And Mark, when she’d phoned him to tell him about being chosen to be on Dewberrys’ Dinners, had been less than impressed. He’d laughed and told her she was mad, and that he wouldn’t watch it because Jez from the sales office had tickets for a really hot concert and he thought it was probably on the same night.
‘Clothes,’ Ash said suddenly. ‘We’ve done everything else a million times but we haven’t done clothes. And –’ he grinned at Onyx ‘– you’re excluded from this conversation seeing as you wear so few.’
Onyx giggled. Ella didn’t.
‘I was thinking,’ Ash continued, ‘that we should all look the same – oh, I don’t mean a uniform exactly, but similar outfits. That way we’ll look like a team and hopefully stick in the viewers’ minds.’
Ella stared at him. Due to her sunglasses, this was easy. She’d been doing it a lot all afternoon. The viewers, she thought, would never forget him, whatever he was wearing. Oh, God, but he was gorgeous.
Ash nodded. ‘I was thinking, if we all wear pale-blue tops and black bottoms.’
George clearly found this smuttily funny and chuckled loudly, sending up dust clouds from under the table.
‘Careful, sweetheart.’ Waving her hands, Poll blew the dust away. ‘Oh, yes… clever you, Ash. A great idea. You boys can wear black trousers and pale-blue shirts, and I’ve got a lovely long floaty black skirt and a super blue peasant top. What about you, Ella?’
‘Er, yes, I’ve got some black linen trousers and a pale blue T-shirt.’
‘Great.’ Ash stood up. ‘Is that OK with everyone?’
They all nodded.
He held out his hand to Onyx. ‘Come on then, Miss Sunworshipper. Grab what few clothes you’ve got and I’ll give you a lift back to Winterbrook. There’s no way on earth you’re travelling in my ice-cream van looking like that. You’ll cause a pile-up.’
Ella pulled a face then berated herself for being childish.
‘Such a shame you’ve got to go back to work,’ Poll said. ‘Mind you, if you’re on commission, this weather must be great for you.’
‘Certainly can’t complain,’ Ash agreed. ‘But I’ll have to dash now. I’m due outside Winterbrook Ladies College at end of school. One of my best spots – and not just for ogling the sixth-form girls before any of you say anything.’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ Onyx, holding Ash’s hand, stood up effortlessly in one easy motion. ‘Although I’m sure they don’t just queue up at your van for a Bazooma.’
‘Probably exactly what they’re queuing up for,’ Billy chuckled throatily.
Poll and Ella shot him joint disapproving looks – although, Ella thought, for entirely different reasons.
Onyx, her glorious body glistening with oil, slithered against Ash as she hopped on one leg to pull on her shorts. Ella dragged her eyes away. It was too erotic for words.
Oh, stop torturing yourself, she told herself crossly. Just bloody stop it.
She scrambled quickly to her feet. ‘It’s too hot out here. I’m going to go indoors and type up our recipes and the final menu layout and email them to the programme. They want it before close of business today – so, is everyone OK with what we’ve got?’
They all nodded.
‘And we’re all agreed on Gabby’s Secret Ingredient?’
They all nodded again.
Poll looked up. ‘I thought we could leave both things we’ve agreed on. A prominent punnet of fresh herbs in the fridge, and a small plastic box of frozen crystallised fruits in the freezer. I know it’s a bit belt and braces, but that way Gabby can pick either of those, and they’ll garnish any of the courses nicely without spoiling either the taste or the presentation.’
‘Good thinking,’ Ella said. ‘And no one wants to make any last-minute changes, do they? Because this is our absolutely last chance to alter things. Once this is sent, we’re committed to it.’
Poll flapped her hands. ‘Don’t say that, Ella. It all sounds so final.’
‘That’s because it is. Once the weekend is over, we’ll be watching the first two southern heats, one on Monday, the next on Tuesday – and then on Wednesday, it’ll be us… Us. On live telly. Cooking. Our menu. The menu the Dewberrys need this afternoon. So, anything you want to alter will have to be now – or not at all.’
They all stared at her. She hated being so abrupt, but really, one of them had to try and keep a grip on reality.
‘And the weekend will fly by,’ Poll said faintly, ‘because we’re going to have to clean every nook and cranny of the kitchen before, er, before they arrive. And then it’ll be next week before we know it.’
‘Exactly,’ Ella said, a shiver of excitement running unbidden down her spine. ‘We honestly don’t have much time left.’
‘Oh, heavens above,’ Billy sighed. ‘It all seems a bit scary now.’
Trixie stirred under the tree and carefully placed her books and notes in a tidy pile. ‘None of you have anything to worry about – so you run along and do what you have to do, Ella dear. I can promise you all it won’t be scary in the least. I’ve just taken care of that.’
Chapter Twenty-seven
Midsummer’s Day dawned hot and mistily fragranced by scorched grass and overblown roses. Hideaway Farm shimmered drowsily beneath a wall-to-wall bluebell sky.
Ella, lying in the claw-footed bath, queasy with nerves and gritty-eyed through lack of sleep, stared up through the skylight at the diffused golden glow of the sun.
It was today.
Oh God – it was today.
In fact, she thought wildly, as the Dewberrys’ Dinners crew had said they’d be arriving by eight, it was probably at any minute…
On Monday and Tuesday, the Hideaway residents had all piled into the peaches and cream sitting room and watched the first two southern programmes: one from Kent, with a team of four new-age hippies who did fusion food, but sadly one of them fused her love beads to her teriyaki chicken due to an overheated grill pan in the wrong place; and one team from Dorset, two middle-aged couples who bred and slaughtered their own livestock, something which totally horrified Poll into very bad language, angered Ella to tears, and shocked the rest of them into silence, and whose pigs trotters – ‘Mabel was one of our dearest and most-loved piggies, she was exactly like a member of the family’ – with lavender mayonnaise had earned scathing remarks from Tom, and exaggerated oh-yuck face-pulling from Gabby.
And now it was their turn.
Now. Today…
Hauling herself reluctantly from the luxuriously scented water, Ella wrapped herself in a huge fluffy towel and padded to the bedroom.
What to wear… Not the black trousers and blue T-shirt, they’d come later when – Ella swallowed – Gabby and Tom had arrived and they were going to be filmed.
No, it would have to be something cool and comfortable… The tabloid forecasters had already said Midsummer’s Day was going to be A Proppa Scorcha, so possibly one of the two floaty frocks she’d bought last week on a visit to Winterbrook with Poll would be suitable, and flip-flops, and her hair – now freshly washed – scrunchied up so that she could wear it down tonight, and…
Ella swallowed again and wished she didn’t feel quite so sick.
Get a grip, she told herself as she dressed. This is what you wanted. It’s not for you, it’s for Ash. Remember it’s for Ash – and Poll. You’ve just got to pretend there’s no one watching you and cook as you’ve been cooking for the last umpteen years.
Fat chance!
When she got downstairs, Poll, similarly dressed, was the only person in the kitchen.
‘I know it’s boiling hot but I’m shivering with nerves and my tummy’s in knots – and I couldn’t sleep,’ Poll said, fiddling with the cutlery drawer. ‘I’ll be a zombie by this evening.’
‘Me too.’ Ella poured orange juice. ‘No, I don’t want anything to eat, thanks. I’ll probably never eat again. Where’s everyone else?’
‘Trixie’s taken George to feed the hens, colle
ct the eggs and try to keep them inside their run, and Billy’s down in the little paddock trying to get the dogs and cats to accept that they’re going to have to spend today out of sight. He’s built a nice little shelter for them to sleep in the shade and they’ve got loads of water and tons of dry food.’
‘And they’ll all have escaped and be back up here before he is.’
Poll nodded. ‘That’s what I think, too.’
‘And Ash?’
Poll shuddered. ‘Giving Roy his breakfast.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘Dear God, Ella…’ Poll looked suddenly stricken. ‘What on earth have we done?’
‘We’ll be fine,’ Ella said with no conviction whatsoever. ‘Once the film crew arrive it’ll be so busy we won’t have time to be nervous. Er, is Onyx here?’
‘You mean did she stay over last night? Not as far as I know, although of course she’s got Ash’s spare key so I probably wouldn’t know if she had.’ Poll stopped fiddling with the knives and forks. ‘I did have a little chat to Ash about her, you know. When I was telling him about you and Mark – oh, not the details, Ella, you know I wouldn’t do that – but we were just talking about relationships in a general way. They’ve been together for such a long time and she’s a lovely girl, and even Trixie says they’re the perfect couple in fairy names, but it’s very clear to me how you feel about Ash and –’
Ella held up her hands. ‘Don’t, Poll. Please. Ash is definitely off limits, I’ve got Mark, and enough other stuff to worry about today. And once this is over, Mark or no Mark, I’m going to get myself out on the village social circuit and join in all the barn dances and find myself a nice young farmer or something.’
Poll laughed. ‘Maybe you could find me one at the same time.’
‘No way. You don’t need one, do you?’
Poll, Ella noticed, simply blushed and didn’t deny it. Oh, well, at least one of them might be lucky in love…
‘Poll, forgetting the other problems for a moment, what about Trixie?’
‘She’s going to be wonderfully useful at keeping George and the animals out of sight today. She isn’t miffed at all about not being on camera. She really doesn’t want to be. She says –’
‘I meant about her fairy stuff. You don’t think she seriously thinks that today is magical in some way and she’s going to, well, conjure up something?’
Poll shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t think so for a minute. Oh, I know you’re still sceptical about what happened before, but I actually believe it was the dandelion fairies. Even so, I really don’t think there’ll be anything like that today, do you?’
‘I hope not. But you know she said she’d take care of things tonight… like she was going to cast spells or something. You don’t think she intends to hijack the programme in some sort of, well, fairy-ish way?’
‘Good Lord, no! Trixie will keep right out of it tonight, with George and the animals – if they escape from their confines, which of course, they will – the animals, that is, not George. She’s told me so. And, bless her, she can’t help being a little bit… fey.’
A bit barking more like, Ella thought, still not completely convinced that Trixie wasn’t preparing for Midsummer’s Day by seeing herself as some sort of mumsy Titania in floral polyester.
The doorbell stopped them both in their tracks.
‘It’s not eight o’clock yet,’ Poll croaked. ‘It can’t be the film crew, can it?’
‘Well, it isn’t the postman this early and as you’ve just said Onyx has a key, so I’d guess yes, it probably is. I’ll go, shall I?’
Poll clutched the cutlery drawer for support. ‘Please. Oh, do we look all right? Is the kitchen all right?’
‘Perfect. Everything’s as all right as it’s ever going to be,’ Ella said gently. ‘And you’ll be wonderful – you’re a brilliant cook and you’re kind and lovely and you make everyone welcome. So stop panicking and enjoy it.’
Yep, she thought as she slip-slapped her way along the tiled hallway to open the front door, now if only she could convince herself…
The film crew beamed at her from the steps. There seemed to be hundreds of them. And dozens of vehicles of every conceivable make skewed outside the farmhouse. Ella, fixing her best smile and praying that her teeth weren’t chattering, ushered them inside.
The producer, director, two cameramen, lighting man, sound man, runner, various assistants and two very pretty girls with clipboards all introduced themselves. The names simply floated in and out of her consciousness.
The introductions were repeated in the kitchen and Poll, wearing a very bright glittery smile but with terrified eyes, welcomed everyone warmly. So far so good, Ella thought, although she was pretty sure Poll hadn’t taken in one word of what was being said either.
The crew, seemingly more than happy with the dimensions of the kitchen, explained they’d need to measure everything before setting up and then there’d be umpteen checks and run-throughs to make sure the light and acoustics were spot on. Then they’d have their own sound checks and position markers would be put in place and loads of other technical stuff that meant nothing to Ella at all.
‘Food!’ Poll exclaimed. ‘You’ll need food! And how can I feed you when you’re going to be needing the kitchen and –’
‘Chuck wagon,’ one of the pretty girls interrupted. ‘It’ll arrive shortly, park outside and feed us – and you – all day.’
‘My word!’ Poll sighed, looking animated for the first time. ‘It’s just like being in Hollywood! And do we all get a Winnebago?’
Several heads were shaken. Ella felt this probably wasn’t the first time they’d been asked.
After that, the crew took over. Poll and Ella, feeling very in the way, escaped to the garden and watched the comings and goings through the open back door.
It was quite amazing the amount of equipment needed as the crew bundled in and out with reels and reels of cables and loads of silver boxes and a strange big white umbrella thing, and more electrical stuff and chairs and little folding tables and even bigger silver boxes.
Slowly the kitchen was transformed.
‘They’ve got railway tracks!’ Poll hissed. ‘Are we having trains? George will love trains!’
‘For the first camera,’ the lighting man said cheerfully. ‘So that it can run up and down in front of the table while you’re cooking. Then we’ve got the swivel one in the corner to swoop over when you move across to the oven, and for Gabby and Tom’s close-ups, of course.’
The boy they called the runner started stage dressing the kitchen.
‘Oh, how pretty!’ Poll peeked round the door. ‘I’d never have thought of putting flowers there! And look at all those herbs in pots! And the fruit basket! Won’t we look posh?’
Just as the big umbrella thing – ‘for making sure we have optimum and level illumination and bouncing light off the faces’ – was being moved for the umpteenth time, Ash opened the kitchen door.
‘Oops, sorry – didn’t realise you were here yet,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Hi then, I’m Ash, and if I could just get to the freezer. Oh, sorry – right, that’s great, thanks.’
Oh, erk, Ella thought as Ash opened the freezer. The remains of Roy’s breakfast…
‘Ash! Over here!’ Poll waved from the doorstep. ‘We’re keeping out of the way.’
Ella grinned as Ash squeezed his way through the paraphernalia. One, because he wasn’t accompanied by Onyx, and two, because the two pretty clipboard girls were gazing at him with wide-eyed and open-mouthed lust.
Within minutes they were joined in the doorway by Trixie and George, and a puffing and glistening Billy.
‘Cats and dogs seem to be settled down there,’ Billy reported. ‘And unless they’re going to start tunnelling and do an animal version of The Great Escape they should be fine. Trixie’s going to pop down and top up the food and water later. But blimey, Poll, love, this is a transformation, isn’t it?’
They stared silently at
the manic comings and goings in the farmhouse kitchen which was now, with the addition of spotlights and banks of blinding overhead bulbs, rapidly turning into a film set.
‘And the hens are all rounded up,’ Trixie said happily. ‘And me and George have found some lovely fresh eggs for our breakfast.’
Quickly, Poll told them the eggs wouldn’t be used until tomorrow because of the imminent arrival of the chuck wagon.
George clapped his hands and capered up and down.
Trixie, looking as if she was about to caper too but without clapping her hands as they were full of eggs, peered into the kitchen. ‘Oooh – this is very exciting, dears, isn’t it? And what’s all that stuff for?’
With eye-watering inaccuracy and a huge lack of any technical knowledge whatsoever, Poll explained everything.
Ash looked down at Ella and laughed. ‘Did you sleep at all?’
‘Nope. You?’
‘No. I honestly hadn’t expected to feel this nervous… And I’m knackered already.’
‘Onyx not with you?’
‘No.’
‘Oh.’
‘She was working last night but she’ll be coming along later. There’s no way she’d miss this.’
‘No, of course not.’
‘What about your boyfriend? Mark? I bet he’ll be watching and so proud of you.’
Ella nodded, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be, but damned if she was going to say so.
Ash stared at the crew as they moved round the kitchen. ‘God, aren’t they all brilliant, though? I know they must do this all the time, but even so – all those different cameras, so much electrical stuff, so many lights and things, so many sockets and cables and plugs – and everyone is so cheerful and they all know exactly what to do and where to put everything.’
The Way to a Woman's Heart Page 21
