Izzy stared at the pair of them in matching utilitarian khaki jumpsuits and both immaculately made up. Mascara and lipstick aside, they looked as if they were about to go on an expedition up the Amazon.
Izzy rolled her eyes. ‘What are you up to?’ Did she really want to know?
‘We’re going sapphire hunting. Working from the top down,’ announced Xanthe. ‘We thought we’d dress the part.’
‘Of course, you did,’ murmured Izzy.
‘But first we need coffee.’ Xanthe moved off to the coffee machine and inserted a pod, completely oblivious to the fact that Hattie had been about to make herself a coffee. ‘It’s going to be a long day but we’re going to be methodical about it and search every room. One by one.’
‘Yes,’ said Alicia.
‘How was last night?’ asked Xanthe with an arch smile. ‘You disappeared. Early night, was it?’
Izzy narrowed her eyes, refusing to give anything away. ‘Not particularly. Do you want some breakfast? I’ve got some nice smoked back bacon from the farm shop.’
‘Oooh, Graham would love bacon and eggs,’ piped up Alicia. ‘I’ll let him know.’
‘Why don’t I make them?’ suggested Hattie, looking a little bemused by Alicia and Xanthe.
Alicia had already disappeared, presumably to tell her husband, and Xanthe followed her like an obedient puppy.
‘Are you sure?’ Izzy wiped her hands on a tea towel while crossing to the fridge to retrieve the smoked back bacon she’d bought in the farm shop.
‘Of course, I’m sure you’ve got tons to do. Do you want some?’
‘No, thanks.’ Her appetite appeared to have shrivelled up and died. All she could face this morning was a strong black coffee.
Even the scent of frying bacon didn’t change her mind, although the smell drew in Jim and Jeanette. Then Duncan and Graham appeared along with Fliss and once again the kitchen was full of people but, Izzy thought, with sudden warmth in her chest, that was the way she liked it. These people had all come to mean so much to her in such a short space of time. That was what happened when you all pulled together towards a common goal. They’d achieved so much and the castle was ready to go.
She’d survive this latest disappointment; it only confirmed her view that she wasn’t the sort of girl that men ever got serious about, but this time she had a focus.
By two o’clock, the turkey was stuffed, the potatoes were peeled and parboiled. Jason had taken charge of the Christmas pudding, which was now being steamed for the requisite eight hours. The kitchen smelled of a delightful mix of dried fruit, sugar, and nutmeg.
‘Try this, Izzy.’ He offered her a taster of the brandy butter he’d made.
‘Wow, that’s got a kick.’
‘Secret ingredients. Orange zest and stem ginger.’
‘Interesting, can I try?’ said Fliss, and without waiting for his answer, she dug a teaspoon into the bowl. ‘Mmm, that is good. I must remember that.’ She whipped out a notebook from the pocket of her apron and made a quick note.
‘Remember I want the credit on that one,’ said Jason.
‘Yeah, right. You always want the credit. Move over, I need to get these on to boil.’ Fliss was making mini bagels and had coiled the dough into small donut shapes, ready to boil before they were baked. Although not strictly Scottish, they’d agreed that they’d make the perfect foil for the local smoked salmon and crowdie that Izzy planned to serve for breakfast.
The three of them wove in and out of each other as they cooked, sharing hints and tips, with Jason and Fliss exchanging their usual insults and banter. The two of them were unlikely friends as Fliss spoke with a cut-glass English accent while Jason was pure East End London but they’d bonded over a love of food and cooking while in Ireland on their course.
‘It is so good of you both to give up your Christmas to come here,’ said Izzy. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’
‘No sweat, Iz,’ said Jason. ‘My mum and younger sisters are at my older sister’s playing grandma and aunties with my new niece.’ He shuddered. ‘Too much oestrogen all round for my liking.’
‘Jason, you can’t say things like that,’ protested Fliss.
‘I just did. Besides, why are you here?’
Fliss grinned at him. ‘Didn’t fancy the testosterone triplets on a family ski trip.’ She shuddered. ‘Skiing is no fun when it’s so damned competitive. Three of my brothers just want to hurl themselves down black runs, drink beer and beat their chests, and the other one is somewhere up the Amazon exploring the rainforest. So not my idea of fun.’
‘And cooking for a house party is?’ teased Izzy.
