Poppy's Recipe for Life: Treat yourself to the gloriously uplifting new book from the Sunday Times bestselling author!

by Heidi Swain

  ‘Afraid not,’ he said, turning his attention back to his bunny biscuit. ‘As far as signing up and joining in with stuff is concerned, this ship has sailed.’

  Chapter 7

  During the following week a new routine quickly established itself and I was in no doubt that I had made the right choice in pursuing my dream of moving into Nightingale Square. My commute on foot from home to Greengages was just long enough to wake me up in the mornings and I had plenty of time left over at the end of the day to pop across the road to help out in the garden.

  My simple life was still as uncomplicated as it was possible to be, but was much improved by my new address. Everything had turned out to be just as wonderful as I had dreamt it would be and, in spite of my concerns about my shortcomings as a sister, I was incredibly happy.

  I had taken to leaving the square in the mornings with Jacob, who was also settling into a new routine, and although he never seemed particularly pleased to see me he didn’t seem to much mind my presence either. His lack of reciprocal chat meant that I wasn’t sure if he was merely tolerating the few steps we took in tandem, but I wasn’t going to waste time worrying about that.

  ‘I thought teachers had tonnes of equipment to lug about,’ I said with a nod to his empty-looking backpack, on the Friday morning at the end of his first working week. ‘Marking and stuff.’

  ‘Not me,’ he replied, as if the very idea was mad, ‘my planning is all on my hard drive and I don’t come home until I’ve finished any outstanding marking and set everything up for the next day.’

  That would account for why I hadn’t spotted him at home in the evenings as I went to and from the garden, as well as why he’d turned down the two invitations to the pub I’d issued during the course of the week. Much to Lou’s disgust.

  ‘For someone who claims she doesn’t have an interest in him,’ she told me with a disgruntled sniff, ‘you seem to be going out of your way to make an effort to include him.’

  She was right. After his insistence that he wouldn’t be helping in the garden and his unerring ability to always make me feel a fool in the presence of others (be it intentional or otherwise), I had decided to pretty much leave him to it, but for some reason, I couldn’t seem to help myself. I was resolute that neither the absence of family nor his misguided determination not to join in with what was on offer should mar the pleasure of living in Nightingale Square for him.

  ‘Oh Jacob,’ I said, pretending to be appalled. ‘You aren’t a workaholic by any chance, are you?’

  ‘No,’ he huffed, ‘I just like to be organised and as I don’t currently have a car, I can’t manage to bring much work home with me.’

  I was surprised he hadn’t got a car. Personally, I was quite happy with my bike or the bus if I had to travel further afield than to work, but Jacob struck me as a car person.

  ‘Are you thinking about getting a car then?’ I asked, trying to frame the question in the best possible way to elicit an enlightening answer and not aggravate him any more than I already had.

  Conversations during our brief walks rarely crossed the line beyond small talk, so more often than not it was impossible to add any new information about him to the thin file of what I had garnered so far.

  ‘Morning, you two,’ called John as we reached his and Lisa’s driveway. He was getting stuck into loading his van with tools for his working day. ‘All ready for the weekend, are we?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ I grinned. ‘I have plans to make a very fine circlet of flowers especially for the occasion.’

  ‘Marvellous,’ John chuckled. ‘Glen and I were wondering if perhaps you’d help us get the pole up tonight, Jacob?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘The pole,’ said John, ‘for the May Day celebrations on Monday.’

  Jacob looked momentarily relieved and then shook his head.

  ‘I’m afraid I won’t be able to come over to the garden tonight,’ he said firmly.

  John didn’t miss a beat.

  ‘That’s all right,’ he said, matching his wife easily when it came refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer. ‘We celebrate the start of spring here on the green, so that’s where the maypole goes. This particular party will be happening right on your doorstep.’

  I might have missed out on the opportunity to find out if Jacob was in the market for buying a car, but his face after John had finished wrapping him up in maypole ribbons was totally worth the sacrifice.

  *

  ‘It’s a good turnout this, isn’t it?’ said Lou, early on the sunny Bank Holiday Monday afternoon, when she arrived with a somewhat reluctant Colin in tow.

  ‘I’m not getting roped in with the morris again,’ was the only salutation he offered, before he wandered off to find where John was serving drinks.

  ‘Poor Colin,’ said Lou with a smirk, ‘he really got quite a whack with that stick last time, didn’t he?’

  ‘He told me his knuckles haven’t been the same since,’ I smiled back. ‘But I’m hoping the lure of wearing bells again will be too much for him to resist.’

  Lou chuckled in response.

  ‘I like this,’ she said, reaching up to readjust the circle of flowers I had spent so long fashioning and which had slipped a little as a result of all the earlier dancing round the maypole. ‘Did you make it?’

  ‘I did,’ I told her proudly. ‘As it’s my first year here as a resident I thought I should make an extra effort.’

  ‘And what about your neighbour,’ she asked with a nod towards Jacob’s house. ‘Has he gone to any bother?’

  ‘Between you and me,’ I told her as Colin came back with three compostable cups of Colin’s potent home brew, ‘I get the distinct impression that all the extra bodies here today are down to him and him alone. Well, the tanned and toned ones anyway.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Lou frowned as she took a tentative sip.

  ‘The yummy mummy brigade are mad for him,’ I said, pointing out the group of sleek and stylish mums who had unusually turned out to embrace the square’s pagan celebration. ‘According to Kate, he’s the hottest property in Jasmine’s school.’

  Much to my amusement, Jacob, who had been forcibly dragged from his den on the pretence of setting up tables, was now in the thick of things and completely oblivious to the preening going on around him. He was so engrossed in telling tall Beltane tales to practically his entire class, who sat enchanted on the grass around him, that he didn’t have eyes for any of the women who were so keen to secure his attention.

  ‘Well, would you look at that!’ Lou laughed. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  ‘Me neither,’ I agreed.

  ‘I can’t believe they’re really keen for their kids to learn about fertility rights and fire festivals, can you?’

  ‘Nope,’ I agreed again, ‘but we are!’

  I handed our cups over to Colin and pulled Lou over to the pole to join in with another rousing dance that was just about to start.

  *

  By the time the local morris dancers had packed up their bells and the bonfire in the brazier had been lit, practically everyone other than the Nightingale Square residents had drifted away. It had been a wonderful day and even Jacob appeared in good humour when Luke teased him about drawing away the attention of certain women who usually homed in on him.

  This revelation came, as I knew it would, as a complete surprise to Jacob, but the cheering from John, Glen, Neil and Mark soon had his cheeks glowing and I wondered, not for the first time, if there had ever been a Mrs Grizzle on the scene. And I wasn’t thinking about Jacob’s mother either.

  As the evening deepened around us and I sat with my friends watching the flickering flames, drinking Graham’s brew, which somehow tasted better with every cup, I knew that my life had never been more satisfying and I hoped that Jacob was beginning to feel the same way.

  ‘Does this belong to anyone here?’ came Carole’s voice, slicing through the tranquil moment. ‘It was in the gras
s near the maypole.’

  No one took much notice.

  She tried again. ‘I picked it up this afternoon. It’s a Samsung something or other.’

  I obligingly patted the patch pocket on my skirt, just to be on the safe side, and realised that my phone was missing. Usually I would have been aware of the weight of it but the beer must have dulled my senses.

  ‘It might be mine,’ I said, standing up to have a closer look.

  She held it aloft and I instantly recognised the glittery case.

  ‘Well, thank goodness,’ she said, handing it over. ‘Here, have it back. It’s been driving me mad, buzzing away all afternoon.’

  ‘Have you got it set to vibrate, Poppy?’ giggled Lisa.

  ‘I think someone’s desperate to get hold of you,’ Carole continued, ignoring Lisa’s cheeky innuendo.

  I looked down at the screen and squinted as it lit up.

  ‘Oh yes,’ I said, my heart picking up the pace. ‘I think you’re right.’

  I apologised for ducking out early and reluctantly headed home so I could answer in private as yet another call came through.

  ‘Mum,’ I said, only when I was safely inside and the front door was closed. ‘What’s going on? Is everything all right?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said with a sigh, ‘don’t panic.’

  I was concerned about Ryan, not her.

  ‘Although I’m still cash-strapped because of this ridiculous will business.’

  ‘I haven’t got any more money,’ I told her bluntly. ‘You cleared me out last year and, as I’m sure Ryan will have told you, I’ve moved recently myself so I’m as strapped as you are.’

  ‘I had no intention of asking for more money,’ she tutted, sounding affronted. ‘It’s Ryan I’m actually calling about.’

  My heart started beating rather more rapidly.

  ‘What is it?’ I demanded. ‘I have tried to keep in touch with him. We got off to a decent enough start last year but now I’m lucky to get so much as a two-word text out of him.’

  I had thought about going down to the college to try to find him, but I didn’t think he would appreciate me just turning up.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ said Mum, ‘well, not really. It’s just that I’m going away for a few weeks and I’ve been called in to college to talk about his attendance. I’ve asked them to change the date but they’ve refused. They want it to be a fortnightly thing apparently. Can you go in my place?’

  If the college were asking for fortnightly meetings then there was more to worry about than just skipping a few classes.

  ‘What’s wrong with his attendance and what do you mean, you’re going away?’

  ‘I’m going to Spain,’ she said. I could tell she was smiling. ‘With my new man.’

  My mother, the self-obsessed man-eater, was set to strike again.

  ‘His name’s Roger and he’s—’

  ‘Never mind that,’ I interrupted before the image of her as a hungry mantis clinging to some unsuspecting middle-aged man with a paunch and receding hairline became lodged in my poor brain. ‘What about Ryan?’

  ‘Well, he hasn’t been invited to the meeting. It’s just me—’

  ‘No,’ I interrupted again, taking a deep breath. ‘What I mean is, what’s wrong with his attendance to warrant regular meetings and what’s he going to do while you’re away?’

  And more to the point, why was she in such a rush to go? Was it all to do with her new man or was there more going on with Ryan than she could handle?

  ‘He’s not been turning up as often as he should so they want to keep a more formal eye on him, that’s all. And he’s going to stay here while I’m in Spain.’

  ‘On his own?’ I gasped.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Unsupervised and underage?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When you’ve just found out he isn’t turning up for college.’

  She flared up. ‘Well, he has to grow up some time. It’ll do him good to stand on his own two feet. He’s been nothing but hard work since Tony died and I need a break. So, can you come to these meetings or not?’

  Chapter 8

  The call didn’t end well because Mum slipped into one of her customary sulks. This was her go-to modus operandi whenever she didn’t get her own way about anything. She had assumed that concern for my brother would mean that I would jump straight in, say yes to attending the meetings, perhaps even offer to shuttle backwards and forwards to Wynmouth to keep an eye on him, but I hadn’t so much as suggested I would do any of those things.

  I wanted to of course, more than anything, but I knew that if I did then I would be letting her off the parental hook, so instead I gave her conscience a poke and rang off. Time would tell whether or not the message would sink in, but I wasn’t holding my breath. I didn’t know if she would come to the right decision and cancel her plans to jet off to the sun, but I had to give her time to step up.

  I hung my flower circlet on the hook behind the kitchen door, made a cup of soothing camomile tea and then sat at the table and carefully flicked through my grandmother’s packed recipe book as well as my own slightly less impressive effort. Hers was brittle with age and beautifully embellished. Granny had been a talented artist and a keen cook, a country woman who knew the benefit of stocking the larder with nature’s bounteous glut, and she had passed on her knowledge, as well as her treasured tome, to me.

  I spread out my own half-finished recipe cards, the newest ones I had been working on to give out in the shop, and set to with my pen, knowing that going to bed would have been pointless. It was nearer one than midnight when I glanced up at the clock, my neck and shoulders stiff with having sat in one position for so long.

  I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found Ryan’s number.

  Mum says you haven’t been turning up to college, I typed before I could change my mind. You aren’t thinking of dropping out, are you?

  The second I hit send I realised I’d asked the wrong question. I should have asked if everything was all right rather than sent what, when I read it back, looked like a demand. Damn. Too late to change it now.

  I jumped as a message pinged back.

  So? You dropped out of uni. It’s got nothing to do with you, POLLY.

  I stared at the screen and bit my lip. Ryan’s retort was confirmation that my enquiry had come across exactly as I feared. That said, I hadn’t expected such a blunt response, and the fact he’d called me Polly really stung. It was what he used to call me, when he was in his early teens and full of swagger, but that felt like for ever ago.

  ‘It’s because I don’t really know you,’ he used to say with a self-satisfied smirk as he realised he was getting to me. ‘I keep forgetting what your name is.’

  I had thought we’d moved on from all that. The text messages I’d been getting from Ryan after Mum had finally told me about Tony’s heart attack might have been brief, but they hadn’t been anywhere near as blunt as this one. I knew I was partly to blame as I’d just sent him entirely the wrong tone of message, but nonetheless I hadn’t been able to shake off the feeling that there was more going on with him than Mum had let on, and his snappy reply confirmed it.

  It had suddenly become very obvious to me that Ryan needed more than just someone who was willing to turn up at college and tick all the right boxes.

  *

  I dragged myself into work the next morning feeling like death warmed up and it had nothing to do with Colin’s potent home brew.

  ‘Good night, was it?’ Harry grinned.

  ‘Good day,’ I conceded. ‘I’ve had better evenings.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I had a phone call from my mother.’

  Harry’s face was a picture. He knew enough about her to know it wouldn’t have been welcome.

  ‘She didn’t want more money, did she?’ He frowned.

  ‘No,’ I said, just as the bell above the door chimed, announcing the first customer of the day. ‘Not m
oney this time.’

  ‘What then? She must have wanted something?’

  I shook my head. I still didn’t know what I was going to do about the situation and until I’d decided I didn’t want to discuss it.

  ‘These new potatoes look good,’ I said, focusing Harry’s attention on the produce in a bid to distract him. ‘Shall we make them pick of the week?’

  It was a quiet morning, which didn’t help to distract me or stop Harry asking if I was all right, but we did have one afternoon customer I wasn’t expecting.

  ‘Jacob.’ I smiled, looking up from the local paper I had been reading in lieu of there being anything left for me to arrange, tidy or sweep. ‘This is a surprise.’

  He was the last person I expected to see, from what he’d said about his eating habits. I watched as he walked over to my elaborate potato display and picked up a spud barely bigger than a cherry tomato.

  ‘Are you looking for something tasty and fresh to balance out those micro dinners you seem so fond of?’

  ‘Not really,’ he said, returning the potato to the teetering pile and sending another rolling.

  I was going to have to simplify the mountain I had sculpted, otherwise Harry and I were going to have an avalanche on our hands before long.

  ‘These,’ I said, coming out from behind the till, ‘are so fresh that you don’t even need to peel them. Just pop them in a pan of boiling water with a sprig of mint for about twenty minutes—’

  ‘I know how to cook them.’ He frowned. ‘I just choose not to.’

  ‘But why ever not?’ I demanded. ‘You’d save yourself a fortune by buying fresh—’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he interrupted, ‘I didn’t come in here for a lecture on my eating habits.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, feeling chastened.

  ‘I just came to see if you’re all right.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘This morning,’ he said, fiddling with the apples I had also spent so long lining up, ‘you weren’t around when I walked to work and what with that and leaving the party early . . .’