by Kim M Watt
Alice and Miriam glanced at each other, then Alice said, “I think he’s quite drunk. He was talking about monsters before.”
“I see.” DI Adams tried to pull the man to his feet, but he scrabbled wildly at the ground, squeezing his eyes closed and squeaking incoherently about crazy women and wild animals and dogs dressed as alligators. She looked at the two women, watching with interest. “What did you do to him?”
“As has been noticed,” Alice said gravely, “I do seem to intimidate people.”
DI Adams made a noise that was halfway between a laugh and scoff, and said, “Mr Minnow, if you don’t cooperate and get up right now, I’ll have to make you. And no one wants that.” She prodded his shoulder.
“Get off! Don’t touch me, you—” There was growl from somewhere around where the waist-high voice had been, cutting him off before she could tell him that he probably didn’t want to finish that thought. He whimpered into the gravel.
“Get up, Mr Minnow.” She ignored the growl, even though she could feel it in her chest like the bass at a concert. One thing at a time.
He turned his face a little and opened one eye timidly. “Are you arresting me?”
“Yes.”
“Are – are you going to take me away?”
“Yes.”
“Will I be safe?”
“Just get up, Mr Minnow.”
He squeezed his eyes closed again, rolled over and offered her his wrists. She stared from him, to the ladies of the Women’s Institute, to the odd shapes in the rain, then cuffed him. The growling stopped.
“You need to go home,” she said to Alice and Miriam, pulling the sorry-looking man to his feet. He opened his eyes warily.
“We’ll do that right away,” Alice said agreeably, and shook her cane at Harold. He shied away with a little wail. “Make sure you tell the truth, Mr Minnow.”
“I will,” he blubbered. “I will, I will, I swear I will! Just get me away from these, these—”
“Mr Minnow!” Miriam said, sounding horrified.
“—ladies,” he finished, subdued.
“Go home. Behave,” DI Adams said. “I’m not asking any questions, and I’m going to pretend I never saw you out here. I recommend you do the same.”
Miriam nodded, and scuttled toward the car. Alice was a bit slower to follow, still eyeing Harold.
“He may talk some nonsense, Inspector,” she said. “He really was rather tipsy when he arrived.”
“Go home, Alice.”
“I am.” But she shook the cane at the whimpering man one more time before she left.
DI Adams shook her head and bundled him into her car, cuffing him to the seat and strapping him in. “We’ve got a bit of a ride ahead of us. You going to behave?”
“Yes,” he whispered, watching Alice’s car pull out of the parking lot. DI Adams caught a hint of something in the Prius’ back seat, seen and not seen, and sighed. She closed the door on Harold and climbed into the driver’s seat, rolling her shoulders as she started the engine and wondering just how sleep-deprived you had to be before you started seeing things. She met the man’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. They were teary, and there was blood on his face where he’d slid on the gravel.
“Officer?” he said, his voice shaky.
Well, it was better than whatever he’d wanted to call her before. “Yes?” Half-expecting he was going to ask to use the toilet before they left.
“Are the cells dragon-proof?”
DI Adams turned in her seat so she could look at him properly, taking in his shaking hands and trembling lower lip. Yes, he was still on the tipsy side. But mostly he was terrified.
“Huh,” she said.
It was almost a week later when she drove back into Toot Hansell. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to be back, but here she was. The sun was out, painting the gardens in riotous splashes of colour that bloomed bright against the stone walls of the houses and the rolling green of the surrounding trees and land. She looked at the village properly for the first time as she drove through, not as a crime scene, just as a pretty little place wound about with rivers and bridges, dominated by the church and the graveyard and the fells that rose beyond them.
Her route took her past Alice’s house first, and the surgically neat gardens that butted up against the woodland. She went up the little path to knock on the door, but there was no answer. Birds were squabbling on the lawn, and butterflies danced in the shade of the trees. She glared at them suspiciously as she got back in the car.
She drove to Miriam’s, and sat for a moment before she got out, thinking about the dead rabbit on its bed of leaves and flowers, and wondering about the actual meaning behind it. But there was only one way to get answers, so she walked through the little gate and circled the house, noting that that window was fixed, and that the grass was even longer than it had been last time.
She heard voices before she got to the back garden, but they fell silent as she approached.
“Hello?” she called, not wanting anyone to think she was trying to sneak up on them. “Miriam?”
“Is that the inspector?” Alice called, and now she could see them sat at the sun-bleached outside table, teacups in front of them, as well as some rather generously loaded plates of cakes.
“DI Adams!” Miriam said, getting up and knocking the table with her leg, hard enough to slosh tea everywhere. “Is everything alright?”
“Perfectly,” the inspector said. “I just wanted to update you, really, since we had you under suspicion for so long.”
“Of course! That’s – that’s – thank you?”
“Can I pour you some tea, Inspector?” Alice asked.
“That would be lovely.”
“I’ll just get you a cup, then.” She got up, rather more gracefully than Miriam, and went inside to get it.
“Oh, do sit down!” Miriam exclaimed, waving the inspector toward a chair, and began fussing with the cakes. “Would you like some?”
“Please.” DI Adams leaned forward. “What have you got?”
“Oh, well, Victoria sponge, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“And scones. And mince pies.”
“Mince pies? In spring?”
Miriam laughed nervously. “It’s sort of a treat. For a friend.”
“Oh, are you expecting company?”
“No. Well, I mean, yes, but – oh, here’s Alice with your cup!”
DI Adams narrowly avoided the fallout of tea as Miriam jumped up again, and noted the two empty plates and the half-drunk soup mugs of tea on the ground. There was more, too, in the shadows where her eyes didn’t want to go, but she left it for now. “Pixies?” she asked.
“Of course,” Alice said, pouring her tea. “What sort of cake can I get you, Inspector?”
“Some Victoria sponge, please.”
“Excellent choice,” Alice said, and cut her a generous slice. “So, I trust everything has gone well with the case?”
DI Adams forked up a mouthful of cake before she answered. It was soft and moist and tasted of the summer that was lurking just around the corner. She gave a sigh of appreciation and took a sip of tea. “It was all a bit of mistake, really. Mr Minnow was not the successful businessman he wanted everyone to believe. He was miles in debt, his restaurant was getting only middling reviews, so none of the real foodies were bothering to come such a long way, and of course all the locals were boycotting him after the fete fiasco.”
“I told you fetes are a cutthroat business,” Alice said.
DI Adams smiled. “Evidently. Anyway, he was furious about it all, and felt he’d been very unfairly treated.” She took another sip of tea, thinking that it wasn’t a bad substitute for coffee, and decided it was best not to mention the exact language Harold had used to describe how the fete had gone, or the Women’s Institute themselves. “It seems that he only meant for the vicar to get sick, and for everyone to think the W.I. had given him food poisoning, so that no one would want to come
to the fete. He thought one leaf in a whole batch of icing wouldn’t do any serious damage. Stupid scheme, really, as even if it had worked the way he wanted, it wouldn’t have got him anywhere, but there we go. It was just a petty revenge thing. He didn’t think the vicar would die. Quite sad, really.”
“Tragic,” Alice said, and Miriam murmured her agreement.
“Just lucky he confessed so willingly, else we’d still be looking at you ladies.”
“Very lucky,” the women agreed.
DI Adams took another bite of cake, savouring the sweetness against the richness of the cream and the tartness of the jam. “Lovely,” she said. “My compliments to the baker.”
“Thank you,” Alice said, inclining her head slightly.
Miriam topped the inspector’s cup up, and for a moment all was quiet. DI Adams could hear the beck burbling beyond the back gate, and the music of a bird she couldn’t identify lost somewhere in the ramshackle depths of the garden, and somewhere in the distance a lawn mower.
“So,” she said, and looked directly at that blurry spot in her vision, the one just beyond the plates and mugs on the floor. It was hard to make it resolve into anything, and in the end she let her gaze slide away just slightly, so she caught them on the corner of her vision, two … well, two dragons, because what else could they be, with their spined backs and taloned paws and wings folded neatly along their sides, smoke drifting softly from their nostrils? Two dragons the colour of the grass around them, basking like cats in the late afternoon sun. “Tell me about dragons.”
As she said it they came into perfect focus, as if her eyes had only been waiting for her brain to catch up. They stared at her with startled eyes, one set old cracked gold, the other warm young amber. The smaller dragon squeaked and dropped his mince pie into his tea, and the bigger one smiled, exposing ragged yellow teeth.
“Oh dear,” Miriam said, then they looked at each other in silence, the women and the dragons, while all around them was the rumble of bees, and the warm scent of early summer sun on green earth, and the sense that there are many, many kinds of magic in the world, and that friendship may just be the best of them.
Recipes
Tea and baked goods feature heavily in the majority of my stories, not just because they suit the life of the W.I., but because food is so often much more than fuel. It’s a way of taking care of ourselves, of creating bonds and memories and friendships. It’s a language we all speak, a common ground between everyone. Even dragons.
Besides, I really like cake.
In the following pages you’ll find a few recipes that recreate some of the dishes in Baking Bad. Not Jasmine’s though. Just in case.
All recipes are courtesy of Mick Carbert, also known as the SO, who is, as it happens, a most wonderful pastry chef.
* * *
Note: I use UK measurements (metric). I’ve converted them to US, but this is a less than exact science (which sounds better than “I got a bit confused between cups, sticks, and ounces, so just took a stab at one.” Which is more true). You may need to experiment and tweak a little. Good luck!
Scones
350 g / 2 cups + 3 Tbsp self-raising flour (if you only have plain flour then adding about 3 tsp baking powder will give you the rough equivalent)
1½ tsp baking powder
50 g / ¼ cup caster sugar
Pinch salt
75 g / 2¾ oz chilled butter
150 mL / ½ cup + 2 Tbsp milk
2 large eggs
75 g / ½ cup sultanas
* * *
Pre-heat oven to 200C/400F. It needs to hold this temperature, so an oven is recommended, unless you have a very well-practised dragon helping you out.
* * *
Combine flour, baking powder and caster sugar in a large bowl, then rub the butter in until the mix resembles breadcrumbs, with no large pieces of butter left (you can use knives to do this, or one of those fancy butter-rubbing things, but I quite like just getting my hands in there. Wash them first, though. Especially if you have talons and scales).
* * *
Combine eggs and milk, then add to the dry ingredients, mixing gently with a knife or wooden spoon. You’ll probably need to get your hands in there again by the end, and add the sultanas before bringing the dough into a cohesive ball (you may need to allow for extra sultanas. They’re very more-ish, and oddly tempting for dragons).
* * *
Tip out onto a floured board or work surface, and knead very lightly to bring everything together. Pat down to a circle if you want wedges, or a rough square (ask the dragons not to breathe on it, as we don’t want the cooking to start too soon). Cut into 8 wedges or 9 squares, and pop onto a baking tray, making sure the bottoms of the scones are well-dusted with flour to prevent sticking. You can brush the tops with milk or beaten egg yolk, but I usually forget.
* * *
Bake for 10 minutes, or until tops are lightly golden and scones sound hollow when tapped on the bottom (do not tap your friendly dragons on the bottom. No one needs a startled dragon in the kitchen).
* * *
Eat while still warm, and before the dragons nab them all.
* * *
Makes 9, or not enough for hungry dragons.
Banana Bread
255 g / 2 cups flour
150 g / ¾ cup sugar
3/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
155 g / 1¼ cups toasted walnuts, chopped
3 very large ripe bananas, mashed — approx 450 g / 1 ½ cups
60 g / ¼ cup yoghurt
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
85 g / 2¼ oz butter, melted and cooled
1 tsp vanilla extract
* * *
Grease and line a 23 x 13 cm (9″ x 5″) loaf tin. Preheat oven to 180C/350F.
* * *
Whisk (by hand) flour, sugar, baking soda, salt, and walnuts in large bowl and set aside.
* * *
Mix mashed bananas, yoghurt or equivalent, eggs, cooled melted butter (make sure it’s cool before it hits the eggs. Yes, I know from experience) and vanilla in medium bowl.
* * *
Realise you’ve actually put the dry stuff in the medium bowl and the wet stuff in the large bowl.
* * *
Shrug.
* * *
Mix them together gently in whatever bowl you fancy until just combined, and tip into baking pan.
* * *
Bake until golden brown and skewer or knife comes out clean – about 45 - 55 minutes.
* * *
Allow to cool, and prepare for dragons.
Victoria Sponge
For the cake:
200 g / 1 cup caster sugar
200 g / 7 oz softened butter
4 eggs, beaten
200 g / 1¼ cups self-raising flour
1 tsp baking powder
2 tbsp milk
* * *
For the filling:
100 g / 3½ oz butter softened
140 g / 1 cup icing sugar, sifted
drop vanilla extract (optional)
half a 340 g / 12 oz jar W.I. standard strawberry jam
icing sugar, to decorate
* * *
Heat oven to 190C/375F. Butter two 20 cm sandwich tins and line with non-stick baking paper.
* * *
Chuck all cake ingredients into a large bowl and beat until you have a smooth, soft batter.
* * *
Divide the mixture between the tins and smooth the surface with a spatula or the back of a spoon. Lick the bowl, before the dragons get to it.
* * *
Bake for about 20 mins until golden and the cake springs back when pressed (this is best tested by humans, as dragons often forget their own strength. Or get hungry).
* * *
Turn onto a cooling rack and leave to cool completely, out of reach of dragons.
* * *
To make the filling, beat the butter until smooth and creamy, then graduall
y beat the icing sugar and a drop of vanilla extract (if you’re using it).
* * *
Spread the buttercream over the bottom of one of the sponges. (You may want to make extra. You know, for testing purposes.) Top it with strawberry jam and sandwich the second sponge on top.
* * *
Dust with a little icing sugar before serving. Keep in an airtight container and eat within 2 days. (Hahaha. Sure, it’ll last that long.)
Lemon Drizzle Cake
For the cake:
70 g / 2½ oz softened unsalted butter
120 g / ½ cup + 2 Tbsp caster sugar
2 medium eggs
140g / ¾ cup + 2 Tbsp self-raising flour (or plain flour + 1 ½ tsp baking powder)
1 tsp baking powder
finely grated zest 1 lemon
1 tbsp lemon curd
2 tbsp full-fat milk
* * *
For the drizzle topping:
30 g / 2 Tbsp granulated sugar
juice 1 lemon
* * *
Heat oven to 180C/350F. Line a 20 x 20 cm square baking tin with baking parchment.
