“Sorry,” Joey replied, feeling heat touch her cheeks. God, she was such an idiot. She asked herself why she was so socially inept, something she’d wondered a thousand times over the years. “Just checking you aren’t wrecking the joint.” She turned abruptly to her chocolate duties.
“I don’t plan to,” said Vanessa, her face turning to look at Joey. “I just wondered if I was doing something wrong? Have I made some kind of kitchenfaux pas? Am I using salt instead of sugar? Messing with the wrong utensils?”
Joey looked up. Vanessa’s face was dusted with flour, and the heat of the kitchen had brought a dark pink to her cheeks, through her olive skin . “No, you’re good. I’m just not used to sharing the kitchen. Ignore me.”
“Ok,” said Vanessa, her brow furrowing slightly.
Joey felt strangely on edge for the next few minutes asshe worked methodically through her tasks. It was as if she’d forgotten how to be around people. She was never like this when Carmen came in and worked alongside her. The truth was, she was used to sharing the kitchen. Just not with Vanessa.
But why Vanessa felt quite so different was beyond her.
Chapter Seven
VANESSA
Vanessa put the two cake tins into the large commercial oven and checked the pan in which she’d placed the fruit and sugar that would soon be raspberry jam. If she’d got the recipe right, at least. She hadn’t made jam for years. It would need some more time.
She looked across at Joey. “I’m just popping out for a moment.”
Joey looked up, nodded, and then continued her work. ‘Ignore me’ she’d said, but Vanessa knew she was very much in the way. Joey clearly hated having her there.
Vanessa filled a glass with cold water and walked through the bakery, where Carmen was still busy with customers. She made her way into the narrow street and sat outside. It was a hot day, but it still felt cooler outside than in the kitchen. There was a claustrophobia to the space that she couldn’t put her finger on. It was more than the temperature of the ovens, that was for sure.
She took a generous gulp of water. Perfection. Just what she needed. Then she grabbed her phone from her pocketand double-checked what she was doing by googling ‘how to make jam’. She breathed a sigh of relief. She desperately wanted to get this right.
When Carmen had greeted her that morning, the last thing she’d expected was to be baking. She hadn’t baked anything since she was a child. But the opportunity was far too good to pass up, although she hadn’t bargained on sharing the kitchen with the grumpiest baker in Barcelona. Granted, Joey also had the best arms in Barcelona, possibly in the whole of Spain. But that was neither here nor there. She clearly couldn’t bear Vanessa’s presence.
Vanessa had spent most of her time in the kitchen bumbling around the place, holding herself back from asking hundreds of questions about where things were, what Joey was making, what particular unusual utensils were. Staying quiet was painful.
A short woman with a halo of dark curls and thick-framed glasses walked up to Vanessa’s table and let loose a stream of Spanish. Vanessa’s eyes went wide. The woman looked friendly, but Vanessa didn’t have a clue what she was saying. She mumbled that she was sorry, her Spanish wasn’t very good, but she managed it in Spanish, with perhaps the worst accent ever. The woman held up her hands to apologise.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking at Vanessa’s apron, “I assumed you were new working here. Please forgive me.” Her English was perfect.
“No, please, no need to apologise. I’m not really working here, I’m just using the kitchen today.” Vanessa reverted to English.
“Carmen is a treasure,” said the woman. “And your Spanish is better than you think.”
“You’re too kind,” said Vanessa, but her insides warmed at the compliment.
“I teach Spanish to English students, and I’ve heard much worse,” said the woman, who looked like she was in her twenties.
“Thanks. I’m Vanessa.”
“I’m Daniela. I’m Joey’s friend. I’ve come to take her out for lunch.” She beamed again at Vanessa, who tried not to let her confusion show. This warm, sunny person knew Joey? And Joey allowed this woman to take her away from the bakery? “Ah, I see you and Joey have already met.” Daniela laughed. “Her bark is worse than her bite.”
Vanessa smiled. “I don’t think I’m her cup of tea.”
“I love that expression. Cup of tea, yes.” She sighed. “To be honest, I don’t think anyone is Joey’s cup of tea, at least, not to begin with. Shall we say, she takes a while to warm up?”
Carmen emerged into the sunlight, hands on her ample hips. She greeted Daniela in Spanish before switching to English for Vanessa’s benefit. “I see you have met our new English friend.” She tutted. “I only have English bakers here.”
“I have, and I gather she’s already making an impression on our Joey,” said Daniela, one eyebrow raised.
Carmen harrumphed. “She needs to learn to be more welcoming. Anyway, perhaps you can talk some sense into her. She’s just finished the last of the chocolate, so you can take her away. Perhaps sweeten her up a bit?”
“But of course.” Daniela and Carmen disappeared inside while Vanessa drained her water glass. She needed to check on the jam.
She could hear voices remonstrating in Spanish in the kitchen as she arrived. They stopped abruptly when shewalked in. “Just checking on the jam,” she said, unnecessarily.
