Maggie’s Kitchen

by Caroline Beecham

  ‘You know how to get there?’

  ‘Yes,’ Rose said, adding for Eliza’s benefit: ‘I’ve been there before.’

  ‘Maybe it’s you the police should be investigating,’ Eliza muttered.

  ‘Hurry up and get your coat then, Rose. Tell Robbie not to come back here until he hears from me. It’s not safe for him here anymore.’

  The figure standing in the doorway was slightly removed from the rest of the queue that snaked back to the entrance.

  ‘Excuse me, sir, you aren’t allowed to stand here—it’s a fire exit.’

  ‘Bossing people around as usual . . .’

  ‘Eddie! Is it really you?’ Maggie flung her arms around him.

  ‘Hey.’ He pulled away. ‘You’ll do more damage than Jerry if you carry on like that.’

  ‘I’m sorry. But why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would have come and met you at the station.’

  ‘Well, I’m here now.’ He took hold of her hand and looked around at the room pulsing with chatter. ‘I think I must have come to the right place, too.’

  ‘Let me look at you . . .’ She took a step back.

  His trousers sat loosely around his hips, and his jacket seemed too large for his slight frame. His skin had a dull tinge; rather than the ruddy complexion she would have expected from being outdoors, his skin seemed blanched as though he had seen very little natural light. It made her feel wretched to see him like this, but he was still her Edward. And he was alive.

  She swallowed back tears and forced a smile. ‘Come on, let’s get you something to eat.’

  ‘Any news of John and Maureen?’

  ‘Yes, just last week actually; I’ll show you her letter when we get home. He’s still on invalid leave. Maureen says he’s not too down. You are staying, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’ve only got two days. Thought I’d stay here and then head down to Portsmouth tomorrow to see them.’

  ‘They’re doing well,’ she assured him. ‘The cinema went up though. Maureen was on her way and changed her mind, thank God. Thirteen killed. Anyway, come and sit next to me . . .’

  She gestured for him to sit in one of the only empty seats at the end of a long table.

  ‘You stay here and I’ll fetch some food.’

  He grasped her wrist, preventing her from moving away.

  ‘Not yet, Maggie. I want to hear about you first. Lunch can wait.’

  She faltered; she had longed to talk to him about her problems, but now that he was here she was reluctant to worry him.

  Taking a deep breath, she smiled. ‘You might be able to wait, young man, but my kitchen can’t. You need to eat what you can before it runs out. There’ll be no more until tomorrow once this lot’s gone.’

  She hurried away, returning some minutes later with a tray on which was a large plate of cod casserole and vegetables, a steaming hot mug of tea and a double helping of bread and margarine.

  ‘I want you to tell me everything, but first things first . . .’

  ‘I tried for you, Maggie.’

  She reached out and squeezed his hand. ‘I know you did.’

  When she had reached a dead end with her enquiries about Peter, she had asked Eddie for help, knowing that he was limited as to what he could do, but she’d been so desperate to find out how Peter died. Predictably, it had led nowhere.

  He ate slowly, nodding when she asked him a question and listening as she talked about the last frenzied few months and all the wonderful people she had met.

  ‘And what about you, Maggie? How are you?’

  It only took one of his looks and the tears began to roll. She found herself telling him about how difficult it had been with Rose and how helpful Janek had proven to be, recalling how stressful it was trying to make the ingredients stretch to make the necessary meals. She shared her suspicions about how Mr Boyle seemed to have it in for her and had been diverting their supplies, and now there was the awful threat of the notice period. Finally, she told him about all the problems with Robbie and the police.

  ‘So you’re worried he’s going to get into trouble if they find him first?’

  ‘Of course. They’ll probably put him in an orphanage if they can’t find a foster home—or worse still, if they can prove he stole anything, they could lock him up. Surely he’s too young, though, isn’t he?’

  ‘I don’t know, Maggie. I’m really not clear where the law stands on juveniles. But if he’s a thief, are you sure you want this kid hanging around? How do you know he’s not stealing from you right now?’

  ‘Oh no, he’s not like that. He’s a great boy; he’s really helped me. I’d love for you to meet him. He—he reminds me of Ernest.’

  ‘Maggie . . .’

  ‘It’s okay, he’s just got the same cheeky monkey in him.’

  She liked to remember the good things about Ernest; his mischief and how much he made them all laugh. She didn’t only want to feel the immense gnawing loss; the never-ending guilt. She was supposed to be keeping an eye on him; instead, she had let him go ahead on his own. It had only taken a few minutes, a slip on the canal path, and he was gone. And she knew that was part of the reason their mother had left too.

  ‘Tell you what, why don’t you show me around and then we could take a walk. Look around the neighbourhood, places he might be.’

  She reached across and put her hand on his arm. ‘Oh, Eddie, it’s so good to see you.’

  He smiled as he scooped up a forkful of fish and vegetables.

  ‘Eddie . . .’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Do you ever think about Mum?’

  ‘Sure I do. Not a lot, but occasionally.’

  ‘Me too. Do you think she’s still alive?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, pushing away his plate.

  ‘There’s a woman I’ve seen in here a couple of times—there’s something about her. It’s odd . . .’

  ‘Odd in what way?’

  ‘I don’t know. Forget it, I’m just being silly.’

  She didn’t want to admit to her daydreaming, that sometimes she believed her mother had come back to find her.

  ‘You’ve been working too hard, sis—you’re seeing things!’

  ‘I know.’ She laughed, flicking him with her cloth.

  The lunchtime rush was nearly over and the dining hall was emptying, the staff setting up for the afternoon. She was going to call Tom over but she changed her mind; she wasn’t ready to share Eddie with anyone yet.

  ‘Do I get the guided tour now?’

  ‘Well, if you mean what you said about looking for Robbie, I could give you a quick tour first and then we could go—but don’t you want to get some rest?’

  ‘Course not. I’ve only got forty-eight hours’ leave. Plenty of time for sleeping when I’m dead.’

  She looked at him in dismay. ‘Eddie, don’t say such things.’

  ‘Oh, come on, don’t give me that.’

  She shook her head, trying not to smile. ‘You go and say hello to Rose and Tom while I finish up.’

  By the time she was ready to go, Eddie had caught up with Rose and Tom and she was pleased to see that some colour had returned to his cheeks.

  ‘Where to first?’ he asked.

  ‘The depot at Islington Green—it’s where all the emergency services have a base. I’ll have a word with Bill in case he’s seen Robbie. Let’s go this way, I’ll show you our kitchen garden on the way out.’

  Once outside she could tell that he was impressed and there was good reason to be; despite the cold snap, the warm Indian summer had extended the life of most of the plants and there was still rich foliage flowing across the trellises and canes.

  It wasn’t until they reached the centre of the garden that Maggie heard footsteps on the path and realised that they weren’t alone.

  She glanced at Eddie and then made her way slowly around the corner.

  ‘Janek!’

  ‘I’m sorry to interrupt. I cannot come here for
the next few days so I wanted to check on things.’

  ‘That’s fine. It’s good to see you.’

  ‘You are busy,’ he said, glancing at Eddie.

  ‘This is my brother Edward.’

  ‘Welcome home.’ Janek shook Eddie’s hand firmly.

  ‘It’s good to meet you,’ Eddie responded. ‘I’ve been hearing a lot about you and the help you’ve given Maggie. It’s made all the difference.’

  ‘Thank you, but it is Maggie who is responsible for all of this.’

  ‘We’re still looking for Robbie,’ she interrupted, embarrassed. ‘Have you seen him?’

  ‘No. He hasn’t been to the railyard, and Rose and I looked along the canal and in the school,’ Janek said. ‘I don’t know where else to try.’

  He looked tired, she thought, noticing the dark rings circling his pale eyes.

  ‘Well, I suppose we had better just keep on.’

  ‘I am glad that you are here, Maggie. I wanted to ask you something.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I . . .’ He glanced at Eddie, who immediately took the hint.

  ‘I’m just going to say goodbye to Tom and Rose,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you out front, sis. Good to meet you, Janek.’

  ‘Yes, you too.’

  When Eddie had gone, Janek said, ‘We have been invited to The Savoy for dinner tomorrow evening. The chef is a friend of mine.’

  ‘That is very kind of him, but why?’ Maggie asked, surprised.

  ‘He has read about Maggie’s Kitchen and he would like to meet you.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really.’

  She hadn’t been out for months and the thought of dinner at The Savoy, and with Janek, was very tempting. But how would she get away? There would be the two shifts to organise, not to mention Rose’s feelings to consider—and how could she go with Robbie still missing?

  ‘I shall have to think about it. Can I let you know in the morning?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ He looked disappointed.

  ‘I shouldn’t be able to enjoy a meal without knowing what has happened to Robbie,’ she explained.

  ‘I understand. We will find him.’

  Even though she was excited by Janek’s offer, the fruitless search for Robbie followed by saying goodbye to her brother, not knowing when she would see him again, had left Maggie quite worn out.

  ‘I really don’t think I should go,’ she sighed as she slumped against the kitchen counter the following morning.

  ‘I should think not,’ Eliza huffed. ‘You can’t mix with spies!’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Eliza, not that again.’

  ‘Yes, that again—and again and again. And for as long as it takes for you to realise that you shouldn’t trust him.’

  Rose, who had been silent up until then, said, ‘I’ll go if you don’t want to.’

  ‘I’m sure you would,’ Eliza muttered, dragging pots noisily across the stove.

  ‘It would be nice if we could all go,’ Maggie said, glowering at Eliza, ‘but it was a personal invitation from the chef. Sorry, Rose. Perhaps we could have an evening out next month? Danny Kaye is on at the Albert Hall over Christmas.’

  ‘That’s a great idea, Maggie; a Christmas outing.’

  But Maggie wasn’t listening; she was staring into space.

  ‘What? What is it?’ Rose asked.

  ‘Maybe you will have to go after all . . .’

  ‘Why, whatever is the matter?’

  ‘I gave away the clothes and shoes you bought me for the Ambulance Fund. I don’t have anything to wear!’

  ‘Maggie, I’m surprised at you. Some without a coat to put on their back and you worrying about what to wear for a night out!’ Eliza scolded.

  ‘Well, I do have to wear something—I can’t very well wear this!’ she said, hands lifting up the stained white skirt of her uniform.

  ‘It’s good enough for most folks,’ Rose replied. ‘Maybe you could ask Mrs Devereux if you can borrow one of her old furs?’

  ‘Rose Barnard,’ Eliza scoffed, ‘I do believe you are jealous!’

  Maggie placed an affectionate arm around her cousin but Rose shrugged it off.

  It was true, Maggie realised, studying the sulky expression on Rose’s face. This was more than a crush; Rose had really fallen for Janek.

  ‘Perhaps you should go, Rose,’ Maggie offered. ‘The invitation was for me, but we are a team . . .’

  Rose’s eyes brightened. ‘Really? Would you really let me go in your place?’

  ‘Why not? Be sure to remember everything about the meal and the ingredients. And you must take note of the other details, anything we can learn from, like the decor and how the waiting staff do things.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, like: what condiments do they use? What are the substitutions they make? That sort of thing . . .’

  Rose’s face had clouded again. ‘It’s thoughtful of you to suggest I go, Maggie, but it really has to be you. It’s important for the restaurant that you see these things for yourself.’

  ‘Well, I suppose so,’ Maggie said. ‘But only if you’re sure.’

  ‘Good, that’s settled then,’ Eliza said.

  Maggie was relieved; the possibility of Rose going in her place had also made her realise just how much she really wanted to spend an evening in Janek’s company herself. She would let him know that she would be pleased to accept his invitation.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  WHAT’S LEFT IN THE LARDER:

  SOME GENERAL TIPS

  Food which has already been cooked only

  needs to be re-heated and is spoiled if cooked

  too much a second time. This is especially

  important to remember when using up

  left-over meat, fish and vegetables.

  Ministry of Food, War Cookery Leaflet No. 11

  He could see Maggie and Eliza on their way out the door, so he pushed Spoke’s head down and shrank lower, staying out of sight until they were gone; he knew he would be for it if she saw him. He had hidden out before the police finally caught up with him, which they’d only done by luring Spoke with some food. Luckily he had got off with a warning: ‘You’re alright this time, lad, but next time you’ll be seeing the inside of a cell,’ the spotty young one had sneered as he pressed his face close to Robbie’s.

  He stretched his woollen mittens further up his hands; until recently they had covered most of his fingers, but now they were frayed right back to his knuckles. His jacket felt tight too, so that even when he pulled it snug around his belly, he couldn’t do the buttons up anymore. It wasn’t just his clothes; his shoes pinched and he was hungrier than ever. Whenever he saw his ma she said how much he had grown; maybe she was right.

  No one seemed to take any notice of him as he dashed through to the dining hall to see Tom. The cashier was deep in conversation with Maeve, although he stopped when he caught sight of Robbie.

  ‘Robbie! Where’ve you been? Maggie’s been looking all over for you . . .’

  ‘Well, I’m here now.’ He shrugged casually.

  ‘You’ve had us all worried sick, especially Maggie.’

  ‘What a shame, you just missed her too,’ Maeve said. ‘Although she’ll be back in a while.’

  ‘Best stop here till she gets back,’ Tom said, winking at him. ‘It’ll take a load off her mind knowing you’re alright. Here, you want something to eat while you’re waiting?’

  ‘What you got?’ Robbie said, lifting his nose towards the food trays.

  The couple in the queue behind were getting restless so Maeve pulled him to one side.

  ‘How about some rabbit curry? I just made it . . .’

  Tom looked at her and smiled. ‘Maeve’s been selected by the Wartime Meals Division to do training at Vaughan College in Leicester.’

  ‘Will she be learning to cook properly then?’

  ‘Better.’ Tom beamed. ‘She’ll become a cook adviser.’

 
; ‘Sounds fancy . . .’

  Robbie had no idea what it meant but he could tell that Tom was impressed. And the way Maeve was grinning back at him, he could see she felt the same way about Tom.

  ‘She your sweetheart now?’ Robbie asked.

  ‘None of your business,’ Tom retorted. ‘Here, Maeve, reckon the lad needs to find something to keep his mouth occupied. You’d better take him out the back to eat.’

  Robbie followed Maeve through to the kitchen and watched as she spooned the curry into a bowl.

  ‘Big portion, please,’ he said.

  ‘First batch from the country, these rabbits are. You’re a lucky young man.’

  He wished she wouldn’t take so long fussing around with vegetables and making it look nice and just give it to him.

  ‘If it’s not ready yet, I’ll just go and fetch some dessert first . . .’

  ‘Oh no, you wait here. Besides, who eats their pudding before their main course?’

  ‘I do. Always.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, trying to sound convincing. ‘My ma always said it was alright.’

  What his mother really said was that if you couldn’t find anything else to eat, then it was okay to eat sweet things if they were available, but Maeve didn’t need to know that.

  ‘Well, I only know what Maggie says and that’s different.’

  ‘Look, I’m a growing boy,’ he said, forcing his stomach out as far as it would go.

  ‘Oh, that doesn’t look quite right. I reckon you might have worms.’

  ‘When did you say you were off to Leicester?’

  Eliza had Maggie by the elbow and was dragging her along Upper Street, ignoring the bewildered looks of passers-by.

  ‘I really shouldn’t go, you don’t understand,’ Maggie told her.

  ‘Of course I do, but you can’t let principles stand between you and a four-star meal!’

  ‘But what about all that you’ve said about him?’

  ‘Forget what I said until after you’ve been!’

  ‘I can’t just put on a happy face and pretend everything is fine when I know that Rose wants to be sitting in my place!’

  ‘Yes, you can—it’s called wine . . . wine, sherry and port.’ Eliza stopped and put her face close to Maggie’s. ‘You have enough then you’ll be pretending he’s Frank Sinatra—but don’t have too much or you’ll tell him everything, so just watch yourself.’