by Kate Forster
As he pushed open the door that was already slightly ajar, there she was.
Wearing a cream woollen knit and pink lipstick, she glowed as she served the boys strawberries and fresh yogurt on their pancakes.
‘Morning,’ she said cheerfully and he caught her eye and saw her smile at him like she had before this all happened.
‘Mom’s back,’ said Seth, his mouth full as he spoke.
‘And she brought a total douche with her,’ said Ethan as Christa turned away from them, trying to stifle laugher.
‘Don’t say douche,’ said Marc half-heartedly.
‘Pancake? Scrambled eggs and bacon? Omelette?’ she asked as she turned on the coffee machine.
Marc walked behind the kitchen bench and came to her side, taking down two cups from the cupboard above him and placing them on the bench.
‘You stayed,’ he whispered.
She was silent but he felt her hand on his, lingering for a moment, as she took a cup before making him an espresso.
‘You look beautiful today,’ he said. ‘The pink suits you. I also like your pink coat when you wear it – it makes me happy.’
She blushed and handed him the coffee. ‘Someone once told me I looked like a blancmange when I wore it.’
‘I don’t know what that is but I am assuming it’s not a compliment, and I can guess who said it,’ he said, shaking his head.
As though he’d summoned the devil, the kitchen door opened and Avian waltzed in wearing exercise clothes and a smug expression.
‘We went for a run,’ she announced, checking the watch on her wrist. ‘Five miles, pretty good considering we have had zero sleep.’
Simon staggered through the door behind her, gasping for breath.
‘Here comes slow coach,’ said Avian. ‘He’s on a diet. He needs to lose weight so I am working with him to get him camera-ready. You can’t be fat for TV – the camera puts on ten pounds.’
Christa’s back was to them but Marc saw her shoulders square defensively.
‘So, he has to lose weight so he can eat food on TV?’ he heard her say. ‘That sounds ironic.’
‘Yes, it is ironic I guess,’ said Avian as Christa turned around and Marc saw his ex laugh a little at Christa as she looked her up and down.
‘Babe, can I get an egg-white omelette with wilted spinach, thanks,’ she said and sat at the table, glancing at the boys.
‘Pancakes? I hope that’s a treat and not every day.’
‘It’s not,’ said Ethan.
‘Yesterday we had French toast made with… Christa, what was the bread?’
‘Brioche,’ she answered with a sweet smile at the boys. ‘With caramelised bananas and whipped cream.’
Avian made a disgusted face. ‘Can you not feed my children that crap?’
‘Hey, Ave, don’t call it that, and it’s their holiday so they can have some treats,’ Marc said.
‘I just don’t like sugar, or carbs,’ Avian said looking Christa up and down. ‘They make you fat.’
Marc wished they could go back to before Avian and Simon were here, when it was just him and the boys and Christa.
‘Mom, do you want to come and see the chickens after breakfast?’
‘You might see some of your birdlike friends,’ he heard Christa mumble to herself and he tried not to laugh.
‘Chickens? No thanks. I thought we could go into town and you can choose your Christmas presents.’
The boys looked at each other and Marc was sure he saw a hint of disappointment.
‘Finish your breakfast, kids, and I’ll go down with you. I wanted to see more of the garden anyway.’
Avian was already on her phone, tapping and scrolling like her life depended on it while sipping hot water that she had demanded from Christa.
Simon was sitting at the table now, his breath recovered.
‘This is funny – seeing you here, Christa. Never saw you as a house chef. Must be good pay.’
Christa put two plates of egg-white omelettes in front of Avian and Simon, which looked as appetising as a bowl of drool.
‘Perhaps if you hadn’t cheated me out of my share of Playfoot’s, I wouldn’t be here,’ she said and Marc glanced at her.
‘Don’t be bitter. My parents invested more than us – they deserved a bigger pay-out.’
Christa went to the stove and plated up pancakes and bacon for Marc. She handed it to him and then looked at Simon. ‘I am not speaking to you about this here, or at all, actually. It’s done.’
Marc sat opposite Avian and he noticed she looked at his breakfast with a longing he had never seen during their marriage.
‘Do you want some?’ he asked, cutting off some bacon and pancake and dipping it in syrup. He held it out on the fork for her to taste.
She shook her head and took a forkful of her omelette.
‘No thank you,’ she said, but he saw she watched every mouthful he took.
They ate in silence, including the boys, who seemed to read the room and figure out that this wasn’t a group meant to be together for any amount of time.
Paul walked into the kitchen and looked around. ‘Nope,’ he said, turning back around and then Marc heard him call, ‘Adam, we’re going out for breakfast.’
Christa was banging pots and pans about the sink when Peggy came in the back door and took off her coat.
‘Morning, all,’ she said and then looked at Avian and Simon.
‘You must be the boys’ mother. Hello, Mrs Ferrier, I am Peggy, the housekeeper.’
Avian didn’t look up from her phone. ‘Great, can you get me some tampons, organic preferably, and get me a hairstylist to come to the house for the dates of the twentieth, twenty-fourth, twenty-fifth, and twenty-sixth. The water here screws my hair so I will need it washed and dried every day.’
Marc looked at Peggy. If he could have taken a picture at that moment, he would have titled it, ‘Disgustedly astonished in situ’.
He saw that Christa noticed it also, and she was hiding a smile.
Peggy looked at Marc as though waiting for permission and he gave it, nodding slightly.
‘I don’t buy women’s intimate health items and I do not believe there will be a hairdresser who will give up their Christmas and Boxing Day for you. You can try but I don’t know anyone here who can assist you with that. I am the housekeeper; I am not a concierge. Though if you can’t wash and dry your own hair by now, I am happy to give you a lesson. A woman your age should know these basic life skills. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go and supervise the window cleaners.’
She turned on her heel and left the kitchen, with Avian’s jaw flapping in shock.
Marc handed her the fork with some bacon and pancake on the end, dripping in butter and syrup.
‘Taste?’ he coaxed and Avian, unthinkingly, took the fork and ate the food, chewing slowly.
‘Who the fuck was that?’ she spluttered at Marc.
He stood up from the table and pushed the plate towards her to finish it off.
‘That was Peggy, the one woman you don’t want to make a bad impression on, but sadly I think that horse has bolted.’
‘Christa, boys, let’s see what Bill has in the garden for us today, shall we? You in?’
The boys jumped up and ran to get their coats and hats, while Marc took Christa’s pink puffa from the hook and held it out for her to slip her arms into.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered as she turned to face him and he smiled at her.
He still wanted to kiss her and he wished this Christmas was over, but this time it was for different reasons.
‘Come on, Dad, let’s go,’ yelled one of the boys, opening the kitchen door, and the cold air came inside with a rush.
‘Let’s go,’ he said, recovering from his moment with Christa. ‘First one to the maze is the winner.’
21
Avian and Simon’s self-absorption knew no boundaries. After offending Peggy, Avian then told Paul the decorations were upsetting her allergies and tha
t she thought the styling of the house for Christmas was too busy. Simon was always in the kitchen telling Christa how to cook whatever she was cooking and speaking loudly when Marc was around about the reviews for the restaurant and how Avian had seen his potential during a small appearance he made on a travel show talking about English food.
Christa spent three days hiding in the pantry whenever Avian came into the kitchen, demanding Christa make her fresh almond milk or kefir or sweet potato crisps. Not that Christa was against any of the food Avian asked for; it was the way she asked.
‘I don’t think she knows the words please or thank you,’ Peggy agreed as they chatted over a pot of tea during the afternoon.
‘She won’t stop calling me babe,’ moaned Christa.
Pudding Hall was temporarily peaceful.
The boys were out with Avian, choosing their own Christmas presents, which Marc had argued against over dinner the night before, saying it ruined the surprise.
They boys hadn’t argued but were also unenthusiastic when they headed out in the car to York, with Simon driving Marc’s Bentley.
Now Marc and Adam were upstairs working and Paul was antiquing in some of the surrounding villages.
‘He’s an odd fellow your ex-husband,’ said Peggy, as she poured the tea into the fine china cups. Christa had also made them a simple teacake with cinnamon and sugar topping, the butter dripping down the side into little caramel rivulets that pooled on their plates.
Christa scoffed. ‘That’s a kind description.’
Peggy pushed a cup to her. ‘I mean he’s an odd choice for you.’
‘I suppose. He’s very charming. I think I was initially seduced by his charm and confidence.’
‘Charming is as charming does,’ said Peggy with a scowl. ‘I was married to a man like Simon.’
‘I didn’t know you were married,’ Christa said.
‘Because I come across as an old spinster?’ Peggy answered, with a small laugh but it wasn’t a bitter laugh, Christa thought.
‘No, maybe, I don’t know,’ Christa said. ‘You’re very guarded. It’s hard to know you.’
Peggy stirred her tea, the spoon making a sweet chiming sound as she tapped it lightly against the side of the cup.
‘Before I worked here, a long time ago, I owned a hotel in Manchester with my husband.’ She paused, as though dragging up the memories to the surface from the deepest parts of her mind. ‘Oh, he was handsome and charming, just like Simon, but how he lied. That man couldn’t lie straight in bed. Always another woman, gambling, debt, and even a child I didn’t know about until we were married.’
‘I’m sorry, Peggy,’ said Christa, hoping to hell Simon didn’t have a child she didn’t know about.
Peggy shrugged. ‘It’s been ten years since we divorced, and I ended up with nothing but that was enough. I had my freedom and my truth. I was sick of being told I was the weak one in the relationship, that I would have nothing without him.’
Christa nodded, understanding where Peggy was heading with the story.
‘That man you married is a chameleon, becoming what people want so he can get what he needs. He sucks you up and then turns you into ashes, taking all your fire and spark.’
Christa felt her eyes burn with tears ready to spill, and Peggy put her hand on her arm.
‘Don’t let him take anything away from you now, not when I see the light around you when Mr Ferrier is nearby.’
The tears fell then and she looked up at Peggy, her unlikely friend. ‘Can you see it?’
‘That you like each other? Yes.’ She smiled.
‘But I’m just a cook and I’m working for him.’
Peggy shook her head and ate a piece of cake and then wiped her mouth with a linen napkin.
‘No, you’re a chef and a very good one. You’re probably twice the chef your ex is.’
Christa didn’t answer, though she knew it was true. Everything Peggy said was accurate and more.
‘Also, I wanted to thank you for introducing me to Peter. We’re seeing a film on Thursday night.’
Christa was shocked. ‘You aren’t! That’s amazing.’
‘It’s a film, not a trip to Paris – no need to overreact,’ said Peggy.
‘I’m not overreacting, I’m happy he and you are friends. You’re both lovely people.’
‘He’s lovely; I’m less so but somehow we get along.’
Christa giggled. ‘Perhaps that’s the key. Balancing each other out. Like good food, the flavour is all in the balance.’
They finished their tea and cake in comfortable silence.
Finally, Christa stood up. ‘Speaking of which, I need to start cooking. I have to do a meal for Avian and Simon and a different one for the rest of the family.’
‘Surely she can just have some chicken feed in a bowl. It’s organic, vegan and good for birds,’ said Peggy with uncharacteristic humour.
Christa laughed, thinking of serving Avian the food as a healthy snack. Part of her wanted to do it but she never would. Avian was a nightmare but she was also the mother of the boys, whom Christa adored.
While peeling potatoes for dinner, stuffing chickens and preparing the salads and vegetables, Christa thought about what to make for Avian and Simon. She knew roast chicken was Simon’s favourite meal, especially this recipe where she had brined the chickens the night before so they were so tender and ready for roasting.
This was one of their signature dishes at Playfoot’s, and one Simon had taken the credit for over and over again.
Kale and tofu would suffice for Simon and Avian, with some cauliflower rice on the side.
Of course, she would try and infuse flavours to make it more enticing but she laughed to herself at the thought of Simon watching everyone else eat the delicious chickens while he ate the tofu, which she knew he loathed.
Once dinner was prepared, Christa thought about dessert. Now this was becoming fun, she decided. Making things she knew Simon adored eating, knowing Avian wouldn’t let him have them was almost like a sport now.
Oh she knew what it would be that would absolutely ruin him. She checked the pantry for the ingredients and then closed the door, feeling pleased with herself.
Tonight’s dinner would be fun, and she could show Marc some of her best cooking while also showing Simon what he was missing.
Brined Roast Chicken
Ingredients
1 x 1.6kg/3½lb chicken
2 lemons, sliced
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
Sea salt and cracked black pepper
Brine
1 small bunch fresh bay leaves
2 tablespoons black peppercorns
½ cup/150g/5.3oz rock salt
1 cup/175g/6oz brown sugar
1 cup/250ml/8fl oz malt vinegar
3 litres/100fl oz water
Method
To make the brine, place the bay leaves, peppercorns, salt, sugar, vinegar and water in a large saucepan over high heat.
Bring to the boil and cook, stirring, for 4 minutes or until the salt and sugar have dissolved. Remove from the heat and set aside to cool completely.
Tie the legs of the chicken with kitchen string and place, breast-side down, in the brine. Cover and refrigerate for 4–8 hours.
Preheat oven to 200°C/390°F. Place the lemon slices onto a large oven dish lined with non-stick baking paper. Remove the chicken and bay leaves from the brine, discarding the brine liquid. Place the chicken, breast-side up, on top of the lemon with the bay leaves. Drizzle with the oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Cook for 45–50 minutes or until the chicken is golden brown and cooked through.
22
‘Wow, that looks incredible,’ said Marc as she placed the platter of chickens onto the table.
It wasn’t a full Christmas dinner but a practice run, she and Peggy had told each other but when she had mentioned to Peggy that she had wanted to show Simon what he was missing out on at dinner that night, Peggy had risen to the occa
sion. She had set the table in the dining room for eight, with napery and silver cutlery and some sprigs of holly and ivy in the centre of the table. The fireplace was crackling at the end of the magnificent room and the glassware sparkled under the chandelier and candles on the table.
Soft white rolls waited patiently to be torn apart in silver baskets at either end of the table. Pats of butter with the Pudding Hall crest pressed into them lay in cold glass dishes. Salads in glass bowels and crisp, roasted potatoes in silver serving bowls. There was a dark gravy and bottles of red wine already decanted.
And then there was the bowl of kale and tofu with the cauliflower. There wasn’t anything wrong with it. Christa had tasted it and it was all fine, tasty in fact, and probably Avian would be more than happy with it, but she knew Simon would struggle with the choices being made for him.
She was surprised Simon hadn’t bitten back at Avian and her running and food regime so far. He must really want to be camera-ready and famous.
‘This is like something from a magazine,’ said Paul. ‘I should get House and Garden or Architectural Digest here and do a shoot after you go back to the US, Marc. Christa, Maybe you can come and cook for the shoot. We can do a set-up like this.’
Christa looked at Marc who didn’t look up at her. Going back to the US? Is that what was being discussed and she didn’t know about it?’
‘Sure,’ she said, trying to keep her voice light.
Simon sat scowling at the end of the table with Avian, looking at the platters and bowls in front of him.
‘Perhaps you can be an on-set caterer for film and TV, maybe Avian can get you a gig,’ he said. Christa wanted to throw a bread roll at him for being so condescending.
Thankfully Avian shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so; besides, you couldn’t have this sort of food at craft services. No one I know eats like this.’
Christa sat next to Adam who gave her a look of sympathy.
‘Eat up then,’ she said, trying to maintain some sense of self-esteem under Avian’s withering gaze.
‘What did you get in town today, boys?’ she asked.