by Cassie Hamer
‘Oh, no, stay, please stay. Actually, you are just the person I wanted to see.’
Beth’s laugh was brief and high-pitched. ‘You’re the only one to say that to me all day.’ She walked tentatively into the shed and perched on a stool, her fingers tightly entwined in her lap. ‘Cara, I need you to answer a question honestly – do I crowd you? You and Poppy?’
‘Crowd us? How do you mean?’
‘Oh, you know. Meddle in your lives. Come around too much. Force myself upon you.’ Beth looked at her anxiously. ‘Tell me the truth. I won’t be offended. Truly.’
Cara took the stool next to Beth. ‘Oh, no, you’re wonderful to us. We’re so lucky to have you as our neighbour. Your advice, your recipes, the way you worry about Poppy like she’s your own child.’ She cocked her head. ‘You know I think of you as the aunty I never had. Where is this coming from?’
Beth waved her hand in the air. ‘It’s silly, really, you’ll probably laugh when I tell you.’ She paused. ‘Tonight, I went over to the Devines’, just to say hello and tell them about bin night, and see if I could add a little of my rubbish to theirs … Anyway, when I went to put my bag in their bin, I found my quiche at the bottom of it.’
Cara’s eyes widened. ‘The whole thing?’
Beth nodded. ‘Every bit of it. Virtually untouched, as far as I could tell.’
‘They just threw it out?’ Her hand went to her chest. All the love and care that Beth put into those quiches – pastry made from scratch, free-range eggs, naturally cured bacon. Cara had begged for the recipe, hoping to recreate the magic. Poppy loved it, and while Joy moaned about the lack of garlic and chilli, even she would never have contemplated not eating it. The offering and taking of food was a matter of respect and ritual. You couldn’t throw that in a bin.
‘I know I’m probably overreacting. It’s just a quiche after all, and actually it’s not so much the food I mind, but it’s the way Charlie spoke to me. I think I crossed a line.’
‘By giving them a quiche? You were welcoming them to the neighbourhood, being friendly,’ Cara burst out.
‘Well, I suppose it’s not compulsory to be friends with your neighbours. Like Max says, sometimes I do come on a bit strong. Perhaps I need to let go a little. Be cool, as the kids would say.’ Beth gave a twisted, sorrowful smile. ‘Sometimes I wish they were little again, like Poppy. All they need at that age is love and food and a roof over their heads.’
Cara flinched. A roof over their heads.
She should tell Beth about the visit from Will Parry. She would know what to do.
As Cara went to speak, there was another knock at the door, and both women jumped.
‘Hey guys, I saw the light on and thought I’d pop in for a chat.’
Alex stepped into the shed and stopped, her gaze going from Beth’s worried face to Cara’s extremely sombre one. ‘Oh shit. Have I interrupted something? I’ll leave. It’s fine.’ She backed away into the dark night.
‘No, no, you’re very welcome here. Right, Beth?’
‘Certainly.’ Beth nodded vigorously. ‘I think we could definitely use another wise head in this conversation.’
‘Well, I don’t know about a wise head but I do come bearing gifts.’ From behind her back Alex produced a block of 70% cacao chocolate.
‘Oh, perfect,’ said Cara. ‘Exactly what we need.’
‘I would have brought champagne, but I have news.’ Alex paused and shuffled her feet. ‘I’m pregnant … I think.’
There was a beat of silence as Cara and Beth digested the news and then gasped with excitement.
‘That’s wonderful, I’m so happy for you.’ Beth rose and folded the younger woman in a warm hug.
‘Oh, so amazing,’ said Cara, kissing Alex on the cheek. ‘And you said a third child would not be possible.’
‘It wasn’t, actually. This is all a bit of a shock.’ She took the stool next to Beth’s.
‘Well, it’s exactly the good news I needed to hear. How far along are you?’ Beth asked.
‘Only a few weeks, I think, so it’s probably a bit silly of me to be saying anything. And the test might be a bit dodgy.’ Alex fiddled with her hands. ‘But I knew I could trust you both.’
‘We won’t tell anyone until you tell us it’s okay.’ Cara unwrapped the chocolate and broke off pieces for Alex and Beth. ‘Cheers!’ She held hers up.
‘To the baby,’ said Beth.
‘Cheers,’ said Alex, choking on the words.
‘Sweetheart, what is it?’ said Beth.
‘I’m happy,’ sighed Alex. ‘But I’m also secretly freaking out because as much as I want this baby, the twins are so full-on … and then there’s my job … and James thinks we should move up the coast and I don’t want my brain to die.’ Her voice started to break.
Beth rose and began to rub Alex’s back. ‘There, there, honey. It’s going to be okay,’ she soothed. ‘You’ll make it work, whatever happens.’
Alex accepted the tissue box offered to her by Cara. ‘I’m sorry. I really didn’t come here to burden you with my problems.’
‘No, poor Cara here has really copped the lot tonight,’ said Beth.
‘How so?’ asked Alex and Beth proceeded to fill her in on the quiche incident.
‘Pardon my language, but what a bitch! You know something else? The Devines’ cat killed our guinea pig, and she didn’t even apologise,’ Alex huffed.
‘What? Little Henrietta? She was so cute!’ exclaimed Beth.
‘Oh, Poppy will be devastated. She loved Henny,’ said Cara, wondering how she could possibly avoid telling her.
The women collapsed into glum silence and Beth bit off a large chunk of chocolate. ‘Well, that’s two of us who’ve had run-ins with the Devines. What about you Cara? Anything to tell us? Bad news tends to come in threes.’
Cara flexed her fingers and took a breath. ‘I think Poppy and I are going to be evicted.’
‘What? No, you can’t be,’ said Beth, sitting up straighter on the stool. ‘But why? You keep this place so beautifully. The old owner loves you two.’
‘Oh, it’s so sad. Poor Mr Parry passed away. His son came to see me today. It was very sudden. A heart attack.’
‘Ah, so that’s the man I saw here this afternoon. Very handsome.’ Beth dropped her eyes. ‘Not that I was watching … so sad about his father,’ she murmured.
‘Yes, very sad,’ said Alex perfunctorily. ‘And now they want to sell, don’t they. We see it all the time at the firm. Offspring who try to flog everything before the body is even cold in the grave. But you know they have to wait for probate to be granted, which can take months, and in that time they might change their minds. In ten years, this cottage will be worth twice what it is now, the way prices are going. Get Max to help you put the figures together. Convince them to hang onto it.’
Cara thought of Will. The set of his mouth, so straight and firm. Arms crossed defensively. His eyes, critically appraising the cottage. ‘He seemed quite definite. His brother and sister need the money…’ She trailed off.
Beth crossed her legs and leant forward. ‘Didn’t you and Pete talk to Mr Parry about buying the cottage at one stage? As I recall, he was pretty agreeable.’
‘Oh, he was, but now, financially …’ The words fell away. Money was her least favourite topic, probably because it was one of her mother’s favourites.
‘Of course, of course. It’s hard enough for a working couple to buy something, let alone a single mother,’ said Beth, flustered. ‘You don’t have to explain.’
‘No, no. You are friends … Pete did leave some money. His superannuation and life insurance. I’ve been saving it for Poppy. But it’s not enough anyway.’
‘Could your parents help to make up the difference?’ said Alex. ‘I know if it was my boys I’d do whatever it took.’
‘Oh, maybe,’ said Cara, feeling a little defensive. She knew her neighbour meant well, but her forthrightness could be unnerving. Not everyone was lucky enoug
h to have a kitchen with a double oven and smart-fridge, and no doubt parents who could give them half a million dollars. ‘Mum and Dad have an embroidery business, and they’re comfortable … but they don’t have much to spare, if you know what I’m saying. They’ve always rented.’
‘My parents have run a corner store for thirty years and never taken a holiday,’ said Alex matter-of-factly. ‘I know exactly what you’re saying.’
Cara coloured. So much for her assumptions about Alex’s background. ‘I will ask them.’ But would Joy and Sam understand her need to stay in Cuthbert Close? Her mother thought the cottage was a dump and didn’t understand the idea of an emotional connection to a home. No wonder Cara’s childhood had been a continual round of moving from one apartment to the next. For Joy, the promise of something slightly better was reason enough to uproot their lives.
She looked from one woman to the other, shoulders hunched, frowning and silent. She stood and clasped her hands together. ‘I think we should cook.’
‘What? Now?’ Beth checked her watch. ‘It’s nearly ten o’clock.’
‘I do my best work after ten,’ said Cara, busying herself with pots and pans under the bench. ‘I’ve got an idea that I’ve been wanting to test out for ages, and your chocolate has just reminded me.’
‘Ah, Cara.’ Alex raised her hand. ‘You’re forgetting that I’m a complete disaster in the kitchen. I’m also thirty seconds away from falling asleep.’
‘This is going to be super quick and easy. Promise. You’ll be in bed by ten thirty and all you need is to be able to work a spatula,’ said Cara.
‘What’s a spatula?’ asked Alex and the three of them burst out laughing.
‘Right, we need flour, cocoa powder, butter, milk, peanut butter, brown sugar, vanilla essence and cream. Beth, you get the ingredients, and Alex, you start breaking up the chocolate, but put on one of these so you don’t mess up your work clothes.’ Cara retrieved three aprons from a hook on the shed wall and handed them out.
‘Yes, sir.’ Alex saluted.
‘Sorry, I can get a little bossy in the kitchen.’
‘It suits you, in a crouching-tiger kind of way.’ She stopped. ‘Sorry, that’s cultural stereotyping, isn’t it.’
‘Maybe, but just wait for my hidden dragon,’ Cara joked.
Beth started sorting through the mini-pantry under the bench. She’d helped Cara in the shed a few times when she’d needed a kitchen hand for a particularly tricky recipe.
‘What are we actually making?’ said Alex, watching the flurry of activity as Beth whipped out ingredients and Cara produced an array of measuring cups and spoons.
‘It’s one of those cakes you make in a cup in the microwave.’
‘Oh yep, I’ve seen packet mixes for those at the supermarket.’
‘A packet mix for a mug cake? But they’re so easy.’ Beth stopped working for a second to look at Alex.
‘The twins think every cake comes out of a packet, and I’m inclined to let it stay that way.’
‘Well, you can’t get a packet mix for this one.’ Cara got out her notebook and started scribbling. ‘This one is going to be a muddy chocolate sponge with a gooey peanut butter centre and a hot butterscotch sauce to top it all off. And maybe a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream to finish.’
Alex groaned. ‘Sorry Cara, but you are turning me on right now. Not sure about you ladies but when I’m pregnant, the words chocolate and butterscotch are like foreplay.’
‘I guess we better get a move on then, so we can get to the climax,’ said Cara.
Alex stared at her. ‘Um, where has my friend Cara Pope gone? And who replaced her with this saucy minx?’
The women took roles. Cara scribbled and issued directions for the steps, while Alex smashed the bar of chocolate and Beth did the mixing. Within ten minutes, the microwave pinged and out came three steaming mugs of delicious chocolatey goodness.
Alex held up a spoon. ‘Can we eat? Now?’
‘Just a second.’ Cara whipped a container of vanilla bean ice cream out of the small freezer and placed three scoops over the chocolate sponges. Quickly, she poured the butterscotch sauce over the three mugs so that it dripped decadently down the sides and onto the tray below. As a final flourish, she took a vegetable peeler and shaved delicate chocolate curls on top.
‘Now?’
‘Nearly.’ Cara flicked on the bright photography light, carried the tray over to the table in front of the white wall, picked up the camera lying nearby and started snapping.
‘This is excruciating,’ whispered Alex to Beth, watching Cara intently.
‘She’s always quick.’
True to Beth’s word, the photo shoot was done in a minute. With the ice cream starting to melt and puddle with the butterscotch sauce, the cakes looked even more delicious.
Alex’s stomach growled audibly. ‘The baby needs food.’ She patted her tummy and Cara handed one mug to Alex, who started to eat hungrily, and another to Beth, who was more tentative, smelling first before taking a small mouthful that she rolled about her mouth, like a critic in a restaurant.
‘It’s really very good.’ Beth inspected the spoon. ‘I would never have thought to use peanut butter at the centre. So clever.’
Cara took up her camera again and started snapping photos of the pair of them eating.
‘Oh jesus, it’s out of this world. And I don’t even care if those photos make me look like a pig.’ Alex spoke with her mouth full and her eyes closed in ecstasy. ‘It’s like I’ve died and gone to a heaven that’s filled with melted Snickers.’
‘Oh, that’s perfect.’ Cara lowered her camera. ‘I’ll call it Melted Mug Snickers. Thank you,’ she said to Alex.
‘Ha! All I did was eat the damn thing. You made it up.’ Alex spooned another mouthful of the divine concoction towards her lips. ‘Aren’t you going to eat some?’ She gestured towards the third mug.
‘In a sec. Just want to post these while the inspiration’s fresh. Why don’t you have it? Eating for two and all.’
Alex looked at Beth. ‘How about we go halves? We’ve both had a tough night. It’s the least we deserve.’
‘Too true,’ Beth agreed.
For the next few minutes, the only sounds were the clinks of metal on ceramic, the occasional groans of ecstasy and Cara tapping away on the computer.
‘Beth, Alex, come and check this out.’ Cara was seated at the laptop, her face lit by the screen. ‘The post is already going crazy.’
Beth and Alex looked down at the screen.
Mummy’s Magnificent Mess …
So, what do you do when life gives you lemons?
You make chocolate cake, that’s what! At least, that’s what I did tonight with two of my dearest friends. Believe me – we deserved every morsel of this indulgent concoction, which I am calling my Melted Mug Snickers. Recipe below.
Happy eating, my friends.
#dessertgoals #chocolatefix
Cara clicked through to show them the photos she’d posted. The first one featured the mug cake in all its gooey glory, but the second one was a close-up of a spoon, piled high with cake, butterscotch sauce and ice cream, about to enter a very wide and clearly delighted mouth. The red lipstick was a pop of luxurious colour against the browns and caramels of the cake.
‘Holy shit. That’s me.’ Alex peered closely. ‘It’s kind of hot.’
Cara tapped again. This one was a close-up of someone’s eyes, scrunched closed but clearly in ecstasy. Just to the side was a spoon, smeared with chocolate, the person clearly just having had a most amazing mouthful.
‘Gosh, I look really happy.’ Beth stood up. ‘But a bit old … those crow’s-feet.’ She tapped the screen.
‘They’re not crow’s-feet, they’re evidence of smiles,’ said Cara.
‘Whatever they are, people are loving them. Look at the likes! Seventy-six already.’ Alex pointed.
‘Is that a lot?’ asked Beth.
‘It is when it’s only be
en up for three minutes,’ said Cara.
Alex scanned the comments. ‘LadyBaker83 says I’ll have what they’re having.’
‘Oh, like that line from the movie with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal.’ Beth clapped her hands together. ‘I love that movie.’
‘Refresh the screen,’ ordered Alex. ‘Let’s see how many likes now.’
Cara tapped a button.
‘254 likes and forty-two comments! Oh, man,’ breathed Alex. ‘Look at this comment from FoodDude – Home delivery? Ladies included?’ She chuckled. ‘Cheeky bugger.’
‘It’s quite the response. Must have been the gorgeous models I used,’ said Cara, swivelling on the stool to face them.
‘I hardly think so,’ said Beth. ‘It’s your beautiful photos more likely.’
‘You know.’ Alex cocked her head to the side. ‘This has given me an idea …’ She tapped the spoon on her temple. ‘I got a newsletter from The Primal Guy, and even though I think the guy’s a douche, he did have an interesting theory about making the most of unexpected events.’
‘The black swan thing?’ said Cara. ‘I only skimmed it.’
‘Sounds like I need to subscribe.’ Beth pulled out her phone. ‘I’ll do it right now.’
‘It’s worth it, just for the laughs,’ said Alex. ‘But anyway, he was saying how unexpected catastrophes are actually the best time to take action, to launch a new business. Capitalise on the turmoil.’
‘I am all ears,’ said Beth.
‘Me too,’ added Cara.
‘Beth here is an amateur MasterChef, and Cara, you are a recipe genius who can make food look even more beautiful than it actually is.’ Alex leant forward. ‘So, how about you join forces?’
‘I’m not following,’ said Beth.
‘As in, what if you cooked meals and delivered them to people?’
‘Like those diet delivery businesses, Lite n’ Easy or something?’ said Cara.
‘No.’ Alex shook her head. ‘Not like that at all. I mean creating delicious, home-cooked meals for time-poor mums that you deliver straight to their door.’
‘But would people actually pay for that? I mean it’s not that hard to whip up a dinner. Surely mums wouldn’t pay for someone to do that seven nights a week?’ asked Beth.
