The Cotswolds Cookery Club: A Taste of France

by Alice Ross

  ‘Everything okay?’ she asked.

  ‘Oui,’ replied the Frenchwoman. She stopped mashing as a text came through on her phone. Watching her read it, Kate noticed the increasingly familiar smile creeping onto her face.

  Hmm.

  ‘I will pick up Jemima from the nursery later if you want,’ the au pair offered, shoving the phone back into her pocket.

  ‘Oh. Right. Yes. That would be a great help. Thank you,’ blustered Kate, pouncing on any opportunity to avoid the nursery Gestapo.

  ‘Pas de problème,’ breezed Domenique.

  The twins having scoffed their lunch, and Domenique having loaded up the dishwasher, which whirred away in the background like a lovely old familiar record, the au pair scooped up the keys to Kate’s car and announced she was going to pick up Jemima. In the living room – the twins still in their pumpkin outfits, copying a dance on CBeebies – Kate stood at the window watching as she skipped down the path like an elegant gazelle, shiny dark hair bouncing off her back.

  Turning to the mirror above the fireplace, all Kate’s earlier positivity shot up the chimney. If Andrew was sleeping with Domenique, could she really blame him? Kate’s previously slender physique was now covered in dimpled blubber. Her once-glossy mass of blonde curls resembled a scouring pad. And her former classy wardrobe had become a distant memory. She was, in summary, a mess. And so was her marriage. Where once she and Andrew had laughed together, enjoyed each other’s company, now they were lucky if they managed a grunt over the cornflakes. And as for their sex life, well, that didn’t even warrant a mention.

  As Milo attempted the twist, Kate sank down on the sofa, tears burning her eyes.

  How had it all gone so wrong? And, more to the point, how had she allowed things to sink to this dismal state? Yes, the children were exhausting, but plenty of the mothers at nursery had three – or more – offspring in tow, and they managed perfectly well. They even engaged in pleasant conversation with Mrs Allen. And, as far as Kate knew, none of their husbands were messing about with the hired help.

  But was Andrew?

  Not for the first time, Connie’s suggestion that Kate simply ask her husband vaulted into her head.

  But she couldn’t.

  Because she was terrified of the answer.

  Trish might have coped admirably with her recent separation, but Kate doubted she’d fair half as well.

  Which was why, she determined, ducking as a building brick flew past her head, she shouldn’t just roll over and let events take their course. She should put up a fight. And although the tools in her armoury were pitiful compared to those in Domenique’s, she should nonetheless polish them off and prepare for battle.

  She was searching for her phone when Jemima hared into the room.

  ‘Hello, darling. How was nursery?’

  ‘Good. We did finger-painting.’

  ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘And Domenique almost crashed into Cecilia’s daddy’s new car.’

  Kate’s eyes grew wide. ‘Please tell me she didn’t.’

  ‘She didn’t. But she nearly did. Why are the twins dressed as pumpkins?’

  Flopping back against the sofa cushions with relief, Kate replied, ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

  Chapter Seven

  ‘I still can’t believe it,’ puffed Kate, stopping for the sixth time since she and Melody had left the hairdressing salon ten minutes ago, and gazing at her reflection in a shop window.

  ‘Believe it,’ said Melody. ‘You look amazing. And ten years younger.’

  Kate beamed at her. ‘I know. Who’d have thought it? Thank you so much for recommending your hairdresser. And for coming with me. I’d have been completely intimidated otherwise. Especially as I haven’t set foot in a salon for at least two years. As Annette correctly guessed, I’ve been hacking off bits myself with the kitchen scissors.’

  Melody laughed. ‘In that case you are in need of some serious pampering.’

  ‘More like a complete makeover. Believe it or not, and I suspect not, given you’ve only known me since I’ve had the kids, I did used to take pride in my appearance.’

  ‘Well, you have other priorities now. And I will too, soon,’ said Melody, running a hand over her neat little baby bump.

  ‘You will. But I can’t imagine you’d ever allow yourself to sink as low as I have. Even I can’t believe it. Hence this huge effort to smarten myself up – which just happens to coincide with my wedding anniversary today.’

  ‘And this slap-up meal you’re cooking tonight?’

  ‘Uh huh. Because Andrew’s taken the kids to his parents in Worcester, I thought I’d make the most of an entire day to myself. I suspect, though, by the time I get home, I’ll be too knackered to cook and will resort to ordering in a takeaway. Which the kids will trough. And Andrew and I will end up sharing a poppadum. Very romantic.’

  After some serious retail therapy – interspersed with an intense pampering session – Melody dropped Kate, and her mound of bags, back at the house, where Kate was amazed to find Trish’s car outside. And even more surprised to find Trish and Connie in her kitchen.

  ‘Surprise!’ they chimed.

  ‘Wow! You look amazing,’ exclaimed Connie.

  ‘You so do,’ agreed Trish. ‘Your hair is fabulous.’

  Kate grinned. ‘Thanks. Anything would’ve been an improvement. But you’re not here to check out my new hair-do, are you?’

  ‘No. We’re here to help make your anniversary dinner,’ explained Connie, gesturing to the pile of ingredients on the bench. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

  Kate’s eyes widened. ‘Mind? Of course not. What a lovely idea.’

  ‘We know you’d planned to do it yourself, but we thought you’d be too tired after a day in town. Which is why, when Melody told us what you were doing, we came up with this idea. And we knew we’d be able to get in, because Domenique would be here.’

  ‘That is so incredibly thoughtful,’ replied Kate. ‘Once again, your kindness has rendered me speechless. Almost.’

  ‘But not totally, thank goodness.’

  ‘Never. Where’s Domenique now?’

  ‘Out,’ Connie informed her. ‘She muttered something about having an appointment. Said she wouldn’t be back until late.’

  ‘Damn,’ puffed Kate. ‘I know she doesn’t work weekends, but if she’d been around, I was going to offer to pay her extra if she’d keep the kids under control tonight.’

  ‘Oh, that’s not a problem. I’m picking them up later and they’re going to sleep at my house,’ said Trish. ‘Amber can’t wait.’

  Kate’s jaw dropped. ‘I can’t ask you to do that.’

  ‘You haven’t. We’ve offered. You can pack their bags while we crack on down here.’

  Kate shook her head in disbelief. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely. Now go.’

  Fifteen minutes later, three little bags packed and lined up in the hall, Kate rejoined the others in the kitchen, from where the delicious smell of cooking wafted.

  ‘So, what’s on the menu?’

  ‘Well,’ said Trish, ‘we thought we’d stick with the French theme, given how romantic it is, so… you’re having lentil and bacon soup with mushrooms and thyme cream to start, followed by pancetta-wrapped monkfish with carrot and mandarin puree, then crushed strawberries and tarragon crème fraiche.’

  Kate gasped. ‘Oo la la. It sounds amazing. Anything I can do to help?’

  ‘You could cut up the pancetta and peel some carrots.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll just wash my hands first.’

  ‘Goodness,’ remarked Melody, hulling and chopping a mound of plump, juicy strawberries. ‘Here we are having yet another impromptu cookery club meeting.’

  ‘We are,’ said Connie. ‘And in some ways, I think the impromptu ones are the best. The afternoon at your house was fantastic.’

  ‘It was,’ agreed Kate, slicing the bacon
into tiny pieces. ‘Jemima’s still raving about it. She insisted on giving Andrew a very detailed account.’

  ‘Bless her,’ said Connie, wrapping two pieces of monkfish in clingfilm. ‘How’s it going with Andrew? Any developments?’

  ‘None,’ replied Kate. ‘I have no idea what – if anything – is going on. But I’ve decided, whichever way, I need to make more effort. Marriage is something you have to work at, and I’ve been seriously neglecting mine. Hence the new hair and the meal.’

  ‘Good for you,’ said Trish.

  Kate smiled at her. ‘I know you’re all probably wondering why I’m bothering given what a miserable bugger he’s been lately. But he honestly never used to be. It’s only since the children came along that he’s turned into the world’s biggest grump. And when I think about it, it’s no wonder. He has to drag himself to work every day, do a responsible job, then come home to utter chaos. He must be worn out.’

  ‘True,’ puffed Connie, placing the fish in the fridge. ‘It can’t be easy for him either.’

  ‘Exactly. Which is why I want to shelve all my suspicions tonight and try and make it special. See if we can’t recapture a bit of what we once had. And if we can, if he is up to no good, then it might make him think twice.’

  ‘Genius,’ said Melody. ‘And without the kids here, it’ll be much more intimate than going to a restaurant.’

  ‘Precisely,’ agreed Kate. ‘It would’ve been so easy to pick up the phone and book a table somewhere, but it wouldn’t have meant half as much. Even if I’m not contributing quite as much as I’d planned.’

  ‘Andrew doesn’t need to know that,’ said Connie. ‘We’ll be long gone before he comes home. Tell him you did it all yourself.’

  Kate laughed. ‘Excellent idea. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you lot.’

  ‘Just as well we’re here, so you won’t have to find out then, isn’t it?’ chuckled Melody.

  With the creamy soup simmering on the hob, the sweet, meaty monkfish in the fridge ready to be steamed, and the strawberries macerating with sugar and lemon juice, Kate bade goodbye to her friends and hared up the stairs to prepare herself for the evening.

  Not that there was much left to prepare.

  Courtesy of the beauty salon Melody had whisked her to after the hairdressing appointment, she’d been plucked, waxed and exfoliated to within an inch of her life. Now all she needed was to freshen up under the shower, slather on a large dollop of the luxurious body lotion she’d treated herself to, and slip into her new outfit – which included some sexy silk lingerie.

  All the above completed, she tentatively approached the full-length mirror – which she’d deftly avoided for the last two years – and studied her reflection. Unsurprisingly, in a navy wrap-around dress, her hair a mass of gleaming blonde curls, she looked different. But, more importantly, for the first time in years, she felt different. She felt like a woman.

  Had Kate been encased in silver foil, with a live chicken on her head, playing the banjo on the wooden rocking horse, she couldn’t have imagined Andrew being more surprised when he arrived home with the children early evening. ‘You’ve had your hair done,’ he gasped, gaping askance. ‘And you have make-up on.’

  Kate nodded. ‘You like?’

  He scratched his head. ‘Well, yes. But… why? What’s going on?’

  ‘I’m making an effort. For our anniversary.’

  His face crumpled. ‘Shit. I’d forgotten.’

  ‘Just as well I didn’t then, isn’t it? And I’ve made dinner. Just for the two of us. The kids are going to Trish’s for the night.’

  Andrew’s brows shot up to his hairline. ‘Seriously? How much are you paying her?’

  An hour later, with the children in their pyjamas and viewing their first night away from their parents as the world’s biggest adventure, Trish arrived, did a lot of juggling about with car seats, then strapped them all in and whipped them away, Kate and Andrew waving them off.

  ‘God. This feels really weird,’ he remarked, as he and Kate walked back into the house.

  ‘It does,’ agreed Kate. ‘But it’s only for one night so let’s make the most of it. There’s a couple of bottles of Prosecco chilling in the fridge.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Andrew, beaming at her like he used to and making Kate’s stomach flip in the process, ‘let’s get this party started.’

  As usual, the cookery club had risen to the occasion, producing a meal worthy of any top-class restaurant. The soup had been divine – simple and earthy, the addition of the cream awarding it a dash of French elegance. The main course was equally as delicious, the crispiness of the pancetta contrasting perfectly with the meaty monkfish.

  ‘That soup was fantastic, but this fish is to die for,’ Andrew gushed, the pair of them at the dining room table, devoid of its usual clutter and spread – courtesy of Connie – with a pristine white cloth. ‘What’s the puree?’

  ‘Carrot and mandarin,’ replied Kate, slicing through one of the accompanying new potatoes. ‘Isn’t it gorgeous?’

  ‘Better than anything I’ve tasted in a restaurant. Did you honestly make it all yourself?’

  She pulled a face. ‘I might have had a weeny bit of help.’

  ‘From your cookery club mates?’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘They’re a good bunch.’

  ‘The best.’

  Across the table Andrew smiled at her. ‘I think the club’s really good for you. Gives you a reprieve every couple of weeks.’

  ‘A much-needed one,’ agreed Kate, returning the smile and relishing not only the scrumptious food, but also the chance to spend time alone with her husband. When had they last eaten together like this? Just the two of them? So long ago, she couldn’t remember. ‘And what about you?’ she asked, setting down her cutlery and picking up her wine glass. ‘You never talk about work any more. How’s it going?’

  Andrew’s gaze dipped to his plate. ‘In a word… crap. I hate to admit it, but the pressure’s really getting to me. I can’t help wondering if I’m too old for it all.’

  ‘Of course you’re not old. You’re in your prime.’

  He raised his eyes to her and blew out a weary sigh. ‘Try telling that to the kids fresh from university. All raring to go. Thinking they’re going to make a million overnight.’

  Kate set down her glass and wrinkled her nose. ‘But you’ve always been really good at your job.’

  ‘I know. But what with that and…’ He broke off, cleared his throat, then carried on. ‘Well, what with one thing and another, I can’t help wondering if it’s time for a change.’

  Gawping at him, Kate wondered what exactly he meant by “one thing and another”. And what exactly it was he wanted to change. Opting for a subtle approach, she winched up her jaw and said, ‘You’ve never mentioned feeling like this before.’

  Gaze back on his plate, Andrew gave a dismissive shake of his head. ‘Oh. I don’t know. I’m rambling. To be honest, the last thing I want to do tonight is talk about my work.’ He raised his eyes again and forced a smile onto his face. ‘Tell me about the practice. What’s going on there?’

  Kate’s throat suddenly tightened. She whipped up her glass again and took another sip of alcohol, wondering how to reply; whether to tell her husband the truth or be selective. Of course Andrew knew about Gregg. Like most couples, they’d not been together long before the subject of previous relationships had cropped up. But that was so long ago, she doubted he’d remember Gregg’s name. And even if he did, having their first evening alone for eons, celebrating their wedding anniversary, really wasn’t the time to broach the subject of past boyfriends. Instead, setting down her glass and picking up her cutlery, she said, ‘The, um, agency have found me another locum. Someone really experienced. I think they’ll be great.’

  ‘Good. That must be a weight off your mind.’

  ‘Yes,’ she uttered, feeling like several tons had jus
t been dumped on it. Then, desperate to move the conversation on, ‘Goodness, I’m not sure if I’m going to have room for dessert after all of this.’

  They were midway through their desserts when Domenique appeared.

  ‘Oh. Sorry. I don’t mean to disturb.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Kate. ‘Have you had a nice day?’

  ‘Oui. Are the children with Trish?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Bon,’ she said, before strutting off.

  Kate watched Andrew, scrutinising his features for any sign of perturbation. Surely, if he and Domenique were up to no good, the last thing he’d want was for his lover to walk in on him having a romantic meal with his wife.

  His expression, though, as he scraped the last of the crème fraiche from his bowl, remained as passive as ever.

  Leading her to believe that perhaps she really was imagining the affair. Indeed, with him looking increasingly innocent, and her opting not to tell him about Gregg, the guilty hat now hovered over her head.

  The children arrived home just before ten the next morning, buzzing with excitement at their mini adventure.

  ‘Are you sure they were okay?’ asked Kate, for what must have been the fourteenth time.

  ‘Honestly, they were brilliant,’ replied Trish. ‘They’re hilarious.’

  ‘Hmm. They didn’t break anything, did they?’

  ‘Not a thing. Anyway, I’d better dash. I’m meeting Steve’s parents today.’

  ‘Ooh, that sounds serious.’

  ‘Tell me about it. I feel sick.’

  ‘They’ll love you.’

  ‘I wish I could be so confident.’

  ‘Relax and enjoy.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  As Trish climbed into her car and pulled away, Kate, Andrew and the children waved her off.

  ‘Remind me to buy her a humongous bunch of flowers for last night,’ Kate said to her husband.

  ‘I think a medal for outstanding bravery would be more appropriate,’ he replied.

  With Domenique out for the day, and Kate feeling better than she had in a long time, courtesy of some leisurely sex the night before and a decent sleep, she suggested they go to Cirencester Park, which was hosting a family fun day.