‘Yes, just had a bit of a headache.’
‘I was pooped,’ said Izzy. ‘Nearly fell asleep in dessert.’
‘You did fall asleep in your dessert,’ pointed out Fliss. ‘You had cream in your hair.’
Izzy gave her a bright smile and ignored the sharp triumph in Fliss’s tone, instead turning to Meredith. ‘The smell of those herbs is just divine. As soon as I get home I’m going to plant a herb bed. I feel so inspired.’
‘Having tasted this egg, I’m tempted to say I’ll get some chickens but I live in a second-floor flat, so I’m not sure they’d be very happy on the balcony.’
‘You could move,’ suggested Izzy.
‘Yeah. Right. Of course I could,’ said Hannah with a laugh. She couldn’t imagine ever moving out of Manchester, let alone to somewhere where she’d keep chickens. It had taken her forever to choose her particular apartment because she’d been so worried about making a mistake. Her parents’ chaotic lives and the way they had died made her all too aware of the consequences of jumping into things without thinking them through carefully.
After breakfast they all headed to the kitchen, falling into pairs: Hannah and Izzy, Meredith and Alan and a silent Fliss and Jason.
Adrienne welcomed them with a sunny smile and her boundless energy. ‘How are we all today? Raring to go? As I said before, this week is all about flour. It’s the most basic of our foodstuffs but one of the most universally used around the world. Today we’re going to be making pastry. Shortcrust, puff, and suet. And you’ll be eating the fruits of your labour tonight. Chicken and leek pie, steak pudding, and raspberry puff pastry tarts.
‘Oooh, I harvested the leeks and the raspberries and pulled up onions,’ said Meredith, her voice rising with sudden excitement as she pointed to the trugs on the counter.
‘And my herbs are right there,’ said Izzy, pointing to the jam jars filled with greenery.
‘Bully for you,’ muttered Fliss, clearly not impressed with her job in the greenhouse.
Adrienne’s superpower hearing picked it up. ‘You’ll all get a turn at everything, if you want to. I want you all to feel in touch with the land and the food. Which reminds me, Jason, is it one or two euro in the pot this morning?’
He scratched his head but her steady look had him walking to the front and putting in two euros. Hannah heard him mutter, ‘Swear she’s a witch.’
The kitchen assistants filed in carrying trays of flour and butter which they deposited at each station.
‘We’re going to start with shortcrust pastry. Nice and simple. What’s the most important thing with pastry?’
‘Not to overwork it,’ suggested Alan.
‘Yes.’
‘And keep the fat as cool as possible,’ said Meredith.
‘Excellent.’ Adrienne gave a quick explanation as to why and then they were on their own.
Hannah read the recipe. She’d made pastry once in domestic science class at secondary school in Year 8, which was a million years ago.
She watched as Meredith chopped her block of butter into chunks then slid them into the bowl of flour she’d already weighed. Hannah, keeping a wary eye on the others, copied Meredith and plonked the butter into the flour, letting loose a cloud that almost choked her. She had to blink furiously to get it out of her eyes. She saw Fliss roll her eyes.
Hannah began to rub the cool flour into the butter and found herself thinking of other things, wondering why the man with the shotgun had been so irate when it turned out it wasn’t his land at all. There was something odd about his complete overreaction, even if she had been trespassing. Surely it hadn’t warranted that much anger. There was definitely more going on between the two families than she realised. Maybe she should have asked Conor. With a sigh she remembered how kind he’d been the night before. Which was a mistake because now she could stop the memories sneaking through her mind. His body over hers, those kisses. And, heaven help her, her response to him.Stop, she told herself. She had to stop. Just because it had been the best sex ever didn’t mean anything. Yes, she fancied him. And even more so when he’d been so kind last night, but he’d made it quite clear that he didn’t want anything more to do with her. He didn’t get involved with guests. Besides, Hannah told herself, men like Conor Byrne didn’t date the likes of her – guest or not.
‘Hannah,’ Adrienne’s voice beside her interrupted her thoughts. ‘You’re giving that butter a thorough workout. You need to be gentler with it. Treat it like a lover.’
Hannah blushed. Her last lover had been Adrienne’s son. God, it would be so embarrassing if that came out. What would Adrienne think of her?
‘It should look like fine breadcrumbs.’
She looked down at the mangled butter and grimaced. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t concentrating.’
Adrienne’s expression was a touch sorrowful. ‘Love. It needs love.’
Hannah winced. It hadn’t been love she’d been thinking about at all. Following the recipe, she added the water and mixed it to a rather lumpy dough and left it to cool in the fridge while they all crowded around Adrienne to watch her roll out, line, and trim her pastry to fit a pie dish. Hannah watched her skilful, deft movements, knowing that her pie was never going to look like that in a million years.
‘Right, now I’m going to demonstrate the filling. First of all, your meat is important and you should go for quality, although you always want a pair of good-sized, plump breasts.’ There was a ripple of amusement through her students, but Adrienne seemed oblivious and carried on talking. ‘I like these ones; they’re from a local butcher who specialises in rare breeds. This one is Plymouth Rocks.’
