Recipe for Love (10 page)

He laughed softly. ‘I do have one but you won’t like it.’

‘If it involves me getting a night’s sleep, I’ll love it,’ said Zoe, yawning.

‘It involves sharing my room, which is massive,’ he said.

‘Fine. I feel I could sleep on a rail just now, let alone in a massive room.’

‘There is only one bed though. It’s massive too.’

Zoe paused. They were nearly at the back door. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’

‘No.’

‘I can’t believe there isn’t another room I could sleep in,’ said Zoe. ‘This house is enormous.’

‘It’s also under restoration and lots of rooms are being decorated. But most importantly, they don’t have beds.’

‘Ah,’ said Zoe. ‘I do need a bed.’

‘So, back to plan B. But I’ve got the bridal suite, which is being done up. The painters were in there today. The bed is as big as a tennis court – obviously in case the wedding night doesn’t go that well.’

‘Right.’

‘I’m not offering to sleep on the chair,’ he said firmly. ‘For one thing we both have to work tomorrow and need a good night’s sleep, and for a second thing, there isn’t one.’

‘What? Nothing to leave your clothes on?’

‘There’s a stool for the dressing table.’ He opened the door. ‘Come on. There’s no other reasonable solution.’

Reluctantly Zoe followed him into the house and up two flights of stairs to the bridal suite. Half of her was terrified by the idea of sharing a bed with him but the other was excited. She’d already admitted to herself she fancied him. This was obviously God’s way of testing her. At the door she stopped. ‘I haven’t got a toothbrush or anything to sleep in.’

‘I’ve got those bottle brush things you can fiddle about with and I’ll lend you a shirt. Now please stop being prim about this. As I said, we’ve both got a heavy day tomorrow.’

Having given up all resistance (which she had to admit wasn’t that strong by now) Zoe found you could do quite a good job without a toothbrush with a tiny bottle brush, toothpaste and a towel. And the shirt was fairly decent provided she kept her knickers on. She would have liked some sort of moisturiser but didn’t mention it. He didn’t seem quite metrosexual enough to have any.

Gideon was sitting up in the enormous bed. He was wearing a towelling dressing gown. She didn’t ask him why. She assumed it was because he usually slept naked and was sparing her. She appreciated it though. For a
moment
the thought of what was underneath his robe flashed through her mind and she blushed. She got in the other side, keeping as near to the edge as she could without actually falling out. There was about two feet of unused bed between them. It would be fine. All she had to do was imagine Gideon was a fellow student or something. Then there’d be nothing odd about them sharing a bed platonically. The trouble was, the words ‘platonic’ and ‘Gideon’ didn’t compute in her brain. She fancied him far too much. And he was kind. He’d put himself out a lot for her. That didn’t make her like him any less.

‘There’s only one bedside light, I’m afraid.’

‘It’s all right, I haven’t got my book with me anyway. I don’t want to read.’

‘I’ll put the light out then.’ He sounded strangely formal considering they were sharing a bed, although he gave the impression it was perfectly natural for them to be doing so and wasn’t at all embarrassed.

‘Thank you. Good night.’ She lay down on her side, assuming the position she always adopted to sleep in. She felt him turn over too.

But his action had caused a tent, so she shuffled back a bit. Then she closed her eyes.

Tired as she was, sleep wouldn’t come. She wanted to turn over but as there was no sound from Gideon she assumed he’d gone to sleep and she didn’t want to disturb him.

She tried to focus on what she had to do the following day. She had her menu pretty much worked out and knew where to find the recipes but the ingredients she had brought from the cheese place were tormenting her. They were so good and unusual.

She had hundreds of recipes stored in her laptop and they’d been told they could bring recipes into the
challenge
. In theory, all she had to do in the morning was print out the ones she needed courtesy of her mini printer. But there wasn’t a recipe using soft cheese, honey and bullaces on there.

Knowing that her ingredients were excellent and she might have a couple of things the others wouldn’t have was reassuring. It was well within her abilities to produce a first-class meal but her original thoughts for a pudding seemed very predictable.

These thoughts did nothing to help her relax. In fact, they were making her more tense and further from sleep.

She searched her mind for something soothing – counting backwards (boring), seeing how many of her recipes she knew by heart (too closely connected with the competition), all her school mates’ birthdays (pointless as they were all on Facebook).

There was a rustle from the other side of the bed. ‘You’re not managing to get to sleep, are you?’ said Gideon into the darkness.

‘Sorry! I’m trying to keep still.’

‘You are still but you’re very tense. I can feel it.’

‘I don’t know what to do about that. I can’t stop thinking about the competition tomorrow. If I don’t sleep I won’t function well.’ She exhaled sharply.

He thought for a minute. ‘What would you do if you couldn’t get to sleep at home?’

‘It hardly every happens! I have no techniques. All the ones I’ve just tried make it worse.’

She felt him move again and the bedside light went on. ‘Tempted as I am to suggest some mad passionate sex is what you need to relax you, I don’t think it would.’

‘No,’ she squeaked. Was he joking? Just him saying that added a new layer of tension. If the circumstances had been
right
, and she couldn’t just this minute imagine what they might be, she’d have leapt into his arms with enthusiasm. But not now.

‘Right. I’m going to do what my mother used to do with me when I was ill as a child.’

‘Oh?’ This sounded suitably safe, assuming his mother wasn’t a witch or anything.

‘She read to me. And I’ve got something you might like.’

He got up and she could hear him rummaging in a bag. He brought the book back and got into bed.

‘Now you’ll have to snuggle up a bit – part of the relaxing process. Put your head on my shoulder.’

It took a bit of wriggling for Zoe to get herself comfortable but she did find the human contact took away some of her stress. There was nothing sexual about his offer now, of course. He was being kind and very practical. They both needed to sleep and by helping her he’d help himself. She felt a slight flicker of disappointment and then concentrated on enjoying the feeling of closeness.

‘Right, now close your eyes.’

He started to read. After a few moments she said, ‘I know what this is! Elizabeth David! Old school but lovely writing. Which book is it?’

‘Don’t worry about that, just listen.’

He had a beautiful voice, more beautiful now he was reading and not being masterful. The combination of that and Elizabeth David’s wonderful prose made Zoe stop wanting to go to sleep. She just wanted to listen.

Zoe woke once in the night and immediately worried about the following morning. Turning up at the Somerby table in yesterday’s clothes smelling of Gideon’s shower gel might take a little explaining.

She turned over and went back to sleep, fully intending to get up early and be out of the way before Gideon woke in order to avoid any awkward ‘you first, no you first’ conversations about the bathroom.

Instead, she was woken by Gideon, fully dressed, putting a mug of tea on the table next to her and handing her a piece of toast on a plate.

‘Morning. Get your laughing gear round that.’

She stared up at him. Last night he had soothed her to sleep with his beautiful voice and tales of Mediterranean food. This morning it was the worst sort of slang. She took the plate, grateful. His vulgarity took away any potential embarrassment.

‘Thank you. Is it late? I meant to get up early.’

‘It’s half past seven and Cher still isn’t opening the door. But Fen’s looking for the spare key. I thought you might as well have some breakfast while she finds it.’

Zoe sipped the tea. ‘That was kind of you. Did Fen say anything about me sleeping here?’

‘Nothing to make you feel awkward. I don’t think Cher is her favourite person. She did say we should have woken her though.’

‘What, Fen? No we shouldn’t!’

‘Rupert agreed with us. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. You should be able to get to your toothbrush fairly soon.’

Alone again, Zoe lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes. It had been lovely sharing a bed with Gideon. In spite of finding him almost unbearably sexy they’d shared a closeness that was separate, special. At least that was how she felt. Yet this morning he was all brusque efficiency. He was infuriatingly hard to read.

Now she had to face reality: embarrassment; and the knowledge that sleeping with a judge, however innocently, was definitely against the rules. She was so anxious
about
the task ahead that her contentment slowly leaked away, like cold water seeping from a burst hot water bottle. It’s hardly noticeable at first but soon the cold is too uncomfortable to bear and you have to get out and strip the bed.

As if the bed really was damp and cold Zoe got out and ran to the bathroom. A hot shower would sort her out.

Thankfully Fenella and Rupert hadn’t been around when she let herself out of the back door and scurried over to the cowshed. Cher was in the shower when Zoe let herself in in. All the fury she had felt last night came back to her. She shouted through the bathroom door.

‘Cher? What the hell happened? Why couldn’t I get in? Why did you lock the door?’

The shower stopped and Cher, possibly aware she couldn’t avoid an angry Zoe for ever, came out, wearing a towel. ‘Oh God! I’m sooo sorry! Nightmare! I had a headache and took some tablets and then I just sort of passed out.’

‘But why did you lock the door? You knew I wouldn’t be long behind you?’

‘I just did it automatically, I suppose. I am so sorry!’

Zoe brushed past Cher and went into the bathroom. Perhaps brushing her teeth with a proper toothbrush and putting on some make-up would make her feel more charitable.

A change of clothes helped too, and, believing she could now at least share a space with Cher without wanting to kill her, she went to her laptop to download her recipes. Except her battery was dead – which was odd because she’d left it plugged into the mains. But now everything was unplugged and her computer completely unresponsive.

‘Cher? Have you done anything to my laptop?’

‘Why would I? I have my own laptop.’

Frustrated and confused Zoe went to plug her computer into the mains. They didn’t have long. They had to be ready to cook soon. But her mains lead was missing. She hunted for it. There wasn’t even time to fall on Rupert and Fenella’s mercy and ask to use their computer. She asked Cher if she’d seen it but she just shrugged.

‘Does this mean you have to cook without your recipes?’ she asked.

Zoe just growled.

AFTER A SOMEWHAT
chilly five minutes’ silence, there was a banging on the door. ‘Come on, girls,’ said Mike. ‘Time to get on the bus.’

Certain that Cher had deliberately run down her laptop battery and hidden her mains lead, Zoe kept silent. She had no time or energy to waste on Cher. She had to get her head together. She snatched up a notebook and pencil and stuffed it in her bag. She not only had to think up a pudding using her wonderful cheese and honey, but a starter as well.

Cher locked the door behind them, an action that reminded Zoe she had to give Fenella the spare key back. She ran up the incline to the back door, threw the key on the table in the empty kitchen and joined the minibus, the last one to do so.

‘I saved a place for you,’ said Cher, all solicitude. ‘Poor old Zoe got locked out last night,’ she went on. ‘I passed out by mistake and she couldn’t wake me.’

Zoe was forced to take the seat next to Cher as there was nowhere else.