by Jenny Oliver
Libby cut her gaze short before she got to Miles; this was no time for distractions. Her brain was already compartmentalising, creating a clear distinction between daytime Miles and night-time Miles. The latter, in the light of day, seeming as unreal as a very enjoyable dream.
‘OK, so today as you can see we’re welcoming Frank King to the group. Hi, Frank,’ she said, pulling on her apron, and beaming at him. ‘Frank works for the exceptionally popular website Hidden Gems. He’s here today to have a look at the Limoncello, and we hope he’ll be impressed with all the additions we’re making.’
Frank’s lip twitched in a half sneer.
‘Lovely,’ Libby went on. ‘Perhaps you’d like to take a seat …’ She gestured to a chair by the fireplace. ‘And you can observe the Sunshine and Biscotti Club. You know it’s an offshoot of the blog and the very successful Rainbows and Roast Beef Supper Clubs that we used to hold in the UK. Always sold out,’ she said. ‘Always a waiting list.’
Frank nodded, face impassive, then reached down into his bag and got his notebook and pencil out.
Libby was about to go on when she heard Dex call over to her. ‘Libby, can you just come here a minute, I think there’s something wrong with my bench.’
She frowned. ‘What’s wrong with your bench?’ she said, glaring at him to stop causing trouble.
‘I don’t know. I need you to come and check.’
She rolled her eyes, then turned to Frank, gave him a big smile and said, ‘I’ll just be a minute.’
Frank sat back in his chair. ‘Take all the time you need,’ he drawled.
‘What?’ she hissed when she got to Dex who was bending down examining his oven.
‘Calm down,’ he said, opening and shutting the oven door.
‘What’s wrong with your bench?’ she said, annoyed.
‘There’s nothing wrong with my bench,’ he said in a calm whisper. ‘I’m just telling you to calm down. You’re trying too hard. Take a deep breath and believe in yourself.’
Libby swallowed.
Dex raised his brows, checking that his point had sunk in. ‘OK?’
Libby nodded.
‘Well, I think that’s fixed it,’ Dex said, slamming the oven shut and standing up. ‘Thank you, Libby.’
‘You’re welcome, Dex,’ she said, straightening herself up, smoothing down her apron, and walking as calmly as she could back up to the front.
‘Right,’ she said, glancing momentarily at Frank before clearing her throat and saying to the group as confidently as she could, ‘Today we’re going to think about dessert, but to keep you all on your toes—we’re going to throw in a bit of competition.’ She looked at Frank and felt herself panic when he didn’t seem to be listening, then she caught Dex’s eye and he winked, and she made herself take a breath and continue. ‘The restaurant is open tonight and we always offer the guests a selection of desserts from the trolley—a much loved tradition of the Limoncello—but usually with a bit of a twist on the classics. So my speciality is a lemon tiramisu cake.’
Frank scribbled something down. She glanced over and lost her concentration.
Dex coughed.
Eve jumped in. ‘We tasted that the other night. Delicious.’
Frank glanced up.
‘It really was fabulous,’ Eve said, nodding effusively in his direction.
Libby silently thanked Eve while scrabbling to pick up the thread of her concentration. ‘Yes and, erm, Giulia makes the most delicious Budino al Cioccolato, which is a boozy chocolate pot and our chef, Dino, makes pears baked in marsala, which are sensational.’ She exhaled; felt herself start to relax a touch. ‘Now what I want to do with the group is for everyone to make their own dessert and the best will go on the dessert trolley and be served to the guests. Judged, I hope, by Frank.’ She looked at Frank who glanced up from his notepad and shrugged a shoulder. ‘Lovely,’ she said. ‘So that’s exciting isn’t it?’ She smiled a big wide smile and added, ‘It’s a competition.’
Jimmy’s hand shot up.
‘Yes, Jimmy.’
‘I don’t know how to make a dessert.’
Libby nodded. ‘Yes, yes I know that. That’s why if you look at your benches you’ll find a stack of really simple recipes that create the base of anything you might want to make. So there’s a plain sponge, a panna cotta, a really classic torta di nocciole, which is an Italian hazelnut cake, and lots more, so have a flick through. What I want you to do is put your own twist on these traditional recipes. There’s loads of ingredients at the back that will hopefully inspire you.’ She pointed towards the shelves bursting with produce and then looked to see if Frank had looked up, which he hadn’t. ‘Or if you want you can take a little stroll round the property, have a smell of the air, a taste of the herbs. You know I make a thyme and lemon cake that came from just being here. There are prickly pears on the cactus out there, you might want to add them to a cheesecake? It’s totally up to you.’
Jimmy remained unconvinced. ‘It sounds very difficult.’
‘I promise, Jimmy, it’s not difficult. And I’ll be here to help you.’
‘I just feel that I’m at an unfair disadvantage. Don’t you, Dex?’ Jimmy said, a teenage whine to his voice.
‘Me?’ Dex said, surprised. ‘Why are you singling me out?’
‘Because you’re shit at this too.’ Jimmy made a face as if that were obvious.
Libby frowned and made big eyes at him to be nice. Jimmy just shrugged sullenly. She looked over at Eve to see if she thought his behaviour was odd, but Eve didn’t look up.
Bruno was rolling his sleeves up. ‘Sounds excellent to me,’ he said, rubbing his hands ready to begin. Disregarding all the recipes he started pouring flour into a bowl.
Libby’s eyes widened. ‘Do you know what you’re doing, Bruno?’
Dex peered over.
‘Oh, yes,’ Bruno said. ‘I can bake.’
Jessica glanced up, either surprised by the news or impressed, it was hard to tell with her sunglasses on, but then she quickly looked back down again when Bruno turned to see if she had heard.
‘OK, well, take ten minutes or so—unless you’re Bruno—before you begin to study the recipes. I’m going to be up here making my tiramisu cake so ask me anything at any point that you need help with. I’ll wander round as well just to check that all’s OK. Any questions now?’
No one said anything; they just shook their heads and started skimming through the stack of laminated recipes.
‘Another coffee, Frank?’ she asked.
‘No, I still have some of this,’ Frank said, holding up his cup, a slight hint of mockery in his voice.
Libby went back to her bench and took a moment to perch on her stool and pull herself together. She was beginning to get into the swing of things. Beginning to quite enjoy herself. This felt like the real deal rather than some haphazard practice run.
Then she stole a quick glance at Miles, who was lounging against his bench waiting for the others to pick their ingredients from the back of the room, a touch of amusement to his normally impassive expression, and had a sudden unnerving flash of that same smile as when he’d brushed the strap of her vest off her shoulder. She could feel the warmth of his hand against her bare skin.
Stop it. She shook her head. She wondered if this was how Jake felt with the women he’d met on the internet. Carrying images of them in his head all the time he was here with Libby.
‘Jimmy, it’s not a supermarket,’ she heard Jessica say, and looked up to see Jimmy struggling to stack jars of glacé cherries, candied peel, raisins, lemons, and tubs of ricotta in his arms.
‘I’m making something with a lot of ingredients.’ He sniffed.
‘Yeah, a great big mess.’ Dex laughed.
Eve, who’d been watching Jimmy with a small frown on her face, backed away and said, ‘I might just pop outside for some ingredients.’
Jimmy glanced up from over his stack of produce.
Libby looked between the t
wo of them. Eve wouldn’t meet her eye and, picking up a bowl, she nipped out of the room, messy blonde hair shielding her face.
Outside the sun was burning the grass to white. The cicada inferno hummed in through the open doors. One of the local cats stalked past, its tail curling round the leg of a pink chair.
Libby saw Miles’s reflection in the glass and wondered if he would knock on her door tonight. The idea made her stomach tighten. Like she was falling further into chaos.
Dex put his hand up. ‘I think I need help,’ he said.
‘No kidding,’ muttered Jimmy.
‘What’s up?’ asked Libby, striding over, pleased to have some distraction.
‘I don’t know how one separates an egg.’
Libby had to hold in a smile.
‘Yeah, you know, I might watch as well,’ said Jimmy, with feigned nonchalance.
Bruno paused where he was scooping his cake mix into a tin. ‘You boys don’t know how to cook?’ he asked, surprised.
Dex shook his head. ‘Always had a cook.’
Jimmy shrugged.
‘Such clichés,’ said Bruno with a shake of his head. ‘You should be able to do these things. They are life.’ He turned back to the mixture he was scooping out. ‘Can you chop wood? Can you sew?’
‘I can sew.’ Jimmy held up a hand. ‘I can actually sew.’
Bruno nodded. ‘It’s a start.’
At the back Jessica had paused, her hand on her spoon, and was listening with the hint of a smile on her face.
‘Jessica can’t cook either,’ muttered Dex, clearly on the defensive, unable to cook, sew, or chop wood.
‘Jessica?’ Bruno turned round, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
‘I can cook,’ Jessica said, whipping off her sunglasses, expression defensive.
‘No, you can’t,’ Dex scoffed.
‘Shut up, Dex.’
‘She can’t cook,’ Dex said to Bruno.
Bruno was watching Jessica as she made a face to suggest Dex had no idea what he was talking about and busied herself melting her chocolate in a saucepan.
‘You need a bain marie,’ Bruno said, nodding towards the pan.
Jessica paused. She looked up to see if anyone else knew what Bruno was talking about. Dex and Jimmy looked clueless.
‘You need to melt it over boiling water, otherwise it will burn,’ Libby said.
Eve came back in, arms laden with pine cones and branches, the jar of maraschino soaked chinotto, and one of the small fresh little fruits in her hand. ‘Can I use this?’ she asked, nodding towards the jar.
Libby nodded, wondering quite what she was going to do with all the other stuff.
‘Thanks,’ Eve said, tumbling her wares down on her bench.
In the corner, Frank’s interest was piqued.
Jimmy’s eyes had followed Eve into the room like the Mona Lisa. ‘You cooking up pine?’ he asked.
Eve shrugged, pushing her hair out of her eyes. ‘I’m thinking about it.’
Libby got the impression this was the first time they’d spoken all morning. She itched to know what had happened between them on their sunset stroll.
‘Libby.’ Dex’s hand shot up again. ‘What’s self-raising flour and do we have any?’
Bruno stood up from where he was kneeling in front of his oven watching his cake rise. ‘Dex, man, you know nothing.’
Dex held his hands wide, guilty as charged.
Libby liked Bruno. He had an air about him, a command that seemed to allow him to rise above normal conventions; to get away with wearing too tight twenty-year-old t-shirts and driving a big motorbike dressed in just an old war helmet, leather gloves, and his swimming shorts. To saunter with a self-confidence that without question he was the sexiest man alive. To give off an aura that he’d eat you alive in bed. He could pull it off simply because he didn’t seem to care.
Libby cared too much, she knew she did. Cared not only what her friends thought of her, but what her public thought. She spent her life second guessing, smoothing over, worrying. That was why it had been so surprising she’d let anything happen with Miles. What about Flo? What if Jessica had seen them? What if Jake somehow found out? Yet lying together she had experienced the calmest sleep and it had felt like an obvious solution. Not for the long term, but for the now. As if someone had said, ‘Here, this will help,’ like handing her a cup of tea and a chocolate digestive.
Outside on the small outhouse patio Eve had set fire to her pine, catching the smoke in the now empty chinotto and maraschino glass jar. A woody, sweet, sticky smell infused the air along with the crackle of the branch as it almost refused to burn, its yellow sap dripping as it smoked.
Frank had gone over to watch in the doorway. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
Eve looked up and smiled at him, her hair now held back from her face with a makeshift tea towel bandana, her cheeks pink from the heat, her first smile of the day on her lips. ‘I have no idea,’ she said, and went back to trying to bottle the pine smoke.
Libby watched. When the jar was full Eve slid the lid on, the remains of the maraschino and chinotto dripping down the insides like a witch’s brew. Carrying it carefully back to her work surface, Eve flicked on the kettle and then started to chop up the remaining unburnt pine needles. With the water boiled she made what looked to Libby like pine needle tea.
‘This is unfair,’ said Dex. ‘Eve does things like this for work. She’s got a flavour advantage.’
Jimmy paused in his dicing of candied orange peel. ‘She does? You do?’ he said, looking across at Eve. ‘What’s this got to do with your work? I thought you worked in marketing?’
Everyone in the room paused. All except Bruno who was filling another cake tin with a new mixture.
Dex was sporting an expression of stunned amusement. Jessica half laughed, half scoffed, almost as if it was to be expected. ‘That’s what happens if you only think about yourself, Jimmy,’ she said.
Jimmy glared at her.
Jessica slipped her sunglasses back on and returned to her whisking with a smile twitching on her lips.
Frank was sitting back in his chair and glanced up from his notebook.
‘I make perfume, Jimmy,’ Eve said after a second or two, her expression seeming lighter, freer, as if it had just dawned on her that she had moved on from the Eve she was when she knew Jimmy. ‘I started the business after I had the kids.’
‘Oh.’ Jimmy didn’t look up from his chopping. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘I thought you did,’ she said.
‘Well I didn’t,’ he replied sulkily as if it were somehow as much her fault as his.
Libby thought she might have seen the corner of Eve’s mouth quirk, as if the conversation had been with one of her kids.
Frank beckoned Libby over. ‘Do I know the perfume?’
‘Probably.’ Libby nodded. ‘Eve, With Love. The logo’s white and yellow.’
‘I might have heard of it,’ Frank said, narrowing his eyes, thinking, then he added, ‘I like this,’ he waved his hand at Eve’s bench, ‘creative freedom. Very nice. Could anyone do this?’
Libby nodded. ‘Of course.’
Frank shrugged. ‘I was expecting more of a school cookery lesson. More regimented,’ he said. ‘But this is interesting.’
Libby felt both a sudden wash of pride for Eve and an annoyance at her own orderliness as she went back to her bench. She spent the next few minutes vaguely concentrating on her lemon tiramisu cake but mostly watching Eve.
Her fragrance business had begun after their friendship had begun to fizzle. Libby had liked the odd Instagram photo showing the bottles on shop shelves, but she’d never appreciated what a success Eve had made.
Now as she watched her mid-creation, she noticed how Eve seemed to come back to life as she worked. The vibrancy made her hair shine, the concentration relaxed her face, her shoulders seemed to soften—she looked fresher, younger, cleverer.
Libby had harboured a f
ear when she’d seen her outside burning the pine that this new energy had come as a result of kissing Jimmy but now, after their exchange, she wasn’t so sure. It seemed instead to come from an innate confidence as a direct result of Eve’s work. She saw on her face how Libby herself felt when she was in the middle of a new recipe. Running on instinct. She wondered if she looked equally relaxed.
Eve mixed the few precious drops yielded from trying to squeeze the hard little fresh chinotto with a splash of the maraschino preserving juice and wafer thin slices of the marinated chinotto fruit. Then she pummelled the mixture with the end of a rolling pin like a cocktail waiter, squashing out all the flavours, before sieving the juice into a bowl. She took the tiniest sip of the pine needle tea for a taste and added a slosh to the mixture. After another taste she frowned, glanced up, and caught Libby watching.
‘All good?’ Libby asked, trying to pretend she hadn’t been staring. Jimmy was doing the same.
‘It’s missing something,’ Eve said. ‘An earthiness.’
‘Mud?’ said Dex.
‘Very helpful,’ Eve replied.
‘Figs?’ said Libby.
‘Maybe. But none of them are ripe yet.’ Eve was unconvinced.
Then Bruno walked over to her bench and picked up the bowl of chinotto, maraschino and pine and gave it a sniff. He paused for a moment, seemingly rolling the smell over in his mind before saying, ‘Cherry.’
‘Cherry!’ said Eve, smacking her palm down on the table. ‘Of course, cherry.’
‘There’s a tree out there. Come, I’ll help you,’ Bruno said, ushering Eve forward.
At the back of the room, Jessica laid her spoon down on the table and, as Eve and Bruno walked outside, came round and had a sniff of Eve’s mixture. She stood, seemingly trying to determine whether Bruno was some kind of maverick or just said things with the right amount of confidence to make people believe him. Jimmy came over for a sniff as well and when he did Dex nipped round to have a peer in Jimmy’s bowl.
‘Oi, get back to your own bench,’ said Jimmy, dashing back to cover his bowl protectively with his arm as if it was a school test.
