and dreams of sexy food critics and Elizabeth David.
Chapter Eight
ZOE’S PHONE AWOKE them at seven the following morning and they got ready without speaking beyond ‘do you want tea or coffee?’ Zoe decided to try and stop worrying about Cher trying to sabotage her – it was just too difficult to share a house otherwise.
Cher peered out of the window. ‘It’s bloody pouring with rain. Why is it today we have to cook in a field?’
‘Just the way it is. Anyway, we cooked in a field yesterday.’ She went on, ‘Have you done anything like that before?’
‘Are you joking? As if!’
Zoe wasn’t surprised. She didn’t see Cher as the Girl Guide type. Glamping would be the nearest she ever got.
They ate their breakfast cereal in silence and headed for the bus.
‘OK, guys!’ said Mike once they’d arrived at a beauty spot about half an hour away and were safely under canvas. ‘Two teams of four. The judges will decide who goes where and will tell you what’s going on.’
While they waited for the cameramen to do their thing, Zoe crossed her fingers that she wouldn’t be in Cher’s team. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Cher over-salting her potatoes or anything – if they were on the same team she wouldn’t risk jeopardising their chances – but rather that she’d probably be hopeless in conditions without electricity and running water.
‘Good morning, contestants!’ said Anna Fortune. ‘I hope you all had a good night’s sleep because you’ve a tough challenge before you today.’
Zoe felt herself blush but decided she had to get over it. Cher might have worked out where she slept the other night but there was no reason to think the judges – apart from Gideon, obviously – had any inkling. ‘You’re going to be cooking a hearty lunch for two groups of ramblers. They will have walked up to seven miles and will be hungry – and wet! They’ll want soup, main course and pudding, but at twelve o’clock on the dot. That gives you three hours. The winning team will be decided by the walkers, but we’ll decide which of you, from the losing team, will go out. Fred, will you tell them who they’re working with?’
Fred smiled benignly and produced a piece of paper from his pocket.
‘OK, we have two team leaders, Muriel and Bill. Bill’s team is Shona, Alan and Becca. Muriel has …’
Zoe didn’t listen to the names. Once she’d realised she’d be working with Cher her spirits slumped. Still, they had Shadrach, who seemed to be brilliant, although how he’d cope without anything except knives and chopping boards had yet to be seen and he was rather messy. Zoe knew that Muriel would be all right, and she would be too. Her own experience as a Saturday girl in a small, ill-equipped café meant she was used to depending on sub-standard equipment.
‘There are ingredients over there.’ Fred made a gesture towards a section of the tented area where piles of boxes could be seen. ‘Decide what you want to cook and get down to it. It’s up to the team leaders to decide who’s doing what. Their decision is final so no arguing. You have three hours.’
‘Right, team,’ said Muriel. ‘Follow me to help carry back the food. I’ll choose what to do.’
‘I don’t peel potatoes,’ said Cher.
‘What do you mean you don’t peel potatoes?’ said Zoe. ‘Are you genetically different from the rest of us?’
Cher scowled at her. ‘I don’t do peeling. Just saying.’
Zoe heard Muriel muttering as she strode towards the food, Shadrach at her heels.
‘Come on, we must go and help,’ said Zoe, tugging Cher’s sleeve.
‘I so don’t want to do this!’ Cher said.
‘Look, we’re all in this together,’ said Zoe. ‘If we lose, one of us will go out. If you don’t pull your weight, it’ll be you!’
Finally convinced, Cher followed Zoe to where the others were grabbing provisions and piling them into a basket. She was muttering as she went, but as soon as a camera
Chapter Eight
ZOE’S PHONE AWOKE them at seven the following morning and they got ready without speaking beyond ‘do you want tea or coffee?’ Zoe decided to try and stop worrying about Cher trying to sabotage her – it was just too difficult to share a house otherwise.
Cher peered out of the window. ‘It’s bloody pouring with rain. Why is it today we have to cook in a field?’
‘Just the way it is. Anyway, we cooked in a field yesterday.’ She went on, ‘Have you done anything like that before?’
‘Are you joking? As if!’
Zoe wasn’t surprised. She didn’t see Cher as the Girl Guide type. Glamping would be the nearest she ever got.
They ate their breakfast cereal in silence and headed for the bus.
‘OK, guys!’ said Mike once they’d arrived at a beauty spot about half an hour away and were safely under canvas. ‘Two teams of four. The judges will decide who goes where and will tell you what’s going on.’
While they waited for the cameramen to do their thing, Zoe crossed her fingers that she wouldn’t be in Cher’s team. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Cher over-salting her potatoes or anything – if they were on the same team she wouldn’t risk jeopardising their chances – but rather that she’d probably be hopeless in conditions without electricity and running water.
‘Good morning, contestants!’ said Anna Fortune. ‘I hope you all had a good night’s sleep because you’ve a tough challenge before you today.’
Zoe felt herself blush but decided she had to get over it. Cher might have worked out where she slept the other night but there was no reason to think the judges – apart from Gideon, obviously – had any inkling. ‘You’re going to be cooking a hearty lunch for two groups of ramblers. They will have walked up to seven miles and will be hungry – and wet! They’ll want soup, main course and pudding, but at twelve o’clock on the dot. That gives you three hours. The winning team will be decided by the walkers, but we’ll decide which of you, from the losing team, will go out. Fred, will you tell them who they’re working with?’
Fred smiled benignly and produced a piece of paper from his pocket.
‘OK, we have two team leaders, Muriel and Bill. Bill’s team is Shona, Alan and Becca. Muriel has …’
Zoe didn’t listen to the names. Once she’d realised she’d be working with Cher her spirits slumped. Still, they had Shadrach, who seemed to be brilliant, although how he’d cope without anything except knives and chopping boards had yet to be seen and he was rather messy. Zoe knew that Muriel would be all right, and she would be too. Her own experience as a Saturday girl in a small, ill-equipped café meant she was used to depending on sub-standard equipment.
‘There are ingredients over there.’ Fred made a gesture towards a section of the tented area where piles of boxes could be seen. ‘Decide what you want to cook and get down to it. It’s up to the team leaders to decide who’s doing what. Their decision is final so no arguing. You have three hours.’
‘Right, team,’ said Muriel. ‘Follow me to help carry back the food. I’ll choose what to do.’
‘I don’t peel potatoes,’ said Cher.
‘What do you mean you don’t peel potatoes?’ said Zoe. ‘Are you genetically different from the rest of us?’
Cher scowled at her. ‘I don’t do peeling. Just saying.’
Zoe heard Muriel muttering as she strode towards the food, Shadrach at her heels.
‘Come on, we must go and help,’ said Zoe, tugging Cher’s sleeve.
‘I so don’t want to do this!’ Cher said.
‘Look, we’re all in this together,’ said Zoe. ‘If we lose, one of us will go out. If you don’t pull your weight, it’ll be you!’
Finally convinced, Cher followed Zoe to where the others were grabbing provisions and piling them into a basket. She was muttering as she went, but as soon as a camera
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