‘What are the goals of the business?’ Pixie asked, wrinkling her nose.
‘To share our love of cooking,’ said Gloria. She pressed her cold glass to her forehead and sighed. Condensation ran from the glass down her face. ‘Oh, that’s marvellous.’
‘And to teach people how to make better food,’ Tom added.
‘Don’t forget giving them a good time,’ Mags chimed in.
‘As well as being profitable,’ I said, looking at Dave. ‘Thought I’d get in there before you.’
‘Ah, I’d say that’s the goal that still needs some work.’ He frowned, scanning his notes.
‘So how are the figures looking so far?’ Gloria asked.
Dave began to talk about the numbers and I half-listened, but I was more concerned about Gloria. She seemed to be having trouble breathing, although that could have been due to the constant bending and scratching she was doing with that chopstick. And she was complaining of being hot. It was warm for May, but not overly so – I was wearing more than her and I felt fine. Perhaps it was just because her leg was confined in that hot plaster cast. Even so, as soon as this meeting was over, I was going to take her home, whether she liked it or not. The cottage was cooler than the cookery school and she could sit in a bath of cold water if she so desired.
‘So what I’m saying is: carry on doing what you’re doing, but perhaps look for some other revenue streams.’
I noticed Pixie glance outside at the river with a look of confusion on her face. I sucked my cheeks to stop myself from giggling at her and caught Tom’s eye. He shook his head ever so slightly and grinned and my body responded with a ping.
A delicious warmth began to spread through me as if my body was waking up after a long, long sleep. Over the past month, I’d had so much to occupy my head: splitting up with Liam, moving to Plumberry, opening the cookery school and then looking after Gloria, that I’d put my heart on hold. But now I knew I was definitely staying and Tom was definitely over Rebecca . . . well, that changed things.
I studied him secretly as he turned his attention back to Dave. His eyelashes were amazing, I mean really amazing, almost as if he wore mascara. Most girls would kill for lashes like that. And his eyes weren’t just dark brown; they were ringed with black. And there was a tiny scar above his left eyebrow . . .
‘Well, I’ve got a revenue stream, straight off. This little lot are books that I worked on back in my publishing days. I thought you might like to see them,’ said Mags, retrieving a stack of cookery books from under her chair. She opened the top one, entitled Indian Suppers, and stroked the pages. ‘I could spend all day reading cookery books. Being at the cookery school has reignited my love of recipes.’
‘Ditto.’ Tom grinned.
‘Oh, me too,’ exclaimed Gloria, so sincerely that it broke my heart.
We’d been open for ten days and she had only just attended her first course, one she’d been looking forward to teaching herself. I thought back to my first few days here when she’d reverently shown me her recipe bible and gone misty-eyed with excitement for the future.
‘I’d like to borrow a few of these some time if I may?’ Tom asked, reaching for the next one on the pile: Italian Suppers.
‘Of course.’ Mags went pink and preened. ‘My Suppers series was the most successful cookery book collection Saffron Publishing produced in the nineties.’
‘And I can see why,’ interrupted Dave diplomatically, ‘but can we stay on topic? We were talking about profitability?’
He softened his words by gazing at her with a gooey expression and Mags seemed to melt down into her chair.
‘A suppers course?’ Gloria cocked her head to one side. ‘That could work. Scintillating Suppers or . . . Sophisticated Suppers?’
Mags chuckled. ‘I wasn’t thinking of new courses. I mean publishing our own Plumberry School of Comfort Food recipe book. That would be another string to our bow.’
Dave sucked in a breath. ‘Sounds expensive, Mags.’
‘Oh Dave, not everything should be about money,’ said Mags, folding her arms.
Except this was a financial meeting, I mused, catching Tom’s eye again. We shared a smile and he passed me the recipe book. His fingers brushed mine and it sent a tiny shiver through me.
‘Well . . .’ Dave opened his mouth to argue but apparently thought better of it. ‘That’s true.’
‘We looked into a cookery book for Salinger’s, Mags,’ said Tom. ‘Dave’s right; it’s pricey to do a good job, but it is worth thinking about once we’re more established. We could list some of the recipes from our courses, perhaps?’
Mags looked suitably mollified. ‘One for the back burner then,’ she said, offering round a plate of raspberry and white chocolate shortbread.
‘Ooh, pudding,’ said Pixie, diving straight in.
At which point I had a light bulb moment.
‘Oh, I’ve just had an idea for a revenue stream!’ I wriggled forward in my chair excitedly. ‘We could cook actual suppers at the cookery school. Open it up like a restaurant in the evenings!’
‘Interesting.’ Tom leaned forward, resting his lovely strong arms on the table. ‘Go on, I’d like to hear this.’
‘Would you?’ I said, feeling all the eyes in the room turn to me, but especially his.
He nodded encouragingly. My brain whirred and I wished I’d thought it through a bit more before opening my mouth.
I don’t wish to blow my own trumpet or anything, but I’ve always been one for coming up with ideas. Some of them more successful than others, of course. But right now, with Tom’s full attention on me, this idea suddenly seemed extremely important. I thought about yesterday and Chloe and Helen trying to impress each other and Dave desperate to impress Mags and even Pixie trying to impress Tom, and I realized that I was exactly the same: I wanted to impress Tom too.
I couldn’t pinpoint when exactly, but Tom had become someone special to me. I wanted him to look at me in awe, unable to tear his eyes away. And not only that, I wanted to make him happy. Happy enough to stay in Plumberry for as long as possible.
My pulse quickened as I began, rather tentatively, thinking on my feet.
‘On days when we’re not running courses, we could run a Supper Club right here in the Aga kitchen. We have seating and spare capacity; what’s to stop us opening in the evenings? Tom could demonstrate and cook a three-course supper, which the diners then eat – no cooking involved on their part. It would also give you a chance to cook the more experimental stuff that you love doing, Tom.’
‘Plumberry needs a restaurant,’ said Pixie, brushing crumbs from a second spring roll off the front of her T-shirt. She regarded me mischievously for a second before adding, ‘Like Platform Six.’
My stomach whirled with embarrassment as Tom glanced at her sharply and then looked back at me. If Tom was planning to ask me out tomorrow evening, he was certainly playing it very cool. Perhaps he had never intended to invite me at all, maybe he already had a date?
I grabbed the water jug and replenished glasses to look busy.
‘And I could cook anything?’ Tom asked thoughtfully, stroking his chin.
I nodded, pushing all thoughts of his mystery dinner date out of my head.
‘The fancier the better, probably. That way our offering would stand out as unique. I’m sure there are plenty of places to get standard pub food.’
‘What do you think, Gloria? Dave?’ Tom asked.
‘I adore it!’ exclaimed Gloria, spreading her arms out to encompass the room. ‘And what a perfect setting for supper; imagine it lit with a hundred candles!’
‘Imagine the health and safety risk,’ said Dave. ‘But fire hazard aside, it would certainly maximize our revenue streams.’
‘And I get to cook restaurant food.’ Tom pushed a hand through his thick hair, folded his arms and grinned at me. ‘Top idea.’
That smile lit me up inside like an Irish coffee, warm and delicious with a soupçon of naughtiness.
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‘Tom gets to cook fine dining; the cookery school earns more money. Two birds. One stone.’ Go me, I added inwardly as I stood and took a bow.
‘I’m humbled,’ said Gloria. ‘I don’t know how I’ve done it but somehow I seem to have recruited a wonderful team of people. Wonderful. You don’t know how much seeing you all here means to me.’
And then she burst into tears, a reaction so completely out of character for feisty, nothing-gets-me-down Gloria that for a second Mags and I simply stared at her. Mags put her arm round Gloria and handed her a tissue, Dave shuffled his papers and Pixie started clearing the glasses and plates.
‘Gloria and I are going home now,’ I announced smoothly, getting to my feet. ‘Unless anyone has anything to add?’
‘Just one thing.’ Tom stood and hesitated, raking his hand through his hair. ‘Only that . . .’
‘Yes?’ I held my breath and anticipation bubbled through me. A brief fantasy popped into my head where he asked me out to dinner and everyone in the room clutched their hearts romantically, even though I’d have to let him down as Rosie was coming . . .
‘I know I said I wasn’t bothered about it,’ Tom shrugged sheepishly, ‘but I was going to suggest anyone who wanted to could come over to the flat and watch Challenge Chester with me later. My flatmate is away so we’ll have the place to ourselves.’
My stomach flipped. ‘Challenge Chester! Oh my goodness, I’d completely forgotten about that. Our episode is airing tonight!’
Tom looked at Pixie. ‘Pixie?’
‘I’d love to,’ she groaned in despair, ‘but I’m working at the pub. I’ll make sure the TV is tuned to it. It’ll make a change from the sports channel.’
‘I’ve asked Mother to set the video recorder,’ said Dave proudly, ‘because Mags and I will be at dinner.’
‘I doubt I’d stay awake for the whole programme,’ Gloria mumbled, dabbing at her tears. ‘So I think I’m better off at home.’
Which left me.
We’ll have the place to ourselves . . .
‘I was planning on live tweeting through the show – you know, hashtag Plumberry,’ I said airily.
‘Before you forgot it was on,’ Tom said, barely containing his mirth. ‘So? I can offer you WiFi.’
‘Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse,’ I smirked, looking him in the eye.
He didn’t need to know that my heart was knocking at my ribs like a hammer on particularly stubborn toffee. But it was.
Chapter 27
I was not happy with the Gloria situation one bit. She insisted on hobbling to the car herself, refusing to use the wheelchair, which I stowed in the boot of my car. But once she was in the passenger seat, her breathing was ragged and her face was contorted.
‘You know I’m only asking this because I love you,’ I said softly, reaching out for her arm, ‘but you wouldn’t hide it from me, would you, if you felt poorly?’
Gloria flashed me a look of panic. ‘It must be getting on your nerves, mustn’t it, looking after an old croc like me? You should be out having fun with people your own age. I’m such a burden.’
‘Stop right there, Gloria Ramsbottom,’ I said briskly, before she dissolved in another flood of tears. I fastened her seatbelt for her and started the engine. ‘You’re not preventing me from doing anything. I’m popping over to Tom’s tonight, aren’t I? If you’re well enough to leave.’
I was aiming for casual, but my face must have given me away. Gloria blinked at me, her blue eyes gazing solemnly from her flushed face.
‘And I’m only saying this because I love you,’ she said gravely, ‘but I don’t think Tom is the man for you. He’s on the rebound. So are you, come to that.’
‘Gloria!’ I laughed. ‘I think we’re getting a bit ahead of ourselves here; I’m only going round to watch TV with him.’
‘OK,’ she sang as if she didn’t believe me for one second and then looked out of the window.
Why was she being negative about him? She thought the world of Tom. Did she know something about him that I didn’t? On the other hand, Mags was having dinner with Dave, I was going to Tom’s . . . Perhaps it was simply a bit of good old-fashioned envy on a day when she wasn’t feeling so great. Poor thing.
I focused on the road as we drove along the high street. ‘I appreciate your concern, but I can look after myself, I promise. And Tom’s a nice guy.’
‘He is a nice guy,’ Gloria agreed, smiling at the children who crossed the road in front of us while a jolly lollipop lady held up the traffic. ‘But when I interviewed him for the job only a few weeks ago, he was very bitter about his ex-girlfriend. He told me that he would never, ever, put his job at risk again by mixing his love life with his professional life. I don’t want you to get your hopes up or your heart broken, darling. That’s all.’
Fleeting images flashed through my brain as I let Gloria’s words sink in, snatches of conversations, smiles, body language . . . I could have sworn that I’d seen a flicker of interest on Tom’s part. But one thing was for certain: I’d obviously got the wrong end of the stick about that table at Platform Six tomorrow night. Thank goodness I hadn’t made a fool of myself and mentioned anything to him.
‘Thanks for the warning,’ I said, deliberately hiding my disappointment and keeping my tone light, ‘but I’m a big girl and I truly believe he is a lovely person, just understandably cautious.’
‘There are plenty of other lovely men out there, without some axe to grind.’ Gloria turned her head away from me and waved to Harriet from the cheese shop as we drove past. ‘Unattached men. Like Gabe. Maybe while he’s staying here you could spend some time together, just the two of you?’
Gabe? My heart swelled to three times its normal size and threatened to burst out of my chest completely. She wasn’t suggesting . . . not Gabe and me . . .?
‘Gabe is lovely.’ My cheeks were aflame. I swallowed hard. ‘But he’ll always be Mimi’s husband to me, Gloria.’
She harrumphed at that and there was an awkward silence in the car for the rest of the journey.
The cottage felt a bit stuffy so I settled her in the garden in the shade for a snooze.
I was still worried about her, despite her reassurances that she was just tired. Even getting her from the car into the house and then out to the garden seemed to have totally drained her. And she was constantly out of breath. Gloria was a slim, fit thing and even though I accepted that using crutches was hard work, I had a suspicion she was feeling worse than she was letting on.
After checking she was comfortable, I took the dogs for a walk down the hill and along the river and when the three of us returned panting an hour later, there was just time for a cool shower and to get changed before leaving for Tom’s flat.
I wasn’t bothering with dinner; I’d had plenty of the Chinese leftovers. Besides, my stomach was far too busy whipping itself up into a frenzy at the prospect of meeting up with Tom. Outside of work. Just the two of us.
I threw a cardigan over my printed summer dress, pulled on my Converses and ran down the stairs. All I needed to do now was help Gloria in from the garden and then I’d be off. But as I reached the kitchen my phone rang. It was Gabe. Lovely, unattached Gabe. My stomach flipped as I remembered Gloria’s words.
‘Hey, Gabe.’
‘Bloomers! How you doing, dude?’
‘I’m good.’ I grinned. Whatever hare-brained scheme Gloria might be conjuring up to get Gabe and me together, she’d have a job on her hands convincing him to see me as girlfriend material.
‘Guess what!’ he continued. ‘Noah and I should be with you some time on Saturday. We’ve made better time than I thought; we’re already nearly at the River Ouse.’
‘Aunty Vetty, a heron landed on The Neptune!’ I heard Noah shout in the background, followed by Gabe shushing him.
I perched on a chair in the kitchen, my heart revelling in listening to their banter. It would be great to have the Green men here. The responsibility for Gloria was b
eginning to weigh heavily on me and it would be brilliant to be able to talk things over with Gabe. And having Noah around would do Gloria the world of good.
‘I can’t wait.’ I let out a sigh. ‘The sooner the better.’
I heard him suck in a breath. ‘What’s up?’
I bit my lip, unsure as to whether to bother him. It wasn’t as if he could do anything to help until he arrived.
‘Verity?’ he probed. ‘Come on.’
‘I’m worried about Gloria. She doesn’t seem well to me.’
I described her symptoms. She hadn’t managed to shake off the headache, her hip and leg were throbbing and she was constantly scratching inside her cast.
‘Poor old bird.’ Gabe tutted. ‘I had my arm in plaster once on a family holiday to Spain, never been so uncomfortable in my life, I know how she feels.’
‘So it’s fairly common to be hot and irritable, then?’ I asked doubtfully.
‘I think so, but call the doctor if you’re worried.’ He paused. ‘Or should I? I’m her next of kin, after all, and you’ve done everything so far.’
‘She’s forbidden me to call the doctor. But I suppose I could phone the nurse? Or she’s got a physiotherapist coming round to the cottage tomorrow afternoon so I could just wait to see what she says.’
‘Mimi was just the same when she was ill, never made a fuss,’ Gabe said softly.
And look what happened to her.
There was a beat of silence.
‘I’m calling the nurse,’ I blurted. ‘Right now.’
‘Good idea.’
‘Call me when you get here. Where are you mooring? I’ll come and fetch you,’ I said.
‘Just above Knaresly lock. We’ve brought bikes, so we might cycle over. Oh, just say hi to Noah.’
I had a quick chat with my favourite boy who told me that if he was good tonight, he’d be allowed to stay up and see Jupiter and Venus in the sky and would I make him a chocolate cake. Just thinking about wrapping my arms round him and inhaling his soft warm skin made me feel all glowy. I promised to make him the cake, blew him a kiss and rang off, immediately calling the nurse’s mobile number, but her voicemail said she was on annual leave.
The Plumberry School of Comfort Food Page 26