Second Chances at the Log Fire Cabin

by Catherine Ferguson

  ‘What?’ I stare at her. ‘No! I didn’t mean …’

  I catch the mischievous glint in her eye and we both burst out laughing.

  ‘You’re easy to wind up,’ says Poppy. ‘Of course I’m not going on a starvation diet. I’m not going on any diet because they don’t work. You just end up putting it all back on again and a little bit more besides.’

  I nod. ‘Absolutely right.’

  I pause, then add, ‘I’d still love to look like that, though.’

  We both stare gloomily at the photo on the fridge as I nurture fond thoughts of using Sophie as a dartboard.

  Poppy doesn’t reply and, when I look over, I’m shocked to see tears rolling down her face.

  ‘Oh, Poppy, don’t let Sophie get to you. I’m totally ignoring her remarks about my stumpy legs,’ I lie.

  ‘You haven’t got short legs.’

  ‘Well, you’re not in the least bit plump! And I’m sure Jed thinks you’re absolutely perfect just the way you are.’

  To my alarm, this only serves to increase Poppy’s sobbing.

  ‘It’s not Sophie,’ she gasps between sobs.

  She turns to me, her face full of anguish. ‘Oh, Roxy, I’ve got myself into an impossible situation and I just don’t know what I’m going to do.’

  Chapter 11

  ‘Hey, come on. Sit down.’ I guide Poppy across to the breakfast bar by the window and she heaves herself onto one of the high stools. Grabbing more kitchen roll, I sit opposite and wait for her to calm down.

  Finally, she looks up. But still she hesitates, as if she can’t bring herself to say what’s on her mind. Then she heaves a long, despairing sigh.

  ‘I’m pregnant.’

  Her words seem to reverberate around the room.

  There’s silence in the kitchen except for the clock on the wall, ticking out the seconds until I reply.

  I’m not sure what to say. ‘Oh, how wonderful!’ doesn’t exactly seem appropriate, given that Poppy is currently breaking her heart at the very idea of having a baby, so I simply reach across and lay my hand on hers.

  She attempts a watery smile. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t be loading this on you.’

  ‘Of course you should. You can’t keep something like that a secret. I take it Jed doesn’t know?’

  At the mention of his name, her face crumples again.

  Oh, God, maybe it’s not Jed’s baby!

  ‘He doesn’t know.’ She stares at me urgently. ‘Please don’t tell him, Roxy!’

  I shake my head. ‘I won’t breathe a word. I promise. It’s up to you when you want to break the news.’

  ‘I only found out yesterday. I did a test because I couldn’t understand why my sickness bug wasn’t going away.’ There’s a ghost of a smile on her tear-stained face as she lays a protective hand on her belly. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a mum. And Jed will make the perfect dad.’

  Relief trickles through me. It is Jed’s baby!

  ‘So … you’re pleased, then?’

  She heaves a sigh. ‘My head’s all over the place. Jed’s made it clear he’s not ready for the whole commitment thing, and I’m just really worried that, if I break the news that we’re having a baby, he’ll feel obliged to do the honourable thing and ask me to move in with him. He’s such a lovely guy, I know that’s what he’d do. But …’ She swallows hard and stares miserably out of the window at the snow falling over the lake.

  ‘But then you’d never know if he was with you because he really wanted to be,’ I say slowly.

  She turns and nods. ‘I’d always be thinking he only wanted me because of the baby, and I don’t think I could bear living like that.’ She shrugs. ‘The last thing I want to do is make the man I love feel trapped.’

  I sigh. ‘But you know you have to tell him, right?’

  She looks up, her eyes full of panic. ‘No! Absolutely not!’

  ‘But what will you do? Wait and hope that he asks you to move in before he finds out about the baby?’

  She shrugs.

  ‘But that’s crazy,’ I say softly.

  Poppy’s chin wobbles but her look is determined. ‘So I’m crazy.’

  The front door opens and we hear voices in the hallway. Ryan says something in his deep voice and Clemmy starts laughing. They must be back, full of high spirits, after having lunch together in Guildford. Poppy quickly wipes her hands over her face and flicks at her hair, then goes to wash her hands at the sink.

  We make a right pair. Here’s Poppy thinking Jed doesn’t care enough to make a commitment to her. And here I am knowing that’s true of Jackson.

  The familiar ache is still there, no matter how much I’ve tried to ignore it. Will I ever be able to think of Jackson without feeling that my world ended in that blasted TV studio?

  A second later, my hopes that Clemmy and Ryan will walk straight past the kitchen door are dashed.

  ‘Hi, folks!’ Clemmy bursts in, her face radiant with happiness. And possibly wine. ‘Ooh, it always smells so gorgeous in here. Doesn’t it, Ryan?’

  ‘Good lunch?’ I ask.

  Her smile widens. ‘Blissful, thank you, Roxy.’ She flicks a coy glance at Ryan. ‘And I’m not just talking about the food and the company.’

  Ryan is wandering over to the pan with the homemade mince pie filling and peering in.

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ says Clemmy, laughing.

  ‘Just looking.’ Ryan turns and holds up his hands, grinning. ‘Honest.’

  ‘Actually, it should be me holding up my hand,’ says Clemmy. She has her hands very obviously behind her back and looks as if she’s about to burst with excitement.

  ‘Ta-dah!’ She produces her left one with a theatrical flourish. ‘We only got engaged!’

  There’s a beat of silence.

  ‘Oh, wow, that’s fantastic!’ I burst out, as Ryan comes to stand beside her, smiling bashfully. ‘Isn’t that great, Poppy?’

  I glance at her nervously.

  But she manages a broad smile. ‘That is the best news ever. Congratulations, you two!’

  She walks over and hugs them both. Then Clemmy rushes over and hugs me, too, and the atmosphere is charged with emotion.

  ‘We’ll have to have a party to celebrate,’ says Poppy.

  Clemmy sighs with pleasure. ‘Could I be any happier?’

  Ryan puts his arm round her, a proud grin on his face. ‘Clem actually went down on one knee in the restaurant.’

  ‘You asked him?’ Poppy’s mouth drops open. ‘Good for you, girl!’

  I try to nod with enthusiasm but it’s not easy with images of my own disastrous proposal playing in my head like a horror movie.

  ‘Yep. We went and picked out a ring straight after. And she’s already made plans to go wedding dress shopping,’ Ryan says. ‘I have a feeling you two might be roped in.’

  ‘Just try stopping me!’ says Poppy brightly, her smile pinned in place, and I can feel her pain. ‘If you could just excuse me for one second while I grab my phone from the other room.’

  Hurrying out, she calls back, ‘Such amazing news! I’m so happy for you!’ before the door clicks shut behind her.

  I hear Poppy’s footsteps running up the stairs, although thankfully, the lovebirds are far too wrapped up in the moment to notice.

  I escape upstairs as soon as I can.

  Poppy is sitting on top of her bed, propped up on pillows, looking pasty-faced and sad. When she sees me, she grimaces. ‘God, I’m so sorry, Roxy. You must think you’ve come to work for a complete fruit loop! I’m not usually like this, honestly. I think it must be pregnancy hormones.’

  ‘How far along are you?’ I ask, sitting on the end of the bed. ‘Have you worked it out?’

  She smiles bitterly, rubbing her temples. ‘Since sex is a bit of a rarity these days, I’ve been able to pinpoint the exact day. I’m six weeks and four days.’

  ‘Headache?’

  She nods. ‘It’s really thumping. I’m so pleased for Ryan and Clemmy. I love them b
oth and they’re so good together. But …’ She swallows hard, unable to continue.

  I smile sadly in sympathy and she says, ‘By the way, I keep meaning to say, I don’t know how you’re surviving here.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, if I’d turned up at a strange place and realised I had to serve food to and practically live with my ex, I think I’d have totally freaked out and run a mile by now.’

  I smile wryly. ‘I did consider that. But you were so stressed out about the job, I didn’t want to leave you in the lurch.’

  She puts her head on one side and smiles at me, her eyes filling with tears.

  ‘Hey, don’t go getting all emotional on me, now. I needed the job and I will survive the experience!’

  ‘Thank you, Roxy. I’m so grateful. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own stuff, I didn’t really think about how bad it must be for you. I would totally understand if you couldn’t stick another minute here. Really, I would.’

  It would be so easy to agree with her and call it quits, especially now I know Poppy understands exactly why I’d be leaving. But something is stopping me, although I’m not quite sure what.

  ‘You know what? Bugger Jackson Cooper! Why should I let a man scare me away from a job I’m enjoying!’

  She beams. ‘Hey, good for you. And listen, there’s someone far better than Jackson out there for you, I’m certain of it.’

  I smile dutifully. I wish I could be so sure of that.

  ‘He’s the loser in all this.’ She shakes her head. ‘Imagine choosing stick insect Sophie over you. The man’s an idiot.’

  I laugh. ‘I appreciate your support. I really do. But I think there might be lots of men out there who’d totally disagree with you.’

  She sighs grumpily. ‘Well, if that’s the case, the world must be full of shallow, idiotic men!’

  Chapter 12

  My chocolate bombe is not going well.

  In fact, looking at the shape of it, fresh out of the oven on the cooling rack, it’s less ‘chocolate bombe’ and rather more ‘brown sludge cow pat’. Why has it gone so flat?

  I glance at the clock. Have I got time to have another go?

  But it’s already nearly seven and Poppy wants to serve dinner at eight. I’d be cutting it really fine. Unless … unless I make lots of chocolate icing and pile it high on top to make up for the shortfall in the height of the cake?

  This seems like a good idea so I rush around gathering the ingredients. Everyone likes chocolate butter icing, don’t they?

  The butter is hard from the fridge so I bung it in the microwave for a bit to soften it. When it emerges, it’s still hard as a lump of granite in the middle while the edges are starting to pool into liquid. But I dump the whole lot into a bowl anyway then pour icing sugar on top. What the dinner guest doesn’t see …

  Blending in the icing sugar and cocoa powder seems to be an art in itself. The way I do it is clearly the wrong way because puffs of the stuff rise up everywhere. It’s a very messy business indeed and, soon, there appears to be more of it on the work surface than in the bowl. But I’ve made a whole load of chocolate icing, so there should be enough …

  I’ve just finished dolloping the lot on top of the cake and fashioning it into a dome shape when Poppy walks into the kitchen, looking a bit better. At least she has some colour in her cheeks now.

  She stares at my unique take on a chocolate bombe. ‘Wow. Interesting. I’ve never seen it made quite like that before.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I always present it like this.’ Warmth suffuses my cheeks. ‘The chocolate icing really – um – complements the cake bit.’

  I study it anxiously. If only the great mound of icing wasn’t actually leaning slightly to one side, as if trying to slide off altogether with embarrassment.

  Poppy’s head is on one side, looking at the cake. ‘Actually, do you know what would make it even better? If we take off just some of the icing?’

  I nod. ‘Excellent idea. I suppose the ratio of cake to icing is – erm – a little out of proportion.’

  Poppy quickly takes a palette knife, smooths off the top four inches and drops it into a bowl. ‘There.’ She stands back and nods approvingly. ‘Perfect.’ She dips her finger in the bowl and licks icing from her finger. ‘Mmm. Lovely.’

  ‘Yes, that’s much better,’ I agree. ‘It’s obvious who the real cook is around here.’

  She grins. ‘Don’t be so modest, Roxy. You’re brilliant.’ She nods at the new-look dessert, which – being flat as a pancake – now resembles a cow pat even more closely than before. ‘I’m sure that will go down a bombe with everyone.’

  ‘Boom boom!’ My nervous cackle makes me sound like a witch.

  I persuade Poppy to let me tell everyone she has a bad headache and is lying down.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll serve up,’ I rashly announce, sounding far more confident than I actually feel. In reality, I’m quaking inside. Just the thought of Jackson’s smile following me around the table as I deliver the starters makes me go all fluttery and breathless. I wonder if he really has told Sophie we used to be together? Even if he hasn’t, she’d probably still look at me frostily, as if I’m a slightly unhygienic pet who might jump up at her at any moment.

  I can tell Poppy is relieved she doesn’t have to sit through the happy chat at dinner.

  The talk is all of Ryan and Clemmy’s engagement.

  Luckily, Jackson is sitting on the same side of the table as me so I don’t have to worry about meeting his eye.

  Jackson himself doesn’t seem at all bothered that I’ve hijacked his Christmas break by turning up here so unexpectedly. After our initial awkward meeting, he’s been quite laid-back about my presence. I just wish I could feel the same way.

  In the kitchen, I put the finishing touches to Poppy’s main course, and Clemmy helps me to bring the dishes out.

  Sophie looks dismayed when I put down her plate. ‘Oh, red meat?’ She’s sitting on my left with Jackson on her other side. ‘Did you know meat sits in your gut for about a hundred and fifty days after you’ve eaten it?’

  ‘Would you like me to get you something else?’ I ask.

  ‘Such as?’

  I rack my brains, trying to think what’s available. Oh God, I’m supposed to be a cook! I should be able to provide an alternative dish if requested.

  ‘Erm, beans and sausages on toast?’ There was definitely a tin of those in the cupboard. ‘With a twist of cracked black pepper?’ I add, in an attempt to make it sound sophisticated.

  Someone makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a snigger, and turns it into a cough.

  Sophie stares at me as if I’m something nasty on her shoe and doesn’t even bother to answer. Carefully sawing off about one square inch of meat, she pushes the rest firmly to the side of her plate.

  Alex catches my eye and my mouth curves up in silent response. For an awful second, I think I might get an attack of the giggles and not be able to stop, so I have to look away quickly and think of something tragic.

  Abandoned kittens.

  By the time we reach the dessert course, I’m starting to feel very nervous about my chocolate bombe.

  Apparently, I had every right to be.

  When I place it in the centre of the table, Sophie takes one look and starts to laugh. ‘Christ, what’s that? A flattened manure heap?’

  ‘That’s quite funny for you,’ comments Jackson.

  ‘Oi!’ Sophie sends a razor-sharp glance his way. ‘I’ll have you know I’m renowned in the boardroom for my wit and playful good humour!’

  I catch Alex’s eye and his eyebrows rise fractionally.

  ‘Well, I vote we give it a wide berth altogether. It’s obviously got enough sugar in it to kill everyone.’ She shudders delicately.

  ‘I think that might be a bit of an exaggeration,’ says Jackson wryly. ‘Although I have to agree it has an air of the dung heap about it.’ He peers round Sophie and grins at me. ‘It reminds me of that—
’

  He suddenly remembers where he is and stops.

  My heart is beating fast as I rise, with a face like a burning furnace, to cut the blasted thing into pieces. I know exactly what Jackson was going to say. I once attempted a chocolate sponge cake that sank almost without trace when it came out of the oven. So I slathered it in chocolate icing and tried to pass it off as a tray bake.

  ‘It reminds you of that what?’ demands Sophie, looking sharply from me to Jackson and back at me.

  I groan inwardly as I cut into the dung heap, which actually turns out to be surprisingly light in texture. I just want to run away, it’s all so bloody awkward.

  ‘Well I, for one, can’t wait to try it,’ says Alex. ‘And thank you, Roxy, for making my favourite Australian dessert! I didn’t think you were paying attention when I told you about it.’

  I glance at him, wondering if I’m actually losing my mind.

  Maybe nerves are killing off my brain cells, because I have no recollection whatsoever of discussing desserts with Alex. We’ve talked about lots of other things – but definitely not Australian puddings!

  ‘It’s an Ayers Rock Ganache,’ says Alex casually, addressing Sophie. ‘My granny used to make it all the time, and I have to say, you’ve reproduced the look brilliantly, Roxy.’

  I gulp. ‘That’s – erm – great! I’m so glad, Alex.’

  He smiles and nods. ‘My granny would be impressed. A large piece for me, please.’

  When I hand him his plate, I give him a big smile of gratitude.

  Sophie looks a little sceptical at the ‘Ayers Rock Ganache’ but at least it silences her. And actually, the cake turns out to be surprisingly moreish, once everyone gets over its scary appearance, with Ryan, Clemmy and Alex going back for seconds.

  ‘Should you be eating that?’ says Sophie suddenly, as Clemmy tucks into her second slice with gusto.

  Clemmy pauses with a forkful half way to her mouth.

  ‘I should have thought you’d want to slim down for your Big Day. Isn’t that what all brides-to-be do?’

  There’s a brief and rather awkward silence.