Recipe for Love (27 page)

‘The dining room is as big as a football pitch,’ said Gideon. ‘We could just clear one end of the table.’

‘No! We’d have to make conversation, or hover behind their chairs. I’m not up to either of those options just now. I’ll have a scout round for somewhere else.’

She went into the room that Fenella used as an office. Apart from the desk, which was a tottering heap of paper-work, it was perfect. There was a round table without much on it, two suitable chairs and – miraculously – an obviously working fireplace. It wasn’t really cold, it being May, but a fire would brighten everything up. A cloth over the desk would sort the mess in seconds.

The fire-lighting fairy, or possibly Rupert, had left kindling in the basket on top of some logs. It was all very dry. Zoe, who liked making fires, didn’t take long to get a blaze going. She made sure it had really taken and then put the guard in front of it and went off in search of tablecloths and cutlery.

She thought she’d sit down in the kitchen on the sofa, if only for a minute, before Rupert’s parents needed clearing up after. She’d made Fen’s office look really cosy, and the stew actually smelt quite nice by the time Gideon took it through. He’d obviously been delayed. Maybe they were complaining that their knives and forks weren’t quite as shiny as they might have been. It was true, they weren’t, but Zoe had been pleased to find the real silver and thought, in the candlelight, a little tarnish might not show. The candle-sticks themselves she had given a quick rub over.

She settled a cushion into the curve of her back and pulled a mohair throw over her, just for comfort. Then she closed her eyes.

‘You’re beginning to make a habit of this,’ Gideon said softly a little while later.

Reluctantly, Zoe opened her eyes. ‘I only sat down for moment.’ She smiled sleepily up at him.

‘I know. The same thing nearly happened to me. We were up early.’

‘Did they like their dinner?’

‘Loved it. Particularly the greens. I didn’t recognise them. What were they?’

Zoe had to think what he was talking about for a minute. ‘Oh! Oh you know! Coltsfoot! I suppose they look different cooked. There was nothing else that I could find. Thorn said they’re really good with sesame seeds. You’d better not tell them though.’ She paused. ‘I’d better get up.’

‘Stay there for a minute.’ Gideon put his hand on her shoulder. ‘I’ve got kind of used to watching you sleep.’

Zoe swallowed. She no longer wanted to sleep quite so much now Gideon was with her.

‘You know, I will have to go home at the crack of dawn tomorrow. I’ve got work to do.’

The thought of them being parted was horrible. ‘What sort of work?’ Zoe asked, although the moment she’d spoken she realised it was a silly question. He was a writer – that was his work.

‘I need to do a piece for a cookery magazine. I’ve left it really late.’

‘Do you have to go home to do that? Don’t you just need a laptop? You could use mine.’

‘I always feel sharing a computer is more intimate than sharing a toothbrush,’ he said.

Zoe didn’t know how to respond. She felt like that herself, a bit, but didn’t want to make her suggestion seem like too big a deal. She managed a shrug. She’d have offered to share a life-support machine with him if it meant
he
stayed with her. ‘Whatever. The offer’s there,’ she managed eventually.

Gideon regarded her seriously. ‘That’s very kind of you, but I have my own laptop. It’s my notes I’ll need.’

Zoe felt abashed. Of course he’d have his laptop with him. No writer – or in her case chef – would travel without one if they were in a car. And if they went by train they’d have a netbook.

‘I can make a start without notes,’ said Gideon. ‘You have another snooze. They won’t be needing us for a bit.’

As Zoe closed her eyes she thought how cosy it was – Gideon working and her dozing. To her it meant that they were friends and not just lovers.

She was still in a reverie when she heard the door open. It was Lady Gainsborough with some dishes.

‘We did call but no one came. Is there any chance of some pudding? We do like to end the meal with something sweet. Not raw fruit. That makes him fart too.’

Zoe sat up abruptly.

‘But if you’re in separate rooms …’ Zoe said, her drowsiness making her forget her role as unquestioning family retainer for a moment.

‘I’ll be able to hear it,’ said Lady Gainsborough, frowning slightly to indicate she wasn’t used to being questioned. ‘Now what about the pudding?’

‘I don’t think there is any,’ said Zoe, deciding to be firm.

‘Well, can’t you make something? Are you a cook or aren’t you?’

Zoe sighed, forced to acknowledge that given the challenges she had risen to lately, making a pudding was hardly difficult. ‘I’ll bring something through as soon as I can. How do you feel about ice cream?’

Lady Gainsborough shook her head. ‘Only if there’s nothing else, but Algy will complain.’

‘OK, I’ll find something.’

Lady Gainsborough left, naturally without saying thank you, and Zoe peered into the fridge. Gideon abandoned his laptop and peered over her shoulder.

‘I bet you can’t make anything half decent out of what’s in here,’ he said, looking at a muddle of butter, cheese, leftovers and jars of jam and condiments.

‘How much do you bet?’ said Zoe, who’d spotted a half-eaten bar of white chocolate. It was stuck right at the back and had the air of having been there for some time.

‘Fiver,’ said Gideon.

‘Done!’ They sealed the deal with a kiss. Then Zoe sniffed at a carton of cream. It smelt OK although it was a little crusty round the edges.

Encouraged, she took these things and went to the fruit bowl for apples.

‘What are you going to do with that lot?’ said Gideon.

‘Wait and see. And take a last loving look at your fiver. It won’t be in your wallet for much longer. But don’t stand over me. Go and write your article.’

It didn’t take her long to make a pancake batter and a few crêpes. Then she fried a couple of apples in butter, added a slug of calvados and then turned her attention to the white chocolate and cream.

Gideon’s bet was a fillip to her enthusiasm. She didn’t greatly care if Rupert’s parents had something delicious to eat, but she did want to impress Gideon.

She put the broken-up chocolate into a bowl and whisked it over a pan of water until it was melted. She added some of the cream and tasted it. Perfect! Just custardy enough, she decided.

Gideon was engrossed in his writing but occasionally looked up and smiled, sniffing the air appreciatively as
the
delicious smells wafted down to his end of the kitchen.

Roughly twenty minutes later, she summoned him from his corner.

‘Come and look at this! And pay your debts!’

On each of two plates lay a perfect crêpe filled with fried apple with a little pot of white chocolate custard on the side. She had sieved a little icing sugar over the pancakes and they looked almost restaurant standard.

‘Hmm, not everyone likes white chocolate. In fact some people don’t think it should even be called chocolate at all.’

Zoe swatted him playfully on the arm ‘Come on! Cough up!’ she demanded, knowing he was just teasing her. ‘And I’d better take this in now.’

Biting back a ‘ta da!’ she put a plate in front of each of Rupert’s parents.

‘What’s this?’ demanded Lord Gainsborough. ‘Custard? I only like Bird’s custard.’

‘But you love pancakes,’ said his wife. ‘Stop being so fussy.’

Zoe left the room before she giggled.

‘Did they pass the test?’ asked Gideon. ‘If they don’t like it I don’t have to pay up.’

‘Well, the custard wasn’t Bird’s, which was a bit of a downer, but apparently Lord Gainsborough loves pancakes. His wife told him he did.’

‘In which case …’ He reached into his back pocket, opened his wallet and took out a five-pound note and handed it to Zoe.

‘I wish I’d got you to bet more now.’ Zoe took the money and tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. ‘It could have been a nice little earner.’

‘I wouldn’t have risked any more than that,’ said
Gideon
. ‘I know you’re both a good cook and very resourceful.’

‘Thank you, kindly,’ she said, in a way that meant he wouldn’t guess how much his words meant to her.

‘So are you going to let me sample the pudding? I feel as I’ve paid for it.’

‘You’d pay far more than a fiver for that pudding in a restaurant,’ said Zoe, ‘but there’s plenty of batter so we might as well use it up.’

They had cleared the plates and made hot drinks for his parents (filter coffee and peppermint tea) when they heard a car. The dogs began to bark and Gideon and Zoe looked at each other.

‘Who … ?’

‘Do you think … ?’

THE KITCHEN DOOR
banged and Rupert appeared. He had the broadest grin Zoe had ever seen on his face.

‘It’s a girl!’ he said, his voice high with emotion and relief. ‘Mother and baby doing fine!’ He embraced Zoe as if she was his oldest friend.

‘Oh, Rupert, that’s wonderful!’ cried Zoe. ‘I’m so happy for you both!’

Rupert was on a high. He hugged Gideon too, saying, ‘I never want to go through that again, but it was amazing. Just amazing. Poor old Fen! Seeing her in so much pain was ghastly.’

The words spilled out of him. They listened smiling and nodding as he went on to describe the labour, contraction by contraction, and then the epidural and the birth. He even showed them a couple of pictures he’d managed to take of mother and baby which they dutifully oohed and ahhed over. At last he stopped. ‘I need a drink of water,’ he said hoarsely.

‘I’d need something stronger if I’d just gone through all that,’ said Gideon, looking a little pale.

Zoe handed Rupert the water. ‘You’d better tell your parents you’re home.’

Rupert downed the glass of water in one. ‘God! I’m all over the place – I haven’t even told them Fen’s had the baby yet! Look, would you mind asking them to come
through
while I find some champers? We must celebrate! Where are they, by the way?’

‘I turned Fen’s study into a dining room. We couldn’t quite cope with having them in here.’ Zoe paused, aware she was going to say something that might be hurtful. ‘I mean, I don’t think they’re used to kitchens.’

‘No, they’re not. But they can put up with it this time.’ He disappeared briefly into the back regions and reappeared holding a couple of bottles. ‘I put these to chill before I left.’ He unscrewed the wire on one of them. ‘So would you be a love and fetch them?’ he asked Zoe. ‘They should be here when the cork is out.’

Zoe knocked on the door of the makeshift dining room and went in. ‘Rupert’s here. He wants to talk to you.’

‘Ah! The baby!’ Rupert’s father got up. ‘Though what he knows about it, I don’t know.’

‘He’ll have been there, darling,’ said Rupert’s mother. ‘You knew he was going to be.’

Rupert’s father made a sound like an irritated lion. ‘I do not understand this modern fashion for fathers in the labour ward. Quite unnecessary and very unpleasant for all concerned.’

‘Absolutely. Never happened in my day,’ said Lady Gainsborough, shaking her head in disapproval of modern habits. ‘The men kept out of the way and only saw the mother when she was all cleaned up and tidy.’ She put down the petit point she was doing, possibly to make a change from knitting little handwash-only garments. They followed Zoe to the kitchen.

‘It’s a girl!’ announced Rupert, pouring champagne into glasses.

‘Ah,’ said his father, brought up short. ‘Well, never mind, old chap. She’s young enough to have another go. You might get a boy next time.’

Now Zoe understood Rupert’s delay in telling them. He must have anticipated that they’d want him to have a son and heir.

‘It’s a shame,’ said his mother, shaking her head, somehow implying that with a little more organisation and foresight, and less concession to modern mores, this blow could have been avoided.

‘Actually,’ said Rupert, sounding annoyed, ‘we’re thrilled to have a little girl! She’s absolutely beautiful!’