The Cotswolds Cookery Club: A Taste of Italy

by Alice Ross

  ‘All this has just arrived,’ he puffed. ‘And I have no clue what to do with it.’

  At his despairing expression, Connie couldn’t help but laugh. ‘You don’t need to do anything. I’ve just seen Eleanor. She said there would be a delivery today and that it could all wait until she was back.’

  Max blew out a sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness for that. I was pretty stressed for a moment there.’

  ‘I could tell. Obviously sorting out sweets is far scarier than flying planes.’

  ‘Ah, but I know what I’m doing with planes. Whereas two hundred packets of a certain mint with a hole in it is very daunting. Give me an emergency landing any day.’

  Connie giggled. ‘How long have you been a pilot?’

  ‘Far longer than I care to admit. Went straight into it after an engineering degree. It was all I ever wanted to do.’

  ‘You’re lucky. I’m thirty-four and I still don’t have a clue what I want to do.’

  He arched an eyebrow. ‘Oh. Eleanor told me you were a proofreader.’

  ‘I am. But it’s not exactly a dazzling career. I bet people’s eyes light up when you tell them what you do. When I mention proofreading, they glaze over. Or nod off. Or both.’

  ‘Ah, well, that’s where you’re wrong, you see. I find your career choice very interesting. Tell me the last thing you proofread.’

  ‘Five Hundred Fascinating Facts About Fly Fishing.’

  Max nodded thoughtfully. ‘Uh-huh. You see, I’ve immediately learned something. I didn’t know there were five hundred fascinating facts about fly fishing.’

  ‘Having been through the entire book several times, I can wholeheartedly confirm there aren’t,’ sniggered Connie. ‘But should we really just leave these boxes? Eleanor might not be strong enough to sort them for ages.’

  ‘I know. And, despite my dithering, I honestly had no intention of leaving them. This room is a complete mess. I’d planned on creating a bit of order this evening. Reorganise things so they’re easier for her to find.’

  ‘Great idea,’ said Connie, warming to the man by the minute. Not only was he funny, but he seemed incredibly kind and thoughtful too. ‘I can help if you like. I’m not doing anything else this evening.’

  Two dark brows snapped together. ‘No hot date?’

  She shook her head, suddenly feeling awkward. ‘No.’

  ‘Right. Sorry to ask. I just thought you might… be going into Cirencester with a certain decorator.’

  Connie’s cheeks flew crimson. Crap. She’d totally forgotten Max had spotted her in that trendy bar with Liam. And worse still, she recalled, mortification now pulsing through her, might have witnessed her rolling around in the living room with Liam not long after she arrived – the evening Max had popped round to apologise for almost knocking over her and Eric.

  ‘Er, no,’ she blustered, to a box of mints with holes in them. ‘No hot dates. And no decorators.’

  ‘Right,’ said Max.

  In a tone she couldn’t quite fathom.

  Slanting a look at him, her gaze snagged on his and her stomach somersaulted. Honestly, she really wished he wouldn’t look at her like that. In fact, she wished he wouldn’t look at her at all. Those eyes of his really did have an unsettling effect on parts of her body.

  ‘Um, I wondered—’ he began.

  Just then Melody’s head appeared around the door. ‘There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’

  Taking in her friend’s flustered appearance, Connie’s eyes grew wide. ‘What is it? Has something happened?’

  Melody beamed at her. ‘Actually, something has happened. I wanted to tell you in person…’

  Connie held her breath.

  ‘…that I’ve just done a test. And… I’m pregnant!’

  Connie’s eyes almost popped out of her head. ‘Oh, Melody, that’s fantastic news,’ she gushed, pulling her friend into a hug. ‘You and Malcolm are going to make fantastic parents.’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ giggled Melody. ‘Because it’s a bit late now if we’re not.’

  ‘That is going to be one lucky baby.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Melody. Then, looking at Max, ‘Sorry to interrupt but I couldn’t wait to tell Connie. Or the rest of the world, come to that. I’m so excited I could burst.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. You can’t get much bigger news than that. Congratula—’

  ‘Is anybody serving in here?’

  They all whipped round to find Celia Smythe glaring at them.

  ‘Yes. Sorry,’ said Max. ‘We were just—’

  ‘Hearing my good news,’ cut in Melody. ‘Malcolm and I are going to have a baby.’

  Celia Smythe’s face dropped to the floor.

  ‘And I’m so pleased I’ve seen you,’ continued Melody. ‘Because Malcolm and I would like to invite you and your husband to dinner on Saturday. Seven o’clock. I’m cooking. And you don’t need to bring a thing.’

  Celia Smythe’s thin lips opened and closed several times. Evidently failing to find any words, she gave up, spun round and stormed out of the shop.

  Melody turned to Connie and Max. ‘Oh. My. God. Did I really just invite that witch to dinner?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘What have I done?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Max. ‘But there’s a chance I might be flying to Toronto on Saturday. I could book you a seat if you like.’

  ‘I may just take you up on that,’ tittered Melody.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next day, Connie did the early shift at the newsagent’s, which included sorting out the morning newspapers and organising the delivery boys and girls. Max took over at lunchtime.

  ‘Bet you feel like going back to bed,’ he said, as she stifled a yawn.

  She stopped midway, horrified to find herself conjuring up all sorts of images of Max. In bed. With her. Honestly, she silently fumed, since coming to the Cotswolds, she seemed to have developed a worrying obsession with the opposite sex. Totally not healthy. Particularly when it involved married men. As if to reinforce that notion of Max being attached, she heard herself asking, ‘So what does your wife think about your demotion to shop assistant?’

  Max furrowed his forehead. ‘My wife?’

  ‘Yes. Sarah.’

  ‘Ah.’ His mouth stretched into a smile. ‘Actually, I’ve been trying to tell you for days now that Sarah is not my wife.’

  Connie furrowed her brow, surprised he’d bothered to point that out. If he was about to tell her they lived together but hadn’t actually tied the knot, then in her view that was much the same…

  ‘She’s my sister.’

  Connie dropped the three packets of wine gums she’d been holding. ‘Oh. But Eleanor said…’

  ‘I know. Not long after I moved here, a parcel was left at the shop for Sarah. As we have the same surname, Eleanor assumed she must be my wife. And I never corrected her. I know it sounds conceited, and I have no idea why, but some women seem to think it’s cool to hang out with a pilot. I’d had a bad experience before I moved here – with a passenger who tracked me down – so, when Eleanor jumped to her conclusion, I didn’t correct her; just let everyone assume I was married. Sarah’s always gadding about with her job and stays here when she has business in the south. And as I’m away a lot too, so nobody ever noticed we weren’t actually a couple.’

  ‘Oh. Right. I see.’

  Max puffed out his cheeks. ‘Thank goodness for that. And now, while I’m on a roll, I’m going to say something else I’ve been wanting to say for ages. Well, at least since I knew there were no decorators on the scene. And that thing is… would you like to go out for a drink with me?’

  ‘Yes,’ squeaked Connie, resisting the urge to pogo up and down. ‘I think I would.’

  Two days later and Eleanor was out of hospital and back in the shop.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she tutted, as Connie fussed about her. ‘And I can’t thank
you and Max enough for what you’ve done. It’s been a weight off my mind, I can tell you.’

  ‘We’re still happy to help if you want to ease yourself back in gently.’

  Eleanor smiled at her, eyes twinkling. ‘That’s very kind, but Nigel has offered to help.’

  Connie lifted an eyebrow. ‘Oh? That’s good of him.’

  ‘I know,’ agreed Eleanor dreamily. Staring at a spot in the middle distance, she then drifted off into a world of her own, just as she had the first day Connie met her. By the soppy grin on her face, though, Connie suspected that today’s world would be much pleasanter than the one she’d inhabited a few weeks before.

  As agreed, Kate’s house formed the venue for the next cookery club meeting. From outside, the dwelling appeared perfectly normal: another stunning Cotswold abode, built in the ubiquitous golden stone. Inside, though, Connie discovered the moment she set foot through the door, chaos reigned supreme.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ apologised a frazzled Kate, Milo clamped on one hip, Jemima clinging to her free hand. ‘They’ve been to a party this afternoon and are completely hyper. At least these two are. I have no idea where Mia is. Do either of you know?’

  ‘Toilet,’ piped up Milo.

  Kate’s face paled. ‘Oh God. You couldn’t run upstairs and check the bathrooms, could you?’ she asked Connie. ‘She’s taken to shoving anything and everything down the U-bends – even herself on one occasion. I would ask Domenique, but I haven’t a clue where she’s disappeared to either. Honestly, I’m thinking about tagging everyone and setting up a screen so I can track them all.’

  Connie laughed. ‘No problem. How many bathrooms are there?’

  ‘Three. Our en suite, Domenique’s en suite, and the main family bathroom. She could be in any of them.’

  Bounding up the stairs, the previously cream carpet splattered with a rainbow of stains, Connie stumbled on the family bathroom first. With no sign of Mia. She then popped her head around various doors until she found what she assumed must be Kate and husband Andrew’s room. With no sign of Mia. She’d opened two more doors – both children’s bedrooms – and was heading to another, when it suddenly opened and out strode a tall man with black, slicked-back hair, wearing shirt trousers, a blue pinstriped shirt, and a blue silk – loosened – tie.

  ‘Oh.’ He came to an abrupt standstill. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Er, Connie,’ stammered Connie. Taken aback not only by his unexpected appearance, but by his brisk manner.

  ‘Oh. The cookery club thing. I’d forgotten.’

  Connie had no idea what to say to that. Instead, she cleared her throat and croaked, ‘Kate’s asked me to look for Mia.’

  ‘Oh. Right. Well, I’ll check up here for her. You might as well go back downstairs.’

  His tone ringing with dismissal, Connie nodded and managed a tight smile, before crossing the landing and descending the stairs. Who was that unpleasant character? Surely he couldn’t be Kate’s husband. She swung her head back round – in time to see him slip back through the door of the room he’d just vacated. Where Domenique sat at a dressing table, brushing her long hair.

  Connie’s head began whirring. He had to be Kate’s husband. And, thinking about it, every time the club had met, Kate had mentioned something about him being home well before his usual time. She’d initially thought it must be to help with the children. But – if that was him – she doubted that very much. More likely he’d come home early knowing Kate would be out and he could spend time with Domenique. And another thing… hadn’t Kate also said something about his having been away on a course – the same week Domenique had been on holiday? Hmm. But no. She must be reading far too much into it. Her mother’s comment about having a nubile au pair in the house had evidently been niggling away at her all this time. And Kate was far too clever not to notice if something was going on under her roof.

  Two minutes later the man appeared downstairs, complete with a bawling Mia.

  ‘She’s been painting a mural. On the wall in the spare room,’ he huffed, foisting the screaming child on Kate.

  Kate shook her head in despair as the child attached herself to her. ‘Oh well, I suppose we should be grateful for her creativity. Connie, have you met my husband, Andrew?’

  ‘So, the cookery club at Kate’s house didn’t go quite to plan,’ chuckled Max.

  It was their first date and, so far, Connie had decided, the best evening of her life. Max couldn’t have been a more perfect gentleman if he’d read the How to Be a Perfect Gentleman book – twenty-six times. And his lovely compliments were much appreciated after all her sartorial preparations. Melody had helped her – spending an age doing her make-up, which, amazingly, looked like she was hardly wearing any, and clipping up her hair into a sexy chignon. In a new outfit of white linen trousers and a turquoise handkerchief top, she felt more attractive than she had in a very long time.

  ‘You look… amazing,’ Max had exclaimed when he’d arrived to pick her up. ‘Although, between you and me, that’s been my opinion every time I’ve seen you. In fact, that day I almost flattened you, I thought you looked utterly adorable.’

  ‘You’re not serious.’

  ‘I am. But I couldn’t tell you because you were too busy shouting at me.’

  ‘I hardly shouted at all.’

  ‘True. But you still looked bloody adorable.’

  Connie had laughed. The exchange had been the perfect ice-breaker. She’d imagined being a nervous wreck when it came around. Instead, she’d experienced a lovely fluttering sensation in her stomach, and bucketloads of excitement. At spending time with this gorgeous man. Max was everything she’d imagined he’d be and she felt incredibly relaxed in his company. Plus, from the way he laughed at her tale of the last cookery club meeting, he appeared equally as relaxed in hers. She had, however, omitted her suspicions about Kate’s husband and the au pair. She hadn’t told a soul about that uncomfortable scenario. Particularly not Eleanor, who seemed to be spending lots of time with Kate’s dad. The rest of the evening, though, had been entertaining, despite minimal cooking being achieved because of the children’s antics. In the end, they’d admitted defeat and ordered in pizzas and garlic bread.

  ‘At least you stuck with the Italian theme,’ snorted Max. ‘Kate’s kids do sound a handful. Still, I wouldn’t mind trying them out. Well, not them, obviously. But a couple of my own some day.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ he said, with a twinkle in his hazel eyes. ‘Just have to find the right girl to have them with.’

  At the accompanying wink, Connie’s insides flipped and melted.

  Epilogue

  Two months on…

  …and the time had passed in a flash for Connie. In fact, she had the strange sensation of someone having pressed a fast-forward button. She had, however, enjoyed every minute of them. The cookery club had proved a resounding success: the group had gelled beautifully and produced some outstanding meals. She’d also received several requests from people interested in joining. Not that she’d taken any of them up. For the moment, she was perfectly happy to leave things as they were. Who knew in the future, though.

  Regarding futures, Connie still had no idea what hers held, but she very much hoped it would include Max. Their first date had been one she’d never forget. Since then, he’d been away with his work quite a bit, but whenever he returned, they spent every possible minute together. She’d even cooked for him the other day and he’d said it was the best spaghetti he’d ever tasted. Connie doubted it. But the fact he’d said it had been enough.

  The cookery club blog had received a phenomenal number of hits – from all over the world. As well as providing amusing accounts of the club meetings, she now posted recipes, shared tips, and answered all manner of culinary-related questions.

  Melody was blooming in pregnancy, looking more beautiful by the day. Tilly and Eric were madly in love – pining for one another whenever apar
t. And Eleanor and Nigel were much the same. Connie had bumped into Liam in the village the other day – clasping the hand of one of the girls she remembered from their evening in Cirencester. They’d looked great together, which had been lovely to see.

  In fact, the only person for whom things didn’t seem to have changed was poor Kate. Her life still appeared as manic as ever. And now the temporary vet had given two months’ notice, adding to her stress.

  Since the evening at Kate’s house, Connie had had two more suspicious sightings of Kate’s husband and the au pair. And, again, every time there was a cookery club meeting, Kate would mention Andrew coming home early. With no proof of philandering, Connie hadn’t voiced her suspicions to Kate. Whatever was going on – if anything – would all come out in the wash. Most likely after her return to London in a few months.

  Something she really didn’t want to think about.

  Imagining her old life made her want to throw up. But she couldn’t possibly stay in the Cotswolds. She couldn’t afford to. She’d have to go back to her parents’ house, where, unless something drastic happened – like an earthquake, or the planet being invaded by wombles – she’d most likely remain for the rest of her days.

  *

  One week later, Connie was in the kitchen preparing for the cookery club meeting that evening when Eleanor called round.

  ‘I have a proposition for you. And if you’re not interested, I won’t be offended.’

  Connie arched a curious brow.

  ‘Nigel and I,’ began the shopkeeper, looking awkward and delighted in equal measure, ‘are moving to Spain for six months.’

  Connie’s eyes grew wide. ‘Wow. That’s fantastic. I’m so happy for you.’

  Eleanor flushed pink. ‘Thank you. I can’t quite believe it. Just goes to show that you’re never too old for love.’

  ‘You most certainly are not. But what are you going to do about the shop?’

  ‘Ah. Well… I wondered if you’d like to look after it for me. I’m not ready to sell. And I’ve no idea how things will pan out, so I’ve decided to hold on to it for as long as possible.’