‘Yes, boss.’ She gave him a questioning look.
‘Sorry, am I being bossy?’
‘A bit.’ She didn’t mind him taking charge – in fact, she quite liked it, but she wasn’t going to let him know that.
Charlie spread a little jam on the cold plate. They waited and then the two of them squidged it with their fingers, pushing the jam together in the middle. They both pulled their fingers out at the same time and licked them. There was something oddly erotic about it.
‘Perfectly set,’ said Charlie. Regan had almost forgotten what they were doing; she wanted to do the erotic jam tasting thing again.
Regan whipped the sterilised jars out of the hot oven and moved them carefully to the granite worktop. She turned her back for a second and ‘BANG.’ One of the jam jars had exploded. Charlie immediately stepped betweenher and the row of jam jars as a series of bangs signalled that they’d all done the same thing.
‘What the actual hell?’ Regan stared at the shattered glass scattered across the worktop and floor. She’d have to sterilise another batch. ‘They didn’t do that at Dad’s.’
‘Cold surface,’ said Charlie, pointing at the granite worktop. ‘The glass has contracted too quickly.’
‘Ahhh,’ said Regan feeling like a prize idiot.Why was jam making so hard?Her shoulders sagged.
‘You know my mum would love to give you a hand with this. She’s an expert jam maker.’
‘Then why the heck didn’t you say that before?’ She clearly needed all the help she could get.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The next evening, Joanna came well prepared with three specialist jam recipe books, including a special edition Women’s Institute book on preserves, and Charlie and Beanstalk made themselves scarce. Joanna handed Regan a pinny with seahorses on it; Regan tried not to show how she felt about that and was glad that Charlie wasn’t there to see her wearing it.
‘What fruit have we got?’ asked Joanna, her eyes full of glee.
‘I got cauliflowers for free but I bought some pineapples and some coconut milk because I really want to learn how to make pina colada jam.’
Joanna laughed, but fell quiet when Regan didn’t join in. ‘You’re serious?’
‘Yep. It was the clincher that got me the stall, but I kind of made it up under pressure so we need to make it an actual thing.’
Joanna’s shock faded. ‘I love a challenge. Hang on.’ She disappeared and Regan could hear her rummaging in the hall cupboard. ‘Here we are.’ She proudly held aloft a very foreign-looking bottle of clear liquid.
‘And that is?’
‘White rum.’
Perhaps Joanna felt she needed to be steaming to make jam with her. Regan couldn’t blame her – she’d come close to turning to alcohol after her previous disasters. ‘Is it for us or for the jam?’ asked Regan.
‘The jam. It’s what’s in a pina colada.’
‘Won’t that make it alcoholic? I’d have to make sure people don’t feed it to kids.’
‘No, it’ll be fine because the alcohol will evaporate when it cooks and just leave the flavour. You’ll see.’
They set to work and Regan was impressed with Joanna’s knowledge and her willingness to teach rather than tell. Joanna had also brought something called jam sugar, which held the answer to why some of her jams, especially the pineapple ones, hadn’t been setting. ‘Additional pectin,’ said Joanna, tapping the packet.
‘To make it set,’ said Regan.
‘Exactly.’
They worked surprisingly well together. The hours flew by, until eventually they sat to have a cup of tea and marvel at the rows of pina colada jam and bowls of cauliflower, which was soaking in salted water ready for them to make it into their own version of a fine piccalilli with a curry twist.
‘Thanks, Joanna. This has been brilliant.’
‘My pleasure,’ said Joanna, raising her mug of tea. They clinked mugs. ‘It’s nice to be able to help you seeing as you’ve helped my Charlie.’
