Sophie carries straight on. ‘The hosts are all close by in the village, we’ve hand-picked the nicest people with the best kitchens to ease you in, we’ve pitched the price so high you can’t lose. And we’ll all be there to smooth you through.’
I’m smiling round the table at them. ‘Put like that, it’s a win-win-win! What’s not to like?’
Millie’s nodding. ‘And Ross can come too!’
What’s that saying about picking your battles? If I need to insist on one thing, Ross not coming will be it. ‘I’m sure with all of us there, we don’t need to inconvenience Ross.’
Millie lets out a wail. ‘But we can’t miss Ross out! He’s proved that he’s great at washing up, and he’s also on the lookout for a wife. And as Mum says, he currently has the social life of a water snail.’
Ross gives a groan from the sink. ‘Thanks so much for bigging me up there.’
With a build-up like that for him, I’m feeling generous enough to give way on this. ‘Fine, he can come the first time. But he has to take responsibility for his own social life after that.’ I know they’re all only trying to help, but if I’m being overruled on Ross there has to be a little bit more of me in there too, because I have to feel like I’m in charge of my own destiny. ‘If it’s okay with all of you, I’d actually like to kick off the first evening with a selection of cupcakes.’
Millie lets out a whoop as she closes a brownie box. ‘You’re Cressida Cupcake, you have to start with those!’
I do love this child. But there’s one thing to get straight before we start. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to afford to payallof you for your time though.’
Nell gives a cough. ‘We’re coming to help as friends – we’re free until you’re up and running.’
That’s a relief. ‘Thank you. And if the first couple of evenings work out, we’ll take it from there.’ Hopefully by then I’ll feel like I own this enough to manage on my own. Which only leaves one other crucial question. ‘When are we doing this?’
Nell grins at me. ‘You’re at Kittiwake Court for buttercream piping on Tuesday afternoon, which is perfect practice. So how does Wednesday evening sound?’
Crap crap crap! How can it be so soon?But I need to get this off the ground, and what’s more, my mouth is moving with no help from me. ‘Brilliant! Couldn’t be better!’
I can’t believe I just said that! It’s not what I’d planned, I’ve never been less in control. But times are desperate. All I can tell myself is, like my ongoing soggy-bottom tweets, it’s temporary, it won’t be for ever. Before I know it my stay here will be over and my life will ease back to what it was before. Even if I embarrass myself hugely here in St Aidan, I’ll never have to face these people again after I’ve left.
I beam along the faces at the table. ‘Fabulous! So if anyone fancies some brownies to celebrate, how about I put the kettle on and make us a pot of tea?’
There’s a cough by the sink. ‘That’s already done!’ Somehow Ross is putting cups onto a tray next to a steaming teapot. ‘Give it a couple of minutes to brew and you’re good to go.’
I’m a sixth child, I’m completely used to fighting for everything. But this has left me open-mouthed and staring.
Nell sends me a wink. ‘Great choice of housemate, Cressy. You may never have to make a hot drink ever again.’
Millie’s catching my eye too. ‘What did I tell you? Mum’s right, this one could turn out to be a keeper.’
Sometimes the only way forward is to turn to cake. I smile at everyone as I head for Clemmie’s tower of mismatched plates. ‘Let me pass you all some brownies – before Ross beats me to it.’ And something else crosses my mind. Sure, I need the cash, but I’m not the only one in need. ‘This all grew from Kittiwake Court, and if all of you are helping, it’s only right we give some of the proceeds to them.’
At least that way, when I’m having to rub hips with the awful Ross next to some stranger’s microwave, it’ll be easier to justify to myself that it’s for a good cause. Truly, if it were only for my benefit, I might have to call it off.
12
Cressy and The Little Cornish Kitchen, on tour at Saxifrage Cottage
False starts and green cupboard doors
Wednesday evening
‘How about we call a truce? Just for tonight.’
This is Ross talking. We’re one step away from the pink front door of the house we’re heading into. It’s my first cupcake evening, and as our frowns lock over the tops of the boxes of kitchen utensils we’re both carrying, I have to say, the man has a talent for choosing his moments. As the huge car he’s borrowed from Charlie is currently wedged in the steepest cobbled lane in St Aidan, I’m not about to argue. On the plus side, this should be our second-to-last load.
‘Sure.’ It’s one word. After everything Ross has held against me for all these years, that’s all he’s getting. It’s also massively more than we’ve exchanged in the last four days. Since Nell and Sophie and the littlies left the flat on Sunday – for Ross’s benefit, not mine – I’ve made every effort to avoid him. I’ve got out of bed extra early and dragged poor Diesel miles along the beach to be certain we didn’t get back until Ross had left for the surgery.
Baking prep for this evening’s event has been crammed into the day, then I’ve huddled Diesel and Pancake into my bedroom before Ross came home and stayed there reworking the running order for this evening until he shut himself away in his. I only tiptoed out to do more in the kitchen when I was certain he’d flushed the thunder-box in the bathroom and settled down to sleep.
The one exception was at the buttercream fest at Kittiwake Court yesterday, where he showed up and pointed his mobile at me. If he wanted to film Walter enjoying residents’ activities, I wasn’t going to stop him. And even when he came in close to catch how I was using different pipes to make the petal shapes on the flowery cupcake tops, I still managed to turn away so he didn’t actually have to face me.
