she clever?’
‘Very clever,’ said one of the men. ‘Are you planning to sell it?’
Clearly she was going to be asked this often. ‘I think I’ll take it to London. I have contacts there.’
‘So you plan to make the cheese regularly?’ said Antony.
‘It’s a good idea to add value to the milk,’ said Fran. This sounded businesslike and sensible and better than having to admit that otherwise she’d have to throw the milk away.
‘Nothing to do with the tanker not being able to get up Amy’s track, is it?’ said Antony, who’d obviously guessed the real reason for all the cheesemaking.
‘Oh God! I remember Amy’s track,’ said Megan. ‘I had to deliver something to her once. Bloodynightmare.’She paused. ‘It was after Amy moved into the care home. I had a little look round while I was there. Fantastic position! Must be worth a fortune, that place,’ she added. ‘And all that land.’
‘Sorting out the track’ll be expensive,’ said a man in a pale pink cashmere jumper.
‘What sort of expensive?’ Fran asked.
‘Hard to tell. Could be twenty grand, could be five. I could send a man along to do an estimate if you like.’
‘It might be cheaper to get a car that can cope with the track,’ said Fran.
‘I can help you out there,’ said another man. Unlike the man in the pink jumper, he accompanied his offer with a leer. Fran couldn’t remember – if she’d ever known – which woman was his wife. She felt sorry for her.
‘How will you get your cheese up to London if you haven’t got a decent car?’ asked Megan. ‘Though I dare say Antony could lend you one if he trusted you to drive it.’
‘My car is fine really,’ said Fran quickly. ‘I can always park it at the bottom and walk up the track.’
‘I must say,’ said Antony as he helped himself to cream, ‘this does look as if it’s worth the heart attack.’
‘I could help you out with a decent van,’ said the man with the leer again. ‘Four-wheel drive, maybe refrigerated.’ He reached into his pocket and handed Fran a card. ‘Get in touch. I’ll do you a good deal.’
Frantook the card, glad that she was wearing jeans and so had a pocket. ‘I don’t think I’ll need a refrigerated van, not yet.’
