Chloé mumbles ‘Lavender.’ And that’s the most I get.
So I start listing as many as I can think of. ‘Lemon … vanilla … chocolate fudge… I’m breaking in the eggs here, it’s always good to keep your eggs at room temperature before you use them.’
As I look round the faces I’m so missing Pam and Madge and Joanie and their lovely friends telling me about their farmyards or their domestic science lessons or their sex lives back in the seventies. I’m also kicking myself. Sure, keeping it small cuts down the threat of hostile hecklers, but how did I think six would be anything other than excruciating if they were quiet rather than loud?
‘I’m folding in the flour now. I’m doing it gently, and always with a metal spoon. Anyone tried Malteser cupcakes? Or key lime ones…’ If they don’t join in soon this will be over in no time and they’ll all want their money back. ‘Excuse me one moment…’ As I catch Nell’s eye across the kitchen she pulls a face and follows me out to the utility.
I let out a groan. ‘I’m dying out there, Nell. If they were my mates I’d suggest a line of shots to liven them up.’ Alcohol isn’t always the answer, but as I stare around the shelves I’m desperate. ‘How about we borrow that bottle of gin, raid the mint plant and cordial, and hit them with a prosecco cocktail.’
‘Good thinking.’ Nell’s already got the Gordon’s in her hand. ‘Leave it with me.’
I take in the background music and Ross who’s magically appeared to hover in the doorway. ‘And please, please, please could you get those Bach Preludes off the speakers and put myCook Like Crazyplaylist on instead?’ As I shove my phone at him I’m truly grateful to Millie for insisting that he came. ‘Start it off with “Jump (For My Love)”.’
If they all still stay like boards after this, at least I’ve done my best. I’m picking up my cue cards again when I have another thought. ‘Maybe Chloe and Gavin could come over and help me put the plain mixture in the paper cases. And while I make the chocolate and lemon versions of the sponge mix I’ll tell you all about when I worked at a slimming magazine and put on four stone.’
As I set the mixer going again, at least I’m having fun even if no one else is. By the time Chloé and Gavin’s trays are ready I hope Nell’s seen their heads have almost touched twice.
I whip up a full baking tray, show it round to everyone and wave my thermometer. ‘It’s always a good idea to double-check your oven temperature.’ I’m still too raw to share the full story of my soggy-bottom day, so for now that’s the most I can manage.
As I head across the room, I have to say I’m so relaxed, I’ve got time to think how exhausting it must be to have a kitchen where you have to hike from one side to the other. It’s only as I pull open the oven door that it hits me that things aren’t as they should be. I should be met by a faceful of hot air and the whirr of the fan, but instead there’s just darkness. I jump across and wrench open the other oven too, but that’s the same.
I give a little cough that turns into a squeal. ‘I might not be needing my oven thermometer after all.’ I turn to Ross. ‘You did turn these on earlier?’
‘Shit.’ He’s there in a nanosecond. ‘Definitely. Is there a problem?’
It’swaylarger than that – failing to switch on the oven while cooking in front of an audience is more on the scale of a seismic world disaster. ‘They don’t seem to have – er – heated up.’
Chloé purses her lips. ‘I can’t help, I’ve never used them before.’
Gavin sends her a wink. ‘Someone else who lives on microwave meals? We need to get together and compare our favourites.’
As Ross prods a button the oven light comes on and the fan springs to life. ‘Damn, so sorry, beginner’s mistake, they were both in timer mode so they didn’t switch on. They’re all good now.’
‘Well, that’s fabulous news. Thanks to our technical expert, Ross, for saving the day!’ I’m the only one to blame here; a pro would have checked. But I could have done without an extra fifteen minutes of heating-up time to fill.
Nell’s waving a jug around. ‘Anyone like more cocktails? Or a quick round of musical chairs while we wait?’
Chloé’s panicked expression tells us it’s a ‘no’ to that.
Ross looks directly at me. ‘What about the game you used to play as a kid?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Him dragging up my childhood now isn’t helpful.
Across the kitchen Nell’s doing star jumps. ‘Eating iced buns dangling from the Sheila Maid! When you told us all about it at Kittiwake Court it sounded likeso much fun!’
‘Of course!’ This might just save my bacon! I make a dive for the pile of cake boxes I made as going home gifts, thanking my lucky stars I brought too many. ‘I have iced cupcakes here, so all we need now are some lengths of string, and a tablecloth to protect the floor.’
Ross is already staring up at the ceiling looking for places to hang them as he heads for the utility room. ‘Your maximalist packing strategy is paying off! You have both of those in a bag through here.’
Gavin’s down off his stool too. ‘The saucepan rack will be a great place to suspend them.’
Two minutes later I’m spearing scissors through cupcakes, and tying knots in the strings. As everyone lines up, jostling to have a go, Nell sidles past me. ‘Looks like we hit on the perfect warm-up activity.’ She clears her throat and turns to the group. ‘The only rule is, don’t use your hands! Maybe get in pairs for this one, and come in for the cake from both sides.’
Now it’s my turn to look horrified as I watch the waiting buns swinging in the air. ‘Isn’t that too much?’
Nell lets out a chortle. ‘It’s fully consensual. Any chance of breaking down the barriers this fast, we have to take it.’
Sophie watches Chloé go straight in. Seconds later she’s pushing salt caramel buttercream and toffee drizzle across Gavin’s cheek with her nose. ‘All these years of your singles club, Nell, this could be the sweetest game yet!’
