No wonder Jennifer the Harpy had found him irresistible.
No, she shook her head, she wasn’t going to meander along that path – not ever again. She pulled her apricot sweatshirt down over her faded Levis and composed her face into a noncommittal smile as she handed him his mug of coffee. ‘Two sugars. Or are you on to sweeteners now?’
‘Not even sweeteners. Not while we’re on the detox. Chemicals are out. Sugar is great, thanks. And you do look really terrific.’
‘Thanks – I’m thoroughly enjoying my freedom despite my early misgivings. Have you heard from the girls?’
‘Doll rang the other night and Lu popped into the office a couple of days ago. They seem okay. I’m glad Niall’s finally off the scene – always thought he was a complete prat. However, they both told me your attempt at cooking had been successful – which worried me a bit.’
Mitzi flicked the tea towel at him. He’d always teased her about her lack of culinary skills. She sat opposite him, clearing away the clutter, nursing her own coffee mug, and shared the biscuits, chatting with ease about the forthcoming meeting at the village hall. They got on well as friends. They always had.
‘Is this it? The recipe book they were talking about?’ Lance stretched out his hand for the fragile collection of pages held together with an elastic band propped up against the flower vase in the middle of the table. He opened it carefully. ‘Good God – this is amazing. Look at that handwriting – fantastic. And there are some real old-fashioned things in here … God! Suet puddings! Layer cakes! Pies! Pastries! Oh, I think I’ve just stumbled on nirvana.’
Mitzi giggled. ‘There speaks a man who’s spent far too long on pulses and brown rice and those awful bags of mixed leaves that everyone pretends to love. But have you looked at the names of the recipes? They’re really quaint. That’s the one we tried – Wishes Come True – and very tasty it was. A lot of them tie in with dates of the old festivals, see? I’ve been thinking of trying out something a bit special for Halloween. There’s a really interesting one here – look …’
They pored over the book together.
‘All Hallows Mallows?’ Lance raised his eyebrows. ‘Mmmm – I can see them going down well with the trick-n-treating thugs. And what’s Mischief Night Cake? And Firework Frenzy? Hey, look at this one. You should knock up a batch of these for this afternoon.’
‘Powers of Persuasion Puddings?’ Mitzi frowned. ‘Why? Do you think my Baby Boomers will need to be forcibly persuaded that they have the skills and opportunities to change their own lives?’
‘Mitzi, love,’ Lance dunked the last Hobnob in his coffee, ‘I’m sure you could persuade them to do anything you wanted – no, I was actually thinking about feeding a bucketful of Powers of Persuasion to Tarnia …’
They laughed together. As they always had about Tarnia. Mind you, Mitzi thought as she headed to the kettle for coffee refills, Lance may well have a point. If Tarnia got wind of this afternoon’s illegally arranged meeting she could turn very nasty indeed.
‘How do you fancy doing a spot of home-baking?’
‘Me?’ Lance looked as though she’d made an improper suggestion. ‘What, here? Now?’
‘Right here and now – unless of course you have more important things to dash off to …’
‘Nothing at all. Do you mean – make something out of this book?’ Lance stood up and pushed up the sleeves of his pale-blue sweater. ‘Great. Can’t think of anything I’d like more. Right – what do we need?’
According to Granny Westward they needed – among other more prosaic things like flour, eggs and butter – carnation petals, ebony, gentian, ginger and grapes.
‘Blimey, how much of that have you got in the larder?’
‘None,’ Mitzi said mournfully. ‘Well, there might be some ginger but I’m fresh out of carnation petals. Used the last of it in sandwiches this
No, she shook her head, she wasn’t going to meander along that path – not ever again. She pulled her apricot sweatshirt down over her faded Levis and composed her face into a noncommittal smile as she handed him his mug of coffee. ‘Two sugars. Or are you on to sweeteners now?’
‘Not even sweeteners. Not while we’re on the detox. Chemicals are out. Sugar is great, thanks. And you do look really terrific.’
‘Thanks – I’m thoroughly enjoying my freedom despite my early misgivings. Have you heard from the girls?’
‘Doll rang the other night and Lu popped into the office a couple of days ago. They seem okay. I’m glad Niall’s finally off the scene – always thought he was a complete prat. However, they both told me your attempt at cooking had been successful – which worried me a bit.’
Mitzi flicked the tea towel at him. He’d always teased her about her lack of culinary skills. She sat opposite him, clearing away the clutter, nursing her own coffee mug, and shared the biscuits, chatting with ease about the forthcoming meeting at the village hall. They got on well as friends. They always had.
‘Is this it? The recipe book they were talking about?’ Lance stretched out his hand for the fragile collection of pages held together with an elastic band propped up against the flower vase in the middle of the table. He opened it carefully. ‘Good God – this is amazing. Look at that handwriting – fantastic. And there are some real old-fashioned things in here … God! Suet puddings! Layer cakes! Pies! Pastries! Oh, I think I’ve just stumbled on nirvana.’
Mitzi giggled. ‘There speaks a man who’s spent far too long on pulses and brown rice and those awful bags of mixed leaves that everyone pretends to love. But have you looked at the names of the recipes? They’re really quaint. That’s the one we tried – Wishes Come True – and very tasty it was. A lot of them tie in with dates of the old festivals, see? I’ve been thinking of trying out something a bit special for Halloween. There’s a really interesting one here – look …’
They pored over the book together.
‘All Hallows Mallows?’ Lance raised his eyebrows. ‘Mmmm – I can see them going down well with the trick-n-treating thugs. And what’s Mischief Night Cake? And Firework Frenzy? Hey, look at this one. You should knock up a batch of these for this afternoon.’
‘Powers of Persuasion Puddings?’ Mitzi frowned. ‘Why? Do you think my Baby Boomers will need to be forcibly persuaded that they have the skills and opportunities to change their own lives?’
‘Mitzi, love,’ Lance dunked the last Hobnob in his coffee, ‘I’m sure you could persuade them to do anything you wanted – no, I was actually thinking about feeding a bucketful of Powers of Persuasion to Tarnia …’
They laughed together. As they always had about Tarnia. Mind you, Mitzi thought as she headed to the kettle for coffee refills, Lance may well have a point. If Tarnia got wind of this afternoon’s illegally arranged meeting she could turn very nasty indeed.
‘How do you fancy doing a spot of home-baking?’
‘Me?’ Lance looked as though she’d made an improper suggestion. ‘What, here? Now?’
‘Right here and now – unless of course you have more important things to dash off to …’
‘Nothing at all. Do you mean – make something out of this book?’ Lance stood up and pushed up the sleeves of his pale-blue sweater. ‘Great. Can’t think of anything I’d like more. Right – what do we need?’
According to Granny Westward they needed – among other more prosaic things like flour, eggs and butter – carnation petals, ebony, gentian, ginger and grapes.
‘Blimey, how much of that have you got in the larder?’
‘None,’ Mitzi said mournfully. ‘Well, there might be some ginger but I’m fresh out of carnation petals. Used the last of it in sandwiches this
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