Then just as Jen turns she whispers in my ear, ‘You’ve no idea how much we need this, Cressy.’
No pressure there then.
16
At Clemmie’s flat
Short cuts and hungry horses
Saturday morning
It’s Saturday morning, Ross is long gone, and Diesel and I are back from our race along the beach. To help psych myself up to face twelve people tonight we called in at Crusty Cobs on the way home and invested in some croissants for a lunchtime treat. The kitchen is piled high with boxes of meringues and cupcakes ready for later, but as I’m well ahead with the preparations I had another quick chat with Clemmie and I now have a rock-solid chapter list based on themes. And to celebrate that milestone I’ve come out onto the balcony to dip into the file Jen gave me on Tuesday.
There are even more recipes than I first thought and they’re a wonderfully mixed collection. Some are jotted on scraps of paper, others carefully copied out in beautiful handwriting, some typed and printed with perfect margins and clip-art illustrations. As I pore over the method for Dorset Apple Cake and come to profiteroles that Jen’s mum sent in with the side note ‘simply delicious’, my mouth is watering. There are personalised ones, like Mrs Baxter’s Honey and Pecan Pie and Marsha’s Rum Bumble, and it would be a shame for Gossipy Pudding and Moon Mountains not to reach a wider audience.
I’ve spent so much time lately trying out my own recipes, I’m hooked on the idea of books. Which is why as I’m leafing through these recipes all I can think is that collecting these into a little pamphlet would be a lovely way for me to say thank you for all our afternoons at Kittiwake Court.
I’m filling the kettle to make a coffee when I hear the click of a key in the lock, and a second later Ross appears in the kitchen doorway with Diesel wagging and jumping around his legs as if he hadn’t seen him for days.
‘Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.’ If I’d known he was going to ambush me I’d definitely be wearing much bigger shorts. Not that I’m going to draw attention to them by explaining.
‘I’m back to pick up some different boots.’ He stares at my legs for a nano-second then his gaze lifts to my face. ‘You look happy.’
I’m not expecting a personal comment like that either. ‘Who wouldn’t be? I’m about to sit down with coffee and a box of fresh croissants.’ I’m also pleased with my idea for the recipes and where we’ve got to with my own book, but I’m not going to bore Ross with baking talk.
He looks up to scan the worktop. ‘I skipped breakfast, is there any spare cake?’
‘There are mini meringues for tonight.’ Pink, white, and chocolate chip, which I’ll be sticking together with buttercream later to have with the fizz as an appetiser. Then the plan is to make meringues from scratch and go on to build mini Pavlovas with meringues I’ve made already while they’re in the oven. I pull off a lid and push the container towards him. ‘Take a couple, see how they are.’
One crunch and he’s done. ‘Delicious. But over very quickly.’
‘That’s meringues for you.’ I pull off the next lid. ‘These cakes haven’t been iced yet, but they’re more weighty.’ They’re for the sticky-buns-on-string game, which Nell insists is a must-have. As for Ross, if he’sthathungry he’d be better off dropping by the chippy.
He takes a cake in each hand. ‘Elise had some kind of cake box full of blondies at the surgery earlier but they’d gone before I got back from the out-of-hours meeting. They said they were very moreish.’
I hitch in a breath. ‘Too bad about that.’ When I ordered my bake box labels I didn’t think as far as Ross meeting them out in the world.
His eyes are roving over the other containers. ‘Cakes in boxes sound like a good idea. You could make those in your sleep.’
Oh my stars. ‘Except I’m probably too busy. What with Tinder and everything.’ It’s more me reinforcing the wrong conclusion he jumped to earlier than an outright lie. I’ve never had the kind of cash I could splash without thinking, but I just feel very embarrassed to have got into a situation where I’m scrambling around not knowing where my next pound is coming from. And I’m extra anxious that Ross doesn’t find out when he’s so high flying and sorted himself.
‘I’dbuy them from you…’ Lucky for me he’s cut off in mid-protest by my phone ringing.
It’s Nell checking in, so I give her an update. ‘Hey, I’m all on track for this evening, not too much panicking. How about you?’
There’s a beat of silence at Nell’s end that makes my heart sink.
She gives a sniff. ‘All great, except Blake’s mum’s had a fall so he’s had to go to Truro.’
‘So we’re a man down for tonight?’ St Aidan’s buzzing, and Nell, Plum and Sophie know the whole village; there must be loads of other potential helpers we can call on.
Nell groans. ‘Everyone else I’ve asked so far is tied up with the Lip Sync Finals at The Hungry Shark.’ Which means I could be on my own to sort out this one.
‘Give me a few minutes and I’ll ring you back.’ I really didn’t want to ask for Ross’s help, but if everyone else has said no already, I may have to.
He’s peeling the last piece of sponge off his bun case. ‘Staffing problems?’ He gives a shrug. ‘Not the best night either, the women at the surgery were telling me, there’s some entertainment night on. It’s huge apparently.’
I’m too used to him having the social life of a spider. Even worse, it’s exactly the kind of thing Elise would ask him to. I’m willing my fairy g-mother to fly over, because if ever I need her powers it’s now. ‘You’re not going to it?’
