They’d removed any of the transplanted primroses that had faded earlier in the day, and Tig had lit the perfect fire, giving light and a bit of flame, but very little heat.
Fairy lights were draped along the windowsills and pinned across the newly exposed beam over the fireplace. Tea lights on the tables and well-placed table lamps gave the room a warm, inviting glow. Yes, there were far too many tables and chairs, yes, people would be a bit cramped, but the atmosphere was delightful.
‘Verygemütlich,’ said Antony.
‘What does that mean?’ asked Issi.
He gestured. ‘Cosy, warm, intimate. What this is, really.’
Fran knew the word and was pleased. It was exactly the effect she and Issi had been aiming for.
Before she could say anything they heard another car and she made for the door. For some reason she didn’t want to be caught in the dining room.
‘Hey! No need to run away,’ said Antony, following her.
She paused. ‘I know but I must get my mushrooms into the oven. Is? Do we need Seb to make the aperitif or have you done it?’
‘It’ll need testing,’ said Seb. ‘Antony’s driving tonight.’
‘Youdo that then, I’ll get back to work.’
Fran knew the deal. At a supper club you were not only the chef, but the hostess, you had to put in an appearance. It was annoying there wasn’t anywhere for the guests to mingle before taking their seats but there just wasn’t. When she took off her grubby apron and replaced it with a clean one, and went to say hello, everyone would be seated. It would be like making a speech rather than going up to groups of people and saying hello.
As there was nothing she could do about it, she took a deep breath and went into sitting room.
She took a moment to admire it. Everything looked even better now the chairs were filled and everyone was chatting. Proximity lent itself to conversation and a lot of people knew each other anyway.
She banished the feeling that she was the headmistress about to address her school at a mealtime, coughed and waited for people to be quiet.
No one noticed. Antony, who was sitting quite near her, banged his fork on his water glass.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, if we could have your attention please!’
Although she was grateful to him, Fran now felt obliged to make a speech. She’d keep it short.
‘Welcome, everyone. It’s lovely to see so many of you here. I hope you’ll bear with us if everythingdoesn’tappear bang on time. We’re not a restaurant, and we can’t get the staff – so I’m relying on friends to look after you. Please finish the Heavenly Dew and the canapés and then we’ll get your beetroot salad with home-made feta out to you. There are menus on the tables but it’s not a choice, it’s a warning!’
Obligingly, people laughed at her joke and Fran was able to retire to where she felt she knew what she was doing.
Issi came in with empty canapé plates and glasses stacked on a tray. ‘I can’t believe the washing up has started before the meal is on the table! Where shall I put this?’ Every surface appeared to be covered with plates of beetroot salad, including Amy’s ironing board.
‘We need another tray or five really,’ said Fran, mentally cursing herself for forgetting something so basic.
‘Tell you what, I’ll empty this lot into this cardboard box and then fill up the tray. Tig’s here. He’ll serve salad if you ask him.’
‘Thanks, Issi,’ said Fran. ‘It’s great having you here. You’re always so calm.’
Issi made a dismissive noise and started putting plates on the tray. ‘We take it in turns. I’m calm for you, and you’re calm for me when I need it.’
The hardest part was getting the food to the tables, trays notwithstanding. There was hardly any spacetowalk between the chairs and there had to be a lot of reaching over and passing. But people didn’t seem to mind, Tig and Seb helped with corkscrews, and only a few people had forgotten to ‘bring their own’ with regard to wine.
When at last the cheese boards (made by Tig with an old oak bough and his lathe) were on the tables, and everyone was tucking in, Issi came back into the kitchen.
‘You’ve got to go out there now,’ she said to Fran. ‘Everyone wants to congratulate you.’
‘OK.’ Although she knew this was part of the deal and she wasn’t usually shy, now she just wanted to stay in the kitchen and wash up.
She was very pleased with the meal. She’d tasted a crust of pastry and knew it was delicious, as was the rich pie filling which was tasty and not too gamey. The vegetables were mostly perfect, though a few carrots may have been a little too al dente for some.
