Recipe for Love

CHAPTER Nineteen





THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE for the baby was rather like the line-up of servants in Downton Abbey, about to receive an important guest. Zoe felt as if she was starring in a television period drama. Except this time of course there were no cameras rolling.

It happened because Fenella’s parents had sped down from Scotland the moment they discovered that Rupert’s parents were there.

‘Fenny swore she didn’t want anyone,’ Fenella’s mother said. She was far friendlier than Rupert’s mother in spite of being more grand. She even insisted Zoe call her Hermione. ‘She said she and Rupert would manage fine and we could come down when it was a bit more convenient to us!’ This she had told Zoe while Zoe chopped onion and carrot to make cottage pie with leftover beef. ‘But frankly, my dear, I think Rupert’s parents are ghastly and don’t want my daughter unprotected from them!’

Zoe, who was already fairly fond of Hermione, nodded. She and Hermione weren’t quite at the stage where they could share bitchy remarks about Rupert’s parents but it wouldn’t be long.

‘And have you heard the latest?’

As Rupert’s parents thought of Zoe as below-stairs they hadn’t made her privy to whatever the latest was.

‘They want the christening immediately!’

Hermione was obviously appalled and so was Zoe. Poor little Glory wasn’t even home from hospital! ‘Why so soon?’ Fairly sure Rupert’s parents wouldn’t like it, she added a bit of garlic to her vegetables browning in the pan.

‘Because they want to go on a world cruise and they’ve brought The Christening Gown with them!’ Hermione’s eyes flashed. ‘We have a lovely christening dress which I bet is far prettier than theirs, but apparently it has to be the Gainsborough robe that’s used.’

‘But couldn’t the christening be after they get back from their cruise?’ A couple of good shakes of Worcester sauce went on top of the veg.

‘Apparently not! They are so old-fashioned I’m surprised they even drive. They were even muttering about Fen being churched!’

Zoe, who was piling meat and vegetables into a dish, put down the frying pan. ‘I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.’

‘Exactly! That is my point! Who on earth gets churched these days?’

‘Maybe if I knew what it meant … ?’

‘Oh, it’s an ancient custom whereby a mother who’s had a baby is purified in church because childbirth is obviously disgusting.’

Zoe turned to her mashed potato. She had a pile the size of a small pillow and she started blobbing it on the meat and vegetables. ‘Why?’ She wouldn’t put it past Lady Gainsborough to insist.

‘There is no real why! But Rupert’s parents come from the ark and probably do think giving birth makes a woman unclean.’ Hermione paused. ‘Although to be absolutely honest I don’t think they meant it too seriously.’

‘Good.’ Zoe opened the door of the Aga and slid in the dish. Would large dishes of food made out of leftovers feature in her fine-dining menu? Somehow she doubted it, although it was well within her skill set.

‘Now you’ve done that, bless you, let’s go upstairs and wait for Fen and Glory,’ said Hermione. ‘They shouldn’t be long now.’

Rupert’s parents had obviously had the same thought, or perhaps they were worried that they needed to be the first to see the baby, but it transpired that they all ended up on the steps of Somerby.

‘Well, at least we’ve got a good day for it!’ said Fenella’s father, making the best of things. ‘What do you think about the name?’

‘I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life,’ said Lord Gainsborough. ‘Arethusa! For God’s sake!’

‘Apparently that was some sort of joke on Rupert’s part,’ said his mother. ‘But Glorianna is even worse! I only hope we can make her see sense before the christening. Why she couldn’t choose a proper family name, I don’t know.’

Hermione was bristling. ‘Well, I think it’s a good choice. It took me a little while to get used to the idea but now I have, I think it’s a lovely name. She’ll be called Glory, anyway.’ Hermione scowled at her co-grandmother and Zoe hoped they would never have to spend Christmas together.

‘Isn’t this sun bliss?’ said Zoe, who had perched on one of the steps leading to the front door. She spoke with her eyes shut so anyone or no one could reply. No one did. She could feel the tension bristling between the two grandmothers.

‘Oh, that’s them,’ said Fenella’s father and everyone stood in silence as they watched the Range Rover come up the sweeping drive to the house.

‘Where’s the baby?’ demanded Rupert’s mother the moment they could see inside the car. ‘Why isn’t Fenella carrying it?’

‘It would need to be strapped in,’ snapped Hermione. ‘She, I mean.’

‘Health and safety gone mad!’ said Rupert’s father, and Zoe realised she’d have been disappointed if he hadn’t said it.

‘I don’t think Fenella’s got any idea of how to look after a baby,’ muttered Rupert’s mother as Rupert pulled up. ‘I offered her the best nurse there is, but she wouldn’t have it.’

For Fenella and Rupert’s sake, Zoe was very glad that the sound of gravel and the handbrake meant that Hermione didn’t hear.

‘Oh wow!’ said Fenella, sliding out of the car. ‘What a reception committee! I feel like the Queen! Mummy! Daddy! I didn’t expect you too! How lovely!’

Rupert’s parents were much more interested in the baby so Fenella was able to hug and be hugged. Rupert went round to the back seat of the Range Rover where the baby was lying in her car seat, fast asleep.

‘Never seen anything so ridiculous in my life,’ said Rupert’s mother. ‘It’s at least twice the size of the baby!’

Fenella, released from her parents’ embraces, joined Rupert by the back seat. ‘We bought this with some of the cheque you sent us,’ she said, unclicking the straps and scooping her baby, swathed in lacy shawls, into her arms.

‘Now let’s get you inside,’ said Rupert. ‘Would you like a glass of fizz?’

Zoe, the bystander, saw the look of fierce, protective love on Rupert’s face and felt Fenella was the luckiest woman on the planet. Her heart did a little flip.

‘Not sure I should have fizz,’ said Fenella, frowning a little. ‘It might upset Glory.’

Rupert’s mother made a noise that was a combination of disgust and despair. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re going to try and feed the child yourself! It’ll be an utter disaster! Trust me!’ But she was talking to herself as no one else was listening. ‘What you need is a strict timetable, no cuddling, and routine, routine, routine. I’ve got a book. Tells you all about it. Potty trained by three months. If you won’t have the nanny …’

Once they were all safely inside, Hermione took charge. ‘Now go straight to bed, darling,’ she said to her daughter. ‘You’ll be exhausted.’

Zoe felt a little sorry for Fenella. Bringing your baby home for the first time should have been a celebration not a social minefield. If her in-laws hadn’t been there she probably would have pottered out into the garden with the baby and had a glass of champagne until she felt tired and wanted to go to bed. But instead of being able to do this simple thing, she was hedged in with relations, some of them hostile.

‘Shall I put the kettle on? Make some tea?’ Zoe suggested brightly.

‘Thank you!’ said Fenella in a way that made Zoe wonder if she was about to cry.

When Zoe brought up the tea, with a plate of cupcakes, Fenella was established in bed. There was a crib on a stand next to her and in it Glory still slept, unaware and uncaring of the war her small person had caused.

‘Don’t stay marooned up here if you’d rather be downstairs,’ Hermione was saying.

‘What happened to good old-fashioned lying-in!’ said Rupert’s mother. ‘When I had Rupert I hardly stirred from my bed for three weeks.’

‘It’s a bit different nowadays,’ said Hermione. ‘Mothers get back to doing things far more quickly.’

‘I’m sure they do,’ agreed Rupert’s mother. ‘But is it a good idea?’

Zoe cleared her throat. ‘The men are downstairs opening bottles of champagne and whisky. I think they want advice as to which one they should start with.’

By some miracle, both women left the room almost immediately.

‘Blimey, Zoe! How did you do that? Actually I would quite like to see Mum but I can’t cope with her and Rupert’s mother hissing over me like two mother cats with a single kitten. Rupert’s mother doesn’t like me! Why is she even here?’

Zoe put the mug and a plate of cake where Fenella could reach them. ‘Shall I pop down for a bottle of champers? Rupert seems to have bought a crate of it.’

Fenella shook her head. ‘Tea is just what I want now. And cake.’ She took a huge bite and chewed blissfully. ‘Everyone who looked after me loved the ones you sent in. I don’t think they get a moment to eat a lot of the time.’

A murmur from the crib made both women start.

‘Ooh, she’s waking up,’ said Zoe, having looked at the stirring bundle for a few moments. ‘Does she need feeding?’

‘I expect so.’ Fenella paused. ‘Can you hand her to me?’

‘OK, in a minute!’ Zoe ran to the en suite and washed her hands manically for a few minutes during which time the murmur had become almost a cry. Then, bravely, she burrowed among the blankets and found Glory. After briefly noting how tiny and vulnerable she was, she handed her to Fenella. ‘That was scary!’

‘I know! They are pretty tough but it’s still nerve-racking.’

‘Do you want me to go? A bit of privacy?’

‘Good Lord no! Little babies are always eating. I’d never speak to a soul if I felt I had to be alone to feed.’ She unbuttoned her shirt and then unhooked the front section of her bra. ‘Here you are, little one.’

Zoe couldn’t help thinking that it was an awful lot of breast to stuff in a very small baby-mouth but Glory seemed to chomp down on it happily and soon was sucking away making little noises of contentment. They presented a lovely picture, mother and daughter sharing a blissful moment of peace together.

‘I’m going to get your mum,’ said Zoe after a few minutes. ‘I think she’d like to be here. And don’t worry, I’ll keep Rupert’s mother away.’

‘Isn’t she a nightmare?’

‘Tell me about it! Although I have to confess, because she’s not my mother-in-law, I find her funny.’

‘I wonder what Gideon’s mother is like?’

Zoe stopped, halfway to the door.

‘Have I said something wrong?’ asked Fenella. Zoe shrugged. She’d had plenty of time to think about Gideon and their relationship – if it was one and not just a fling. Was it the end of the affair or just the beginning? She felt she could be honest with Fenella though. ‘No, not really. I mean, I don’t know. He had to go and now …’ She paused. ‘I feel a bit funny about it, as if I’m not sure of him any more. I haven’t heard from him at all since he left.’

‘I’m sure it’s fine,’ said Fenella firmly. ‘He’s a nice guy. He wouldn’t just forget about you because he’s gone away.’

‘No. No, I’m sure he wouldn’t do that.’ Although she wasn’t entirely sure she felt Fenella could be right. She said more brightly, ‘Right, I’ll go and get your mother.’

But as she went down the stairs to the kitchen the little cold feeling of doubt lodged in her. Gideon was out of her league: he was a successful, sophisticated man. She was a little cook in a competition. What did she really have to offer him? Sylvie’s words kept coming back to her with irritating regularity. Although absence was making her heart fonder, it might be out of sight, out of mind for him.

Suppressing her doubts, for there was nothing she could do about it right now, Zoe went into the kitchen. There were bottles open and Rupert was filling glasses. Hermione was squashed between her husband and Lord Gainsborough with Lady Gainsborough next to him. Considering it was such a big room and they obviously didn’t like each other that much, they were strangely close. It would take skill to extract her.

Zoe positioned herself just behind them. Tempted to tug on Hermione’s sleeve like a child, Zoe cleared her throat. ‘I think Fen wants company.’

A second later she wished she’d said, ‘wants her mother’, but it had sounded so needy in her head she hadn’t. But as Lady Gainsborough instantly pulled away from the group, Zoe realised her mistake.

‘I’ll go up,’ said Lady Gainsborough. ‘I’ve got a book for her. It would be a good opportunity for me to give it to her along with some sound – old-fashioned, I’ll grant you – advice. Otherwise she’ll have that baby ruined in no time.’

‘No, I’ll go,’ said Hermione tightly. ‘She’s my daughter, after all.’

‘Well, no one’s stopping you coming too,’ Lady Gainsborough said, obviously wishing she could.

‘I’ll come as well,’ muttered Zoe, thinking that Fenella would need a referee.

‘Why would my daughter-in-law need you?’ Lady Gainsborough looked at Zoe in surprise.

‘I just thought—’

‘You’re not a nanny, are you? Never had any experience of children? I thought not. You stay down here and clear up before dinner. That would be really useful.’

There was no arguing. Lady Gainsborough was right. While she probably knew less about looking after a baby than most primary-school children, she had at least had a couple.

‘I’ll be up to clear the tea things in a minute,’ said Zoe firmly, thinking there had to be some advantages in being the help.

The men wandered into the garden to smoke the cigars that Rupert had produced. As they left Zoe heard Lord Gainsborough saying, ‘An Englishman’s home is no longer his castle if he can’t smoke in it! You’re ruled by the petticoats, Rupes old boy.’

‘No more than you are, Dad,’ Zoe heard Rupert reply. She smiled.

Zoe cleared up the kitchen in record time and set the table, then she rushed upstairs to Fenella’s room, hoping there wouldn’t be blood on the carpet, or worse. As she opened the door Lady Gainsborough practically knocked her over. ‘You going to have to brace up, dear. Crying isn’t going to help!’ she declared as she swept past Zoe and on down the stairs.

Once in the room, Zoe was confronted with two women, one’s eyes bright with tears, the other’s glittering with anger.

‘You have to get Rupert to ask them to leave!’ said Hermione. ‘She and I cannot stay in this house together!’

‘I can’t, Mummy! It would make life so difficult for Rupert. We have to all try to get along. Oh, Glory! Your nappy needs changing.’

Hermione took the baby from Fenella and probed her nappy. ‘It is a bit wet.’

‘I’ll pass the things,’ said Zoe, just in case anyone thought she knew how to change a baby.

By the time the bed was covered with a changing mat, several yards of cotton wool, a bowl of warm water and a towel, Fenella was looking less tearful. They all watched as Hermione unwrapped Glory, her little scarlet legs kicking and her arms stretched and moving.

‘She’s so adorable,’ said Zoe when Fenella had done the necessary. ‘Absolutely adorable.’

‘Isn’t she just?’ said Hermione, fastening the snaps over Glory’s nappy and picking her up. ‘To think that woman says we shouldn’t cuddle you.’ She gave her granddaughter a kiss.

‘What do you mean? Did she really say that?’ Zoe realised that Hermione hated Lady Gainsborough far more than she did.

‘She didn’t say it, she gave Fenny a book.’ With the hand that wasn’t holding the baby, Hermione picked up the book and handed it to Zoe.

Zoe took it and went to the window seat to glance through it. First of all, it was old. Zoe had been expecting something new and fresh-looking, but this one had been on some shelf for years and years. A quick glance at the front told her it was published before the Second World War. Surely even Lady Gainsborough wouldn’t expect anyone to use such an ancient manual?

‘You’re not considering reading this, are you?’ she asked Fenella.

‘That’s what I said!’ announced Hermione.

‘I’m not going to follow what it says,’ insisted Fen, ‘but I thought I ought to flick through it.’

‘Listen, darling, even if this book wasn’t totally against everything I know about babies, it’s archaic! I can’t understand why she’s given it to you.’

‘She’s cross with me for refusing the monthly nurse she offered to pay for,’ explained Fenella, almost snatching her baby from her mother and proceeding to offer her the other breast.

‘At least a human would have been better than that frightful book,’ said Hermione.

‘I don’t think so. Rupert’s sister, who’s on the strict side of Ghengis Khan when it comes to bringing up children – all slapping and going to bed without supper – said the nurse my mother-in-law paid for was too hard core.’

‘Blimey,’ muttered Zoe from her seat by the window, fascinated by the number of tiny garments that were considered necessary, including things called binders.

‘I can ignore the book!’ said Fenella. ‘A woman would have been much harder.’

‘At least Glory’s a summer baby,’ said Zoe, still hypnotised by the book, ‘putting out in her pram for “airing” wouldn’t be quite so chilly.’

‘And now she’s insisting on having her christened because if she died now she’d go to hell!’ wailed Fenella.

‘She’s not going to die and she’s not going to hell,’ said Hermione crossly, though not with her daughter. ‘And if you don’t want to have her christened now just say so.’

‘I can’t say boo to a goose at the moment,’ said Fenella, sniffing. ‘I keep crying. It does nothing for my sense of resolve.’

‘I’ll say no for you then,’ said Hermione. ‘I’m well up for a row with that woman!’

‘No, Mum!’ This obviously wasn’t helpful. ‘I can’t have people rowing. If they want to have Glory done now, I don’t mind. Just as long as Sarah and Hugo can come and I don’t have to arrange it.’

‘You won’t have to do a thing, darling, I’ll see to that.’

‘Me too!’ chimed in Zoe. This was ground she felt comfortable on. ‘Although I think Rupert will have to make arrangements with the vicar. Is he nice?’

‘He’s lovely!’ said Fenella, suddenly beaming. ‘And he’s a woman! I mean, she’s a woman, but that’s brilliant because it will really piss off Rupes’ parents. They’re dead against women priests. Very high-church Anglican.’

‘I thought you didn’t want conflict?’ said Hermione, confused.

‘Well, I do and I don’t. I don’t want to have to keep the peace between you and them, but I wouldn’t mind if something made them go off in a huff as long as Rupert didn’t have to spend weeks and weeks building bridges.’

Hermione sighed. ‘OK then. Glory can wear the hideous Gainsborough robe and not our lovely one.’

‘Is it hideous? I haven’t seen it. And it’s a baby dress, how can it be hideous?’ asked Fenella.

‘It’s bound to be. That family has no taste,’ said Hermione.

‘Rupert is lovely though,’ said Zoe.

‘Well, to be fair’ – it was obviously an effort – ‘old christening dresses usually are pretty tiny so if you want Glory to wear the Gainsborough robe – or even ours – it had better be now.’



Fenella got up for supper. Rupert carried his baby daughter down to the basement as tenderly as Zoe had ever seen anyone carry anything. Zoe carried the stand for the Moses basket in one hand, and the basket in the other. Fenella was allowed to carry an extra cushion to sit on.

‘Is this wise?’ demanded her mother-in-law the moment Fenella appeared. ‘I’m sure – thing – here’ – she flapped a hand at Zoe – ‘could have brought you up a tray.’

‘I wanted to join the rest of the world,’ said Fenella. ‘And Zoe has spent quite long enough looking after me.’

Lady Gainsborough said, ‘If you say so, dear,’ with a silent ‘don’t blame me if it all goes hideously wrong’ expression.

‘Fenella, m’dear,’ said her father-in-law. ‘Have a glass of claret. Good for the blood.’

‘Yes, have a drink!’ Fenella’s father encouraged.

‘I’m not sure I should really,’ said Fenella.

‘Why not?’ demanded her father-in-law, who obviously thought abstinence was a surer sign of insanity than anything else.

‘Breastfeeding,’ said his wife as if it were a euphemism for drinking vomit.

‘Oh, darling, I’m sure one glass wouldn’t hurt,’ said Rupert.

When everyone had full glasses and Rupert was back in charge of the Aga (the cottage pie having been removed sometime previously), Lady Gainsborough banged a fork against a glass, calling the meeting to order.

‘Honestly, we’re only family,’ Hermione muttered to Zoe behind her hand.

‘Er, excuse me?’ Lady Gainsborough had heard the mutter. ‘We need to make a few decisions.’

Zoe got up to help Rupert. She didn’t want to be caught taking sides.

‘Actually only Fen and Rupert need to decide anything,’ said Hermione, playing with a salt-cellar in a way that implied she could throw it with speed and accuracy if necessary.

‘I beg to differ,’ said a woman who had never begged for anything, ever. ‘This is a family decision.’

‘What is?’ asked Rupert amiably, cheerfully unaware of a whole lot of undercurrents.

‘Which christening robe is to be used,’ snapped Lady Gainsborough. ‘As the baby is a Gainsborough it’s important that she’s in the family robe.’

‘I don’t see that,’ said Hermione, although she’d privately agreed it would be the best choice. ‘Our robe is far prettier.’

‘It’s probably too small,’ said Lady Gainsborough. ‘Fenella’s baby’ – she obviously couldn’t bring herself to use the name – ‘is on the large side.’

‘Are you saying my baby is fat?’ said Fenella, stung.

‘Seven and a half pounds is never fat, sweetie,’ said Rupert. ‘It’s a lovely healthy weight.’

‘Can I make a suggestion?’ said Lord Gainsborough loudly, making sure everyone heard him. ‘That we postpone the matter of which gown the baby wears until tomorrow? It is only a girl, after all.’

Fortunately Rupert and Zoe contrived to put large plates of food in front of the main protagonists before war could break out.