The Worst Case Scenario Cookery Club

by Chrissie Manby

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Talking of which, it’s probably time we gave our solicitors a prod. To get the divorce moving.’

  Ian, who had been taking a sip of his tea, spat it out again.

  ‘Went down the wrong way,’ he said. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘We need to get the divorce squared away. It’s been a year since you moved in with Brittney now and we both need to clear a path for the future. I’m sure Brittney would agree.’

  Liz could feel the shake in her voice. She hoped Ian couldn’t hear it. ‘I don’t think there’s any point waiting any longer. If you’re willing to divorce on the basis of your adultery, we could have everything done in a few months.’

  Before Ian could respond, his mobile, which was face down on the table, vibrated with a text message. He read it.

  ‘It’s from Brittney. I’ve got to go,’ he said. ‘She’s still really upset by what happened last night. The sooner I can get back to Exeter the better. We’ll talk about the other thing soon, yeah?’

  ‘Of course. Thanks, Ian. For staying here with Saskia and Ted.’

  Your daughter and your dog, Liz thought.

  ‘It was the least I could do.’

  Ian went upstairs to say goodbye to Saskia. He gave Liz an awkward sort of kiss on his way out to the car.

  It was three in the afternoon before Liz saw her daughter again. Saskia spent most of the day upstairs, furiously messaging her friends. When she came downstairs she had a face like thunder and informed her mother: ‘Mum, I can’t even think about talking to you so don’t try to make conversation. I have never been so embarrassed in my life. You do know that the story is already online, don’t you?’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Someone at the party took a picture and put it on Instagram. Someone else took a video. It’s gone viral, Mum. Everyone in Newbay knows you’re a nutter now. Make that everyone in the entire world. I can’t believe you’d do this to me.’

  ‘I wasn’t trying to do anything to you, sweetheart.’

  ‘I am going to get so much shit for this on Monday morning. I’m already getting shit for it left, right and centre. I’ve had to deactivate my Facebook account. I’m not even looking at Instagram. I’ve had to take myself off WhatsApp. Do you know what everyone is calling you?’

  ‘I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’

  ‘They’re calling you a sausage-bothering bunny boiler.’

  Liz blanched.

  ‘Oh, Mum. Are you ever going to grow up? Are you ever going to accept the fact that Dad’s with Brittney now?’

  Liz gave a little shrug.

  ‘I’m sorry, love. I had too much to drink. But I think I learned my lesson.’

  ‘You never ever think about me, do you?’

  ‘I think about you all the time,’ said Liz, but Saskia had already flounced from the room again.

  When Liz finally dared check her own email, she found that Saskia was not the only one who was getting stick for what had happened the previous night. Liz’s inbox was full of messages.

  ‘Liz? Was that really you with the car?’

  ‘Elizabeth Chandler! What have you been doing?’

  ‘Liz! Call me straight away you nut job!’

  Many of the messages were congratulatory. Liz knew plenty of women who had also been usurped by younger models who said they were positively inspired by what Liz had done to the Fiat 500. ‘So much more creative than writing “slapper” on the bonnet with your lipstick,’ said Corinne, referencing something she might have done in the past.

  Liz wrote back. ‘Thank you. I’m not sure everybody sees it that way though. What do you think Vince is going to say tomorrow morning? He’s going to have to let me go, isn’t he? Who’s going to want to have their teeth cleaned by a bunny boiler?’

  As it happened, Liz didn’t have to wait until the following morning to find out what Vince had to say on the matter. He called her on Sunday afternoon and was kind and solicitous when he asked how she was after her night in the cells.

  ‘It wasn’t the whole night but it’s not an experience I ever want to have to repeat. Look, Vince, they let me go with a caution but I perfectly understand if there’s been too much bad publicity to make my place at the surgery tenable.’

  Vince made a sympathetic sound. ‘Liz, I would never let you go over something like this. You didn’t kill anyone. You had a small moment of madness while you were in your cups. Heaven knows, I had enough of those myself before I found AA. I’m only where I am today because I was lucky enough to have some truly good people in my life. People who know you can’t judge anyone else unless you’ve walked a mile in their shoes. I’ve been in your shoes, Liz, and I’m not going to judge you. If people want to take their dental business elsewhere, that’s up to them. But you and I both know that we’re the only decent NHS practice left in Newbay. Our customers aren’t going anywhere. And I hope the same goes for you.’

  ‘Thanks, Vince.’

  Her boss’s kindness made Liz feel like crying again.

  By lunchtime on Monday, Liz’s Saturday night misdemeanour was almost old news. Though she did get a call from a journalist from the Femail section of the Daily Mail asking if she would be willing to be photographed in a universally flattering sheath dress for an article about the top ten best acts of revenge. Liz politely turned the offer down. She just wanted to fade back into anonymity. Maybe in time she would be able to laugh at herself. Right then, she didn’t really feel like it.

  Then, just as she was finishing up at the end of the work day, she got an email from Dr Thomas at the veterinary surgery. Liz clicked it open, expecting to get a lecture about the dangers of feeding your pets on processed meat. She got one of those. She also got this:

  ‘Dear Mrs Ted/Chandler, In view of recent events, I have decided to discharge Ted from Waggy Weight Loss and ask that you do not attend my veterinary surgery again in the future. I’m sure you understand. I wish both you and Ted well. Yours sincerely, Dr Evan Thomas.

  P.S. It is not advisable to feed your dog on any commercially produced cured meats that may have undergone treatment with sulphur.’

  Liz could hardly believe what she was reading. The pompous idiot. How dare he?

  Liz wrote back in the white heat of anger. ‘I shall be very happy to avoid your stupid veterinary surgery from now on. How very mean and self-righteous of you to respond to my private business in such a small-minded way. Personally, I can’t believe that you would put Ted’s health at risk over a matter that simply does not concern you. Yours sincerely, Mrs Chandler/Ted.’

  She got an email by return.

  ‘Actually, it does concern me,’ wrote Dr Thomas. ‘That Fiat 500 was my car.’

  Chapter Forty

  Oh no. Liz clapped her hand to her forehead. She remembered now how Bella had told her the owner of the car had been very sweet and understanding. That’s why Liz hadn’t thought for a moment it could possibly be Evan Thomas, the uber-vet.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Liz wrote back at once. ‘I had no idea.’ She took a deep breath before she continued. ‘I understand that I may have caused some damage to one of the windscreen wipers. I would of course like to recompense you for that.’

  Dr Evan responded: ‘Yes, you did break one of my windscreen wipers but I wasn’t going to pursue the matter any further because it’s clear to me that you’ve got enough problems without my adding to them by demanding compensation.’

  Enough problems! Liz bridled at that. ‘I don’t need your charity,’ she replied. ‘Send me an invoice.’

  ‘I really don’t want your money,’ wrote Dr Thomas.

  ‘I insist,’ wrote Liz.

  Liz flicked the Vs and blew a raspberry at the screen. The pompous git.

  The truth was however, Liz felt sick. Though she and Dr Thomas had been exchanging words only virtually, they had been doing so in real time and the idea of him being angry with her right in that moment was rather upsetting.

  Oh, why did
she have to reply to his first email at all? She could have just taken Ted to another surgery with a nice kind vet who liked people as much as he liked animals. She’d never even have had to know that the Fiat was Dr Thomas’s car. Now she had to find another vet and pay for the windscreen wiper. Why oh why had she let him wind her up?

  She thought about phoning him. That’s what she should do. Because maybe right then he was consulting his lawyer to see whether he could still press charges about the car. Yes. She decided she would phone. Get the whole thing sorted out asap. Face to face. Sort of.

  Nurse Van Niekerk answered the call. ‘Thomas and Thomas Veterinary Care.’

  ‘Can I speak to Dr Thomas?’ Liz asked.

  Though there were two Thomases in the name, there was only one at the practice.

  ‘Who’s calling?’

  Suspecting that she might be in a blocked list, Liz thought quickly. ‘Mrs Coco,’ she said.

  Fortunately, Nurse Van Niekerk didn’t need any more than that. She didn’t want Mrs Coco’s real name. Liz was put straight through.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Coco,’ said Dr Thomas, when he picked up. ‘I was just about to call you. I’ve had another look at the scan results and I’m afraid it’s exactly as we thought. No wonder poor Coco has been so resistant to exercise. She must have been in terrible pain. The only solution I can think of is the operation we discussed when you came to the surgery yesterday. Now, before you say anything, Mrs Coco, I know you were worried about the financial implications. It is a very expensive procedure but I’m certain that it would improve Coco’s quality of life quite dramatically and for that reason …’

  Liz tried to interrupt.

  ‘Please, let me finish. Mrs Coco. I want to tell you something. Mrs Coco, I was inspired to become a vet by my father, who as you know was a vet himself. He always told me that you can judge a man by the way he treats animals and on that basis, I know you are a woman who feels and cares very deeply indeed. When my father died last year, he left me a sum of money, which I have put into a trust for the treatment of animals whose owners can’t afford my usual fees. I’d like Coco to be the first beneficiary. With your permission, I’m going to do her operation pro bono.’

  ‘Wha—’ Liz began. But then she heard the urgent ringing of what sounded like a fire alarm in the background at the surgery.

  ‘Animal ambulance coming in, I’m afraid, Mrs Coco. We’ll talk about getting Coco’s operation in the diary tomorrow.’

  And then he was gone, flying into action (with his sleeves rolled up, no doubt).

  ‘Oh no,’ thought Liz. But it wasn’t her fault he hadn’t drawn breath for that entire phone call, was it? Liz wondered what she should do. Poor Mrs Coco was probably sitting at home right now, worried sick about her dog. She needed to know what Dr Thomas had said, which meant that Dr Thomas needed to know he had been saying it to the wrong person.

  Liz called the surgery back.

  Nurse Van Niekerk picked up the phone.

  ‘Nurse Van Niekerk, this is Liz Chandler. Mrs Ted—’

  Nurse Van Niekerk put the telephone straight down on her.

  ‘Witch!’ Liz hissed at the ring tone.

  She had to write an email.

  ‘Dear Dr Thomas, I just called your office and did a very silly thing. I told Nurse Van Niekerk that I was Mrs Coco. It wouldn’t have mattered but you obviously believed that to be the case and didn’t give me a chance to explain otherwise. You just told me the details of your plans for Coco and her operation. I know it’s none of my business, but I have to say, I’m very impressed by your plan to provide free veterinary care to those who can’t afford it. It’s an extremely kind thing to do.’

  It was. Liz felt humbled by what she had heard Dr Thomas say that afternoon. He could have used the inheritance he got from his father to do all sorts of things. He might have travelled the world, splurged it on luxuries, got himself a bigger car. He was a very tall guy to be pootling around in a Fiat 500. Instead, he had chosen to set up a trust for those less fortunate than he was. And Liz had only found out about it by mistake. That was the true test of altruism as far as she was concerned. He wasn’t just showing off about it willy nilly.

  And poor Coco. Liz had sneered at Mrs Coco for pushing that dog around in a baby’s chair but she had obviously been doing her best. Coco wasn’t just greedy and overindulged, after all. She had something wrong with her. Liz wondered what it was but thought it probably wasn’t polite to ask.

  Liz finished her message.

  ‘I’ll await your email regarding the cost of the windscreen wiper. With very best wishes, Liz Chandler.’

  Her heart sank when a few hours later Dr Thomas replied in just one line. ‘Thank you for letting me know.’

  The brevity spoke volumes of his disdain.

  Chapter Forty-One

  By Thursday, Liz’s fifteen minutes of fame were pretty much up, she thought. Hoped. Prayed. Everyone she had expected to see the video footage of the car on Facebook had seen it. Meanwhile, Ian had informed Liz, by text, that he had asked Brittney not to mention the incident on her blog. ‘Just keep your head down,’ he said.

  In some ways, the other internet attention hadn’t been all bad. She’d heard from people she hadn’t heard from in years. Her moment of embarrassment had given them an excuse to reach out to her. She’d caught up with lots of gossip from her university friends. Among those who reached out was an old boyfriend, which was flattering. Sort of. Liz wasn’t sure quite how she was supposed to respond to his question about whether she ‘enjoyed’ being tied up in those handcuffs. She decided she would pretend she’d never seen the email and leave it at that.

  She allowed herself to think that everything was getting back to normal but there were three people she had to make her apologies to first. What she didn’t know was that they were just as anxious to make things right again.

  Alex looked mightily relieved to see that Liz had come back to the class.

  ‘I was thinking you might decide against it. I should never have let you leave the centre in such a state,’ he said. ‘I thought you were getting a taxi. I should have made sure.’

  ‘I should have stepped in too,’ said John.

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Liz. ‘You both tried. I think it was inevitable that I’d end up doing something like I did on Saturday night at some point. It’s been brewing for a very long time. I needed to get it out of my system. Thank goodness I had Bella to get me out of any serious trouble.’

  Bella gave her the thumbs up.

  There was small pause before Alex said, ‘The CCTV video of you decorating that car was one of the funniest things I have seen in my life. You were like a modern artist creating a masterpiece. So much care went into the placing of that meat.’

  John agreed. ‘Someone at the NEWTS showed me on his phone. Full marks for creativity, Liz.’

  ‘It was the best call out I’ve attended in my entire career,’ said Bella.

  Liz gave her fellow cooks a little bow.

  ‘Ok, guys,’ said Alex, once Liz had recapped the story of her terrible half-night in the cells. ‘Let’s get to work. Over the past three weeks you’ve picked up three very important basic cookery skills and you’ve applied them with great aplomb.’

  ‘Good word,’ said Liz, trying it out for herself.

  ‘You’ve learned about knife skills, how to make a basic roux and how to make a tomato sauce that you can use as the basis for all sorts of recipes, like Bella’s dad’s parmigiana. Today we’re going to learn how to cook something for John. A beef Wellington.’

  ‘Oh,’ said John. ‘That’s lovely. But Sonia always made it look so complicated. We’re just beginners.’

  ‘She was just trying to keep you in the dark, John. It doesn’t have to be difficult. And no, Liz, you don’t need special hands to be able to make the pastry. I’m going to show you a version of this recipes that’s easy to make and still impressive. You’ll be the host or the hostess with the mostess if you serve this
at your next dinner party.’

  ‘I don’t think anyone I invited round to mine would show up after this weekend,’ said Liz.

  ‘Perhaps if you promised to write an apology in beef,’ Bella suggested. ‘I bet more than a few people of your acquaintance secretly think you’re a hero, Liz,’ she added. ‘You only did what we’d all like to do given half the chance.’

  ‘However, it would be a waste to do anything other than eat this particular piece of beef,’ said Alex, bringing them back to the lesson.

  ‘There isn’t enough there to write anything really rude,’ Liz remarked when she saw the piece that Alex had placed at her work station.

  ‘Aren’t all the best swear words four letters?’ Alex asked.

  Bella laughed with a gusto that was entirely out of proportion to Alex’s joke but now that Liz and John both knew how Alex felt about her, they were very glad to see the way she lit up in his presence. The way she hung on his every word and giggled at the lamest of jokes. Liz couldn’t bear a grudge against Bella for having stolen Alex’s heart. Not when she was such a kind and generous person. Not when he was clearly exactly what she needed too. From now on, Liz would be rooting for Bella to get the guy.

  ‘OK,’ said Alex. ‘Here goes.’

  Just as for the other weeks, Alex had done the shopping for his pupils. He explained to them that the beef they were going to cook with was from the butcher favoured by all the good local chefs he knew. It was grass-fed, organic.

  ‘No wonder this course cost so much,’ said John.

  ‘I promise it will be worth it. Now, the first thing we need to do is sear the beef. You’re going to work at the same time as me today because there’s chilling involved between each stage and we’ll never get it done otherwise.’

  The class, already wearing their aprons, each stepped up to their hobs. They watched as Alex showed them the searing method. He seasoned the beef before adding it to a pan glazed with a little olive oil.