Fliss nodded her head, her mouth curving downwards in disgruntlement, although she didn’t acknowledge him. Hannah hid a smile. Fliss didn’t want to be seen to be agreeing with Jason.
Adrienne looked at him over the top of her glass, taking a slow sip before saying with her usual serenity. ‘It’s important to understand the relationship we have to the land and our food. When you see where things come from, you’ll have more appreciation.’
‘Hmmph,’ replied Jason, ducking his head and applying himself to a mound of potato salad on his plate.
‘This salad is amazing,’ said Meredith, who’d already assumed the role of peacekeeper. ‘What leaves are these and the little flowers? They’re delicious.’
‘The flowers are from white and blue borage. And there’s golden marjoram and chervil in among the lambs lettuce and watercress.’
Hannah’s head buzzed. There was so much to learn. She needed a notebook to write all this stuff down.
As if by magic, Adrienne rose from the table and crossed to one of the cupboards on the side.
‘I completely forgot. Does anyone want a notebook and pencil?’ she asked as she pulled out a stack of spiral-bound notebooks in the green livery of the cookery school, along with a handful of matching pencils. Before Hannah could say a word, she handed her one of each.
‘Thank you,’ she said, a little bemused. She was starting to think that perhaps Adrienne was psychic.
When the final loaves came out of the ovens at half past three and they were lined up on the counter on cooling trays, Adrienne went through the merits and failures of each one. Alan and Meredith’s loaves had risen well, Izzy and Fliss’s were a little lumpen but had risen. Jason’s was an absolute triumph – golden, well-risen, and a perfect shape. In contrast, Hannah’s attempts had the density of house bricks and weren’t dissimilar in shape.
Adrienne gave her a kind smile. ‘It comes with practice. A lot of it is in the kneading. Jason’s got good strong muscles.’
In response he flexed his arms in a Popeye pose. ‘Ef— great guns, me.’ He shot the swear jar a look of loathing. He’d contributed seven euros already today.
‘Well, that’s a wrap for today. Well done, everyone. Dinner is at seven, if you want to come up. It’ll just be the six of you. See you all tomorrow, bright and early.’
She exited the room, leaving the three kitchen assistants tidying up and setting out utensils for the following day as the six of them peeled off their aprons and hung them on their designated hooks.
‘Phew, that was intense,’ said Izzy as she and Hannah walked out into the fresh air.
‘Yes. My head’s spinning.’
‘Mine too. I think I’m going to have a lie-down before dinner. My feet are killing me.’
Hannah looked down at her white memory-foam-lined tennis shoes and smiled to herself.
‘See you at dinner.’
It was such a lovely fresh afternoon and, as there were a couple of hours before dinner, Hannah decided that her feet could stand a little more exercise. She dropped her bag off at the cottage, grabbed a sweater and a bottle of water from the fridge as well as an apple from the fruit bowl and set off down the hill to see if she could find a path down over the headland to the road and the beach.
The wind had dropped today and her feet crunched on the flint-dotted path that led west towards the sea. Above her a couple of seabirds wheeled on the thermals, their harsh cries echoing across the open fields. She followed a path along a dry-stone wall, the sharp-edged slanting stones packed like haphazard library books, taking in the soft-eyed Kerry cattle that occasionally lifted their heads to watch her progress. Her hamstrings pulled as she walked up the hill but once at the top the view was worth it. Ahead of her she could see the golden sandy spit of Inch Beach sticking out into the sea, surrounded by the rolling hills of Kerry over the water. Energised by the breeze and the sight of the dancing white waves rushing into shore, having been inside for most of the day, she picked up her pace and began to stride down the hill to the road she could see at the bottom. Away to the right she could see the gravelly stone track leading from the road down to the beach and was delighted with her navigating skills.
Unfortunately, just ahead of her was a fence blocking the path. She studied it, wondering if she should climb it. The wooden posts and rails edged an area no wider than two lanes of the motorway and cut into the field like a dogleg. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason for it and she stared down at the ground wondering if there were something planted there that she shouldn’t walk on; beyond the fence she could see that the path carried on until the next section of fence only a few metres further on. To walk round the fence wasn’t so far out of her way but she’d have to turn left for a few hundred metres and plough across the uneven field before going straight and then she’d have to come back the same distance to join the path that she could see led quite clearly straight through the field. Adrienne had said earlier, quite unequivocally, that the land from the farm down to the beach belonged to the Byrne family.
She hoisted herself up over the sturdy fence which looked brand new and set off along the clearly discernible path which followed the dry-stone wall. Further along, built into the wall, was a half-ruined structure that had seen better days, it looked like some kind of animal shelter.
‘Stop!’
A man stepped out of the shelter, his face contorted in sudden fury as he spotted her, but what stopped Hannah dead in her tracks was the shotgun he raised and pointed it straight at her.
She’d never even seen a gun before, let alone one this close, and he was advancing on her, the gun held high.
‘You’re trespassing.’ He stopped a few feet in front of her, a squat solid man in a tweedy cap wearing a filthy waxed coat that had seen better days.
‘I… er…’
Didn’t you see the fence? You stupid or something?’
Hannah’s mouth dried.
