the ancient recipe book. ‘I’ve no idea why I didn’t crack cooking before. It’s child’s play.’
Doll looked at the ingredients with mounting trepidation: bamboo, ginseng, pomegranate, sage, sunflower seeds and walnuts, she recognised; others she simply didn’t. ‘Er – is it going to be a sort of soup?’
Mitzi shook her head. ‘No, love. It’s a pie. A Wishes Come True Pie – served with fresh greens, because according to Granny Westward’s notes green brings luck, and mashed potatoes because there has to be a white veg for lasting happiness. Lu was right of course, I couldn’t get all the right stuff from Big Sava, but Herbie’s Healthfoods helped a lot – and I’ve sort of improvised a bit with substitutes for things like the liquidamber and the tonka …’
‘Oh, good,’ Doll said faintly, now wishing she’d had beans on toast with Brett. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘No thanks. I’m all under control.’
Doll grinned. ‘Glad you think so. Where’s Lu? Still at work?’
‘No, she’s popped over to the flat to pick up some more of her stuff. It’s Niall’s night out with the boys so she reckoned she’d manage to avoid him – again. I’ve told her dinner will be ready at eight-thirty-ish.’
Doll pulled a face. It looked as though Lu and Niall were really kaput this time, then. Poor Lu. She’d had such high hopes. Doll had never thought the snobbish, desk-bound and upwardly mobile Niall was right for her sister, but at least their relationship was emotionally explosive. Volatile. All Lulu’s affairs had been pretty lively. Unlike her and Brett.
The phone shrilled in the hall.
‘Can you get that, love?’ Mitzi waved a wooden spoon like a baton. ‘And if it’s for me can you say I’m busy and I’ll ring back?’
Doll picked up the receiver, listened to the babbling voice, then put her hand over the mouthpiece. ‘I think it might be a funny phone call, you know. It’s someone called Christopher who says he’s replying to your advert and that he’s keen to meet up and – Jesus! You haven’t put a SadSingles ad in the Winterbrook Advertiser, have you?’
Mitzi waved the wooden spoon a bit more. Some green gunge dripped glutinously to the floor. Richard and Judy pounced on it, sniffed it, then retreated growling. ‘Don’t be daft – it’s for my BBC – Baby Boomers Collective, Doll, love. Remember? Can you just take his name and number, what he’s interested in, and write it in that little book there and tell him I’ll give him a ring tomorrow? Ta.’
Doing as she was told, Doll added Christopher – pyrotechnics and heavy metal, beneath Avis – light opera, Dorothy – snooker, Ronnie – exotic dance, and James – needlework.
‘Blimey, there are loads of them in here!’ She flicked through the notebook in amazement. ‘Just what are you going to do with them all?’
‘Goodness knows,’ Mitzi grinned. ‘I’m going to book the village hall and get them all together to start with, and then see where we go from there. Oooops – this doesn’t look quite right. Can you give me a hand? Grab this …’
Hurrying back into the kitchen, Doll grabbed. The suppurating saucepan smelled like burnt socks. With her eyes watering, she sat down at the table and peered at it. ‘What the hell is this?’
‘Desiccated Lady’s Mantle.’ Mitzi elbowed a lot of clutter from the table top and sat opposite her. ‘Herbie’s Healthfoods said it was used in love potions in ancient times, which is why I’m using it in place of the Grains of Paradise, which again probably explains why it hasn’t – er—’ she consulted the recipe book ‘—coagulated, quite as it should.’
Doll watched with amusement as her mother propped Granny Westward’s book in front of her then carefully selected a handful of bamboo, a pinch of sage and a few walnuts, and hurled them into a small bowl. Clearly not having the required pestle and mortar, Mitzi was improvising with the
Doll looked at the ingredients with mounting trepidation: bamboo, ginseng, pomegranate, sage, sunflower seeds and walnuts, she recognised; others she simply didn’t. ‘Er – is it going to be a sort of soup?’
Mitzi shook her head. ‘No, love. It’s a pie. A Wishes Come True Pie – served with fresh greens, because according to Granny Westward’s notes green brings luck, and mashed potatoes because there has to be a white veg for lasting happiness. Lu was right of course, I couldn’t get all the right stuff from Big Sava, but Herbie’s Healthfoods helped a lot – and I’ve sort of improvised a bit with substitutes for things like the liquidamber and the tonka …’
‘Oh, good,’ Doll said faintly, now wishing she’d had beans on toast with Brett. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘No thanks. I’m all under control.’
Doll grinned. ‘Glad you think so. Where’s Lu? Still at work?’
‘No, she’s popped over to the flat to pick up some more of her stuff. It’s Niall’s night out with the boys so she reckoned she’d manage to avoid him – again. I’ve told her dinner will be ready at eight-thirty-ish.’
Doll pulled a face. It looked as though Lu and Niall were really kaput this time, then. Poor Lu. She’d had such high hopes. Doll had never thought the snobbish, desk-bound and upwardly mobile Niall was right for her sister, but at least their relationship was emotionally explosive. Volatile. All Lulu’s affairs had been pretty lively. Unlike her and Brett.
The phone shrilled in the hall.
‘Can you get that, love?’ Mitzi waved a wooden spoon like a baton. ‘And if it’s for me can you say I’m busy and I’ll ring back?’
Doll picked up the receiver, listened to the babbling voice, then put her hand over the mouthpiece. ‘I think it might be a funny phone call, you know. It’s someone called Christopher who says he’s replying to your advert and that he’s keen to meet up and – Jesus! You haven’t put a SadSingles ad in the Winterbrook Advertiser, have you?’
Mitzi waved the wooden spoon a bit more. Some green gunge dripped glutinously to the floor. Richard and Judy pounced on it, sniffed it, then retreated growling. ‘Don’t be daft – it’s for my BBC – Baby Boomers Collective, Doll, love. Remember? Can you just take his name and number, what he’s interested in, and write it in that little book there and tell him I’ll give him a ring tomorrow? Ta.’
Doing as she was told, Doll added Christopher – pyrotechnics and heavy metal, beneath Avis – light opera, Dorothy – snooker, Ronnie – exotic dance, and James – needlework.
‘Blimey, there are loads of them in here!’ She flicked through the notebook in amazement. ‘Just what are you going to do with them all?’
‘Goodness knows,’ Mitzi grinned. ‘I’m going to book the village hall and get them all together to start with, and then see where we go from there. Oooops – this doesn’t look quite right. Can you give me a hand? Grab this …’
Hurrying back into the kitchen, Doll grabbed. The suppurating saucepan smelled like burnt socks. With her eyes watering, she sat down at the table and peered at it. ‘What the hell is this?’
‘Desiccated Lady’s Mantle.’ Mitzi elbowed a lot of clutter from the table top and sat opposite her. ‘Herbie’s Healthfoods said it was used in love potions in ancient times, which is why I’m using it in place of the Grains of Paradise, which again probably explains why it hasn’t – er—’ she consulted the recipe book ‘—coagulated, quite as it should.’
Doll watched with amusement as her mother propped Granny Westward’s book in front of her then carefully selected a handful of bamboo, a pinch of sage and a few walnuts, and hurled them into a small bowl. Clearly not having the required pestle and mortar, Mitzi was improvising with the
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