Just Desserts

by Jan Jones

  ‘Can’t,’ said the barman. ‘Not unless you’re customers.’

  ‘Then I’d like an orange juice and five tubs of ice cream,’ said Penny with gritted teeth.

  ‘We’ve run out.’

  Leo put a calming hand on her shoulder. ‘Do they know that?’ he asked, jerking his head at the restaurant full of people.

  ‘Not yet,’ said the barman. ‘Oh, you going? We’re expecting a delivery.’

  ‘Somebody else must sell it,’ fumed Penny as they squeezed past parked cars to get to hers. ‘Weren’t you going to investigate?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ve been working on the plane crash … Oh, I see!’ Leo suddenly burst out laughing.

  Penny was incensed. ‘What’s so funny? My daughter’s marriage is about to go into meltdown and you’re creasing up! I realise your people skills are shaky, Leo, but that’s really not the most diplomatic of moves when you are depending on me for a lift home.’

  Leo wiped his eyes. ‘But it is funny. I’ve realised what’s happened. Penny, I’ve worked in the provinces and on Fleet Street. I’ve reported everything from weddings to banking scandals. But I can honestly say that this is the first time I’ve seen with my own eyes the power of my words.’

  Penny stared at him. ‘What are you talking about?’ Then she noticed the newspaper on the back seat of the car next to hers. Of course! The Salthaven Messenger was out today. ‘Your restaurant review of the Dun Cow is in? What on earth did you say?’

  Leo was still chuckling. ‘That the service was dreadful and the food was dire. And because my companion didn’t want them to wreak havoc on sticky toffee pudding, she’d opted for ice cream which confounded our expectations by being out-of-this-world stupendous.’

  Penny huffed. ‘Well, I wish you’d told me. I’d have bought Lucinda’s tubs yesterday.’

  ‘See if you can find that ice-cream questionnaire,’ said Leo as Penny dropped him off at the Messenger. ‘I think I remember you putting it in your handbag.’ He hurried up the stairs in defiance of his limp, partly because he’d been sitting all morning and needed to use some energy, and partly because he didn’t have time for physio and was of the opinion – in direct contradiction of everyone’s advice – that if he used his leg as normal, it would eventually be normal all by itself.

  In the office he leafed through his post while listening to the recording he’d made of Grandad Fell at the farm.

  An envelope was flicked across the room to land on his desk. ‘This week’s assignment. Never say I don’t do anything for you.’

  Leo looked up. Harry, his editor, was leaning against the doorframe.

  Leo opened the envelope and grinned. ‘Excellent! A dinner voucher for the Castle Inn so my ‘discerning companion’ can try their version of a sticky toffee pudding. Nice one. That was quick off the mark of them. Usual thing? Present it at the end of the meal so they don’t know it’s me?’

  ‘I reckon.’ Harry was listening to the recording. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘The test-pilot story for the ‘Sons of Salthaven’ series. I’m trying to track down the crash site. This old boy knew the original eye-witness.’

  Harry made an indeterminate grunt. ‘And you’re also still digging about Lowdale Screw Fittings, I see.’

  Leo met his editor’s eyes, feeling resolution tense in his gut and snap into place all the way up his spine. He’d worked with the Harrys of this world before: older, world-weary, children and grandchildren to support, not looking to rock the boat. ‘Hey,’ he said lightly, ‘I just want to do a spotlight on local industry to show it’s not all farming and fishing.’

  Harry’s expression said he wasn’t fooled. ‘If you can find me a farm that’s making a profit without relying on the bed and breakfast trade you’re doing well, son.’

  Leo gestured towards the recorder. ‘This one manages. Seriously, Harry, no one’s told me I shouldn’t pursue the other matter. Don’t the public have a right to know?’

  Harry gave another sardonic grunt. ‘You’re the hot-shot reporter. Far be it from me to dissuade a man on the scent of a story.’ He straightened up, ready to leave.

  Leo eyed him. ‘You’re not going to drop me any hints at all, are you?’

  ‘That would suggest I knew something, wouldn’t it? Think about it, lad.’

  Penny frowned at the dozen or so handbags in the bottom of her wardrobe. Which one had she taken to the pub last week? After a couple of searches producing a library book she thought she’d returned and a very welcome ten-pound-note, Penny found the missing questionnaire. She smoothed it out, disturbed again by the sense of familiarity. She shook her head, unable to pin it down, and instead scrutinised the form for a company name that she could search for on the internet.

  There wasn’t one. Not a name, address, email address, or even a phone number. Not even the name of the product. Just a polite request to fill in the boxes and return the answers to the place where she’d bought the ice cream. She’d have to go back to the wretched Dun Cow after all.

  ‘Mother – your recipe for Dundee cake, can I borrow it?’

  How do you borrow a recipe, wondered Penny? ‘Of course you can. I’ll copy it out for you. But if you wait until after next week, you can bid for what’s left of the one I’ve made for the Salthaven Show. You might as well – it all goes towards books for the library this year, doesn’t it?’

  Lucinda’s lips tightened with chagrin. ‘I was going to make Dundee cake for the show myself, but there’s no point if you’re doing it.’

  Goodness, thought Penny, that was almost a compliment. ‘Really, Lucinda. If everyone thought like that no one would enter at all and the show would fold. It’s getting thin enough as it is.’

  ‘Oh, I probably wouldn’t have time anyway. What can I make that’s quick?’

  ‘Scones? You make nice scones. Much lighter than mine.’ And now Penny would have to make some too, just so Lucinda could beat her. As if she didn’t have enough to do.

  ‘They’re not very flamboyant, though, are they?’ Lucinda paced her clean, tidy kitchen with cloth and spray, on the lookout for a stray crumb to swoop on and whisk into the bin. She flicked through the show schedule pinned to the corkboard on the wall. ‘I know! Tom bought some cheese from Fellrigg Dairies. I could make cheese scones first thing that morning and enter them in the ‘Local Ingredients’ class while they’re still fresh.’

  Penny felt her heart lurch. ‘Good idea. Where did you say he got this cheese from?’

  There was a hiss as a suspect germ was sprayed out of existence. ‘Fellrigg Dairies. You remember Rachel Davies from school who married Billy Fell? They were making nothing on their milk, so she’s branching out into other dairy produce. Tom’s company was involved in the testing for their certificate. It’s very good. I’ll give you a taste.’ Lucinda’s voice turned censorious. ‘You ought to buy local and shop there too, Mother. Better than encouraging all those food miles that the supermarket racks up. Besides, it’s quite cheap doing it direct on the internet.’

  Well, that explained how Tom had met Rachel, thought Penny grimly, as she drove home and turned on her computer to look up Fellrigg Dairies. But really, the cheek of him bringing her cheese home to his wife!

  Penny rang Lucinda early on Friday morning to wish her a happy birthday. To her alarm, Lucinda sounded odd . ‘Are you all right, darling?’ she asked uneasily.

  ‘Yes, I …’ Her daughter’s voice trailed off. ‘Could you take Bobby to nursery for me, do you think?’

  Penny scrambled out of bed, nearly spilling her tea. What on earth could be wrong? ‘Of course I can. I’ll be there at twenty to nine. Or do you want me earlier?’

  ‘No,’ said Lucinda in that strange, detached voice. ‘Twenty to nine is fine.’

  In full alarm mode, Penny hung up the phone and sprang into action. She leapt in and out of the shower, bolted down her toast and tea, thrust wine and chocolate into one bag and hung the freezer bag off the door handle so she wouldn’t forget to
pack the ice cream. With a ribbon of worry on replay in her head, she rejected her jeans and fleece for a pair of smart trousers and a nice coat that wouldn’t disgrace Lucinda with the nursery mafia. Then she picked up the phone and stopped, her hand suspended half way through the number.

  What was she doing? A crisis in her daughter’s marriage and she was ringing Leo for reassurance instead of phoning her ex-husband. Was she really about to share her troubles with a puzzle-solving colleague, rather than Lucinda’s father?

  Oh, get on with it, she snapped to herself. Time enough later to think the implications through.

  At twenty to nine precisely, Penny rang her daughter’s bell. Lucinda opened the door, still in her nightdress and dressing gown and with a dreamy look on her face. Penny’s eyes widened. ‘Darling, you’re not well! Why didn’t you say? What’s the matter with you?’

  ‘Mother, I’m fine. Bobby’s all ready. He’s got his packed lunch, so if you could pick him up at two …’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Penny, following her through to the kitchen. ‘Oh, dear, on your birthday too. Shall I come back and –’ She stopped in shock. ‘Tom! What are you doing home? Are you ill too?’ Good heavens, the world was falling apart! Tom not at work on a Friday. Neither of them dressed. The kitchen table covered in … covered in …

  Oh no. Oh my. Oh lord.

  Penny sat down on an unoccupied chair, everything falling into place. Oh dear, what a complete and utter fool she’d been.

  ‘Tom’s given me the most marvellous present,’ said Lucinda, waving a hand at the table. ‘Look, ice cream! Especially for me. He developed it with Fellrigg Dairies – using the very best natural ingredients – and they’re going to market it and we get ten percent of everything sold. Mother, you simply have to taste it.’

  Penny stared at the five enormous tubs of ice cream on the table. ‘I think I already have,’ she said faintly. It was all coming back to her now. No wonder she’d recognised the questionnaire. It was exactly the same font and layout as the pregnancy timetable Tom had designed for his wife when she was expecting Bobby. She looked accusingly at her son-in-law, but he had his chin propped on his hands with eyes only for Lucinda, gazing at her as if she was the most splendid creature in the world.

  Penny fumbled for a tissue and blew her nose hard. ‘Tell you what, I’ll take Bobby out after nursery and give him his tea today, shall I? It’ll save you cooking. I’ll bring him back about five. Here, have this wine and chocolate as an extra present and, um, enjoy your birthday.’

  As they walked down the path, Bobby looked with interest at the small freezer bag that Penny was still clutching. ‘Have you got a packed lunch too, Gran?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m going to Leo’s boat. We’re going to feed the ducks.’

  ‘I like feeding ducks,’ said Bobby hopefully.

  ‘I expect we can call in after nursery,’ said Penny. She glanced back at the house, still experiencing a sense of profound shock. ‘Somehow, I don’t think Mummy and Daddy will mind what we do today.’

  Penny flopped down on Leo’s saloon couch after putting the tubs in his cold box. She was reeling from the experiences of the morning and it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet. ‘I need tea,’ she said, and told him all about it. After he’d finished roaring with laughter, she said, ‘So that was it all along. Tom was testing ingredients for some other company in the normal course of his work, made the thoroughly astonishing discovery that real, local, natural milk made the best-tasting desserts. So he came up with the idea of designing ice cream with Rachel, purely for Lucinda because she loves it so! It’s probably the single most romantic thing he’s ever done – or will ever do – in his whole life.’

  Leo quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘Ten percent of the profits? He’s a romantic with an accountant’s heart, I’d say. It’s going to make a lovely story for the paper. Presumably they won’t be averse to the publicity?’

  Penny took the mug of tea he handed her, beginning to feel more like herself. She chuckled. ‘Before you run it, you’d better check with Rachel when she’s likely to have production up to speed. At least she can take on extra help now that Lucinda has had her lovely surprise and it’s all out in the open. No wonder the poor girl was so flustered the day the Dun Cow review came out. They’d only been testing the ice cream on a small scale up until then, but she wasn’t about to turn down potential sales! Oh, Leo, I am so relieved, I can’t tell you.’

  He grinned, but she could see sympathy veiled behind the humour and was touched by it. She would have said more, but –

  ‘I’m just glad we’ve cleared the mystery out of the way,’ he said, and flexed his hands. ‘It was distracting you something rotten. Now we can concentrate on the real story.’

  Chapter Three

  Penny looked at Leo with mild exasperation. ‘Excuse me, but sorting out my daughter’s marriage was important! Which particular real story did you have in mind to concentrate on? The secret lab or the mysterious fifties plane crash?’

  ‘Both of them,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Also, since my editor pointed out that sixty-three percent of the Messenger’s readers are female, I need a ‘Famous Daughters of Salthaven’ story to run straight after the Andrew Collins one.’

  ‘Always assuming you manage to solve Andrew Collins’s plane crash in the first place. Which famous daughter did you have in mind?’

  Leo grinned at her. ‘That’s exactly what I was going to ask you. What a coincidence!’

  ‘You, Leo Williams, are an opportunist.’

  ‘She doesn’t have to be enormously famous, just noteworthy. Someone unusual or inspiring. Your Aunt Bridget? Himalaya walking at the age of eighty?’

  ‘Hardly. All her friends think she’s bonkers. And before this she’s lived a really ordinary life. All my family have been ordinary. Generations of women who have worked as well as keeping the home fires burning, juggling family and community because that is what Salthaven is about. Lucinda will be just the same. We fundraise for the playgroup, visit the library every week, use local shops, pay our WI subs, and support community events. Completely ordinary.’

  Leo made a brushing away motion with his hand. ‘There’s nothing wrong with ordinary as long as they’ve made a significant contribution to the town. It makes a story personal. If all else fails, I’ll find someone who was born locally and who has since become an extra on TV or a scientist working on ground-breaking medical cures or something.’

  ‘If I think of anybody, I’ll let you know. Oh, and talking of ordinary, here’s the copy of the Salthaven Show schedule I promised you. You’ll need to get the names of the winners correct on the day or the paper will be inundated with complaints and you’ll have to print the whole list again in the next issue.’

  ‘You think I’m a rookie? I have reported on neighbourhood shows before, you know.’ He looked at the list of classes. ‘Penny, there are hordes of them!’

  ‘The more classes, the more entries, the more money we make for the library. Salthaven likes to do things properly.’

  Leo was still reading through the schedule. ‘I didn’t realise there were so many jams. I’m going to be writing for hours.’

  Penny chuckled sympathetically. ‘I’ve suggested on several occasions that we reduce the jam classes simply to stoned or unstoned, but some of our ladies have got a very competitive streak. At least the curds and marmalades aren’t itemised. Right, I’m off. I’ve got a WI committee meeting this morning, sifting through ideas for our seventieth birthday next year. Is it OK if I stop by with Bobby after nursery? I’m looking after him for Lucinda this afternoon and he loves feeding the ducks on the river on our way home.’

  ‘Sure. Do you want a spare key in case I’m out?’ He turned to a drawer.

  ‘No! That is …’ Penny stopped, flustered. Quite why the thought of having a key to Leo’s boat should bother her, she wasn’t sure. ‘We can feed the ducks from the cockpit.’

  But Leo was holding out a key ring. ‘
I was thinking I ought to let someone have a spare in case I lose mine.’

  And after all, what was the difference between having Leo’s key and having her friend Rosamund’s, for instance? Penny dropped it in her handbag. ‘OK then. But no phoning me at midnight because you’ve been in the Crown & Anchor too long and can’t find the lock.’

  He smiled. ‘As if.’

  ‘Well now,’ said Mrs Carr, the current WI president. ‘I’m afraid the entries for the Salthaven Show are a little disappointing again, but there has been a gratifying response to our request for ideas for birthday celebrations. The idea of a Forties dance – as would have been common in our founding year – was popular. We could hold it in St Mary’s church hall and ask everyone to bring period refreshments. An advantage to that is that it wouldn’t cost very much. We can easily work out what they ate at functions in those days.’ She patted one of the four large bags beside her. ‘I’ve been up in the loft and found the archives.’

  The rest of the committee eyed the bulging bags of scrapbooks, minutes, agendas, and other WI paraphernalia with apprehension. The WI records were the stuff of legend – none of it good.

  ‘Let me see, now, what else was there?’ Mrs Carr consulted her notebook. ‘Oh yes. We all wanted a nice birthday cake.’

  Two hands shot up at the speed of light to volunteer their services.

  ‘And an anniversary banner to replace the one currently in St Mary’s …’

  Another three ladies exchanged swift glances. ‘Just our sort of thing,’ they said quickly.

  ‘An announcement in the Messenger would be appropriate.’

  The secretary lifted her pencil with brief efficiency from her shorthand pad.

  ‘And finally, there has been a very good suggestion for a proper history of the Salthaven Women’s Institute.’ Mrs Carr’s gaze rested with bright speculation on Penny. Silence filled the room.

  ‘I can tackle that if you like,’ Penny heard herself saying.

  Mrs Carr beamed approvingly. Everyone else tried to look sympathetic.