Ella chuckled to herself as she carefully stirred her wine sauce over a basin of hot water, one eye on the consistency, the other on Tom and Gabby.
With some sort of sixth sense, one of the clipboard girls padded across, out of shot, to Onyx and had a quiet word. Onyx simply smiled and pointed downwards. She wasn’t alone. Two of the larger dogs, covered in dirt and dust, and having clearly done their Great Escape tunnelling were sitting beside her, tongues lolling, tails wagging.
Gabby’s face, furious before, was now glitteringly angry. Her breath hissed like a stationary steam train. ‘Oh dear we need to close the door very quickly. N-O-W.’
With a look of sheer terror, the runner boy dashed between the cameras and cables and crew, shoved the clipboard girl to one side, and kicked the door shut.
Tom blinked sadly as the glorious sight of a minimally dressed Onyx disappeared from view.
‘Insects,’ Gabby improvised cheerfully to the camera. ‘Always a problem when we’re cooking in summer, aren’t they, ladies and gentlemen? Now it might make it even hotter in your kitchen, but I do think closing all doors and windows is a must, don’t you? Especially –’ she glared at Tom ‘– if you want to keep pests out.’
Clever, Ella thought. No one watching the show would ever know that the ‘insects’ were in fact a fabulously sexy and underdressed exotic dancer and two large and shaggy and very dirty dogs.
But of course, we must have blown it now, Ella thought sadly, and just when it was going so well, too… Bugger.
Still, you had to hand it to Gabby. Ultimately professional, she managed to keep her clearly volatile temper under control – except, obviously, with poor Tom. As Ash lifted his soup from the hob, and Billy retrieved his scones from the oven, she remained icily cool and looked at her watch.
‘Five minutes, everyone! We have five minutes before you need to start plating up! And Tom – ‘she gritted her teeth ‘– are you with us again, now, dear?’
Tom dragged his eyes from the closed door. ‘Er, yes… yes.’
‘So what’s next on the agenda, Tom?’
Tom, still reeling from the sight of Onyx, clearly didn’t know.
Poll, having checked that her carrots and asparagus were perfectly cooked, suddenly waved her hand in the air like an overenthusiastic schoolgirl. ‘I know, Gabby! I know!’
Gabby shuddered. ‘Really? Well, thank heavens one of us does. No, no – the rest of you carry on scuttling between the stove and the table and concentrate on plating up. Polly is going to tell us what Tom seems to have forgotten.’
‘Poll, actually.’ Poll blew damp strands of hair away from her forehead. ‘And it’s Gabby’s Secret Ingredient, isn’t it?’
‘Ah –’ Tom muttered.
Gabby cut him short. ‘Yes, clever, girl! That’s right. It’s time for Gabby’s Secret Ingredient!’
The camera zoomed in for a sparkling Gabby close-up.
Ella, hotter than she had ever been in her life, glanced at Ash. He smiled at her. The smile crinkled his eyes and wrinkled his nose and made her heart turn backflips.
Ella stopped dead in decanting her wine sauce into a tiny jug. Sod it! She loved him. She really, really loved him.
She’d never felt like this about Mark – never had and never would.
But there was Onyx…
Afterwards, Ella could never quite remember what happened next. Or how. Still reeling from the realisation that liking and lusting and friendship had turned, on her part, to something far more intense and personal and romantic and altogether wonderful – if heartbreakingly pointless under the circumstances – she wasn’t totally concentrating.
But at the point where they’d all managed to get their food back on the table without burning it or dropping anything, and started dishing up without spilling anything, and it was looking pretty wonderful in Poll’s gorgeous old-fashioned dinner service – the one that matched the fat teapot with rosebuds and forget-me-nots – and were all mentally congratulating themselves that nothing had gone wrong at all during the cooking process, things started to change.
Tom was looming over the table, enthusiastically wafting scents towards him with a big brown hand, while Gabby, followed by the second camera, had teetered across the kitchen and was rather dramatically opening the doors to all the cupboards and the fridge and freezer searching for the Secret Ingredient.
Everything seemed to be hunky-dory. Well, apart from realising that she’d just fallen hopelessly into pointless and unrequited love, of course.
Ella, keeping her mind off Ash, Onyx and Mark, and on the food, had just managed to turn the steaming Athole pudding out of the mould without any of it flopping, when she suddenly noticed a sort of silver flash out of the corner of her eye. It was nothing more than a glimmer, glimpsed and then gone, through the kitchen door in the darkness of the hallway.
How odd. It was almost like…
‘Ah!’ Gabby cried ecstatically from the depths of the freezer. ‘Got it! I’ve got Gabby’s Secret Ingredient!’ Glittering at the camera, she held a small package aloft for the camera.
‘What the hell’s that?’ Ash hissed to Ella.
Ella, mindful of the microphones and the fact that she loved him and mustn’t let him know by going all stupidly gooey-eyed, simply shook her head.
‘Oh, but that’s not…’ Poll started as Gabby sashayed her way over to the table.
Gabby silenced her with a Look.
‘And what have we got for Gabby’s Secret Ingredient today?’ Tom cried with extremely false bonhomie.
Before Gabby could answer, Ella was aware of another shimmer of silver at the back of the kitchen.
Even more weird…
Was she seeing things? Was it lightning? Was the humid day going to dissolve into a thunderstorm at the last minute? Or were the lights about to fuse? God, she hoped not – it would be truly awful for Dewberrys’ Dinners to go off air just at this vital moment.
‘We’ve got,’ Gabby purred, ‘some lovely little dumplings.’
Oh God, oh God, oh dear God, Ella thought.
‘Sweet or savoury, Gabby?’ Tom was becoming more desperately obsequious by the minute.
‘Well, we don’t know that until we taste them, do we?’ Gabby upped the purring. ‘If they’re savoury I shall pop them into Ash’s nettle soup, and if they’re sweet they’ll complement, er, Ella’s lovely Athole pudding. I’m just going to taste them to find out.’
Ash pulled a horrified face at Ella. ‘Jesus, isn’t that… ?’
‘Roy’s next dinner,’ Ella muttered. ‘Yes. For God’s sake stop her.’
But they didn’t need to.
The silver shimmer erupted and billowed from the hall and into the kitchen.
‘Puck!’
‘Oh, I say,’ Tom stuttered.
‘Rude word!’ Gabby spat, the rolled-up deep-frozen mouse suspended to her lips.
‘Puck!’ Trixie repeated, storming into the kitchen in a flowing silver robe over her sturdy crossover sandals, and brandishing a twisted silver and gold wand wildly over her bubble perm. ‘Puck! Cobweb! Peaseblossom! Mustardseed! Come my fairy friends on this magical mystical Midsummer Night! Come and help your sisters Sunshine and Thistledown! Come and save your brothers Kalen and Pumpkin!’
Holy shit, Ella thought.
Ash laughed. Poll and Billy didn’t.
Gabby and Tom were transfixed, standing like statues.
Trixie’s warbling voice trilled tinnily, ‘On this lovely Midsummer Day/Little folk come out to play/And all the fairies sweet and meek/Help to find the food they seek.’
Then oddly, the kitchen previously bathed in light, grew dark. The air tingled and tinkled and was filled with cascades of multicoloured stars. In the half-light the only sound was of gently beating wings, soft as a butterfly, as a refreshing, rushing breeze played around them.
The sensation could have lasted hours or the blink of an eye. Ella had no idea.
But suddenly it was gone. And so was T
rixie. And the darkness. And Gabby was standing in front of them, holding the little basket of crystallised fruits.
There was no sign of Roy’s leftovers.
‘What the heck happened there?’ Ash asked, blinking. ‘Oh, surely not?’
Ella, pretty sure she knew exactly what had happened, just shook her head.
The crew were all frantically fiddling with dials and switches and checking and rechecking their electrical equipment.
‘A tiny technical hitch,’ Gabby spoke straight to the camera, without faltering. ‘Probably because of the hot weather. I never mind those, do you, viewers? It proves that Dewberrys’ Dinners is very, very live indeed and I hope it didn’t spoil your enjoyment… Now, where were we? Ah yes, Gabby’s Secret Ingredient! So what do we have?’
‘Er, didn’t you say dumplings?’ Tom muttered, still looking perplexed.
‘Dumplings?’ Gabby screeched. ‘Dumplings? Are you mad? Do these look like dumplings, Tom? No, we have some darling little crystallised fruits. Aren’t they pretty?’
Everyone nodded.
Ella, feeling as though she’d suddenly woken from a vivid dream and couldn’t quite remember where she was, rubbed her eyes. The smoky shadow came off on her fingers. Damn, now she probably looked like a bloody panda…
And was she the only one who’d seen – or thought she’d seen – Trixie? Dressed as a panto fairy godmother? Gabby and Tom didn’t seem to have been fazed by it at all. Had she imagined it? Dreamed it?
‘What happened?’ Ash leaned towards her. ‘What the hell happened? Was it Trixie? Again?’
Ella shook her head. ‘Not sure… but I think so.’
‘Do not talk.’ Gabby smiled a fixed smile. ‘Just plate. You have two minutes!’
Ella plated. So did everyone else. It was as if the weird silver moment simply hadn’t happened. Yet she was sure Gabby had heard Trixie’s initial shout, and had been about to sample a dead mouse, and then suddenly, inexplicably, the dead mouse had turned into crystallised fruits – crystallised fruits that Gabby was now placing artistically on top of the perfect shape of the Athole pudding.
And Trixie had rushed into the kitchen wearing a silver cloak, Ella knew she had. She’d seen her. Hadn’t she?
‘Right! Time’s up!’ Gabby shimmied to the far end of the table. ‘Step away from your food. Right away.’
They stepped.
Gabby eyed the table. ‘Very nice. Beautifully served. Gorgeous old china. Well done.’
Ella looked at Poll and gave a little inner jig of pure happiness.
Tom, casting a longing glance at the firmly closed back door, shook himself. ‘Ah, yes. It all looks absolutely wonderful. A proper Farmhouse Feast.’
The camera panned the length of the table.
It did look fantastic, Ella thought. From Ash’s mouthwatering nettle soup in the ancient tureen, flanked by Billy’s scones, piled high on the matching dish and dripping with butter, on to Poll’s delicious Jerusalem artichoke pudding, layers of creamy vegetables, topped with thin curls of cheese and accompanied by the vivid arrangement of baby carrots and asparagus spears, and then her own Athole pudding, a perfect glistening shape, with the crystallised fruits dotted like jewels and the hot wine sauce steaming in its pretty little jug.
They stood back, exhausted, sweltering, pushing damp hair from even damper faces, and took huge life-saving swigs from the bottles of water provided by the crew.
Gabby and Tom took centre stage and took up their positions behind the food. Ella held her breath as they stirred the soup and cut into Billy’s scones.
‘Oooh, excellent, absolutely excellent,’ Gabby groaned orgasmically, managing to shove what Ella considered a massive amount of nettle soup into her mouth without apparently dislodging her lipgloss. ‘Oh this is absolutely sublime. This is can’t get enough soup. Fabulous, fabulous flavours!’
‘Oh, yes!’ Tom agreed, soaking up the soup with a buttered scone. ‘My word, and the scones, too – light as a feather. Yes, yes, yes indeedy!’
Then they moved on to Poll’s main course. Again, the exclamations were of sheer gourmand delight. Both Tom and Gabby had second greedy mouthfuls.
Gabby was by now ecstatically tossing her golden curls and rivalling the Meg Ryan scene in When Harry Met Sally.
And then it was the turn of Ella’s pudding. Drenching it with wine sauce, Gabby took a huge spoonful and went into further raptures. ‘Sooo lemony, sooo creamy, sooo rich and sooo absolutely gorgeous.’
Tom followed suit.
Ella, aware that she was still holding her breath, uncrossed her fingers and exhaled.
It was OK. It was all OK.
‘Well.’ Gabby eventually dabbed her lips on a pristine napkin and spoke to the camera. ‘I think you can tell that both Tom and I really, really enjoyed that. A fabulous old-time meal, thank you all. In fact –’ she twinkled flirtatiously ‘– I think I’ll have to ask Ash and, er, the others for their recipes so that Tom and I can try them out at home.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Tom put in, ‘that would be fun, Gabby. A veritable Farmhouse Feast. Thank you. All of you. It’s been an absolute pleasure.’
The camera switched briefly to Ella, Poll, Ash and Billy who all smiled stiffly.
‘So,’ Gabby summed up, ‘we’ve had day three of our southern area heat. And I think you’ll agree that our four cooks here in baking hot Berkshire have provided us with something very different, very old-fashioned, wonderfully cooked and beautifully presented. Tom and I are delighted and very impressed. Aren’t we, Tom?’
Tom, who had just shoved another of Billy’s scones into his mouth, nodded in agreement. Sadly, his reply was muffled and very crumby.
Gabby looked scathing. ‘That made no sense at all – par for the course with Tom – but I think we more or less got the gist of it, didn’t we? Well, today we’ve been treated to an exceptional three-course meal from four exceptional cooks. They’ve certainly raised the bar.’
Tom had swallowed his scone but still had crumbs round his mouth. ‘Ah, yes, they certainly have – they’ll be a hard act to follow. So, tomorrow, when we’re in, um, Wiltshire, I wonder what delights there’ll be in store for us there?’
‘We’ll all have to wait and see, won’t we?’ Gabby twinkled. ‘So, we’ll see you all the same time tomorrow when we’ll be, as Tom says, in Wiltshire. Until then, it’s goodbye from Ash and, er, the others here in Berkshire.’
Chapter Thirty-one
Ella, simply thrilled that it was over and no longer caring that she had smudgy eyes and damp, lank hair, managed another rictus smile. She assumed the others did too. Poll waved at the camera.
‘. . . and it’s goodbye and good cooking from me and from Tom and from Dewberrys’ Dinners – until tomorrow evening.’
‘Pickin’ A Chicken’ plinketty-plonked from a hidden source and echoed round the kitchen.
‘OK.’ Gabby tore off her microphone. ‘Let’s go.’
Ella blinked. It was all over. It was really all over. And they’d survived.
‘Fab food,’ Tom said cheerfully. ‘Really fab food. You should deffo become our Weekly Winners.’
‘TOM!’ Gabby screamed. ‘We do not EVER say that.’
‘Oh no, but they were sensational, weren’t they?’
‘Good, yes,’ Gabby said, grudgingly. ‘Very, very good. But who knows what Wilts and Beds will provide for us in the next two days.’ She leered at Ash. ‘Not two words very often linked together in your vocabulary, I’m guessing.’
Oooh tacky! Ella thought, trying not to giggle.
Ash didn’t dignify the remark with a reply.
As Gabby, followed by the entourage of minions, disappeared upstairs to collect her unused frocks, shoes and probably enough make-up to stock a large cosmetic department, Tom leaned against the kitchen table.
‘Well, that went really well. You’re all excellent cooks. That was one of the best shows we’ve ever done – oh – but please don’t tell Gabby I just said that. Wi
ll you? Please?’
‘Of course not.’ Poll, her eyes glittering with a massive happiness high, beamed at him.
‘Um, and would anyone object if I went outside for a quick ciggie? Only please don’t tell Gabby – she doesn’t know. She doesn’t like me smoking.’
Or much else, I’ll bet, Ella thought.
Poll beamed a bit more. ‘Oh, yes, of course, you go right ahead. And all your secrets are safe with us. There’s an ashtray out on the table in the garden. Billy likes a smoke, too. I don’t have any objections at all. Why don’t you go with him, Billy? You must be gasping.’
‘Ah, I am, Poll love.’ He gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘Come along, Tom – let’s go and get our nicotine fix together.’
‘Oh, thank you.’ Tom looked as though Poll and Billy had just jointly handed him the secret of eternal youth and King Midas’s never-ending-gold recipe all wrapped up into one package. ‘Thank you so much. You’re both very kind.’
And, with the air of someone who probably hadn’t known an awful lot of kindness, Tom picked his way across the kitchen – pausing for a quick word of thanks and a handshake with all the crew – and disappeared out of the back door with Billy.
Poll, still beaming from ear to ear, tottered to the rocking chair and sank into it. Ella, exhausted, but with adrenaline pumping non-stop through her body, wanted to skip round the kitchen and yell and grab everyone and kiss them – especially Ash, who was helping the film crew dismantle things. Oh, yes, especially Ash…
She didn’t.
She smiled at Poll instead. ‘Well, we did it. We actually did it.’
Poll nodded, pushing wisps of hair away from her face. ‘We did. And nothing went wrong. Aren’t we clever? I do hope someone has recorded it for us because I don’t actually remember very much about it – except being very, very hot and very, very scared. Oh, and something funny with the lights going dim and then Trixie… or did I imagine that? Billy said Trixie came into the kitchen and did some more fairy stuff, but did she? I must ask her… She could have ruined it all.’
Ella, reckoning that discussing Trixie’s intervention with an even more doolally than usual Poll right now was possibly not the way to go. They’d talk about it later. When they’d calmed down a bit. If they ever did…
The Way to a Woman's Heart Page 24
