The Worst Case Scenario Cookery Club

by Chrissie Manby

  Mrs Coco was nodding along. Biscuit, having heard his name, wagged his tail.

  ‘Or, even worse, do you make yourself feel better by treating others? A particularly insidious trait, this one. Does giving your dog everything he begs for make you feel like a nicer, kinder person and help you to forget the bad day at work or the row you just had with your husband? Is your animal comfort eating by proxy? That is, on your behalf.’

  I know what by proxy means, thought Liz. Dr Thomas really was patronising today.

  ‘Would anyone like to share their thoughts on this particular topic now? Mr Hercules?’

  Mr Hercules shrugged.

  ‘Mrs Monty?’

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘There’s no doubt I’m prone to comfort eating myself but I’ve never thought I could be passing it on to the dog. I thought all Labradors were greedy.’

  ‘Mr Biscuit?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue.’

  Mrs Coco tentatively put up her hand.

  ‘Mrs Coco.’ Dr Thomas looked at her encouragingly. ‘Are the questions I threw out there ringing any bells for you this morning?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mrs Coco. ‘Absolutely. It made me think about the stress in my life when I was growing up. My mother was very unwell you see and I wasn’t allowed to mess around and be noisy at home like the other children I knew. I had to be very, very quiet at all times. But my father rewarded me by bringing me a big bag of sweets every Friday afternoon. I’ve been rewarding Coco with food just as my father did me!’

  Dr Thomas nodded. ‘It was very brave of you to tell us that, Mrs Coco, and to admit that you might have some responsibility in how Coco’s weight has got out of control. How do you feel, having made that connection?’

  ‘I feel … I feel …’

  Mrs Coco suddenly burst into tears. Nurse Van Niekerk bustled over with a box of tissues to save Mrs Coco having to wipe her nose on Coco’s fur.

  Liz glared at Dr Thomas. ‘Is this really necessary?’ she asked the room. ‘Mrs Coco’s upset.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Mrs Coco, reaching blindly in Liz’s direction. ‘Please don’t worry. I’m not upset at all.’

  ‘You are upset,’ Liz assured her. ‘She is upset,’ Liz reiterated for the benefit of Dr Thomas. ‘I just don’t get why we have to do this. Why can’t you just tell us what we need to feed our dogs and let us get on with it without all the psychobabble?’

  ‘Other people who have attended this course in the past have found that looking into how their own behaviour might be influencing their animals was helpful in making real and lasting changes. No one here is forced to share anything they don’t want to.’

  ‘It doesn’t always feel like that,’ Liz protested.

  ‘Really, Mrs Ted, it’s fine,’ said Mrs Coco.

  ‘My name is Liz Chandler,’ said Liz. ‘Not Mrs Ted.’

  ‘Mrs Chandler,’ said Dr Thomas. ‘I’m sorry you’re finding it hard to get on with our methods here at WWL.’

  ‘Your methods are bizarre.’

  ‘They work for me,’ Mrs Coco insisted.

  ‘If I’ve overstepped the mark for anybody in this room,’ said Dr Thomas, ‘I’m very sorry. Mrs Coco, I apologise. Mrs Chandler, I appreciate your concerns.’

  He seemed sincere so Liz backed down.

  ‘I’m really finding it very useful,’ said Mrs Coco to Liz. ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘Perhaps Mrs Ted, I mean, Chandler, is right,’ said Dr Thomas. ‘Let’s concentrate on the immediate physical concerns facing our dogs.’

  Nurse Van Niekerk had taken an executive decision and was already rolling out the scales.

  ‘Let’s do Ted first,’ she said.

  Liz brought him forward.

  ‘Two hundred grams down.’

  ‘A little less than we hoped but good work,’ said Dr Thomas. ‘Mrs Chandler.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Liz.

  Dr Thomas caught up with Liz and Mrs Coco as they said goodbye to each other in the car park.

  ‘Mrs Coco,’ he said, ‘I wanted to make sure that you’re all right.’

  ‘Oh, I’m fine, Dr Thomas. You know me. I burst into tears at just about anything.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure,’ he said. ‘And Mrs Chandler, I hope you don’t really think we’re out to upset anybody here at WWL.’

  ‘I have to say that sometimes I think your manner with animals is better than your manner with humans,’ Liz said.

  ‘I appreciate the feedback,’ said Dr Thomas. He looked genuinely crestfallen. ‘Well, I must get back inside. I’ve got an operation to prep for. Hamster. Got its foot caught in its wheel. I hope we’ll be able to save it.’

  ‘Oh, Dr Thomas, so do I!’ said Mrs Coco.

  ‘Me too,’ said Liz. ‘Good luck.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Dr Thomas gave Liz an awkward thumbs up.

  She liked him a little better for it.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ‘Well, that went brilliantly,’ Liz told Ted when they got back from Waggy Weight Loss. ‘Your weight’s not gone down enough again. Is it my fault? Are you fat because I’m unhappy?’

  ‘Who’s unhappy?’ Saskia asked as she appeared in the kitchen doorway, still wearing her pyjamas.

  ‘You’re not up yet? It’s almost midday.’

  ‘Teenagers need more sleep because their brains are still developing,’ said Saskia.

  ‘Then you’d better go back to bed for another three days at least,’ said Liz.

  Saskia looked suitably affronted. So much so that when she asked Liz for an advance on her birthday money to buy her outfit for that evening’s party, Liz immediately gave in.

  ‘What are you doing tonight anyway?’ Saskia asked, in a transparent attempt at seeming slightly interested in what Liz did when she wasn’t being ‘Saskia’s Mum’, in the hope of getting more money.

  ‘As it happens, I’m going to a party as well.’

  ‘Whose party?’ Saskia was immediately suspicious.

  ‘A man’s.’

  ‘Does Dad know?’

  ‘Please, go ahead and tell him.’

  Liz did not really feel like going to Alex’s party any more but now that she’d told Saskia, she knew she was going to have to at least make a pretence of getting ready or Saskia would smell a rat.

  So, when Saskia came out of the bathroom at quarter to seven, having been in there since five o’clock, Liz raced straight in after her.

  ‘You’re not the only one who wants to look good tonight,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t forget to bleach your moustache,’ said Saskia.

  Liz wasted a good five minutes trying to work out if Saskia was joking. In the end, she did reach for the Jolen cream bleach and emerged from the bathroom slightly red about the top lip as a result.

  ‘Mum, what have you done to yourself this time?’ Saskia asked. ‘I was joking about the bleach. Now you look completely ridiculous.’

  Liz retired to her bedroom with a handkerchief full of ice cubes to hold against her lip until it went back to normal.

  Soon there was just fifteen minutes until Ian arrived. He would almost certainly just park at the top of the drive and call Saskia on her mobile to let her know he was there but if there was the faintest chance that he might come to the door Liz wanted to be ready.

  She stood in front of her wardrobe, still holding the ice cubes to her face, hoping for divine inspiration. Or any kind of inspiration really. Wardro Inspo is what Brittney would probably call it. Liz’s wardrobe was more a case of Wardro Nono. In the end, she pulled out her old faithful – a black dress that fitted and flattered at most points on Liz’s scale from thin days to fat. Accessorised with that big chunky Zara necklace Corinne had given her on her birthday, it would look passably festive. Possibly even chic.

  Liz opted to style her hair in a messy bun. It was more mess than bun but she thought it had a touch of Catherine Deneuve in some Seventies’ film about it. Two coats of mascara. A quick dash of blusher. A touch of red lipstick that d
etracted from the pinkness of her bleached upper lip.

  ‘Are you actually wearing lipstick?’ Saskia asked as they passed on the landing.

  ‘Yes, I am,’ said Liz, feeling all plucky. Then, ‘Is it too much?’

  Saskia nodded.

  ‘Let me fix it.’ Saskia said. She pulled Liz into her bedroom. Her secret lair. Liz was amused to see Saskia still had a poster of Justin Bieber tacked to the inside of her wardrobe door. Of course, she made sure not to mention it.

  Saskia had Liz swap the red Mac Ruby Woo, which she had never actually worn outside the house, for a slick of a Lancôme Juicy Tube. Which Liz also never wore outside the house because it would never be much more than five minutes before the wind blew in the wrong direction and she ended up with her hair stuck to her mouth. Liz was the definition of low maintenance.

  ‘That looks better,’ Saskia said approvingly, having given her mother an extra coat of mascara as well. ‘Almost a MILF.’

  ‘I guess that’s a compliment. How about the dress?’

  ‘Put a belt around it? Show off your waist.’

  Saskia pulled a belt from her own collection, which was miraculously long enough. Liz immediately followed her daughter’s suggestion.

  ‘Yep, that’ll do,’ Saskia gave her the nod.

  For once the gods were smiling and Liz was looking her very polished best when Ian knocked at the door. Yes, he actually knocked, without phoning Saskia first. Suspicious.

  Liz opened the door. She could see Ian’s car at the top of the driveway. Brittney was in the front passenger seat, examining her make-up in the sunshield mirror. Brittney was the kind of woman who knew about contouring. The cow.

  ‘Is she ready?’ Ian asked without preamble.

  Saskia came down the stairs in the outfit she’d bought that afternoon. Liz easily spotted the twitch in Ian’s right eye as he clocked what his daughter was wearing.

  She knew that Ian would not be happy to see Saskia in an outfit that looked like it belonged on stage with Little Mix but he was playing ‘good dad’ now, wasn’t he? He’d handed over all the discipline to Liz. He couldn’t ruin all that hard work by kicking off about Saskia’s clothes. Especially not when his girlfriend was usually dressed the same way. Probably was dressed the same way. They were the same generation after all. He had to lump it.

  It was a small victory for Liz but it was sweet.

  ‘You look very nice,’ Ian said to Saskia.

  Saskia pulled a selfie sort of face in response.

  ‘And you,’ Ian said to Liz.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You look very nice too. Is that dress new?’

  ‘I bought it for our fifteenth wedding anniversary. I don’t suppose you remember.’

  Ian glossed over that. ‘Are you going out?’

  Just as she had detected the twitch of distress at the sight of Saskia’s mini-skirt, Liz thought she heard something beyond the small talk Ian was making with her now. He wasn’t just asking, ‘Are you going out?’ He was asking, ‘Who are you going out with?’ And ‘Are you actually going to get laid?’

  ‘Just a party,’ Liz said as casually as she could manage. ‘A man I met at my cooking club.’

  A man who could cook. She hoped Ian was imagining a hunk in chef’s whites, whipping up some kind of chocolate cream to spread all over Liz’s naked body. In Liz’s imagination the chef had Alex’s face. Or Hugh Jackman’s. That would do.

  ‘Right. Well, have a nice time,’ Ian said. ‘Come on, Saskia. We’re going to be late. Your Auntie Kerry wants us there by seven thirty for the speeches.’

  ‘Enjoy yourselves,’ said Liz. ‘Remember me to everybody.’

  You know, she said to herself. Remember Liz? The wife? The one you’re still technically married to even though you’re turning up to her godson’s party with that blogging tart?

  ‘I will,’ said Ian.

  Liz blew Saskia a kiss and closed the door behind them.

  It was one of the more successful encounters Liz had had with her ex since the night he moved out. She was looking good and she had managed not to say anything stupid but still Liz was surprised at how much it had taken out of her to stay so cool for what felt like so long. For a couple of minutes after Ian and Saskia left, Liz just sat on the bottom of the stairs, pressing her thumbs to the corners of her eyes to prevent any tears from leaking out. She didn’t want to spoil her make-up. Not when it had gone so well.

  She wondered if Ian had felt as strange as she had. Him standing there in the hallway of what had been their family home. Was he even now being assailed by memories of the times they had spent there together, as she was? It was much easier when he didn’t come in, when he just called from the top of the drive. Why had he come in that night?

  Even Ted seemed out of sorts. Perhaps, Liz thought, I should just stay in with the dog after all. I could make an aubergine parmigiana. Yes, Liz had bought an aubergine in Sainsbury’s the previous evening, feeling a small flutter of pride as she placed it and two red onions on the checkout belt in front of a man whose basket was full of ready meals for one. She had the feeling that if she had invited him to join her for some aubergine-related entertainment, he would have leapt at the chance. That memory made her want to give herself a shake. She was never going to find anyone to share an aubergine with unless she really put herself out there. And that meant accepting invitations like Alex’s at the glamorous Newbay Community Centre.

  Liz was just about to get into the car when she decided she would really push the boat out. She called a taxi. She was going to get lightly inebriated. If not completely hammered. While she was waiting for the taxi to arrive she poured herself a large gin and tonic.

  ‘For courage,’ she said to Ted.

  Chapter Thirty

  At eight o’clock, Alex’s party was already jumping. Liz was more than slightly nervous as she approached the room, which had been decorated with balloons marked with ‘30’. It was a long time since she’d been to a party and it was hard to walk in on her own. When she and Ian were together, they had each other to talk to. Alone, she would have no choice but to make conversation with strangers. She hoped John and Bella would turn up. This crowd looked intimidating. Liz had no idea where Alex had found so many hipsters in Newbay. He must have had them bussed in.

  When she saw the rest of the guests, Liz was pleased she’d dressed up. She felt pretty good in her little black dress, accessorised as per Saskia’s instructions. The lip gloss, though it was hard to keep her hair out of it, made her feel properly polished and glamorous. She was sure she caught a few appreciative glances as she made her way towards the birthday boy.

  ‘Chopper!’ Alex greeted her warmly. Liz returned his big smile with one of her own. ‘I was really hoping you would make it.’

  That seemed genuine, Liz thought.

  Alex turned to the woman standing next to him. ‘Liz is one of my star pupils on the beginners’ cookery course.’

  The woman nodded appreciatively. ‘He’s been telling me all about it. There’s nothing Alex doesn’t know about cooking,’ she said. And she said it in such a way that Liz wondered what she knew about Alex’s other life skills and whether they were worth investigating too.

  Alex was looking edgier that evening than he did when he was dressed in his white overalls for teaching. He was wearing tight black jeans and a dark blue shirt, unbuttoned to reveal an attractive amount of chest hair. Liz liked chest hair. Ian, who was very fair, didn’t have an awful lot. She’d always pretended it didn’t matter but there was something very primal about it. Masculine.

  ‘Well, I need teaching a thing or two,’ said Liz with a wink. Alex’s friend gave her what Liz’s mother would have called ‘an old-fashioned look’.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’ Alex asked.

  Liz plumped for a glass of white wine. She couldn’t see any spirits on the drinks table so she decided that the closest she could get to sticking to the advice about not mixing your drinks was not mixing the c
olours. Gin and white wine. Close enough.

  ‘You’ve got a choice,’ said Alex. ‘My friend Joe is a wine merchant and he’s brought along quite a selection. Are you a Sauvignon blanc or Chardonnay sort of girl?’

  ‘Whatever makes me Sauvignon blanc out the fastest,’ said Liz.

  Now it was Alex’s turn to give her a funny look.

  ‘Oh! I get it.’

  He poured Liz a glass of Sancerre. Though a half-glass was what it looked like to her.

  ‘This is from a small vineyard in the Loire run by two brothers who are really into biodynamic wine. I think you’ll find it’s a little bit different.’

  Different to what? Liz was no wine buff but she nodded along as Alex gave her the wine’s potted tasting notes.

  ‘There’s a lot of fruit in there. Can you taste the gooseberries?’

  ‘I thought it was made with grapes.’

  Alex chuckled. ‘There’s a flinty undertone, don’t you think? Great acidity.’

  ‘I like it,’ Liz confirmed. ‘You can fill my glass up if you like. Save me coming back too soon.’

  ‘But Liz,’ said Alex. ‘Your glass is full. If I put any more in, you won’t be able to taste it properly, I promise you.’

  ‘I was only kidding,’ Liz said.

  Alex looked relieved. ‘When you’ve finished that, I’d really like you to try this Sancerre as well. See which one you like better.’

  Somehow Liz persuaded Alex that it would make more sense if she compared the wines side by side. He poured her a glass of the second and she hovered by the bar with a glass in each hand, sipping frequently to mask her nerves.

  Alex’s guests were still arriving. He was a perfect host, making sure that everyone was introduced to someone they might like to talk to and that they had a glass in their hand while they were doing so. She was grateful that he hadn’t forgotten her and that she was alone. He introduced her to what seemed like dozens of people.

  ‘This is Liz.’

  ‘Or Chopper, as he likes to call me,’ Liz started saying after she finished the first two glasses of wine, accompanying the revelation with an onion-chopping mime. Alex thought that was very funny. ‘At the first class, when he asked what had persuaded us all to sign up,’ Liz elaborated, ‘I told him that for me it was learning knife skills. I’m getting a divorce.’