by Sherri Bryan
The only thing missing from their blissful starts to the weekends was her husband, Nathan, but as he was the Detective Chief Inspector, she accepted his frequent absences with good grace.
“Come on, Molly, come and have some lunch. We can play again later.”
Pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, her daughter came running, still bouncing the shuttlecock, the dogs at her heels. “Did you bring my book, Mummy?” She pulled off her hat, had a quick wiggle of her loose tooth, flopped onto the blanket, and took a chicken sandwich and a bottle of water from the basket.
“It’s in my bag,” said Charlotte, filling a bowl with water for the dogs.
“Which one did you bring?”
“The Case of the Vanishing Cucumbers. That’s the one you’re reading, isn’t it?”
Molly nodded. “That’s good—that’s my favourite. I’m glad you didn’t bring the one about the bald men with the red eyes and long fingers and noses. That one gave me bad dreams.” She shook out her light-brown curls and settled down to read her book as she ate her lunch.
Charlotte lay down on the blanket for thirty seconds, then sat up again as she felt the first twinges of heartburn. She shuffled around until she found a comfortable position and took another deep breath of sea air, relaxing as she let it out slowly to the sounds of the surf gently tumbling the pebbles on the shore.
The weak February sunshine had lured out a few diehard beach lovers, wrapped up against the chill, their deckchairs dotted here and there, but not so many as to disturb the peace and quiet.
“Mummy?” Molly finished her mouthful and looked up from her book, a small furrow at her brow. “You know I’m going to camp on Wednesday?”
“Yes, poppet.”
“Does that mean I don’t have to go to school?” Her eyes crossed as she stuck out her bottom jaw and tried to see the tooth she was wobbling back and forth with her finger.
Charlotte nodded. “Don’t do that with your eyes, please, sweetheart. You won’t have to go to school, but you’ll still be learning loads of new things. You’ll be having so much fun, I bet you won’t want to come home.”
“And how many days am I going to be away?” Molly took her finger out of her mouth and climbed onto Charlotte’s lap.
“Five. Well, four and a half, actually.” Charlotte stroked her daughter’s hair. Are you still looking forward to it?”
Molly shrugged. “I think I’m going to miss you and Daddy a lot.”
“Well, we’re going to miss you, too, but the days will fly by. You’ll be home before you know it—and think of all the stories you’ll have to tell us.”
Molly’s bottom lip began to quiver and she buried her face in Charlotte’s shoulder. “What will happen if the baby comes while I’m not here?”
“I doubt very much that’s going to happen but if it does, then you’ll see it when you get home.”
Molly’s head dropped and her shoulders sagged. “But what happens if it comes when I’m not here, and you love it more than you love me?” she said in a tiny voice.
Charlotte pulled her into another hug. Even though she and Nathan had reassured her countless times that they would love her and the baby equally, Molly wore her insecurities in plain sight.
“Look, whenever it arrives, Daddy and I aren’t going to love this baby any more than we love you. And, anyway, you’ll always, always be our favourite, most special girl.”
“D’you promise?” A muffled voice drifted up from the depths of Charlotte’s fleece.
“With all my heart.”
Molly lifted her head, a lopsided grin immediately replacing the frown. She planted a kiss on Charlotte’s cheek and slid off her lap before settling herself cross-legged on the blanket again, running her finger along the lines of text in her book as she silently mouthed the words to herself.
Charlotte chuckled. If Molly only knew how much she and Nathan loved her, she’d never spend another second worrying about it for as long as she lived.
The sudden thunkety-thunk of steps along the seafront prompted Molly to look up from her book, her mouth dropping open and the frown returning to her face.
“Mummy, look! It’s that horrid man.”
Charlotte’s gaze followed Molly’s pointing finger to see a tall, instantly-recognisable man dressed in black, apart from the red, fur cloak that billowed out behind him, a red cravat, and a red top-hat. His rotund stomach jiggled under his shirt, but his trademark handlebar moustache and long goatee beard remained perfectly still as he strode along, his cane and the heels of his red cowboy boots tapping out an urgent rhythm, like a distress call in Morse code.
Charlotte and Molly had had the misfortune of experiencing Roman Haley’s particular brand of humour three weeks previously, when he’d arrived in town for the grand opening of his culinary school. As the crowd had been waiting for him to cut the ribbon and declare the school open, he’d happened to overhear Molly’s remark that he looked like a wizard in his cloak.
He’d spun round on the heel of his boot and fixed her with a sinister stare, pointed at her with his cane, and uttered a stream of gobbledygook which he assured her was a spell for keeping ill-mannered children quiet for the rest of the year.
Molly’s tears hadn’t lasted long, but Charlotte had been livid. She’d tried to explain that Molly was just seven years old, and that she’d meant no offence, but Roman had completely ignored her and strode off to have his picture taken with the mayor.
As Charlotte watched him now, a couple who were ambling along the seafront stopped in their tracks when they saw him striding towards them.
“Oh my good gawd! You’re that chap from the telly, aren’t you? The one who’s just opened that cooking school? We’re here on holiday, and we’re huge fans.” The woman fumbled in her bag with gloved hands as she and her husband blocked his path.
“Are you really?” replied Roman in a bored voice, his surly face not registering a modicum of gratitude. He lifted his cane and waggled it back and forth between the couple, forcing them to move apart to let him pass. “And you can put that pen away—I don’t give autographs. Especially not to people who can’t even remember my name.”
Leaving the couple open-mouthed, he carried on walking, not stopping until he reached The President Hotel, where he disappeared inside.
“We don’t like him, do we, Mummy?” said Molly, hiding behind Charlotte.
Charlotte shook her head. “He’s not very nice, is he? Never mind, he’s nothing to do with us, so you don’t have to think about him ever again.”
____________
That evening, with dinner over and Molly tucked up in bed, there was nothing more than the promise of a quiet night in looming ahead.
“We’ll see you in the morning, okay?” said Charlotte, putting the storybook on the bedside table.
Molly nodded and yawned. “Daddy, will you come to see me off when I go to camp?"
Nathan pulled the duvet up to her chin and blew a raspberry on her forehead.
She giggled, threw her arms around his neck and returned the raspberry before gently patting his cheeks.
“So, will you?”
“Course I will.”
“’kay. The mummies like it when you come to the school.”
Nathan chuckled at Charlotte’s raised eyebrow. “Do they, now?”
“Uh-huh. Esme said..." Molly took a furtive look to the right and left before cupping a hand around her mouth and divulging the playground gossip her best friend had shared with her the day before. “She said they think you’re a hottie. She heard her mummy talking about it with Floella Knight’s mummy.” She giggled behind her hand.
“Er, we've spoken about this before, Molly," said Charlotte. "I don’t think Esme should be repeating things like that, and neither should you."
“Don’t you?” said Nathan, giving her a mischievous wink. “I think it’s very interesting." He gave Molly's nose a gentle flick. “We’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Charlotte caught the kiss
Molly blew. “Night night, sweetheart.”
As usual, Pippin and Panda circled and flopped down at the side of the bed, their chins resting on the floor between their paws. They both took a contented sigh, and settled down for the evening.
“We saw Roman Haley again when we were on the beach earlier,” said Charlotte, as she loaded the dishwasher. “He was on his way to The President. He’s been staying there since before his new school opened—must be costing him a fortune. Mind you, I don’t suppose he’s short of a few hundred thousand pounds.” She jammed the plates into the dishwasher rack with rather more force than she’d intended.
“I take it you’re still fuming about the way he spoke to Molly?” Nathan pulled a beer from the fridge, and a sparkling pear juice for Charlotte.
“Actually, yes, I am.” She ran a hand through her hair before placing it firmly on her hip. “I was really hoping all that arrogance was just a show for TV, but it obviously isn’t. He was so rude to someone who stopped him for an autograph today, so it’s not even as though he’s just got a dislike of kids; he doesn’t seem to be keen on anyone.”
“Well, I’ve got no patience for prima donnas,” said Nathan, putting his arms around Charlotte and kissing her neck, “so however long he’s here for, I sincerely hope we don’t cross paths.”
Chapter 3
“I’m so relieved that Betty wasn’t bothered about the cookery lessons,” said Harriett, as she and Ava made their way to Roman Haley’s culinary school to make the final arrangements for the following week. “I don’t know how I would have chosen between the two of you.”
“Well, Bet’s never really been one for following instructions, has she?” said Ava. “She’s always been more of an experimental cook; you know, chuck it all in the pot and hope for the best.”
I hope Roman’s in a good mood,” said Harriett, changing the subject. “I’m not usually such a scaredy-cat, but I really find him intimidating. When I went up on stage to collect my prize yesterday, I could feel the hostility coming off him in waves. And he’s got such a sharp tongue, you never know what he’s going to say next.”
“Usually something not very nice,” said Ava. “But I’m sure we won’t see him today—he’ll get one of his minions to deal with us. And I very much doubt we’ll see him next week, either, apart from at that tasting session thingy, because he won’t be teaching us; he’s not a tutor, is he? He just owns the school.”
They arrived outside the small, understated white-walled building on the edge of the market square. Its bottle-green door was flanked by two bay trees, and a smart green and white sign, which simply said Haley’s Culinary School, told them they were in the right place.
Ava peered through the window. “Well, I can’t see anyone because the blinds are closed, but those instructions in your prize envelope said there’d be someone here until seven o’clock, Monday to Saturday, and it’s only half-past six. Come on, we can’t stand out here on the doorstep all evening.”
“Just a minute,” said Harriet, putting a hand on Ava’s arm. She strained to hear through the door. “Can you hear someone shouting? Perhaps we should wait? We don’t want to walk in on someone’s argument.”
Ava elbowed her out of the way and put an ear flat against the gloss painted wood. “Here, let me try. You can hear much better this way. The trick is not to get caught.” She gave the side of her nose a sly tap, before shrieking and stumbling forward as the door was flung open, and she was saved from falling flat on her face due only to her bouncing off Roman Haley’s large stomach.
“You can hear a lot better on this side of the door, you know,” he said, a droll expression on his angry red face. He looked down his nose at Ava and Harriett as though they were bacteria, before stroking his beard, putting on his top hat, and pushing past them, his cane swinging and his cloak flying out behind him as he marched up the road.
“How very rude!” blustered Ava. “Why he’s so popular, heaven only knows. If I was twenty years younger, I’d put him over my knee and give him a jolly good spanking.” She poked her head around the open front door and called after him. “I say! Did you hear that, Mr. Haley? You’re never too old for a spanking, you know!”
The man and woman Roman had been yelling at each stifled a grin.
Ava composed herself and flashed a smile. “Have we called at a bad time?” she asked, sweetly. “We’ve come to register for the course on Monday. My friend won it in the library roof fundraiser raffle.”
The man rolled his eyes, barely disguising his contempt.
Ava opened her mouth to object, but the short blonde woman took the wind out of her sails with a huge grin.
“No, it’s not a bad time at all,” she said, in a jolly voice. “We’ll be closing soon, so you got here just in time. And take no notice of Roman. We’ve known him for ages and he’s always been the same.”
“What? Obnoxious, you mean?” said Ava.
The woman chuckled as she went behind the reception desk and pulled out a large leather-bound book. A mass of blonde curls pulled into a ponytail swung from the top of her head as she turned the pages. “Do you have your certificate, please?”
Harriett handed her the envelope. “Everything I was given is in there. By the way, will we need to bring anything with us? You know, aprons, hairnets, stuff like that.”
The man snorted.
Ava gave him a withering glare and reached up and poked him on the shoulder. “What exactly is so funny, young man? When we were young, hairnets were compulsory in lots of working kitchens. Harriett and I both had jobs in the school canteen, and we weren’t allowed through the door unless we were wearing our hairnets. My friend has asked a perfectly reasonable question, so the least you can do is afford her the courtesy of not laughing in her face. Quite frankly, I’ve had enough of rude men, eye rolling and sheer insolence today.”
The man’s eyebrows met in a frown. His shiny black hair was slicked back off his face, showing off his sculpted jawline and deep-set blue eyes. He crossed his arms and his muscles looked like they might burst through the seams of his chef’s jacket.
“My apologies,” he said curtly, a pulse jumping in his neck.
“Hmpf, I should think so.” Ava turned her attention back to the woman behind the desk. “I think it’s about time someone taught some people some manners.” She jerked her head towards muscle-man.
The woman avoided looking at her colleague and stuck out her hand over the desk. “Well, speaking of manners, I’m sure I don’t know where mine have gone. I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Larissa Reece—very nice to meet you. And that’s Gavin Doyle. Altogether, there are six tutors at the school, specialising in different techniques, but we’ll be taking you for your course next week. And we’ll provide the aprons. No hairnets required,” she said, with a smile. “Just dress so you’ll feel relaxed, and wear some comfortable shoes.”
She handed two glossy leaflets to Harriett. “I noticed you don’t have these. They go out to every student who takes a course with us, but they were obviously missed out from your envelope. They’re itineraries, with details of what we’ll be covering, and what we’ll be baking each day. There are only four booked on the course you’re taking, so it’ll be nice and cosy. It’s all very informal.”
“Ooh, look, Ava! We’re going to be making bread on the first day,” said Harriett. “Mini raisin loaves, a cottage loaf, and granary baguettes. You know I’ve never been able to make bread—this is going to be a real treat.”
Larissa nodded. “We do an entire week-long course, just on artisan bread making, and it’s proving to be one of our most popular. Bread’s just one of the things you’ll be tackling during your week, though.” She closed the bookings diary. “There, all done. You’re booked in for Monday. And if you could be sure to arrive on time, please, because we have a lot to cram into each day.”
“Oh, we will,” said Harriett. “We’re never late.”
The ladies smiled at Larissa and gave Gavin a brief
nod before going on their way.
“Well, she seems very nice, but he’s a bit grim,” said Harriett when they were well out of earshot of the school.
“He’s probably Roman’s henchman, what d’you expect?” said Ava, winding her scarf around her neck and pulling on her gloves.
Harriett stopped and opened her handbag. “Oh, bother. I’ve left those leaflets behind.” She looked at her watch. “It’s just coming up to five to seven—I hope they haven’t locked the door yet. I’ll just pop back—I won’t be a tick.”
She rushed back up the road and gave a sigh of relief when she pushed the door and it opened.
“Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry!” she said, covering her eyes as she walked in to find Larissa and Gavin in a very passionate embrace across the reception desk.
They jumped apart, their faces blazing red.
“Larissa’s a bit, er, upset. I was just, er, comforting her,” said Gavin, adjusting his chef’s whites.
“Yes. Yes, that’s right, he was.” Larissa rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead and looked at the floor.
“Oh, well, no explanation necessary,” said Harriett. “I just came back for my leaflets—I left them here. Sorry to barge in like that, but I wanted to get back before you closed.”
Larissa nodded. “Of course.”
Gavin strode over to the door and held it open, and Harriett took her cue to leave.
“Well, I’d better be off. See you both on Monday. I hope you’ll be feeling much better by then.”
As she walked back down the road, Larissa caught her up.
“Look, this is a bit awkward, but we’d really appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to Roman about this. He can be funny about his employees getting too friendly, if you know what I mean.”