‘You can but ask, my dear,’ said Ambrosine, who was obviously enjoying herself.
‘What about the dried fruit, cream, milk and eggs?’ said Meg.
‘There’ll be dried fruit left over from Christmas in that cupboard,’ she indicated which one. ‘It will be very dry though.’
‘I’ll soak it in brandy,’ said Meg. ‘What about the dairy products and eggs?’
‘There’s a very nice farm near here that always used to supply the house with all those things after we stopped having a home farm. I’m sure we could get everything we would need from them.’
‘You seem to have all the answers, Ambrosine,’ said Meg.
‘I’ve lived here for over fifteen years. It has its advantages.’
‘Then maybe you can answer another question. It’s going to be quite hard to make bread-and-butter pudding look nice on a plate and we’d need some large dishes to serve things in.’
‘Come with me,’ said Ambrosine. ‘I know where all the crockery is kept.’
Meg followed the old lady down a passage into a storeroom.
‘Voilà!’ said Ambrosine, indicating a small room, probably originally used to store meat, or game. There were shelves from wall to ceiling stacked with every sort of dish and tin.
‘How do you know where everything is kept?’ asked Meg, looking at the shelves with wonder. ‘There’s so much here!’
Ambrosine didn’t answer this, pointing to the top shelves. ‘Look, there are some pie dishes and there are the roasting tins from when we did Christmas lunch for everyone who worked for us at Nightingale’s.’
‘Well, I could certainly use those for the bread-and-butter pudding. Are you really sure the dairy will be able to supply us at such short notice?’
‘I’ll telephone them. I’ll speak to the baker, too. Once I tell them what it’s for, I’m sure they’ll try their best to supply us. The banquet is important to all the local community – has been for years. Everyone will help out if they know there’s a bit of an emergency. How much cream and how many eggs?
‘My recipe book is in my suitcase,’ said Meg, ‘but I could make a rough guess.’
By the time Louise got back from her begging mission around the local farms and in the villages, Meg was a lot more familiar with her surroundings, not least because Ambrosine had given her a tour of all the many rooms adjoining the kitchen – cupboards, pantries, larders, stillrooms, as well as the servants’ quarters – which in times gone by were felt necessary to support a big house.
She’d also been led into the walled garden which, although showing signs of recent neglect, was still full of vegetables, herbs and, potentially, soft fruit. And against the walls were apples, pears and plums. One wall could be warmed by a system of flues built into it. A fire would be lit in a little house at the end and the smoke going through made the wall what they called ‘hot’. This wall supported a number of peach trees, apricots and a large fig tree.
‘Are you a gardener yourself?’ Meg asked Ambrosine as they were walking back to the kitchen, Meg holding quite a large bunch of herbs.
‘Alas, no, my skills are a little more esoteric, but I love the house and want to keep its history known by the people who live in it. I’m writing a little booklet about it.’
‘What a good idea!’ said Meg, curious about Ambrosine’s esoteric skills and hoping one day she’d be told about them. ‘I’d love to read it when its finished.’
‘Ambrosine was brilliant,’ said Meg when Louise reappeared. ‘She’s shown me everything, told me everything, and has arranged for a supply of eggs, milk and cream to be delivered tomorrow morning, first thing. She telephoned the local bakery and they’re happy to supply bread for the bread-and-butter pudding.’
Ambrosine, who was sitting at the kitchen table, nodded in agreement. ‘I knew they’d all be happy to help when they knew what was at stake.’
‘You certainly have been busy!’ said Louise, looking at the many signs of activity.
‘We changed the menu,’ said Ambrosine. ‘Except for the chicken. We’re still having that.’
Seeing the chickens simmering in large pans on the stove, Louise said, ‘Isn’t it terribly dangerous to cook chickens when they’re still frozen?’
‘I’m fairly certain it’s fine as long as I take them out as soon as they’re cooked. And of course I’ll check they’re thoroughly done. You add half as much again to the cooking time.’
Louise was still worried. ‘It would be so awful if we poisoned everyone. We could wipe out the great and the good of the whole community. It would be like the Black Death!’
‘It’ll be OK, Mum!’ Meg was laughing. ‘I waitressed for a woman who said she never had time to defrost the chicken and as long as you cook it fairly quickly and don’t leave it hanging around in warm stock – the same for any bird – it’ll be fine.’
‘We’re having hot soup to start, not that cold stuff that tastes like wallpaper paste,’ said Ambrosine. ‘Cold soup always seems wrong to me.’
