300ml coffee, made with 2 tablespoons coffee granules and 300ml boiling water
175g sponge fingers (savoiardi biscuits)
25g dark chocolate
2 teaspoons cocoa powder
Put the double cream, mascarpone, marsala and golden caster sugar into a big bowl. Whisk until the ingredients have combined and the mixture has the texture of thickly whipped cream.
Tad made everyone whisk by hand, and although Kathleen was determined to do it unaided, she’d have used her electric hand whisk if she’d been at home.
Pour the coffee into a shallow dish and dip a few of the savoiardi biscuits at a time until they are soaked, but not soggy.
Hugh half expected Kathleen to polish off hers at this stage, but she didn’t – not all of them, anyway.
Layer half of the biscuits you have left into a dish of appropriate dimensions, then spread over half of the creamy mixture.
Using the course blades of a hand grater, grate over most of the dark chocolate.
Hugh sampled some of his dark chocolate – one of his favourite treats – but he didn’t think anyone noticed.
Then repeat the layers, using up any leftover coffee and ending with a creamy layer on top.
To serve, dust with the cocoa powder and grate over the rest of the chocolate.
Kathleen told Hugh she didn’t need anyone to share her tiramisu with – in fact, anyone trying to elbow in on her dessert was promised a sharp kick to the shin, but Hugh would have loved to have been able to share his with Brian.
16
Amy leant against the rough contours of the wall as she basked in the afternoon sun. After that lunch of deliciously fresh fish, followed by an indulgent hug from a portion of tiramisu, she would have been happy to find a reclining chair somewhere and allow her eyelids to drop. But they were waiting for Billie – as per – to get some photos of her ‘wandering around Riva, doing the touristy thing’.
‘The chase is back on, then,’ Malcolm said as he fiddled around with lenses for his camera.
‘Chase? What chase?’ Amy said, adjusting her sunglasses as she did her best to quash a grin that kept trying to gain control of her cheek muscles. The revelation that Tad and Clare were not the item she’d assumed had sent Amy’s thoughts into overdrive. She’d been fooled along with everyone else, and – not that it mattered to anyone else in the same way – it was difficult to explain how the revelation was making her feel. Something had made Tad kiss her, then push her away. Maybe it was all still to play for, or perhaps she was making a castle out of nothing more than a pile of sand. Again.
‘You haven’t noticed?’ Malcolm glanced in her direction, then frowned. ‘No, maybe I’m reading too much into it. Wouldn’t be the first time…’
‘Wouldn’t be the first time for what?’ Billie crashed into the conversation, swirls of strong perfume reaching almost as far as the filmy voile of the blood-red scarf she wafted around as she completed a twirl in front of them. Her lipstick perfectly matched the red of the scarf, the colour strikingly vibrant against the foil of her tight-fitting black dress and deep curls of her short, mahogany hair. A wide, patent belt completed the outfit, in the same bright colour as the scarf. She looked magnificent. Every inch the celebrity about town. Not waiting for anyone to answer her question, she posed another. ‘What do you think?’
‘You could have dressed up a bit, made some kind of an effort,’ Malcolm said, eyebrows hitching alongside the corner of his mouth as he waited for Billie’s response.
‘Sometimes, Malc…’ Billie shook her head, her grin embedded and turning into a broad smile as she slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Always the court jester.’
‘You need a kingdom to have one of those, don’t you?’ he said.
‘Yeah, well. I’ve been thinking,’ Billie said, glancing between the two of them.
‘Dangerous,’ Malcolm said.
Billie ignored his comment. ‘After this article is done, I’ve had an amazing idea for what could be next. We can build on the momentum of this trip, the honing of my cooking skills – because I’m thinking of opening my own restaurant.’
Amy stared at Billie, aware Malcolm had also stopped whatever he had been doing with his camera.
‘You want to become a professional chef after a week at a cookery school?’ Malcolm’s question precisely echoed Amy’s thoughts.
Billie tutted. ‘Of course not – I mean, fair enough, I probably do already know more about food and cooking than most people. But I don’t intend to do the actual cooking. That would be ridiculous. I do think it would be the natural next step, though, don’t you? Full circle, back to where it all began. Providing excellent cuisine for other people to enjoy, rather than going out to try and find it.’
‘I suppose that makes sense,’ Amy said.
