Recipe for Love

CHAPTER Six





ZOE GOT INTO Gideon’s car feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. She felt she’d got to know him a bit while they were drinking cocoa but being suddenly so close to him was somehow a shock. She knew she was attracted to him – fancied him even – but she hadn’t realised quite how much till his arm was only inches away from hers. She really hoped she’d be able to concentrate. She didn’t often find people attractive like this and it was making her feel a bit light-headed.

‘Have you got the directions?’ Gideon asked.

She gave herself a mental shake and engaged her brain. ‘Yes. It looks quite straightforward.’ Rupert had scrawled a map that Zoe now examined. ‘Which one shall we go to first? Pigs or dairy?’ She was determined to sound completely professional and efficient. Which she was. Usually.

‘Which do we come to first?’

‘The dairy, but we don’t want stuff going off in the car while we look at pigs. Maybe pigs?’

He nodded, having thought this over. ‘OK, I’m in your hands but don’t get us lost.’

As she began to relax a little and enjoy his company she felt she could tease him. ‘Excuse me! You were the one who went down the wrong lane and got the car stuck turning round!’

She saw him raise his eyes to heaven in the driving mirror. ‘I knew you’d never let me forget that.’

Zoe smiled. Something in the way he said that connected them, as if they were a team – or a couple out on an adventure together. She found she liked the idea quite a lot, but then chided herself. They weren’t a team, he was a judge of a competition that was going – with luck – to be watched by millions and she was a contestant.

And anyway, she was mad to fancy Gideon. He would never look at her except possibly as a minor diversion when there was no one else around. He had the sort of looks – not exactly handsome but undeniably sexy – that implied he could get any woman he decided he wanted. Even if she wanted him – and if she were honest, she did – she’d be mad to give in to her feelings. She had to keep a grip on herself. She couldn’t jeopardise her chances in the competition. She was a modern young woman, with aspirations she didn’t want to sacrifice by getting distracted by a man, tempting though he was.

‘I think it’s here,’ she said as they approached a turning, half hidden by overgrown hedges. The countryside was ablaze with that fresh greenness one only got in May. Zoe was really enjoying herself. ‘Rupert said the sign is pretty hidden but it’s by the blasted oak.’

‘I didn’t think they really existed but I see what you mean.’ He changed down and turned where she indicated. With a throaty roar they headed down a less-than-smooth half-dirt track. ‘But if you’ve taken us down a long cul-de-sac I expect you to get us out.’

‘Don’t I always?’ She sent him a challenging look.

His answering glance suggested to her that he was not used to being challenged. She decided to do it as often as possible – for his own good, of course. She also realised how much she loved flirting.

The lane was bordered by orchards with black pigs snuffling underneath the trees – an idyllic picture that made Zoe sigh for a more rural life. The town where she had lived up until the competition and where her parents still lived wasn’t exactly a metropolis but there was something wonderfully appealing about the real countryside and not the chocolate-box version of it.

‘Presumably those are cider-apple trees,’ she said out loud, to disguise the sigh. ‘I expect the apples would flavour the meat wonderfully.’

Gideon laughed. ‘As long as they didn’t eat too many and get drunk.’

‘Can pigs get drunk?’ asked Zoe.

‘Oh yes, they really can. Not sure if they get hangovers though.’

The idea tickled her imagination. ‘Imagine having to serve hangover cure in buckets, Alka-Seltzer billowing over the top.’

‘Which would be followed by little piggy belches,’ said Gideon. ‘Rather sweet.’

Zoe stole a quick glance at him as he parked; a man who thought that pigs could be sweet could not be all bad. Not that she thought he was bad … She sort of wished he’d stop saying things that made her like him more.

Gideon got out of the car. There was no one about. ‘Have they got a shop?’ he asked Zoe. ‘Or a bell?’

‘We’ll ring the front-door bell and hope someone comes.’ She sighed. ‘I haven’t much experience of farms but I can imagine there’s hardly ever anyone around. They’re always off somewhere, doing something.’

Fortunately they didn’t have to wait long, enjoying the sunshine and inspecting the flowerbeds on either side of the front door, before they heard a voice. ‘Can I help you?’

A woman in her thirties appeared wearing a shirt and a pair of jeans stuffed into wellington boots. Her hair was held back by a band and she had no make-up on. Her broad smile made further adornment unnecessary. ‘Sorry, I was feeding the babies – piglets.’

‘Oh, can we see?’ said Zoe.

‘Don’t coo over anything you might eat,’ said Gideon, following the two women to the babies.

‘I’m not going to eat any of these, am I?’ said Zoe.

‘I was just saying …’

The woman she was following sighed. ‘You sound just like my husband. I’m Jess Rose, by the way. Fen and Rupert sent you? They rang and said you were on your way. Here we are.’

There in a pen was a sow as big as an average family car and twelve little piglets like silken sacks with legs.

‘Oh my God, they are so adorable!’ said Zoe. Gideon raised an eyebrow but she could tell he thought they were adorable too.

‘Yes they are,’ agreed Jess. ‘And yet we do eat them. We give them the very best, most natural life possible and then they die.’

‘You don’t give them names?’ Zoe almost whispered.

Jess shook her head. ‘Not the piglets, only the breeding sows.’

Zoe dragged her eyes away from the wriggling snuffling creatures that reminded her of Labrador puppies. ‘This is no good! We’re on a mission. Apart from picking up some things for Fen, I want some really wonderful pork product for a cookery competition.’

Jess smiled broadly. ‘Come with me. I might have just the thing!’

They followed her to a shed. Hanging from the roof were half a dozen pieces of meat. ‘It’s from the belly,’ said Jess. ‘This is my homemade pancetta!’

Gideon and Zoe exchanged glances. ‘Did Fen know about this?’ Zoe asked.

‘Nope! I wanted to see if it worked before I told anyone, but it does.’

‘I must have some!’ said Zoe.

‘How would you use it?’ asked Gideon.

‘I don’t know! And if I did I wouldn’t tell you!’ said Zoe only half aware how silly that sounded. ‘Is it terribly expensive?’

They drove away from the farm with several packages on the back seat. ‘I’m so excited about the pancetta,’ said Zoe. ‘No one else will have it!’

‘You will have to do something special with it,’ said Gideon. ‘Having good ingredients is only the start.’

‘Oh, stop being so sensible. Let’s find the cheese place now.’ But a memory of something in one of her mother’s cookery books written in the seventies came back to her.

After twisting and turning through a few more country lanes they arrived at their next destination. Zoe was really enjoying herself. Gideon was very easy to be with and it was a lovely early summer’s day. All was well with the world – for Zoe at least.

They parked round the back of another picturesque farmhouse, walked through the farmyard and past some cows with interesting white stripes down their backs, and rang what they hoped was the right bell. After a few minutes, while they wondered if they were at the wrong door, the door was opened by an attractive woman who smiled at them warmly.

‘Fen rang and said you were coming,’ she said. ‘Welcome! I’m Susan. Fen said I was to show you everything, not just cheese and cream but that first. Come this way.’

As Zoe followed Susan and Gideon she felt inspired. This woman would have wonderful produce, things the others wouldn’t have access to, and it would give her a bit of an advantage. Although she knew she was a good cook, she suspected that there were others in the competition who were better. They hadn’t really had a chance to shine yet. She’d have to have some other edge for her to win.

‘Do you want to see where we make it? Or just the shop?’

Gideon looked at his watch. ‘Well, we’ve been out for a while.’

‘We’ve been looking at baby pigs and buying bacon and pork,’ said Zoe. ‘And cider.’

Susan laughed. ‘I know where you’ve been then. If you haven’t time for the grand tour – and I haven’t time really either – come and look at the shop.’ She led the way to a small building and opened the door. ‘This was once a cowshed.’

‘Oh, I’m sleeping in a cowshed at the moment,’ said Zoe.

‘Rupert and Fen have been so imaginative, haven’t they? Now, have a look. Almost everything here has been produced either on our farm or on the one next door.’

With her main course decided and an idea for a starter, it was the pudding that Zoe needed to think about. She wanted to do something original, which meant no summer fruits.

Gideon wandered off to look at the business end of the cheese-making process, leaving Zoe to examine the stock without his inhibiting presence. Was this whole expedition together against the rules? Although to be fair to herself, there was nothing in the sheet about not finding other suppliers, accompanied by a judge. It was just that she wouldn’t be filmed.

‘Is there anything particular you need?’ asked Susan after Zoe had walked all the way round the shop without choosing anything.

‘The trouble is, I don’t know what I need, except ingredients for a pudding that is original, and local of course.’

‘The strawberries are lovely.’

‘I know but I think everyone will be using strawberries or raspberries.’ She picked up a jar of honey.

‘Uncle Jim’s honey is very special.’

‘I’ll have some anyway. I love honey.’

‘So do I! And it goes awfully well with cheese.’

This caught Zoe’s attention. ‘Does it?’

‘Yes! Here, let me show you.’

Susan opened a fridge and produced some cheese and then a jar of honey. She spread a little honey on the cheese. ‘Here, taste this. This is not really a single Gloucester because we’re outside the area where it can be produced, but it’s the same method.’

Zoe put the cheese and honey into her mouth. While she was chewing, Susan went on. ‘A friend I met on a cheese-making course makes it and it’s one of my favourites. We call it Single Littlechurch. We keep the Gloucester cattle because they’re a rare breed.’

Susan dived back into her fridge. ‘And here’s the one we make that’s like a Brie.’

‘What’s that like with honey?’ asked Zoe, her brain whirring.

Susan smiled. ‘Try it!’

Zoe couldn’t speak for a few seconds. ‘That is so wonderful! I need that too!’

‘Have you got an unlimited budget?’

‘Not unlimited but fairly generous.’ She chewed and thought some more. ‘Although for a pudding, I probably need something a bit acidic, fruit of some kind, but not red ones.’

‘Would it have to be fresh fruit?’

‘I don’t suppose so.’

Susan made a gesture towards her shelves. ‘Have a look at the bottled fruit then.’

‘Bullaces? What on earth are bullaces? I’ve never heard of them,’ Zoe said a few moments later.

‘A sort of wild plum. They grow in the hedgerows and we had masses last year. My mother does the bottling.’

Zoe picked up the jar and inspected the small yellow fruit that looked like golden opals. ‘I’ll definitely have some of these. Now, do you do cream?’

‘Of course I do! And I defy you to find any better in the county.’



After a little more shopping, mainly in farm shops, they arrived back at Somerby. Zoe was relieved they hadn’t bumped into anyone on the way. Not that she was doing anything illegal but she still felt she probably shouldn’t have been spending so much time with one of the judges. She was delighted with her purchases and, what’s more, although Gideon had been there, he didn’t know exactly what she planned to cook. She found she liked the idea of surprising him in particular. Fenella and Rupert had organised tea for them all and Zoe was looking forward to cream tea – one that she had nothing to do with making.

Gideon parked in front of the house and Zoe got out. As she did so Cher appeared from beside the house. That girl had a sixth sense, thought Zoe guiltily.

‘Oh, hello. We wondered where you were. You found a lift then?’

Now Gideon got out causing Cher to stare and then bridle.

‘Oh! I see!’ She giggled fetchingly. ‘Isn’t it against the rules to get pally with the judges?’

‘It’s against the rules to make it impossible for contestants to source their ingredients,’ said Gideon calmly.

‘Did I do that?’ Cher was all innocence.

‘You got in a cab all by yourself which meant there wasn’t room for Zoe,’ he explained.

‘Duh! Sorree! There seemed to be loads of cabs.’ Her fake remorse involved looking at Gideon upwards under her false eyelashes and smiling.

‘Well, never mind, I’ve got what I need now,’ said Zoe.

Just for a second she felt she’d rather do without anything to cook with than watch Cher flirt with Gideon, but then she gave herself a mental shake. That was ridiculous. Gideon seemed impervious to Cher’s wiles and anyway she, Zoe, had no claim on him.

Their carefully marked packets of food handed in for safe-keeping, ready for the challenge the next day, and a wonderful spread consumed, everyone wandered back to their accommodation. They had some free time before dinner.

As Cher had got into the shower while Zoe was giving Fenella her shopping, Zoe switched on her laptop while she was waiting, aware Cher might take a while. Zoe was looking for a recipe. She’d just about tracked down the one she wanted when Cher emerged wrapped in a towel and peered over her shoulder, her nearness causing a drip to land on the keyboard. Zoe closed down the site and switched off her laptop.

‘Being a bit precious about what you’re planning to cook, aren’t you?’ Cher said.

‘Am I? What are you planning then?’ Zoe asked.

‘Oh, not telling! Unless you tell me, of course. We wouldn’t want to be doing the same thing, after all.’

Zoe was not a natural games player but she was beginning to learn. ‘Oh, OK,’ she said brightly. ‘It does make sense. You go first.’

Cher’s expression hardened almost imperceptibly as she dressed. She didn’t seem to mind doing so in front of Zoe but then with a body like hers she had nothing to hide. ‘No, you.’ She was now preening herself in front of the mirror.

‘Right. Well, I thought I’d do this thing that was in a book of my mother’s. Basically it’s choux pastry that you deep fry.’

Cher made a face. ‘Dreadfully fattening!’

‘That won’t matter. We don’t have to eat them. What about you?’

‘Oh, I haven’t decided yet. I need a bit more time to think about it.’

Zoe considered protesting but the truth was she hadn’t decided on her entire menu herself. Fortunately deep-fried choux pastry was only one of her ideas.



The minibus took everyone down to the pub in the village but only some people wanted to stay late. Cher was an early leaver, catching a lift with a local she’d found in the bar and trusted enough to take her home. But although Zoe arrived back less than twenty minutes later, when she got back to their room, she found the door firmly locked.

‘This is bloody ridiculous,’ said Zoe, after banging on the door for several fruitless minutes and searching through her list of contacts on her phone in the faint hope that she had Cher’s number and could ring her to ask her to unlock the door. ‘Cher?’ she shouted. ‘It’s me, Zoe. You can’t be asleep already! Let me in!’

There was no answer. It was all so quiet Zoe wondered if she was actually in there. For a few moments she worried whether Cher, having accepted a lift from someone she didn’t know, had actually been kidnapped. But he’d seemed well known in the pub and had spent a lot of time talking about his wife and children.

Still, a few scenarios went through Zoe’s mind involving Cher being hideously murdered before she spotted a hairclip on the step. She was fairly sure it hadn’t been there when they left, which made her confident Cher was inside.

She shouted through the door again but got no answer and then she walked round the building, trying to find a window or something she could climb through. There was nothing, although a good peer through one of them revealed Cher’s bag. She hadn’t been murdered – yet!

She didn’t want to wake up the other contestants who were on the premises and anyway, what could they do? There was only one thing for it: they would have a spare key at the house. She walked up there, but she was very annoyed. It was well after ten and she knew Fenella was getting to bed as early as she could. Rupert might be up though.

This optimistic thought faded as she approached the back door. There was no light on anywhere downstairs. She could see one high up on the second floor, but the basement, where the kitchen was, appeared to be deserted. Although she knew it was pointless, she tried to open the back door. Of course it was locked.

‘This is so stupid!’ said Zoe and marched back to the cowshed, determined to make Cher wake up this time.

She banged on the door until her fist felt bruised. No response. She decided she would have to throw stones at the light in the Somerby window and get Rupert up. There was an incline to the front of the house and she walked up it briskly, fired by irritation that was bordering on anxiety. What would she do if she couldn’t get into her accommodation? She had to sleep somewhere!

As she arrived, puffing slightly, at the front door, a car drew up. Relief flooded over her. Here was someone who could help. She was even more relieved to see it was Gideon. Although he would think her mad or incompetent for not being able to get into her little house, she did at least know him.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked. ‘Have you just prepared your food for tomorrow or do you have an assignation?’

‘Neither! My bloody room-mate has locked me out and I need to get into the house to find another key.’ She paused. ‘There must be one.’

‘I haven’t got a key to anywhere but I know where the one to the back door is. Let’s go round.’

Zoe began to feel calmer. Soon she would be able to go to bed. She’d kill Cher in the morning.

The key was on the top of a thick old door that led to a cellar and Gideon soon had the back door open. As they walked up the passage to the kitchen Zoe rubbed her head and found she was sweating.

‘God, I need a cup of tea!’ she said, sounding desperate, as they entered the kitchen. She moved the kettle on to the hot plate. It was an emergency and tea was always a good thing at such times. Despite the sweat she was also rather cold. ‘Do you want one? Then we can look for a key to my cowshed.’

‘Tea would be great.’ Gideon pulled out a chair and sat down at the long table.

They drank tea in companionable silence. Zoe felt calmer now, convinced that when they got up they would go into the passage and find a key cupboard, with all the keys neatly labelled. Everything seemed much better now she had someone else there to help her.

They found a key-cupboard, but sadly, under ‘Cowshed’ there was no key.

‘I can’t believe they don’t have spares,’ muttered Zoe on a sigh of desperation. ‘What am I to do?’

‘Well, first we’ll go back to the cowshed and make sure the door really is locked, not jammed or anything. Then we’ll have another go at waking Cher.’

‘I really tried!’ She rubbed her wrist, remembering how sore she’d made it hammering on the door.

‘And if that plan fails, we’ll revert to plan B.’

‘Which is?’ she said, trotting after him.

‘I’ll tell you when I’ve thought of it.’

Oddly, Zoe was relieved when Gideon couldn’t get into the cowshed either. She’d have felt incredibly stupid if the door had just sprung open, having been unlocked all this time. ‘OK, time for plan B,’ she said.

He laughed softly. ‘I do have one but you won’t like it.’

‘If it involves me getting a night’s sleep, I’ll love it,’ said Zoe, yawning.

‘It involves sharing my room, which is massive,’ he said.

‘Fine. I feel I could sleep on a rail just now, let alone in a massive room.’

‘There is only one bed though. It’s massive too.’

Zoe paused. They were nearly at the back door. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’

‘No.’

‘I can’t believe there isn’t another room I could sleep in,’ said Zoe. ‘This house is enormous.’

‘It’s also under restoration and lots of rooms are being decorated. But most importantly, they don’t have beds.’

‘Ah,’ said Zoe. ‘I do need a bed.’

‘So, back to plan B. But I’ve got the bridal suite, which is being done up. The painters were in there today. The bed is as big as a tennis court – obviously in case the wedding night doesn’t go that well.’

‘Right.’

‘I’m not offering to sleep on the chair,’ he said firmly. ‘For one thing we both have to work tomorrow and need a good night’s sleep, and for a second thing, there isn’t one.’

‘What? Nothing to leave your clothes on?’

‘There’s a stool for the dressing table.’ He opened the door. ‘Come on. There’s no other reasonable solution.’

Reluctantly Zoe followed him into the house and up two flights of stairs to the bridal suite. Half of her was terrified by the idea of sharing a bed with him but the other was excited. She’d already admitted to herself she fancied him. This was obviously God’s way of testing her. At the door she stopped. ‘I haven’t got a toothbrush or anything to sleep in.’

‘I’ve got those bottle brush things you can fiddle about with and I’ll lend you a shirt. Now please stop being prim about this. As I said, we’ve both got a heavy day tomorrow.’

Having given up all resistance (which she had to admit wasn’t that strong by now) Zoe found you could do quite a good job without a toothbrush with a tiny bottle brush, toothpaste and a towel. And the shirt was fairly decent provided she kept her knickers on. She would have liked some sort of moisturiser but didn’t mention it. He didn’t seem quite metrosexual enough to have any.

Gideon was sitting up in the enormous bed. He was wearing a towelling dressing gown. She didn’t ask him why. She assumed it was because he usually slept naked and was sparing her. She appreciated it though. For a moment the thought of what was underneath his robe flashed through her mind and she blushed. She got in the other side, keeping as near to the edge as she could without actually falling out. There was about two feet of unused bed between them. It would be fine. All she had to do was imagine Gideon was a fellow student or something. Then there’d be nothing odd about them sharing a bed platonically. The trouble was, the words ‘platonic’ and ‘Gideon’ didn’t compute in her brain. She fancied him far too much. And he was kind. He’d put himself out a lot for her. That didn’t make her like him any less.

‘There’s only one bedside light, I’m afraid.’

‘It’s all right, I haven’t got my book with me anyway. I don’t want to read.’

‘I’ll put the light out then.’ He sounded strangely formal considering they were sharing a bed, although he gave the impression it was perfectly natural for them to be doing so and wasn’t at all embarrassed.

‘Thank you. Good night.’ She lay down on her side, assuming the position she always adopted to sleep in. She felt him turn over too.

But his action had caused a tent, so she shuffled back a bit. Then she closed her eyes.

Tired as she was, sleep wouldn’t come. She wanted to turn over but as there was no sound from Gideon she assumed he’d gone to sleep and she didn’t want to disturb him.

She tried to focus on what she had to do the following day. She had her menu pretty much worked out and knew where to find the recipes but the ingredients she had brought from the cheese place were tormenting her. They were so good and unusual.

She had hundreds of recipes stored in her laptop and they’d been told they could bring recipes into the challenge. In theory, all she had to do in the morning was print out the ones she needed courtesy of her mini printer. But there wasn’t a recipe using soft cheese, honey and bullaces on there.

Knowing that her ingredients were excellent and she might have a couple of things the others wouldn’t have was reassuring. It was well within her abilities to produce a first-class meal but her original thoughts for a pudding seemed very predictable.

These thoughts did nothing to help her relax. In fact, they were making her more tense and further from sleep.

She searched her mind for something soothing – counting backwards (boring), seeing how many of her recipes she knew by heart (too closely connected with the competition), all her school mates’ birthdays (pointless as they were all on Facebook).

There was a rustle from the other side of the bed. ‘You’re not managing to get to sleep, are you?’ said Gideon into the darkness.

‘Sorry! I’m trying to keep still.’

‘You are still but you’re very tense. I can feel it.’

‘I don’t know what to do about that. I can’t stop thinking about the competition tomorrow. If I don’t sleep I won’t function well.’ She exhaled sharply.

He thought for a minute. ‘What would you do if you couldn’t get to sleep at home?’

‘It hardly every happens! I have no techniques. All the ones I’ve just tried make it worse.’

She felt him move again and the bedside light went on. ‘Tempted as I am to suggest some mad passionate sex is what you need to relax you, I don’t think it would.’

‘No,’ she squeaked. Was he joking? Just him saying that added a new layer of tension. If the circumstances had been right, and she couldn’t just this minute imagine what they might be, she’d have leapt into his arms with enthusiasm. But not now.

‘Right. I’m going to do what my mother used to do with me when I was ill as a child.’

‘Oh?’ This sounded suitably safe, assuming his mother wasn’t a witch or anything.

‘She read to me. And I’ve got something you might like.’

He got up and she could hear him rummaging in a bag. He brought the book back and got into bed.

‘Now you’ll have to snuggle up a bit – part of the relaxing process. Put your head on my shoulder.’

It took a bit of wriggling for Zoe to get herself comfortable but she did find the human contact took away some of her stress. There was nothing sexual about his offer now, of course. He was being kind and very practical. They both needed to sleep and by helping her he’d help himself. She felt a slight flicker of disappointment and then concentrated on enjoying the feeling of closeness.

‘Right, now close your eyes.’

He started to read. After a few moments she said, ‘I know what this is! Elizabeth David! Old school but lovely writing. Which book is it?’

‘Don’t worry about that, just listen.’

He had a beautiful voice, more beautiful now he was reading and not being masterful. The combination of that and Elizabeth David’s wonderful prose made Zoe stop wanting to go to sleep. She just wanted to listen.



Zoe woke once in the night and immediately worried about the following morning. Turning up at the Somerby table in yesterday’s clothes smelling of Gideon’s shower gel might take a little explaining.

She turned over and went back to sleep, fully intending to get up early and be out of the way before Gideon woke in order to avoid any awkward ‘you first, no you first’ conversations about the bathroom.

Instead, she was woken by Gideon, fully dressed, putting a mug of tea on the table next to her and handing her a piece of toast on a plate.

‘Morning. Get your laughing gear round that.’

She stared up at him. Last night he had soothed her to sleep with his beautiful voice and tales of Mediterranean food. This morning it was the worst sort of slang. She took the plate, grateful. His vulgarity took away any potential embarrassment.

‘Thank you. Is it late? I meant to get up early.’

‘It’s half past seven and Cher still isn’t opening the door. But Fen’s looking for the spare key. I thought you might as well have some breakfast while she finds it.’

Zoe sipped the tea. ‘That was kind of you. Did Fen say anything about me sleeping here?’

‘Nothing to make you feel awkward. I don’t think Cher is her favourite person. She did say we should have woken her though.’

‘What, Fen? No we shouldn’t!’

‘Rupert agreed with us. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. You should be able to get to your toothbrush fairly soon.’

Alone again, Zoe lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes. It had been lovely sharing a bed with Gideon. In spite of finding him almost unbearably sexy they’d shared a closeness that was separate, special. At least that was how she felt. Yet this morning he was all brusque efficiency. He was infuriatingly hard to read.

Now she had to face reality: embarrassment; and the knowledge that sleeping with a judge, however innocently, was definitely against the rules. She was so anxious about the task ahead that her contentment slowly leaked away, like cold water seeping from a burst hot water bottle. It’s hardly noticeable at first but soon the cold is too uncomfortable to bear and you have to get out and strip the bed.

As if the bed really was damp and cold Zoe got out and ran to the bathroom. A hot shower would sort her out.



Thankfully Fenella and Rupert hadn’t been around when she let herself out of the back door and scurried over to the cowshed. Cher was in the shower when Zoe let herself in in. All the fury she had felt last night came back to her. She shouted through the bathroom door.

‘Cher? What the hell happened? Why couldn’t I get in? Why did you lock the door?’

The shower stopped and Cher, possibly aware she couldn’t avoid an angry Zoe for ever, came out, wearing a towel. ‘Oh God! I’m sooo sorry! Nightmare! I had a headache and took some tablets and then I just sort of passed out.’

‘But why did you lock the door? You knew I wouldn’t be long behind you?’

‘I just did it automatically, I suppose. I am so sorry!’

Zoe brushed past Cher and went into the bathroom. Perhaps brushing her teeth with a proper toothbrush and putting on some make-up would make her feel more charitable.

A change of clothes helped too, and, believing she could now at least share a space with Cher without wanting to kill her, she went to her laptop to download her recipes. Except her battery was dead – which was odd because she’d left it plugged into the mains. But now everything was unplugged and her computer completely unresponsive.

‘Cher? Have you done anything to my laptop?’

‘Why would I? I have my own laptop.’

Frustrated and confused Zoe went to plug her computer into the mains. They didn’t have long. They had to be ready to cook soon. But her mains lead was missing. She hunted for it. There wasn’t even time to fall on Rupert and Fenella’s mercy and ask to use their computer. She asked Cher if she’d seen it but she just shrugged.

‘Does this mean you have to cook without your recipes?’ she asked.

Zoe just growled.