Recipe for Love (40 page)

She awoke to birds singing and sunshine pouring in through the window. It took her a few seconds to work out where she was and why. Her feelings were so mixed she felt slightly sick, and she got up and went to the window, hoping the summer morning would soothe her.

Of course she was glad that she hadn’t won so that Cher’s threat of blackmail had nearly disappeared. (While she still had the pictures, Zoe couldn’t completely relax.) And of course she was very happy to be at Somerby where no one could get to her. But the memory of the row with Gideon felt almost like a torn muscle or an unhealed sore. She could see his face, which had once looked at her so tenderly, full of confusion and despising her.

Not that it was all her fault. They were both responsible. But at least she had been a free agent. Gideon had a wife he hadn’t mentioned. And Becca deserved to win. She was by far the best cook. But Zoe had had a good chance until she’d let her heart rule her head – and all for a man who forgot to tell her he was married.

Except she loved him. Until the parallel lines of her
head
and her heart finally crossed, she would go on loving him. The trouble was, her heart didn’t believe what her head knew perfectly well. She wasn’t stupid, intellectually, but she couldn’t convince her heart – or her body – that he was a bad man and she was far better off without him.

She had a quick shower, pulled on a sundress and went downstairs with her hair still wet and no make-up.

‘I love summer,’ she announced to Fenella and Rupert who were in the kitchen, ‘you only have to put on about two items of clothing.’ She was determined to put a brave face on it. She’d been a fool. And Fenella had warned her to be careful.

Fenella and Rupert laughed, as they were supposed to. ‘Are you saying that you are only wearing two items of clothing?’ asked Fen.

‘Yes. You’ll be relieved to hear I am wearing knickers.’ She pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘Where’s my goddaughter this morning?’

‘Still asleep.’ Rupert picked up the baby alarm as if to check it was still working. ‘She had a feed when we got in – which was quite late – but has, amazingly, slept soundly since. Now,’ he said, rubbing his hands. ‘Breakfast?’

Zoe agreed to eggs, bacon and sausages, a little surprised to find herself so hungry. Her relentlessly cheerful air was having the right effect. No one was looking at her pityingly or asking searching questions and she could just sip the mug of tea Fenella handed her and watch Rupert cook. She wasn’t sure she was going to feel like cooking herself any time soon but just being in the Somerby kitchen was soothing.

‘OK,’ said Rupert, setting down two plates laden with food. ‘Real toast or Aga toast?’

‘Aga toast, definitely.’

‘So, Zoe,’ said Fenella, once they had all they needed in front of them, ‘what are you going to do now? And why the hell did you oversalt the steak?’

‘Fen!’ said her husband indignantly. ‘You said I had to be tactful and you go right on in with your green wellies!’

‘What?’ said Zoe looking between them, wondering if she could get out of this conversation.

‘Fen said, “Now, Rupes, don’t say anything. Be tactful! Poor girl,”’ he quoted. ‘And she just plunges in, no tact at all!’

‘Ah.’ Zoe sighed deeply. She’d been sure her sundress and jaunty attitude and enormous appetite would convince them that all was well in her world. Apparently not.

‘What went wrong?’ asked Fen. ‘You were doing so well! There’s no way you’d put on too much salt by mistake.’

‘Do you think anyone else thought that?’ This could be serious.

‘What? That you deliberately oversalted the beef?’ said Fenella, considering. ‘To be honest, I suppose people who didn’t know your cooking would have thought you just made a mistake.’

‘But you didn’t?’ asked Rupert, fish slice in hand, having just added a slice of bread to the accumulated bacon fat in the pan.

‘Of course she didn’t!’ snapped Fenella. ‘She’s a brilliant cook!’

‘Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it,’ said Rupert, pressing down the bread.

‘I hope you’re going to share that fried bread,’ said Zoe, to put off the moment of truth.

‘Of course! I’ll wop it into the oven for a bit to crisp it up and get rid of surplus fat,’ he agreed.

‘I’ll make more tea,’ said Fenella, ‘then Zoe can tell us everything.’

‘Only if she wants to!’ said Rupert, wopping in the bread as promised.

Fenella shook her head, set in her role as bad cop. ‘Sorry, actually you don’t get the choice. You have to tell all.’

‘OK,’ Zoe sighed. ‘Tea and fried bread might be enough to make me spill the beans.’

‘You can have marmalade on it if you like,’ said Rupert, the good cop.

‘That’s all right. I’ll tell.’

‘The thing is – was …’ said Zoe with her mouth full. ‘… Cher had taken photos of me and Gideon together.’

‘How did she get those?’ Fenella’s indignation caused her to slam her mug down on the table and slop tea over the side. ‘We’ve gone to so much trouble to make this place secure and discreet so people can come here and feel relaxed.’

‘She took them while we were foraging in the woods,’ Zoe explained. ‘She didn’t get into the bedrooms or anything.’

Fenella sighed and sat down. ‘Ah.’

‘You were caught frolicking in the woods, were you?’ said Rupert, an eyebrow raised in mock disapproval.

‘We were foraging,’ said Zoe with dignity. ‘But maybe we did have a little kiss.’

‘That’s the absolute pain of mobile phones with cameras on them!’ said Fenella. ‘Look at the trouble they cause!’

‘That said, I’d never take photos at all if I couldn’t do it on my phone,’ said Zoe.

‘True,’ Fenella agreed. She sighed. ‘So, she took photographs. When did you find out?’

‘Not until we were in London before we cooked for the final challenge. She said if I won she’d take the photos to
the
press – I think she probably knows a paparazzo or something. Anyway, she or her uncle seem to know everyone. And she said it would bring the whole programme into disrepute, which it would, and ruin Gideon’s career too.’

‘What about your career?’ asked Fenella.

Zoe smiled and bit her lip. ‘I don’t think she thought I had one. And, currently, she’s right.’

‘So did you tell Gideon? What did he have to say about it?’ asked Rupert.

‘He was furious. He said I shouldn’t give in to blackmail. But as everything Cher was going to say was true, I didn’t think I had any choice.’

Fenella put a sympathetic finger on Zoe’s arm. ‘And … did you fall out about it?’

Zoe almost laughed. ‘He was incandescent! I couldn’t make him understand that I had no choice. I had to mess up the competition.’

‘I have to say, you could have done it a bit more thoroughly,’ said Rupert. ‘You actually cooked a blinder. That’s what made me so suspicious about the salt thing.’

‘Oh God, I see that now. At the time I just went into the zone – I knew I couldn’t win so I didn’t worry about winning, I just followed my plan. Then I decided what I was going to do to ruin it.’

‘But the others made mistakes too,’ said Rupert. ‘You were consistently the best.’

‘Rupert’s a big fan of cookery competitions,’ Fenella explained. ‘Not sure why.’

‘You’re a big fan of property programmes,’ he countered. ‘I really don’t know how you explain that. It’s not as if we don’t have enough property to cope with here.’

‘But Rupert, do you think people will guess I threw it deliberately? This is worrying!’

‘Everything else did go rather well,’ said Fenella.

‘It’s mad! I know if I’d been trying to win all sorts of things would have gone wrong. I was just so worried that Gideon’s career would be destroyed …’ Her voice slowed as she realised she’d said a lot more than she’d intended. ‘And then I found out about Gideon and realised I’d lost far more than a bloody competition …’

‘I think we need more tea,’ said Fenella, flapping a hand at Rupert but without looking at him. ‘So you really love him?’

Zoe took a deep breath. ‘It was bad enough that he was cross with me but then before I could talk to him about it, I saw them …’ She tailed off, her throat closing up with tears.

‘So you really love him?’ repeated Fen gently.

Zoe nodded. ‘But it’s hopeless. Not only will he never want to speak to me again but he’s married. I may be extremely dumb but I’m not going to waste my life being in love with a married man. Even one who did care about me,’ she added.

Fenella didn’t speak for a few moments. ‘You’re probably wise. But you did seem good together.’

‘For a short while we were, although I could have done without all the guilt and stuff. And that was before I knew about his wife!’

‘And don’t worry about the competition thing,’ said Rupert. ‘Viewers wouldn’t know what a good palate you have.’

Somehow this reassurance made Zoe feel worse. When the baby alarm showed signs of life she leapt to her feet. ‘I’ll go!’

‘She’s not really awake yet! You could leave her a few—’

But Fenella’s words faded as Zoe flew up the stairs, grateful for an excuse to escape.

*

Sarah and Hugo arrived in time for dinner that night. Zoe acted as Rupert’s sous-chef and made several sorts of potatoes and different vegetables. She wanted to keep busy and Glory could only be cuddled for a certain number of hours in the day, given that she had a mother.

They didn’t talk about Zoe’s situation much. They knew it would all be thrashed out later, round the table, with Sarah and Hugo. Zoe felt like a hot-air balloon with no hot air. All the cooking, the worrying, the practising and eventually doing so well had been all for nothing. Now all she had left was the sense that she’d been an utter fool, a silly girl dazzled by an attractive powerful man. Her self-esteem was about as low as it could go. Keeping busy was the only thing that could stop her flinging herself on her bed and sobbing for days.

Rupert’s lavish hospitality meant bottles of champagne and Pimm’s were offered when Sarah and Hugo got there.

‘Have a King Pimm,’ said Rupert. ‘Cava and Pimm’s – less sweet and four times as intoxicating.’

‘I’d rather just have a glass of fizz,’ said Sarah. ‘Pimm’s goes to my head so.’

‘Have proper fizz then. We’ll keep the Cava for the Pimm’s.’

Zoe sipped her glass of champagne slowly. She was too worried to feel remotely celebratory. The jollifications lasted too long for her. She wanted to talk to Sarah and Hugo about her problem: Fenella had been so confident that they would have just the answer and Zoe remembered how interested Sarah had been in her plans before.

Hugo seemed to sense her anxiety and sat down beside her. He asked her gentle questions about the competition, her food and how she chose her menu while the
others
laughed, got knives and forks on to the table and opened bottles.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Hugo. ‘Sarah has a plan, and if Sarah has a plan, all will be well.’

Sarah’s plan involved a friend with a deli. ‘She’s just taken it over from someone who wasn’t much good at it. She wants to do a complete relaunch.’

This sounded interesting. ‘Oh?’

‘It’s a nice little shop, in a lovely situation in a perfect deli-type town – you know, lots of foodie types who want weird—’

‘Esoteric is the word we prefer,’ said Rupert.

‘Weird ingredients,’ Sarah went on. ‘But she’s got a hell of a lot on. I gave her a ring this afternoon to see if she might fancy a lovely assistant …’

‘And?’ Zoe couldn’t bear the suspense.

‘She fell on my neck, so to speak. She’d love to have you.’

‘But she doesn’t know anything about me!’

Sarah shook her head. ‘I told her you were a good cook, resourceful, and kept your head in a crisis. The only downside is she can only afford to pay you the minimum wage. You’re worth far more but if the business goes the way it should, she’ll be able to offer you more …’

It only took Zoe a second to make up her mind. It sounded perfect. She’d be busy and doing things she loved. It would also be good experience for when she eventually opened her own deli – which she was more determined than ever to save up for. ‘It’s exactly what I want. I don’t mind too much about the money, I just want to be doing something. Hard work is the cure for almost everything!’

‘Good for you!’ said Rupert, putting a large hand on her shoulder.

‘Yes, well done,’ said Hugo.

Zoe put on a smile. ‘So, where is this deli then? Not too far away, I hope.’

‘Oh no, it’s in the Cotswolds.’

‘Whereabouts?’ asked Zoe, pleased to think she’d be in striking distance of home and of Somerby.

‘It’s in Fearnley,’ said Sarah. ‘Just outside—’

But Rupert and Fenella had burst out laughing. ‘We know where Fearnley is!’

‘You do?’ said Zoe. ‘Where is it, then?’

‘It’s where Rupert’s parents live!’ said Fenella, getting hysterical. ‘They’ll probably go into the shop and you’ll be serving them all over again!’

Zoe caught their amusement. ‘Well, at least I know not to serve them peas or beans.’