Recipe for Love

CHAPTER Twenty





TO EVERYONE’S SATISFACTION, the vicar was delighted for the christening to be held during morning service the following Sunday. Fenella and Rupert were delighted and extremely grateful. Sarah and Hugo, who were to be godparents, had the weekend free.

Zoe suggested to Fenella that she should go home, that she wasn’t needed any more and that as she wasn’t a family member, she was just in the way. She didn’t mention that she had to practise for her fine-dining challenge.

‘Oh God, I’ve been so selfish! I didn’t think about you wanting to go home. Of course! You’ve got to practise! Do go if you want to. We’ll manage somehow.’ She frowned slightly. ‘You couldn’t practise here, could you? No, of course not. Forget I asked.’

Fenella’s anguish made Zoe laugh. ‘Oh, Fen! I don’t particularly want to go home. I’m sure I could practise if no one minded eating the food. I’m having so much fun here.’ She’d looked up some recipes on her laptop when she wasn’t busy being helpful and she really needed to actually test-run some of them, but she hadn’t felt comfortable about using the Somerby families as guinea pigs – not that she’d had time. But she really ought to get on with it; she felt the responsibility even more keenly because she’d promised Gideon.

As, somehow, she and Gideon hadn’t exchanged numbers in the rush of him leaving, Somerby was the only place where he could get in touch with her. She felt horribly disappointed that he hadn’t – and nor had he called Rupert to see how the baby was. She ached for him. She felt rather lonely in the cowshed on her own, not that she wished Cher was there with her. But at least she’d have been a distraction.

‘Do you really need me?’ she said.

‘Need you? Yes! God! After you’d cleared out that chest of drawers for the baby clothes even Rupert’s mother said that you weren’t a complete waste of space. That’s code for “absolutely invaluable”. And if she thinks you’re useful, the rest of us are utterly dependent! But you mustn’t, whatever you do, jeopardise your chances of winning the competition because you haven’t had time to practise.’

‘I’ll make time,’ said Zoe, relieved and pleased. She felt closer to Gideon being here where they had last been together. She’d stay for as long as she was wanted.

‘And of course we do need a christening cake, not to mention lunch.’

‘Lunch?’

‘We’re having Glory done during morning service, so everyone will come back here for lunch. With luck we can set out a couple of long tables under the trees and pretend we’re in France.’

‘Oh, that does sound lovely!’

‘Yes. Rupes will poach a couple of salmon and do his trademark side of beef. We’ll have salad, bread, cheese, various bits of cured pig. Soft fruit for pudding and a cake.’ She smiled hopefully at Zoe. ‘I know it’s a bit cheeky to ask but what sort of cake would you like to make? Is there anything you’d especially like to practise? We know you’re ace at cupcakes, so I don’t expect you want to do them?’

‘Not really. I probably need to practise some sort of pâtisserie …’

Fenella thought for a moment. ‘Not sure if it counts but I’ve always yearned for one of those tower things made of profiteroles …’

‘A croquembouche?’ Zoe’s eyes widened. ‘Choux pastry? I’ve never made one.’

‘Oh, just make whatever you like! I’m sure anything would be lovely.’

‘No! If you want a croquembouche, that’s what you shall have. I think it would be really good for me. Although time-consuming, if you need me to do other stuff.’

‘I’ll make sure I won’t. You’ve done far too much already.’ She took Zoe’s hand. ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am. You’ve been an absolute star. And Mum will pitch in and it’s going to be very simple, but I would just love that cake. I can just picture it. All French and lovely.’

‘Let’s do it then!’



Zoe worked out that she’d have to make at least a hundred choux buns and after discussion with Fenella decided to fill them with flavoured cream and stick them together with caramel. She’d find some pink flowers or rose petals to finish the decoration. That sort of dramatic pudding might be just what she needed for the final challenge. She thought of Gideon. He’d be pleased she was getting down to it at last.

She did her choux buns in batches, when the kitchen wasn’t needed for anything else. She and Fenella wanted to keep it a secret as long as possible, although Hermione fairly soon realised there were going to be a lot of cream puffs at this christening.

‘If you’re not peeling potatoes or doing something else for those gannets …’ She paused to make sure Zoe knew who she was talking about. ‘… you’re making choux buns. What’s up?’

Zoe chuckled. ‘It’s not really a secret although Fen and I are trying to keep it dark so we get maximum effect, but we’re making one of those tower things as the cake.’

‘You mean you are? You’re an absolute treasure. Poor dear Fen only seems able to make milk for that baby! Talk about hungry. She never stops eating!’

‘I’m sure it’s all right. Fen seems to like it. Whenever I take her a snack she’s cuddled up with Glory, reading,’ said Zoe.

‘Yes, and of course You Know Who says it’s mad and she should only feed Glory four-hourly. I never had a baby that went for four hours between feeds.’

‘As long as it works for Glory, what else matters?’ said Zoe, who was beginning to feel she knew quite a lot about babies now. Feed them and change them and bath them sometimes seemed to cover it.

In spite of everyone’s insistence that it was all going to be very ‘simple’ Zoe knew enough to realise that ‘simple’ usually meant ‘incredibly well thought out and planned’. Thus, everyone was busy, sourcing food, ordering it and, later, collecting it. Zoe went off to fetch at least a gallon of double cream from Susan and Rob’s dairy and then on to pick up some home-made salami. It was going to be a feast. Although she knew she was not being tested and as long as it looked more or less all right no one would mind if her croquembouche didn’t look as if it belonged in the window of a French pâtisserie, she had her pride. She also needed to feel she was working towards her goal of winning the competition and not just having a lovely time with friends, however tempting that idea was.



*

Zoe was gathering her profiteroles, having taken the latest batch out of the oven, Hermione was making fairy cakes and Fenella was ensconced on the sofa, with Glory in the Moses basket, when Rupert’s mother came into the kitchen.

‘What is going on?’ she demanded, making Zoe feel like a schoolgirl whose midnight feast had been discovered. ‘We won’t need all those cream puffs! Why on earth did you make so many?’

‘I’m just making the christening cake,’ said Zoe, sounding more confident than she felt.

‘But why? Haven’t you got the top layer of your wedding cake?’ Rupert’s mother directed her wrath at Fenella.

Fenella looked bemused. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh!’ said Hermione, ‘I think I have got it somewhere. It’s in the freezer.’

‘But it should be used as the christening cake. It’s traditional.’ Now Lady Gainsborough looked bewildered. ‘Surely you know that?’ She turned to everyone in turn except Zoe, who was staff and so not expected to know anything.

Zoe put down the gold circle on which she was basing her creation, wondering if she should leave it until she was alone. It was tricky enough to do, but with World War Three going on around her, it would be almost impossible. On the other hand, it would be good practice to be thoroughly stressed out when she assembled it.

‘I can’t believe you didn’t know that about the christening cake,’ Lady Gainsborough repeated.

‘Well, I might have known it, but when we came down we didn’t know we were going to be bounced into a christening, so we didn’t bring it with us!’ said Hermione, with right on her side. ‘If you hadn’t been in such a hurry—’

‘You should have been prepared! As I was with the dress!’

‘Well, I couldn’t have had a cake posted down here,’ said Hermione.

‘We can use the wedding cake next time,’ said Fenella diplomatically, although through gritted teeth.

‘I suppose so. And you might have a boy then, too,’ said Lady Gainsborough. She left the room. The ‘as you were’ was tacit but obvious.



Zoe had filled the profiteroles. She had arranged them in size order and she had made the caramel that was going to stick them together. It was the next part that worried her. YouTube had been quite useful and she had spent a lot of time watching it. But the advice wasn’t unanimous. Some sites used hugely expensive steel moulds, others depended on toothpicks and polystyrene. And one, which had less lordly ambitions, just built it up without anything to support it. But the most pressing problem was having to do it surrounded by people, some of whom wanted to cook other things. Although the pressure might be massive when she cooked for the competition, she would at least have space to do it. She went to find Rupert and explained her problem.

‘Oh, no worries,’ he said easily. ‘There’s a room outside the chapel. We had it built in case people needed to wait there for any reason. It can be your dedicated croquembouche room. We’ll add it to the list of the facilities we offer.’



It was late Saturday afternoon. Zoe was beginning to assemble her masterpiece. Sarah and Hugo were due to arrive at nine the following morning, in time for church at eleven. Everyone had sorted out outfits, and Fenella had lent Zoe a very pretty dress which was a bit longer on Zoe than it was on Fen, but was just right for the occasion.

She had made caramel and it was the perfect consistency. She had filled over a hundred profiteroles with cream flavoured with vanilla and brandy and she had her gold circle as a guide and base. It was now or never. She had to get going.

Three times she had dipped a profiterole in caramel and placed it on the circle and nothing bad had happened. She was gaining confidence and had picked up a fourth when Fenella came in. She was crying.

‘I can’t believe what my mother has done!’

Zoe, by now a huge fan of Hermione, was surprised. ‘What? What has she done?’

‘She’s washed the Gainsborough robe!’

‘Oh!’

‘Flavia said she wasn’t to. She said it was too delicate to be washed, and my mother washed it!’

‘Has it fallen apart?’ This was bad. No wonder Fenella was crying.

‘No! At least I don’t think so! But it’s quite a different colour!’

‘Don’t tell me your mother put it in with a red sock and it’s gone pink!’

In spite of her distress, Fenella giggled. ‘It’s not that bad! She washed it by hand, very gently, in baby shampoo.’

‘But? What’s the problem?’

Hermione came in looking self-righteous and unapologetic. ‘There is no problem! The dress is perfectly all right.’

‘But, Mummy! Flavia said it wasn’t to be washed and you washed it!’

‘I wasn’t going to have my granddaughter christened in a filthy dress!’

Fenella wailed and clutched her hair. ‘That’s all very well but she’s going to find out and then she’ll kill me!’

‘She won’t. Well, she might, but at least the dress will be clean. Really, it smelt disgusting. You wouldn’t have wanted Glory to wear it. Now it’s clean it is actually quite pretty.’

‘Maybe she won’t find out you washed it,’ suggested Zoe, who really wanted her designated space to herself so she could build her creation.

‘She can’t not notice it’s not that dingy yellow any more,’ said Fenella. ‘It’s bleedin’ obvious!’

‘Language, darling,’ said Hermione.

‘It’s all right for you, Mummy. You don’t have to face her!’ Fenella looked down at the table and gasped in horror. ‘I’ve put my hand on a profiterole. Is it all right if I eat it?’

‘It had better be,’ said Zoe. ‘Now if you two don’t mind, I’d sort of rather do this on my own.’

Eating her cream puff, Fenella led her mother away, still arguing about the dress.

Zoe went back to her croquembouche.



Zoe got up very early on the Sunday and as she made her way from the cowshed to the main house she was thrilled to see there was the sort of mistiness that promised fine weather. Part of her felt she could have lived here for ever – but only if Gideon had been there. Fenella’s dream of a large party sitting at long tables under the trees would be fulfilled. The rainy-day alternative, which was to have everything in a marquee, had never been a runner, as no one had done anything about putting it up.

Zoe took some scissors from the kitchen drawer and set off round the garden, looking for pale pink roses. Once she’d sourced her decorations she’d help Rupert set up the tables and chairs.

She found the perfect rose. Her mother would have known what variety it was but it was enough for Zoe that it was fragrant, with pale pink petals, and it was out.

Nearer the time, she planned to spin sugar round and round the cake so it sparkled and shone in the sunshine. It was going to be beautiful!

Lured to the kitchen by the need for tea, Zoe found Fenella with Glory over her shoulder. ‘Oh, can I have a hold?’ Zoe asked.

Fenella handed her over. ‘Yes, do. I’ll make you a cuppa. I bet that’s why you’re here.’

‘I thought I’d get one in before everyone else arrived wanting breakfast.’ Zoe patted Glory’s back loving the feel of her velvet head against her neck. She was wearing only a vest and a nappy and looked just perfect. ‘I don’t think she needs a swanky dress to look gorgeous.’

‘Nor do I, but it’s kind of like a wedding. A big dress is expected.’ Fenella handed Zoe a mug. ‘Sit down and have it before everything goes mad.’

Glory gave a huge yawn and Zoe found herself doing the same. ‘I was up early,’ she explained.

Fenella nodded. ‘Us too, but I feel OK. I’ll be dead by teatime.’ She patted first one breast and then the other. ‘If you’d like to hand her to me, I’ll feed her. If I feed her now she’ll be ready by about ten, then she should last through the ceremony.’ She unbuttoned her shirt. ‘I have this dread of having to feed her in church.’

‘I’m sure it’s happened before and no thunderbolts came down from on high,’ said Zoe, deciding she needed toast. She pointed at the loaf with the bread knife to see if Fenella wanted some.

‘Oh yes please, and I know the vicar would be absolutely fine, but think of the in-laws! They’d die.’

‘Give it a go then! We could have a quick funeral while the church is booked.’

Fenella giggled. ‘It’s going to be a bit chaotic when we all come back from church. Rupert will give everyone drinks but we’ll all have to rush around getting stuff out of the fridges.’

‘That’s OK, I’ll do all that while you’re in church.’ Zoe spread a piece of toast with butter. ‘What do you want on this?’

‘Marmite please,’ said Fenella. ‘But you’re coming to church.’

‘I know you invited me and it’s terribly kind of you to include me—’

‘Considering you’re “staff”,’ put in Fenella with a smile.

‘But I’d rather get sorted here. I want to do the spun sugar for the croquembouche absolutely at the last minute.’ She crunched into her own toast. ‘It’ll be much easier for you if it’s all ready when people get here.’

‘Actually, could I have another bit? I’m constantly starving,’ said Fenella, ‘and while I agree it would be much easier if it was all out ready, you have to be in church with us.’

‘Why?’ Zoe handed over the second slice of toast.

‘Because … well, I probably should have mentioned this to you before, but Rupert and I want you to be Glory’s godmother.’

‘But Sarah—’

‘Girls usually have two. You’ve played such a big part in her arrival and have been such a support since, it only seems right.’

Zoe suddenly felt tearful. ‘But really, Fen, usually it would be someone you’ve known for years.’

‘No, it’s someone you wouldn’t mind looking after your baby if the worst happened.’

Just for a moment, Zoe was completely overcome. Hot tears spilled out of her eyes no matter what she did to keep them in. Then she found a tissue and blew her nose. ‘I don’t know what to say!’

‘Just say yes,’ said Fenella. ‘Oh, and maybe make me another mug of tea? Just to seal the deal?’



If this was a film, thought Zoe, following the christening party into church, Gideon would appear at the end, see Glory in her arms, and realise she was the one for him. And if the timings had been different and if he hadn’t known about Glory, he would be confused but delighted and then a little disappointed that Glory wasn’t his and hers. Sometimes things are better in films, she decided sadly, forcing Gideon from her thoughts. Almost always really.

But the trouble with trying to force someone from your thoughts was that it involved thinking about them quite a lot in the first place. Fortunately, once Sarah and Hugo had arrived and Fenella’s father started planning who should travel with whom, Zoe did find herself distracted and privately convinced it would be easier if she just drove herself to church in her own car.

Zoe thought it was a delightful service. Rupert’s parents almost turned to stone at the thought of having to shake hands with people they didn’t know during the Peace, and in this church the Peace involved everyone moving around shaking hands and quite a lot of kissing. They looked as if every handshake was potentially fatal.

The baptism part of it was wonderful too. Everyone got involved and slowly but surely Rupert’s parents were forced to unbend and take part.

Zoe did find it all very emotional. She wasn’t sure if it was because being a godmother had been sprung on her (although the abject horror expressed by Lord and Lady Gainsborough made it absolutely worth it) or because her feelings for Gideon did seem to colour everything. She couldn’t help envying Fenella, with a husband who adored her and the sweetest baby imaginable. Even her in-laws didn’t make her any less fortunate in Zoe’s eyes.

But as everyone was tearful, Zoe could dab her eyes with the tissue helpfully provided by the vicar (who needed one herself) and pretend it was only the miracle of birth that was making her weep. Seeing Fenella and Rupert cradling Glory lovingly in their arms was enough to make the hardest heart weep and she noticed even Lady Gainsborough dab her eye discreetly with a monogrammed, lace-edged hanky.



As predicted, it was a complete shambles when they got back to the house. People stood in the way trying to be helpful, those who knew where the food was forgot about the garnishes and to remove the clingfilm. Glory’s grandfathers stormed about looking for drink, and Rupert’s mother stood in the path between the walk-in fridges and the table demanding staff.

Fenella and Glory sat at the head of the table, ignoring everything, just being together, Glory having a post-baptismal snack.

Then suddenly it all fell into place. Platters of food marched up the centre of the table, punctuated by bottles. Plates for food were in each place, there were enough chairs, everyone had a full glass. Toasts were drunk, proposed by almost everyone. Eventually Fenella said, ‘Oh, do please eat, I’m starving!’

Zoe left the table before the puddings, abandoning the clearing-up and swapping from one course to another to other people. Instead she retreated to her designated croquembouche room to decorate her masterpiece. First she reheated her caramel on the little one ring electric cooker Rupert had provided. When it was the perfect temperature, she made some circles on baking parchment, then she spun it round and round the tower of profiteroles and added the circles. It looked like a golden cone or a comet. In fact, it looked so like a comet, Zoe hastily created a star out of caramel. She glued it on and sighed with satisfaction. Then she went back to the party.

She was just about to sit down for a breather when Fenella said, ‘I think we’re ready for the cake now, is it ready?’

‘I’ll go and get it. Can you make sure there’s room on the table?’

It was the perfect setting. People in pretty clothes sitting at the long table under the trees, having eaten and drunk just a bit too much. Rupert had cleared a space for the cake and Sarah helped Zoe carry it.

‘It’s amazing!’ said Sarah, ‘I must suggest it for wedding cakes when people want something special that’s not all chocolate.’

‘You can put chocolate on it, but I think caramel is prettier really.’

‘And it suits Glory somehow, it being golden,’ said Sarah.

They reached the space and set it down.

‘Oh wow,’ said Fenella. ‘This really is fantastic, better even than I expected it to be. You’re a genius, Zoe!’

‘Really, not too foul at all,’ said Rupert, smiling in a way that made Zoe glow with pride.

‘It is quite pretty,’ said Lady Gainsborough, ‘and we can have the wedding cake when they have a boy.’

‘But until then, we’ll keep on with the croquembouches,’ said Fenella. ‘Now how do I cut this thing?’

After everyone else had exclaimed at Zoe’s beautiful creation and said what a pity it was that they had to cut into it (although they were dying to try a piece), Hugo took some pictures. He’d been snapping away throughout the christening and had promised Zoe a few pictures for her portfolio – and a particularly sweet one of her and Glory. Zoe couldn’t help wishing Gideon was here too. Perhaps she could send him the picture some time – or perhaps not; it might ensure she never saw him again.

Finally, Rupert dared to do the deed and they served it from the top, saving the caramel star for later. And it was delicious. The puffs broke and then melted, oozing flavoured cream. It really was a triumph.

‘That girl is not a bad cook,’ Zoe overheard Lady Gainsborough say to one of the other guests. ‘Although making her godmother is taking gratitude a bit far.’



Sarah and Zoe were doing the last of the clearing-up. The guests had gone, Rupert had taken his parents for a drive and Fenella and Glory had retreated to bed for a glorious nap.

‘That was a triumph,’ said Sarah. ‘It’s lovely when those plans actually work. So often it rains, or the food isn’t that good, or the salads flop or someone disturbs a wasps’ nest, but that was perfect!’

‘I’m so glad, for Fen’s sake. It was all so rushed, from her point of view. It’s brilliant that it worked so well.’

‘They can always have a big party for all their friends a bit later, when Glory can wear what she likes.’

‘Although she did look adorable!’

‘Yes, but it was a bit worrying, everyone holding her with sticky fingers!’ Then Sarah stopped reminiscing. ‘So, Zoe, what are your plans?’

‘For now? Or after the competition?’

‘After. I imagine now you’ll be planning menus and practising like mad. I do think you should do a croquembouche for your pudding though. That worked so well.’

‘I probably will. It demonstrates my skills: choux pastry, caramel – tricky things.’

‘So?’ Sarah seemed genuinely interested.

‘Well, if I win – and it is a big if – I’d like to open a deli.’ She went on to tell Sarah all that she’d told Gideon and, like him, Sarah seemed to approve.

‘I do think that sounds excellent but I had wondered if you’d like to be a wedding caterer? You’re obviously good at it.’

‘I wouldn’t mind doing that on the side, to supplement my income – golly, don’t I sound grown up? – but basically it would be part of the package, not the main event. It’s a deli I really want.’

‘Well, let’s keep in touch.’ Sarah paused. ‘What will you do if you don’t win? Although all the signs are that you will.’

‘Oh, don’t jinx it! If I don’t win, I’ll just get a job – cooking in a pub, doing a spot of catering, I don’t know.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I do want to win. When I first entered I thought I just wanted the experience, the exposure, but now, I really, really want it!’