you’re romantically attached too, I don’t see the problem. Now, do you think you could just stop scowling long enough to eat some lunch?’
Ella wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, tough one… Go on then. I might just try and force something down.’
Chapter Eight
‘At long, long last,’ Poll sighed as she put the final lunch dish on the wooden table in the garden and poured tall ice-clinking glasses of juice for Ella and Ash. ‘I do apologise for all the delays. It’s so hot and you must both be starving, dehydrated and completely bewildered. Please help yourselves.’
As Poll felt that making sure everyone was well fed was the most important thing in the world, she’d produced a sort of extended ploughman’s lunch which would probably feed at least thirty people, but she didn’t want Ella and Ash to think she
skimped.
‘It all looks wonderful,’ Ash said, helping himself liberally to something of everything.
Ella, her mouth already full of bread and cheese, nodded her agreement.
Poll, piling her own plate, was delighted that Ella seemed to have recovered her equanimity, and also that she clearlydidn’t intend to follow any sort of lo-cal diet to keep that stunning figure. She allowed herself another covetous glance at Ella’s long, long, jet-back eyelashes and her perfect peachy youthful complexion. Not a line or wrinkle or open pore in sight. Like porcelain.
Ella, Poll thought, was exactly what she’d longed to be in her youth – and had never been able to be, and never would be now. Damn it.
‘George is having his nap,’ Poll said, ‘so it seems like an ideal opportunity to explain a few things to you both. Oh, do have some more bread, and all the cheeses are homemade from the milk of Hideaway-grazed cows and goats.’
Ella groaned greedily. ‘I won’t be able to move an inch after this. It’s all absolutely fantastic – and I’m sorry – I know zilch about farming. I didn’t see any cows or goats. Are they, er, in stables or something?’
Poll laughed, dropping a dollop of pickle in amongst her cascade of beads. ‘Oops… No, we don’t keep animals on the farm. In fact I don’t farm it all. I rent out the land to neighbours for growing stuff, and for grazing when its needed, but then only for dairy purposes. The hens are mine and they’re part of the family and wander around and lay eggs in some odd places, and we do eat those of course. The eggs, that is, not the hens. But Hideaway Farm is totally arable.’
‘Arable?’ Ella frowned. ‘Crops and things?’
‘Wheat. Barley. Potatoes. Greens. Even oil-seed rape. I’d have never come here if I thought anything was going to be slaughtered. Actually I hope the vegetarian thing is OK with you?’
Ella helped herself to more cheese and a large spoonful of tomato chutney. ‘Of course. It’s fine. Actually, I’ve never thought about being a non-meat eater, but I’m willing to give anything a try.’
‘Me too,’ Ash agreed. ‘And all this is amazing if it’s totally veggie – I mean, you’ve even got pâté – surely… ?’
‘Mushroom and cheese and herb,’ Poll said proudly. ‘Tasty as anything concocted from something that breathed – well, at least in my opinion. But I’m afraid food without a face is all that I cook here at Hideaway.’
‘Not a problem for me,’ Ella said, spreading pâté on a chunk of bread.
Ash nodded. ‘Not for me, either.’
And thank goodness for that, Poll exhaled. So far so very good. In a minute she’d be able to tell Ella – and now Ash as well – exactly what her plans were. But not just yet, not while things were going so well. Best stay on safe ground for the time being. Food. She’d stick with food.
Poll smiled at Ella. ‘So, what sort of puddings do you like to cook?’
‘Rich, old-fashioned ones. Huge gooey ones. With oodles of cream and sugar and real custard. I used to drive my size-zero housemates crazy! Eve’s pudding, Midsummer pie, real Victorian trifle,
Ella wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, tough one… Go on then. I might just try and force something down.’
Chapter Eight
‘At long, long last,’ Poll sighed as she put the final lunch dish on the wooden table in the garden and poured tall ice-clinking glasses of juice for Ella and Ash. ‘I do apologise for all the delays. It’s so hot and you must both be starving, dehydrated and completely bewildered. Please help yourselves.’
As Poll felt that making sure everyone was well fed was the most important thing in the world, she’d produced a sort of extended ploughman’s lunch which would probably feed at least thirty people, but she didn’t want Ella and Ash to think she
skimped.
‘It all looks wonderful,’ Ash said, helping himself liberally to something of everything.
Ella, her mouth already full of bread and cheese, nodded her agreement.
Poll, piling her own plate, was delighted that Ella seemed to have recovered her equanimity, and also that she clearlydidn’t intend to follow any sort of lo-cal diet to keep that stunning figure. She allowed herself another covetous glance at Ella’s long, long, jet-back eyelashes and her perfect peachy youthful complexion. Not a line or wrinkle or open pore in sight. Like porcelain.
Ella, Poll thought, was exactly what she’d longed to be in her youth – and had never been able to be, and never would be now. Damn it.
‘George is having his nap,’ Poll said, ‘so it seems like an ideal opportunity to explain a few things to you both. Oh, do have some more bread, and all the cheeses are homemade from the milk of Hideaway-grazed cows and goats.’
Ella groaned greedily. ‘I won’t be able to move an inch after this. It’s all absolutely fantastic – and I’m sorry – I know zilch about farming. I didn’t see any cows or goats. Are they, er, in stables or something?’
Poll laughed, dropping a dollop of pickle in amongst her cascade of beads. ‘Oops… No, we don’t keep animals on the farm. In fact I don’t farm it all. I rent out the land to neighbours for growing stuff, and for grazing when its needed, but then only for dairy purposes. The hens are mine and they’re part of the family and wander around and lay eggs in some odd places, and we do eat those of course. The eggs, that is, not the hens. But Hideaway Farm is totally arable.’
‘Arable?’ Ella frowned. ‘Crops and things?’
‘Wheat. Barley. Potatoes. Greens. Even oil-seed rape. I’d have never come here if I thought anything was going to be slaughtered. Actually I hope the vegetarian thing is OK with you?’
Ella helped herself to more cheese and a large spoonful of tomato chutney. ‘Of course. It’s fine. Actually, I’ve never thought about being a non-meat eater, but I’m willing to give anything a try.’
‘Me too,’ Ash agreed. ‘And all this is amazing if it’s totally veggie – I mean, you’ve even got pâté – surely… ?’
‘Mushroom and cheese and herb,’ Poll said proudly. ‘Tasty as anything concocted from something that breathed – well, at least in my opinion. But I’m afraid food without a face is all that I cook here at Hideaway.’
‘Not a problem for me,’ Ella said, spreading pâté on a chunk of bread.
Ash nodded. ‘Not for me, either.’
And thank goodness for that, Poll exhaled. So far so very good. In a minute she’d be able to tell Ella – and now Ash as well – exactly what her plans were. But not just yet, not while things were going so well. Best stay on safe ground for the time being. Food. She’d stick with food.
Poll smiled at Ella. ‘So, what sort of puddings do you like to cook?’
‘Rich, old-fashioned ones. Huge gooey ones. With oodles of cream and sugar and real custard. I used to drive my size-zero housemates crazy! Eve’s pudding, Midsummer pie, real Victorian trifle,
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