‘Why would she want to lose weight?’ asks Ryan, looking genuinely puzzled. ‘She’s perfect as she is.’
Clemmy flushes. ‘Aw, thanks, you.’ She nudges Ryan and pops the food into her mouth. ‘Maybe I ought to try and get fit, though. I keep meaning to. Perhaps I’ll start running.’
‘Really?’ Ryan glances at her in surprise.
Clemmy smiles, remaining remarkably good-natured considering Sophie’s just told her she’s fat. ‘Sophie has a point. A wedding is the ideal time to start a health and fitness kick.’
‘Precisely,’ says Sophie smugly. ‘Although, really, the pursuit of fitness should be an everyday thing. Not just for special occasions.’
‘Well, maybe I’ll start tomorrow,’ says Clemmy, ever eager to please.
Sophie nods. ‘Well, no bride wants to wobble down the aisle, do they?’
‘Sophie!’ murmurs Jackson.
‘What?’ She swings round to him in indignation. ‘What have I said?’
He sighs. ‘It isn’t every woman’s goal in life to be a size six! And actually, I agree with Ryan. Clemmy looks great as she is.’
Clemmy flushes. ‘Thank you, Jackson. That’s lovely.’ She turns appeasingly to Sophie. ‘But I think I will start being more active.’
Sophie gives Jackson a ‘there, told you so’ sort of look. Then her eyes light up. ‘Ooh, I know! How about we feature you in the magazine? When were you thinking of getting married, Clemmy?’
‘Oh, probably not until next Christmas.’
‘Perfect! So that gives you plenty of time to get in shape using my new fitness regime. We could run lots of “before” and “after” photos. And my new book would get a lovely plug!’ She frowns. ‘Mind you, you’d have to make sure you kept the weight off so that the wedding day pictures look stunning.’ She smiles at Clemmy. ‘What do you think?’
‘Oh, well, I’m not sure.’ Clemmy looks less than thrilled at the prospect of featuring in Dazzle.
‘Where are you doing it?’ Sophie asks.
‘Sorry?’
‘Where’s the venue?’
‘Somewhere nice and cheap,’ grins Ryan.
Clemmy admonishes him jokily with a look. ‘We were thinking the registry office and Jed kindly suggested we could have the reception here, in a marquee.’ She smiles at Jed.
‘Oh, no, surely not!’ Sophie looks appalled. ‘It’s your big day. You can’t spend it in someone else’s house!’
Clemmy laughs and glances around. ‘Well, it’s a bit more than just a house …’
Sophie leans forward. ‘Where would you get married if you could choose any venue?’
Clemmy hesitates, quailing under the pressure.
‘Go on. Use your imagination. Anywhere in Britain! Where would it be?’
‘Anywhere in Britain?’ says Clemmy. ‘Oh, well, that’s easy. Maple Tree Manor. I went to a friend’s wedding there and it was absolutely glorious. But it’s way out of our league.’
‘Maple Tree Manor?’ Ryan whistles. ‘We’d have to take out a small mortgage just to pay for the food!’
Sophie frowns up at the ceiling, thinking.
Then she focuses on Clemmy with a bright smile. ‘Okay, do the magazine feature –’ She pauses for effect ‘– and the company will cover the cost of the venue and the food. You’ll have a free wedding at Maple Tree Manor, the venue of your dreams!’ Sophie sits back with an air of triumph and folds her arms, not once taking her eyes off Clemmy’s face.
Clemmy turns brick red with confusion. She looks at Ryan, who shrugs his shoulders. He’s such an easy-going guy, I’m guessing he doesn’t mind either way and is happy to leave the decision to his fiancée.
‘That sounds amazing,’ says Clemmy slowly, turning back to Sophie. ‘But can you do that?’
Sophie laughs. ‘Of course I can. I’m the editor-in-chief. I get the final decision on everything.’
Clemmy swallows, looking torn. ‘I don’t know. I mean, it sounds wonderful. But I’m – I’m not sure I’m brave enough to appear in the magazine. Would I have to take my clothes off for the “before” pictures?’
‘No, no, of course not. We’d probably just need shots of you at the gym or in your running gear.’
Clemmy laughs nervously. ‘I’ll need to get some running gear first!’
‘Don’t do it if you don’t want to, Clemmy,’ says Jed, and there’s a murmur of agreement around the table.
Tentatively, Clemmy says, ‘Could we – Ryan and I – have time to think about it, Sophie?’
‘Sure.’ Sophie shrugs lightly. I glance at her profile. She sounds relaxed, but there’s a certain steel about her mouth that suggests this feature idea of hers is important to her.
For the first time, I wonder how much pressure Sophie is under to keep Dazzle readers coming back for more. And also how much pressure there is for her to look the part of a beauty and fashion magazine editor-in-chief. She represents everything that Dazzle has to offer in the way of style and sophistication. I guess a day in tracksuit bottoms, a hoodie and no make-up isn’t often an option for her.
Clemmy flashes Ryan a look that reveals she’s a bit scared but excited at the same time.
‘I’d love to see Maple Tree Manor,’ I say. ‘Is it far from here?’
Clemmy shakes her head. ‘Just about twenty miles.’ Her eyes light up. ‘We could go there and have a look around. You, me and Poppy.’ Her eyes flick to Sophie. ‘And you as well, of course, Sophie,’ she says swiftly.
‘Uh oh, looks like it might be on, then, Sophie,’ smiles Ryan.
Clemmy digs him playfully in the ribs. ‘I’ve not decided yet. But there’s no harm in looking, is there?’
I grin at her. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘Would you ever propose to someone, Roxy?’ she asks, beaming across the table at me.
I stop chewing in shock. Where on earth did that come from?
The room falls silent as my head whirls madly around. I’m painfully aware of Jackson sitting on the other side of Sophie. I really could have done without this reminder of my night of shame.
Clemmy’s face falls. ‘Sorry, Roxy, I didn’t mean to ask such a personal question. That’s just me and my foot-in-mouth problem.’
I shake my head. ‘No, no, it’s fine. You just caught me off guard, that’s all.’ I glance at Alex, who’s looking at me with a tense expression on his face. He’s the only one here – apart from Jackson – who actually knows I’ve made a fool of myself in that respect.
I could tell the truth and embarrass everyone around the table, especially Jackson.
Or … I could show Jackson I’m completely over him by laughing it off.
I draw in a deep breath. Then slowly, I say, ‘I did once propose to someone. But he turned me down.’
‘Oh.’ Clemmy gasps in horror.
‘But then I woke up and it turned out to be just a scary nightmare!’
Everyone laughs with relief. All except Jackson, who – when I flick a glance in his direction – is just staring grimly down at his plate. For just a second, I feel a surge of victory over him. Just for once, it’s him who’s feeling awkward, not me!
‘I just can’t believe,’ says Clemmy, ‘that I actually plucked up the courage to ask Ryan the question in the first place. I never thought I could be that brave.’
‘It was brave all right!’ says Jed with feeling. Then he grins and raises his glass to her.
I glance at Jed curiously. Does he mean he wouldn’t be brave enough to propose to Poppy? Or does he just not believe in marriage? There’s definitely something going on there.
Clemmy puts her palms to her hot cheeks and smiles radiantly around the table. ‘But I’m so glad I did it now.’
She turns to Ryan. ‘Imagine how awful it would have been if I asked you and you said no. Honestly, I’d have wanted to die!’
‘I’d never have said no, Clem.’ Ryan takes her hand, gazing at her with an adoring smile. ‘I think you knew that. Otherwise you wouldn’
t have asked.’
‘Well, maybe.’ Clemmy snuggles happily into his shoulder.
I glance quickly at Jackson. He’s sitting back in his chair looking perfectly relaxed, whereas all this talk of proposals is making my temperature soar – and not in a good way.
I stare down at my lap, feeling sick. We’re only a fortnight into December, which means I’ve got another eleven days of this awkwardness to endure.
It could turn out to be the longest Christmas ever …
Chapter 13
The next day, I get up earlier than usual and drive to the flat to collect clothes and essentials for the rest of my stay at the Log Fire Cabin.
Flo has already flown off on holiday and the place feels oddly cold and a bit bleak. It makes me suddenly glad I’m spending Christmas elsewhere – even if it is with Jackson Cooper!
On the drive back, my mind turns to the morning ahead.
It’s the day after the chocolate bombe disaster – and, unfortunately for me, another day means another dessert. I mention to Poppy that I’m thinking of making an apple crumble for tonight and she nods thoughtfully and says, ‘That sounds good, Roxy. Although I’m sure you could dream up something a little more exciting that shows off your culinary flair at its very best!’
‘Erm, right,’ I croak, nodding.
Hiding my panic-stricken face, I bend down to the oven to check the latest batch of mince pies.
Bugger!
Apple crumble is the only pud I’ve learned to make. But Poppy thinks it’s too dull.
What the hell am I going to do?
She’s going to find out I’m an absolute fraud and then our blossoming friendship will be over. The thought of this makes me feel quite sad. We’ve only known each other a few days but I feel as if we’ve been friends for a long time. I so don’t want to let her down …
At lunchtime, when Poppy drives to the supermarket for fresh supplies, I slip into my coat and wander outside, crunching across the frost-covered grass to the lake with a mug of tea in one hand and a ham sandwich in the other. The snow that fell yesterday didn’t lie but the forecasters are predicting heavy falls later in the week.
I stare across the water, hoping for inspiration. Poppy told me to text her with any ingredients I need for tonight’s dessert – but I’ve no idea what I’m making, so I can’t.
‘Penny for them?’ I jump as Alex’s voice cuts across my mounting panic.
I turn and he says, ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.’
‘I was far away,’ I tell him gloomily. ‘Trying to decide whether to attempt to make chocolate fudge cake or opt for the alternative.’
‘Which is?’ He cocks his head on one side.
‘Run for the hills. Because, let’s face it, anything fancy I attempt is going to be a disaster.’
‘It might not be.’
I cross my eyes at him. ‘Two words. Chocolate bombe.’
Alex laughs. ‘Probably best to stick to what you know.’
‘But I only know two recipes. Victoria sandwich cake and apple crumble.’
‘So make an apple crumble. I love that. It’s my favourite.’
‘Poppy thinks it’s not adventurous enough.’ I heave a despondent sigh.
Alex nods slowly. ‘So … do them both.’
I stare at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Make a cake with apples and slap some crumble on top.’
I laugh. ‘Wow, you make it sound unbelievably tempting.’ But my mind is ticking over. I’m not convinced it will work but, since I can’t think of anything better, it’s probably worth a try.
‘Help me out? Please?’ I beg, and he shrugs and follows me back into the kitchen. ‘I need to check if we have the ingredients.’
‘Okay, what do you need?’ He rubs his hands together then picks a couple of dessert apples from the fruit bowl. ‘We ’ev ze apples. Now we need ze flou-eerrr and ze butt-eeerrr.’
I dash to the cupboard, giggling at his terrible French accent, suddenly feeling so much better. With Alex’s help, maybe – just maybe – I can rescue the situation and come up with something edible!
Soon we have a variety of ingredients assembled, although Alex keeps ‘helpfully’ producing other stuff from the cupboard.
‘A leetle Worcester Sauce perhaps? Or a dash of maple syrup?’
I shake my head. ‘Stop making me laugh. This is serious. I’ve got to get it done before Poppy gets back.’
‘Okay, my leetle slave driv-errrr.’
‘Actually, that’s not a bad idea,’ I say, grabbing the bottle of maple syrup from his hand and plucking a jar of cinnamon from the cupboard. We use cinnamon with apples in the mince pies and they go together so well. Maybe this combination will raise my crumble cake to delicious heights, too!
‘Nuts?’ says Alex.
‘You definitely are!’
‘Not me. These.’ He tosses me a bag and I squeal, just managing to catch it.
‘Pecan nuts. Nice. Hey, I think we’re getting somewhere.’
He grins. ‘We make a good team.’
‘We do.’ I smile shyly at him and my heart does a funny little leap – probably with relief because I’m no longer doing this on my own.
The door opens and Jackson walks in. ‘Sounds like someone’s having fun in here. Can anyone join the party?’
I glance at Alex and we grin sheepishly at each other.
‘Alex was just helping me with tonight’s dessert,’ I tell Jackson, feeling slightly deflated at the interruption.
‘Well, now that I’ve given you the benefit of my massive expertise,’ quips Alex, heading for the door, ‘I’ll leave you to it, Roxy.’ He turns at the door with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and leaves the kitchen.
And I stand there awkwardly with Jackson. It’s strange but I feel a little guilty – almost as if I shouldn’t have let Jackson see how much fun I was having with Alex. Which is ridiculous, of course, because Alex and I are just friends and I have nothing to feel guilty about …
‘I didn’t know you were such a great baker, Roxy,’ says Jackson, surveying the ingredients on my worktop.
I smile up at him and decide to brazen it out. ‘Oh, yes. My crumble cake has won prizes. You’re in for a treat tonight.’
‘Right. Well, I’d better let you get on. And can I say I’m very much looking forward to my dessert, Roxy.’ He gives me one of his dazzlingly white smiles and the hint of double entendre in his tone makes my cheeks sizzle.
At the door, he pauses. ‘Glad to see you’re getting on so well with Alex,’ he remarks with a raised eyebrow and walks out.
I stare at the closed door and almost want to laugh.
Is Jackson jealous?
Thinking about Alex and me bantering away, then Jackson walking in on us, is making my head spin. I’m feeling strangely fluttery inside and I’ve no idea why. Unless it’s just the weirdness of the situation.
But remembering I have to produce tonight’s dessert is more than enough to focus my mind – and soon, I’m whipping up cake mix and adding chopped apples, maple syrup, cinnamon and nuts to the mix. Then I set to making the delicious crumble as a topping for the cake. As a final touch, I finely slice another apple and lay the segments in a pattern on top, then top with a few knobs of butter and a generous sprinkling of brown sugar.
Then I pop my concoction into the oven and cross my fingers firmly.
By the time I hear Poppy walk in through the front door, the aroma of sugary, buttery apples and cinnamon wafting through the house is unbelievable. I just want to try a slice now! I only hope it looks as good as it tastes.
‘Gosh, that smells absolutely gorgeous,’ says Poppy as soon as she walks in. ‘What is it?’
I’m in the process of taking the cake out of the oven and I freeze, thinking I should have thought of a name for it. But then as soon as Poppy claps eyes on it, all crisp golden crumble and apples on top, she exclaims, ‘Oh, clever you! It’s an apple crumble cake!’
&nbs
p; I smile triumphantly, amazed it’s an actual thing. With an actual name. I didn’t just make it up, after all! I’m so relieved, I feel like dancing a Highland fling around the kitchen.
‘What are you going to serve it with, then?’ Poppy asks enthusiastically, and I gulp.
‘Er, cream probably. Or maybe ice cream. Yes, definitely ice cream.’ I never thought about what to serve it with!
On her way out, taking some of her shopping upstairs, Poppy winks. ‘Knowing you, Roxy, it won’t just be boring old vanilla!’
‘Of course not.’ I laugh a little too loudly at this. Then, as soon as she’s gone, I dash to the freezer to see what flavours we have.
Yup, as I suspected.
Nothing but boring old vanilla.
Now what do I do?
Immediately, I think of Alex. If it hadn’t been for him, I’d never have managed to invent a cake that had apparently already been invented! Perhaps he can pull something out of the bag again …
Quickly, before Poppy comes back, I dash into the living room where Alex and Jackson are sprawled, watching some football on TV.
They both turn.
‘Er, Alex, can I borrow you for a minute?’
He rises off the sofa with a grin and says, ‘Absolument!’ in his terrible French accent.
‘Something wrong with the cake?’ he asks when we’re out of earshot of Jackson.
‘No, it’s fine actually.’
We exchange an impressed grin and do a victorious high-five.
‘I need something to serve it with,’ I say, gazing at him anxiously. ‘Something very delicious.’
He nods, thinking. ‘Ice cream.’
‘We’ve just got boring old vanilla.’
He shrugs. ‘Could be nice. Or what about caramel sauce?’
‘We don’t have any.’
‘So make some.’
‘Are you joking?’ I give him a look that suggests he’s several scoops short of a full bag of flour.
‘No, I’m not, actually.’ He laughs. ‘I’m sure my mum makes it for her sticky toffee pudding. I think it’s just sugar and butter. Look it up online.’
Poppy’s bedroom door closes and we hear her footsteps on the stairs. I nudge Alex and hiss, ‘Thank you. Now could you make yourself scarce, please? Hurry up!’
Second Chances at the Log Fire Cabin Page 10
