‘Overan hour,’ Shelley corrected her.
‘And it’s been snowing.’
‘Only a tiny bit. And it’s stopped now.’ She insisted that they would drive to Land’s End in a blizzard if it meant fetching dinner for everyone tonight. So with some trepidation Pearl agreed to drive, and she and Shelley set off, leaving Lena at the cottage to look after the guests.
In the village chip shop now, a cheerful woman with pink streaked hair lifts golden battered haddock from the fryer. ‘Bit peckish, ladies?’ she jokes.
‘Just a bit.’ Shelley grins.
‘So, you’ve got seven fish suppers…’ She turns to the till.
‘That’s fish and chips, right?’ Shelley clarifies, and the woman chuckles.
‘That’s right. It’s a supper up here. A fish supper or a pie supper or whatever kind of supper you fancy.’ She looks up at them. ‘Salt and vinegar on everything?’
‘Yes please.’ Pearl turns to Shelley. ‘We should get some veggie options too, shouldn’t we? Just in case?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Shelley looks down at the selection of pies in the warming cabinet. ‘What are they?’
‘Macaroni pies.’ The woman says this as if no one has ever had to ask before.
‘Macaroni? In a pie?’ Shelley exclaims, warming to the concept immediately. In all her years of family meal production, her palate has settled at the heavily carb-laden meals to satisfy a ravenous husband and kids.
‘That’s exactly it.’ The woman closes the cartons of their fish suppers and bags up the required pies. ‘Nothing better than a macaroni pie if you want comfort food…’ Her gaze veers towards the window. ‘Look, the snow’s come on really fast. Hope you don’t have far to go?’
‘It’s quite a way actually.’ Pearl glances out at the rapidly falling flakes, illuminated by the street lamp. ‘We’re staying at a B&B. Shore Cottage, I don’t suppose you know it?—’
‘Oh, Michael Lynch’s place?’ She beams. ‘Yes, I know Michael. Lovely place he has. But doesn’t he do evening meals?’
Pearl hesitates, wondering if she should explain. ‘There’s been a bit of hitch,’ she starts. ‘But it’s all fine. He’s just gone away on a trip…’
‘Ah, he deserves that,’ she says firmly. ‘Give him my best and take care on the drive home.’
In the car, they package up their enormous order in numerous layers of newspapers brought from the cottage for this very purpose. ‘It won’t keep it piping hot,’ Shelley says, ‘but it’ll help.’ On the slow drive home, snowflakes swirl in the headlights. Who cares if dinner is terribly late and isn’t what the guests had ordered? They have decided to present the chippy solution as a fait accompli, and Pearl is more concerned with following the narrow lane in the driving snow than fretting over the guests’ reactions.
Back at the cottage, with the Sampsons installed in the lounge, Shelley spreads out the fish and chips on trays lined with baking parchment and slides them into the various compartments of the Aga. Now she’s grateful for the numerous ovens. While Lena offers more wine to Frida and Roger, Pearl sets the table with Michael’s mismatched vintage china (collected, she suspects, by Rona) and lights candles. Then everything is pulled out of the ovens and the trays are set in the centre of the table. She taps lightly on Niall’s door, announcing that dinner is ready, and calls the Sampsons through from the lounge.
‘Oh!’ Frida surveys the table in surprise. ‘I thought I ordered the moussaka?’
‘That did seem a bit retro,’ Roger chuckles, already red-faced from the wine. ‘Come on, this looks great.’
She purses her lips and enquires about the provenance of the pies. ‘It’s proper hand-made pastry,’ Shelley assures her, ‘filled with a traditional combination of, er,Scottishpasta and locally produced cheese?—’
‘That does sound good.’ Frida takes her seat, and the others follow and soon everyone is tucking in happily, and wine is flowing.
‘So… there was a change of plan?’ Niall sets down his fork and looks at Pearl expectantly.
‘Erm, yes,’ Pearl starts. ‘The, um?—’
‘The Aga’s playing up,’ Shelley announces. ‘More vinegar, anyone? Ketchup?’
‘This isyum,’ Theo announces, feeding Stan a chip.
‘It’s all right, isn’t it?’ His father beams at him. Then he turns to Pearl with a frown. ‘You say the Aga’s not working? Feels pretty warm in here…’
‘It’s just a bit… temperamental,’ she says quickly.
‘Really? I could take a look if you like. We have one at home. Just had it installed in the place we’ve built?—’
