A Recipe for Love

Chapter Eleven

The next morning Bella installed herself at the kitchen island, with Darcy’s iPad in front of her (donated in the earnestly stated belief that Bella was going to save Lowbridge), her phone at her side and a notepad open as well. The list of things to do was starting to overwhelm her. Setting up a cookery school would require insurance, and health and safety certificates, and advertising, which meant she would have to pin down specific dates and offers and prices. They didn’t have enough useable accommodation rooms yet to offer residential schools, so she was planning one day and half day sessions to start with. But then would anybody come along to those when Lowbridge was about a million years’ travel time from everywhere?

And, in addition to all of that, would Bella even be any good at teaching someone else to cook? She cooked as much through instinct as understanding, and that sense of what flavours went well together, whether to cook a piece of meat fast and hot or low and slow, how to treat a simple ingredient to elevate it from simply edible to a delicious indulgence – was that something that could be taught?

‘What are you up to?’ Adam dumped his suitcase in the doorway to the kitchen.

‘Oh, many plans and plots. Are you ready to go?’ Bella stood and wrapped her arms around him. ‘This is going to be the first night we’ve spent apart since—’

‘Since we met.’

‘Yeah.’

He planted a kiss on her lips. ‘It’s only a few days.’

‘I know.’

The sound of raised voices reached them from one of the many coloured rooms on the other side of the front hallway. Adam winced.

‘What are they fighting about now?’ Bella asked. Since the funeral diplomatic relations between Veronica and Darcy did seem to have calmed a little. Evidently whatever entente cordiale had been reached was no longer quite so cordiale.

Adam shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Look.’ He wrapped his fingers through hers. ‘I know you’re busy, but do you think you could have a go at brokering some sort of peace there?’

Bella’s mouth dropped open. ‘Me? Your grandma already hates me.’

‘She doesn’t hate you.’

She shot him a look.

‘Well I think she hates Darcy more. I’m too close to them. Grandmother still sees me as a little boy she can overrule and Darcy is refusing to be the first to give ground.’

She squeezed his hand. ‘For you, I’ll try.’

Another volley of screaming made its way down the hall.

‘I must love you an awful lot.’

‘Well it’s definitely mutual,’ he replied, leaning towards her for another long, soft kiss.

‘Ahem.’ Flinty was studiously staring at the door frame. ‘If you want to get to the train we need to get going, lad. The road to Strathcarron can be awful at this time of year.’

‘Yeah. Right.’ Adam pulled away. ‘I’ll be back at the weekend.’

‘I know.’ She wandered out to wave them off and then made her way back to the kitchen. The iPad beckoned to her, in competition with the yelling from the battling Ladies Lowbridge. She couldn’t face them right now. She needed a proper plan before she threw herself into that particular breach.

And a proper plan was not a one-woman endeavour. Bella could well remember coming home from school and finding the living room full of her nan’s friends – Tilly from next door, Ginny and Pete from downstairs, Bernie from the sheltered housing across the way, and whoever else had been pulled into Nan’s orbit that day – plotting and painting placards and generally readying themselves for the making of mischief. Nan had called the group her Council of War. And, after a flurry of texts and phone calls, Bella was assembling her very own.

Jill was the first to arrive, full of apologies for being late.

‘You’re not late.’

She checked the time on her phone. ‘Oh. I’m not. That’s strange. I wonder what I forgot to do.’

Bella eyed the back seat of Jill’s four-wheel drive. ‘Are those supposed to be somewhere?’

The back of the car was filled with an absolute mountain of pink, blue and purple balloons.

‘Oh goodness! The balloon arch for the donkey sanctuary in Locharron.’ Jill slapped her forehead with her hand.

‘Are they having a fete or something?’

Jill shook her head. ‘No. That’s the weird bit. The manager just thought the donkeys might like balloons.’

There were so many questions in Bella’s head. Why did Jill have a balloon arch to start with? How did the idea even come up in conversation? How did Jill come to be the go-to balloon arch person for the region? She picked just one. ‘Do donkeys like balloons?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Right.’

‘Too late now anyway. I’ll tell them I forgot. Would you like a balloon arch?’

Bella shook her head.

‘No.’ Jill sighed. ‘It’s not really a thing you get for no reason is it?’

‘Unless you run a donkey sanctuary apparently.’

She saw the growing crowd of white woolly bodies as she turned back towards the courtyard. ‘No,’ she warned them.

Undeterred, the little group of sheep followed her back towards the castle.

‘Are they not supposed to be here?’ asked Jill.

‘No. They should be out on the hill, munching plant life, and I’m sure they weren’t here a minute ago.’ She eyed the mini-flock suspiciously as they wandered after her into the courtyard.

Jill appraised the herd. ‘Do you think sheep like balloon arches?’

‘I think these sheep like most things.’ Dipper bounded out into the courtyard. Bella rubbed her neck. ‘OK Dips. This is your moment. Herd the sheep back up the hill.’

Dipper ambled over to the nearest sheep who didn’t bat an eyelid.

‘I thought sheep were supposed to be scared of dogs?’ Bella asked.

‘Well not these ones.’ Jill shrugged. ‘Or not this dog.’

‘She’s too soft.’

‘She’s just good-natured.’

‘Dipper!’ Veronica’s voice carried out into the courtyard, calling Dipper to heel. The dog trotted obediently back.

‘She knows who’s boss,’ Jill muttered. Bella caught her eye. ‘I mean that charitably and with love.’

‘Of course.’

Veronica appeared through the door nearest the estate office, closely followed by Darcy. ‘Oh my goodness,’ exclaimed the younger Lady Lowbridge. ‘Aren’t they adorable?’

‘What,’ Veronica turned to Bella, ‘are they doing down here?’

‘They followed me.’

‘And you just let them?’

That seemed unfair. ‘How do you stop them?’

Veronica shook her head.

Darcy’s enthusiasm cut off whatever reply she might have been about to offer. ‘They’re adorable!’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Can we keep them?’

Veronica stared at her. ‘They’re our sheep.’

They were? She did remember Adam telling her that, but Bella had still been imagining some secret hill farmer somewhere. It turned out she was marrying the hill farmer.

Darcy frowned. ‘No. Our sheep are out on the hill. They just come down to the barn for lambing.’

There was a barn?

Veronica shot a look to the heavens. ‘These ones seem to have taken a liking to Miss Smith.’

‘It’s not my fault.’

‘I don’t see why they can’t just stay here.’

‘For goodness’ sake. They can’t stay here because there is nothing for them to eat and they…’ Veronica waved a dismissive hand. ‘Do their business all over the place. And you get rid of them like this.’ She took a firm step forward towards the nearest sheep, who edged away. Veronica stepped forward again. This time the whole flock reacted, shuffling towards the gates. Veronica stepped slightly to the side and then strode more forcefully towards the flock, sending them trotting out of the courtyard, past Jill’s parked car and back up towards the hillside. She returned a minute or two later. ‘Perfectly straightforward.’

‘I still don’t see why we couldn’t have kept a little one,’ Darcy complained.

Flinty was laying out tea and coffee things in what Bella was rebelliously referring to as the Yellow Room when they went inside. ‘Do you need anything else love?’

‘I don’t think so.’

Flinty made to head back to her kitchen.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘Well you won’t want me in the way.’

‘I’m not having a Council of War without you on it. And anyway you’re the only person Veronica listens to.’

Flinty shook her head. ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’

‘It absolutely is. Please. I need you.’

Flinty sat herself down on the big armchair next to the fire, looking quite like she had always belonged there. ‘Well, if you need me, dear.’

Ten minutes later her full council was assembled. Anna had volunteered to take notes. Nina, as ever, had Netty in tow. ‘She’s still doing her silence love, so she won’t be any bother.’ Jill settled into the final seat, a small, slightly sagging armchair across from Flinty at the opposite side of the fireplace. A second later she squealed.

‘What?’ asked Nina.

Jill rubbed her neck. ‘Nothing. I just…’ She twisted and looked behind her. ‘Nothing.’

‘OK.’ Bella clapped her hands together. ‘Thank you…’

‘Aaargh!’ Jill yelped again and jumped out of her seat. ‘Sorry. It felt like someone was behind me.’

The other women stared at Jill’s chair suspiciously.

Flinty sighed. ‘That’s where Poppy likes to sit. She tends to prod you a bit if you’re in her place.’

Bella shook her head. ‘It was probably just a draught. Poppy isn’t real.’

‘Have you tried telling her that?’

Actually Bella had. ‘She doesn’t seem to believe me,’ she conceded. ‘Poppy’s the castle ghost.’

‘One of the castle ghosts,’ Flinty corrected.

‘What?’ That was news to Bella.

‘She’s the only one that really bothers us, but the lassie still doesn’t quite believe in her.’ Flinty shook her head at Bella’s utterly obtuse rationalism.

‘Well I do,’ Jill said. ‘Imaginary people don’t tickle.’

Netty held up her pad. You should do an exorcism.

‘No!’ Bella was not having that.

‘Why not?’ Flinty asked. ‘You don’t believe in her anyway.’

‘But in case I’m wrong, I don’t want to be the one throwing a child out of her home.’

Flinty nodded approvingly.

‘I’m not really the exorcism type of vicar anyway,’ Jill pointed out. ‘I could do you a lovely blessing if you wanted though.’ She glanced back at the seat and then over at the settee. ‘Room for a little one over there do you think?’

Jill squeezed onto the sofa with Anna and Bella. ‘Right,’ Bella continued. ‘Thank you for coming. I hope you don’t mind me asking.’

‘Not at all,’ Anna reassured her. ‘It’s a long time since we’ve been up here.’

‘You were here last week,’ Flinty pointed out.

‘True, but you didn’t let us in the house, did you?’

‘You could have come in to pee.’

‘I didn’t need to pee.’

‘I peed,’ Nina piped up. ‘I always need to pee. I’m at that age.’

Anna shook her head. ‘I’m older than you. I do my pelvic floor though. Bladder like a steel trap.’

‘Well bully for you,’ Nina muttered.

Anna turned to Bella. ‘I’m not writing any of this bit down.’

‘OK. Anyway, thank you for coming. I’m really hoping you can help me with two things. The first is how on earth to get this cookery school thing started.’

Nina beamed. ‘I’m so glad you’re going to do that, dear.’

Netty nodded and waved a big thumbs up in Bella’s direction.

‘Is she allowed to do that?’ asked Anna.

‘Do what?’

‘Stick her thumb up. I mean that’s basically sign language isn’t it? Doesn’t that count as talking?’

Nina folded her arms decisively. ‘It’s a sponsored silence, not a sponsored no communication.’

‘So if she did sign language the whole time that would be OK?’

‘Yeah.’

Flinty shook her head. ‘No. Not in the spirit of the thing is it?’

‘She can nod and shake her head,’ Nina pointed out. ‘She’s been doing that the whole time.’

Netty nodded in agreement.

‘I think Bella was explaining why she’d asked us all here,’ Jill interrupted.

‘Sorry Bella!’ said Nina.

‘Right you are.’ Anna held up her pen and pad. ‘We’re all ready.’

‘Thank you.’ Bella took a deep breath. ‘And the second thing is Darcy and Veronica. Lady Lowbridge and, well, Lady Lowbridge,’ she corrected herself. ‘I promised Adam I’d try to broker a peace between them while he was away.’

Anna sucked the air in through her teeth. ‘And when’s he get back love?’

‘Saturday.’

Nina nodded sympathetically. ‘Have you thought of just doing the cooking lessons love?’

Bella had indeed thought of that. It did seem like a much more achievable goal. ‘They’re at each other’s throats, and that will affect the cookery school won’t it? I can’t have people paying money to come here and having those two screaming the whole time.’

Netty grabbed Anna’s pad and scribbled something down. Some people would pay good money for that.

The group giggled. Netty probably wasn’t wrong.

‘Well maybe, but they won’t be paying for that. They’ll be paying to learn how not to split a hollandaise.’

‘Put the fat in slowly and don’t let it get too cold,’ Flinty muttered.

‘My mother used to put a spot of mustard in at the start. That works,’ Nina offered.

‘Should I be writing this down?’ Anna asked.

‘No. We don’t have to sort out how to make a hollandaise now,’ Bella explained. ‘That was just an example.’

‘Sorry love.’

‘It’s fine. So Veronica and Darcy, have they always been like this?’

All eyes turned to Flinty.

‘Pretty much. I mean Alexander tried to keep the peace between them but even he didn’t manage it that often.’

‘So what started it?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Like, was there something that happened to kick it all off, or have they always hated each other?’

‘I don’t think Darcy hates Veronica,’ Anna chipped in. ‘At least I don’t think she did to start with, but Veronica can be…’ She shot an unmistakeable glance in Flinty’s direction. ‘Well, a little unbending.’

‘She wasn’t always like that,’ Nina pointed out.

‘Really?’ Jill, the other ‘newcomer’ to the village, sounded intrigued. ‘What was she like?’

Flinty shook her head. ‘It was a long time ago.’

‘She was like us,’ Anna announced. ‘Wasn’t she, Maggie?’

‘Well…’

‘She was. The three of us were thick as thieves.’

‘Especially Maggie and her,’ Nina noted.

‘Yes. Well.’ Anna tapped her pen against the pad. ‘We were good friends.’

Bella processed that image for a second before the penny dropped. ‘Veronica’s from the village?’

‘Born and bred,’ Flinty confirmed.

‘Wow.’ Jill grinned. ‘I think I assumed she was from some other big posh place, you know. Daughter of another laird or something.’

Bella realised she had absolutely assumed the same. Veronica had strong lady of the manor energy. Obviously Bella herself was a blow-in, and clearly Darcy was too, but Veronica exuded the confidence of a woman to the manor born.

‘Veronica’s dad was a real chancer actually,’ Anna continued.

‘That’s not fair.’ Flinty shook her head. ‘She’s exaggerating.’

‘I am not. He’d have tried to sell ice to Eskimos.’

‘My mother said he once tried to sell her fish from our dad’s catch. They were our fish!’ Nina laughed at the memory.

‘Sold the old Laird on the idea of marrying his daughter though, didn’t he?’ Anna pointed out. ‘Not that he took much persuading. I never thought I’d see love at first sight, but that night when Alexander and his cousin came to the village dance, he was blown away, wasn’t he, Maggie?’

Flinty was quiet for a second. ‘I wasn’t there. That was the night my mother went into hospital with her appendix.’

‘Of course you weren’t.’ Anna nodded. ‘Silly of me to forget.’

Bella had that feeling once again that she was swimming through apparently calm, but actually shark infested, waters. ‘Why doesn’t she like Darcy though?’

The women looked at each other. Netty scribbled on her pad, American?

Jill pulled a face. ‘It can’t only be that?’

Netty scribbled some more. No heir?

Nina frowned. ‘You mean Darcy never had kids? Well he’s already got an heir, hasn’t he?’ She nodded at Bella. ‘This one’s lad. And that would only explain why she took against her later, not right from the start.’

Flinty broke the following quiet with a loud, and pointed, tut. ‘For goodness’ sake, you’re coming at this from the wrong end.’

‘What do you mean, Maggie?’

‘I mean whatever set them against each other is ancient history now. We need to work out what they’ve got in common today.’

The group fell silent. Bella shook her head. Darcy was sociable and had the attention span of a toddler on a sugar rush. Veronica was calm, almost unnaturally calm – even when she argued with Darcy it was the younger woman who did all the screaming – and she was reserved, never one to step an inch out of line. ‘They have nothing in common.’

The other women nodded. ‘Yep.’

‘Seems right.’

I agree.

Flinty sighed. ‘You’re all blind as bats. They’ve got lots in common. They wouldn’t be fighting so much if they didn’t.’

‘What do you mean?’ Bella had definitely learned, during her time in Lowbridge so far, that Flinty knew more than pretty much anyone about the inner machinations of the Lowbridge family.

‘Well they’re both trying to cling on to being Lady Lowbridge.’

‘Both like the airs and graces it gives them,’ Anna muttered.

‘Nonsense,’ replied Flinty. ‘They want to be the lady of Lowbridge because they love it here. It means something to them. That’s their common ground.’ She paused and looked at Bella. ‘That and your lad, and his dad. I mean of course Veronica dotes on her grandson.’

Bella couldn’t picture Veronica as a twinkly over-indulgent nana.

‘But Darcy’s always adored him, right since she got here. Even though he was right in the depths of his moody teenager phase.’

OK. So Veronica and Darcy both loved Lowbridge. They had both loved Alexander and they both loved Adam. Maybe Flinty was right. Maybe she needed to appeal to their better instincts and find some common ground rather than try to unpick whatever was at the root of their fighting to begin with.

‘It is a very difficult time for both of them right now too,’ Jill pointed out.

Everyone nodded. That seemed to be the main thing anyone said to Bella at the moment. It was, everybody agreed, a Very Difficult Time.

‘What about the cookery lessons?’ Nina asked.

‘Yes. Right. Basically we need to do something to raise some money so we can maintain…’ Bella looked around. ‘Well, all of this, and…’ She fell quiet for a moment. ‘I really want to try to start a cookery school.’ She really did. She could picture it up and running. Residential courses, with students staying in the coach house and learning in the castle. Courses on different types of cuisine. Maybe a write-up in one of the less terrifying broadsheets, with a photo of Bella in chef’s whites, standing, arms folded but expression happy and relaxed in front of the castle. That all fell down on two simple problems though. ‘But I have no idea if I’d be any good at teaching people, and I don’t know how to get started.’

‘Well that’s easy,’ Nina answered straight away. ‘If you don’t know how to get started, you just start.’

Anna nodded. ‘I had no idea how to run a shop until the old grocers closed and we decided to start one.’

‘But…’ Bella shook her head. ‘How?’

‘Right.’ Nina pursed her lips. ‘We can find out if you’re a good teacher easy enough. Teach us something.’

‘What? Now?’

Anna glanced at the clock. ‘I’ve got to get back so Hugh can drive over to meet the dairy man.’

‘Not now then. Tomorrow. At Ladies’ Group.’ Nina nodded. ‘Right. Tomorrow Bella is going to teach us all some cooking. Something simple that we can do at Anna’s. It’ll be a practice and we can tell you if you’re any good or not.’

‘All right.’ Might as well give it a go.

‘And then as for the rest, you just need to get on with it.’

Jill patted Bella’s knee. ‘If you’re nervous why don’t you start small? You could do a sort of test day with people from the village. I’ll come.’

Nina nodded. ‘And I’ll make my Pavel come. He could do with learning his way round a kitchen.’

‘And there’s definitely at least a couple of girls who used to come to parents and tots who’d love to get a bit more confident with their cooking,’ Jill suggested. ‘And I can rustle up some tame people from my congregations if we need. How many would you want?’

‘Maybe eight?’ Bella thought about the layout of the castle kitchens. ‘That might be too crowded, but if it’s a trial run it would be good to see if we can fit that many in.’

Flinty nodded. ‘The more we fit in the more profit we’ll make.’

‘Or the less you need to charge per person,’ Jill added. ‘Would you charge for the trial day?’

She couldn’t charge much, given the very high chance that the whole thing would go horribly tits up on the ground that Bella barely had a clue what she was doing.

‘Maybe just cover the cost of the ingredients?’ Flinty suggested.

And so they were set. Bella would do a practice of her untried teaching skills at the next Ladies’ Group, and on Saturday – actual Saturday, this Saturday, five days away – she would host a trial cookery school day at Lowbridge attended by tame villagers recruited by her slightly worryingly invested Council of War.

Adam stepped out of Waverley Station into the noise of Princes Street and felt his shoulders ease and the weight of responsibility lift from his back. Half an hour on the number 26 and he’d be in his flat, his clean unhaunted newly built flat in Portobello. He’d be home.

Ahead of him were four days of his real life. He’d meet with the anxious people from Carsons, and talk them back around to his vision for their building. He’d pick up his car – his functioning, non-antique car – and drive round some of his favourite nurseries in and around the city to source plants for other upcoming projects. He’d check in with Ravi and Danny about what else was in progress. Hopefully he’d even manage to drag Ravi out to the pub for an evening of normality.

This was where Adam fit. And Bella would fit here too. That was one of the most incredible things, on the ever-growing list of incredible things, that Adam loved about his fiancée. She could fit in anywhere. She was a vigorous, hardy sort of plant that didn’t need a lot of sun, or a particular soil type, or precisely the right amount of rain. You could pop Bella down anywhere and she was built to thrive.

Adam was a more particular sort of flora. He’d grown up at Lowbridge but, looking back, he wondered if he’d ever truly thrived there, at least outside of the safety of his father’s beloved walled garden.

The meeting with Carsons was, as Adam had anticipated, a walk in the park. Ten minutes in they’d entirely forgotten that they had ever had cold feet about the project, and twenty minutes in they were happily commissioning Adam and Ravi to landscape the space to the front of the offices with additional planting. The pair walked out, grinning.

‘You don’t manage without me, do you?’ Adam joked.

‘We were getting by.’ Ravi shrugged. ‘But you know, I’m the numbers guy. You’re the plant guy.’

‘You know plants.’ It was true. Ravi was entirely competent on site when he needed to be, but he was much happier planning and calculating and writing proposals and budgets.

‘I know how to stick the plant you give me into the hole you point at.’

‘We should go for a drink while I’m here.’

Ravi nodded. ‘Yeah. We should.’

Adam raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? I thought you’d be rushing home.’

Aside from being Adam’s business partner and best friend, Ravi was also a relatively new father to twin girls.

‘Sam’ll understand. When are you here ’til?’

‘Saturday.’ Adam saw the tension on Ravi’s face. ‘Sorry. Everything back there’s…’ He couldn’t even begin to explain.

‘I get it. Friday evening then? Foresters?’

‘Great. That’ll give me time to do some nursery visits and catch up with Danny.’

Ravi nodded. ‘He’s been taking up a lot of slack the last few weeks.’

From the bags under Ravi’s eyes Adam guessed he wasn’t the only one. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Not your fault. Shit happens.’ Ravi stopped. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean your dad dying was shit. Well like obviously it is…’ He shook his head. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’ Adam was more comfortable with Ravi’s unfiltered chat than with the hundreds of sympathetic head tilts and muttered ‘sorry for your losses’ he’d been receiving endlessly over the previous weeks. ‘Everything’ll be back to normal soon.’

Ravi nodded. ‘We can talk on Friday.’

The next morning Bella slipped out of bed early, and headed straight for the kitchen. Entirely unsurprisingly Flinty was there before her. ‘You’re up early,’ she noted.

‘I’m starting Operation Peace in Our Time.’

‘What?’

‘Peace in our time. Sorting out Darcy and Veronica.’

Flinty sucked the air in over her teeth. ‘You know that didn’t work, don’t you?’

‘What?’

‘Peace in our time. It’s what Neville Chamberlain said right before World War Two broke out.’

She had not known that. ‘Well this will go better than that. Hopefully.’

Bella rolled up her sleeves. All the best endeavours in Bella’s life started in the kitchen. Today was baking. A lot of pro chefs hated baking. Pastry was notoriously one of the trickiest roles in the kitchen, rewarding precision and attention to detail, and being utterly temperamental to any change in temperature or humidity.

Proper baking – not fancy patisserie restaurant faff – was Bella’s first love. One of the few times her nan was ever still was in the kitchen, when she was concentrating on weighing out ingredients or folding batter into gentle fluffy clouds. The process of making a cake or a batch of biscuits still felt, to Bella, like home itself.

This recipe was one of the very first she’d learned and one that she still knew by heart. It was perfect in its simplicity. Flour, butter, sugar, rubbed together by hand and then pressed into a dough. A dash more flour on the worktop before she rolled her dough out into a thick, butter-hued disc. You could cut out shapes now, or fingers, but Bella preferred to shape the disc into a rough circle and chill the whole thing for a few minutes before scoring out wedge-shaped portions, dappling the surface with a fork and baking it as one huge biscuit to be broken up when it cooled.

As her shortbread round baked she opened her phone and scrolled through her email. Her nan was still staying with some Wiccan friends in Somerset, taking a lazy break after Glastonbury. They were planning to head to Cerne Abbas with one of the friends who wanted to sleep out a night on the giant as part of a fertility ritual. Nan joked that she thought she was old enough now to be able to risk it without consequence.

Bella smiled and tapped out a quick reply. ‘Still in Scotland…’ She hesitated. These two-line messages were a lifeline for both of them, but, not having mentioned it straight away, the size of the ‘I’m engaged to a Scottish baron’ elephant in the room was rapidly increasing.

She would visit. Once things were calmer here, and the next time her grandmother stayed in one place long enough to make a plan, she would take Adam to meet her in person. ‘Still staying on the West Coast.’ What else could she say? In a massive castle , or, With the hereditary baron of Lowbridge seemed like additions that would need a lot of explanation. ‘My friend’s father died a few weeks ago,’ she added, ‘so things are a bit tricky but I’m trying to help. Tomorrow the world!’

‘That smells good.’ Bella looked up as Flinty broke the silence. She was right. The baking aroma that was filling the kitchen was warm and sweet and wonderful. ‘What are you making?’

‘Shortbread.’

Flinty smiled. ‘Risking a Scottish classic?’

Bella hadn’t thought about it like that, but she supposed Flinty was right. Shortbread always came in bright red tartan tins with bagpipers or Scottie dogs on them, didn’t it? ‘It was one of the first things I learned to make.’

‘Same here.’ Flinty started piling Bella’s baking things into the sink.

‘I can do those.’

‘It’s no bother.’ Flinty busied herself filling the bowl with water, planting herself firmly in front of the washing up. ‘You were cheffing when you met the lad?’

‘Yeah. I was working in his hotel in Malaga.’

‘Good trade. People will always need feeding.’ She had her hands plunged into the soapy water. ‘You’ll probably not want me under your feet in here then, will you?’ There was the hint of a catch in her voice. ‘Once you’re married and settled. I understand that. I’ll not get in your way.’

‘Oh. I mean…’ Bella wasn’t sure what to say. Everyone was very adamant that Flinty was retired, so wasn’t she around at the moment because they were having a crisis? That was what people did in a crisis wasn’t it? Chipped in. Brought around casseroles. Made sandwiches. Acted as unpaid housekeeper for weeks on end.

‘I’ll not overstay my welcome.’

‘You’re always welcome.’

‘You’re going to be newlyweds. You’ll want some time to yourselves.’

Bella heard herself laugh. ‘Well you’re not welcome to join in with those times.’

Flinty shot her a look. It was a look Veronica herself would have been proud of.

‘But you’re very welcome here. I mean if we’re going to open the castle up more we’ll need all the help we can get.’ That was true. ‘And I was hoping you’d help on Saturday.’ The thought of Flinty’s reassuringly solid presence for the cookery school trial day was instantly calming.

‘Well of course I’ll be here for that.’

Of course she would. ‘And, from what I can see, you’re basically family anyway.’

‘Oh.’ The noise Flinty made wasn’t a word and it wasn’t a sob. It was barely a syllable from deep in her throat. Then she shook her head. ‘You’re very sweet, but no. I’m definitely not part of the family. Mind your biscuits don’t get burnt.’

Bella flung open the oven. Her shortbread was a touch on the dark side of golden but should still be delicious. Onto stage two of the plan.

Twenty minutes later the three ladies of Lowbridge were sitting in the Yellow Room – still definitely green – and Bella was pouring tea. ‘I thought that if we could sit down and talk through a few things then I’m sure we can all get on, can’t we?’

Darcy didn’t reply. Veronica nodded. ‘Of course. I get along with everyone.’

So insolence and denial were her current challenges. Bella slid the plate of shortbread across the coffee table to the other women. ‘Biscuit?’

‘No thank you.’ Veronica shook her head.

‘I don’t eat carbs before noon,’ Darcy told her.

Bella’s natural sympathy had been with Darcy as her fellow incomer and the grieving widow, but she was absolutely prepared to switch sides based on attitude to carbs. The shortbread had been her main tool for getting the two women on side. Without food as an offering Bella’s social weapons were significantly more limited.

She thought back over Flinty’s suggestions from the day before. What was the common ground here? ‘Adam asked me to have a chat with you about the whole bedroom thing.’

Darcy bristled instantly. ‘So you are throwing me out?’

‘Not at all, but he hates two of you fighting all the time.’

‘We are not fighting,’ Veronica insisted.

‘Well we have been a bit,’ Darcy conceded. ‘Because you won’t let it go.’

‘Well those rooms are for the current laird and lady.’

‘The current laird said he didn’t mind.’

The conversation was already getting away from Bella. ‘But he does mind that you two aren’t getting along.’ What would Adam say? No. That was the wrong question. Adam had already tried. He’d tried to keep the peace and be conciliatory and it hadn’t helped at all. Bella needed to find whatever it was that Adam wouldn’t say. ‘And,’ she took a deep breath and hoped that her fiancé wouldn’t be too furious if – when – he heard about this. ‘Only this is Adam’s home now and he wouldn’t want to have to ask you both to leave.’

Both women stared at her.

‘He would never…’ Veronica started.

‘But Adam said…’ added Darcy.

The horror on both their faces made Bella pause. She’d threatened the one thing she knew her fiancé would never condone. ‘I’m sorry.’

Darcy was blinking back tears. Veronica looked devastated. So much for her clever strategy. ‘Of course he would never… It’s just that he really hates you fighting and I promised I’d try to get you to stop.’

‘Is it really upsetting him?’ Darcy asked.

‘It is.’

‘Well I don’t want that.’

‘Neither do I,’ insisted Veronica, either through genuine feeling or a reluctance to give up the moral high ground to her rival. The older dowager sighed slightly, before picking up a triangle of shortbread and taking a small bite. She closed her eyes. Bella recognised that look. It was the look she remembered seeing on her grandmother’s face at the first taste of something new and delicious. It was the simple bliss of putting something delicious into your mouth and feeling it dissolve on your tongue. Whoever would have thought Veronica was capable of such a feeling?

Bella grabbed the moment of pause to move the conversation to calmer waters. She’d made it clear that they needed to sort out their dispute about bedrooms, but she’d let them take a moment to reflect before she pushed again. And it gave her a chance to ask about something else that was niggling at her.

‘You both know about Poppy, right?’

Both women nodded as though discussion of the household ghost was utterly mundane.

‘Flinty said she wasn’t the only ghost.’ Bella was still very clear that she did not believe, but at the same time, she definitely wanted to be forewarned if she was likely to meet a Roman legion marching across the courtyard in the middle of the night.

‘Oh well of course not,’ Veronica confirmed. ‘There’s the old cook, although I don’t think anyone’s seen her for years.’

Darcy pulled a face. ‘It’s just the smell of onions that you can’t get out of anything.’

‘Quite.’

‘And the Grey Lady,’ Darcy continued.

‘Everyone has one of them,’ replied Veronica. ‘Grey Ladies are the sparrow of the spirit world. Nice enough but ten a penny.’

‘And the headless man!’ Darcy’s eyes widened.

‘There’s no headless man.’

‘I saw him.’

‘You had too much champagne when Adam turned twenty-one and knocked the head off the upstairs suit of armour,’ Veronica countered.

‘It was a headless man,’ Darcy muttered.

Bella bit back laughter. The two women were still bickering, but they weren’t shouting. It was progress of sorts.

Veronica took another bite of her shortbread. A moment later Darcy finally succumbed to temptation. ‘Oh that really is delicious,’ she murmured after her first bite. ‘I’m a terrible cook.’

‘I used to cook,’ murmured Veronica. ‘As you saw, I’m out of the habit.’

‘We should come to one of your cookery lessons!’ Darcy exclaimed.

Oh no. No way. Bella was nervous enough about the idea of teaching a tame group. She wasn’t having Veronica there peering over her spectacles at everything.

‘What cookery lessons?’

‘Bella’s going to start a cookery school in the castle kitchen, aren’t you?’

‘Well…’ Bella stopped when she caught sight of Veronica’s expression. Where she’d been expecting anger or disapproval or simply pure horror, there was something else. Pleasure possibly. Pride? Maybe even respect.

‘What a good idea. I’m sure there’s lots of need. People don’t learn those basic skills any more, do they?’

‘I guess not.’

‘So when?’

There was no way she could lie. Veronica would definitely notice cars full of students turning up. ‘Well I’m starting with a practice day with some locals, just to see how it goes. On Saturday.’

‘Awesome.’ Darcy grinned. ‘I will be there.’

Veronica glanced at her rival. Obviously there was no way she was going to miss out if Darcy was involved. ‘As will I.’

Bella forced a smile onto her face as best she could. ‘Great.’

Whether it was the shortbread, the guilt of adding to Adam’s woes, or the excitement of the cookery school starting, Bella would never know, but something softened Darcy’s mood. ‘It’s not that I’m wedded to that bedroom. I don’t want to move to the coach house.’ She paused. ‘Or the dower house. It feels like being put out of my home.’

Veronica took a sharp breath in. ‘I was rather relieved to move over if truth be known. It drew a line under…’ She shook her head. ‘I suppose it’s not essential though. Perhaps another room in the main house.’

Was this progress?

‘I have always quite liked the Gardenia Room,’ Darcy volunteered.

Bella daren’t interrupt the apparent drift towards compromise.

‘If Lord Lowbridge is happy with that, I don’t see why not.’

Bella had no idea where the Gardenia Room was but she grabbed her victory nonetheless. ‘He would be happy with that.’

‘Very good.’ Veronica nodded. ‘We shall organise that straight away.’

Bella rushed from the summit with the Ladies Lowbridge and ran into the kitchen to find Flinty pacing and glancing at the clock. ‘All your stuff’s in the cool box love. Are you ready?’

As she ever would be.

They arrived at Anna’s for the Ladies’ Group dummy cooking demo with three minutes to spare and were greeted by a large balloon arch in front of Anna and Hugh’s patio doors. ‘What’s that doing here?’

Anna shook her head. ‘Jill offloaded it onto Hugh. He’s a soft touch. What do we want with a balloon arch?’

‘We’re going to use it for Netty’s pictures,’ Nina yelled through from inside the house. ‘Netty’s sponsored silence finishes at eleven. We’re doing pictures of her first words for the Facebook page.’

‘Wouldn’t video be better?’

‘How do you mean?’ Nina came out into the garden.

‘Well you can’t really see that someone’s not silent any more in a picture can you?’ Bella pointed out.

‘I don’t know how to put a video in the facebooks,’ said Anna. ‘You’ll have to film that.’ She thrust Nina’s phone into Bella’s free hand. Bella passed the cool bag along the line to Flinty.

‘OK. So you want to be under the balloon arch then?’

Nina pulled Netty out through the door, positioned her under the balloon arch. ‘Two minutes!’ she shouted.

‘What?’ Bella waved the phone. ‘Do you want to go live then?’

‘Go what dear?’ Nina frowned at her.

‘Live. On Facebook? Like stream the end of the silence live?’

Netty shook her head vigorously.

‘Oh well, if we can,’ Nina said. ‘How exciting!’ She checked the time again. ‘One minute! Everyone in position!’

Everyone in position seemed to mean Netty standing shaking like a leaf under the balloon arch with Nina alongside her bouncing like a hyped-up cheerleader. Bella clutched Nina’s phone in front of them, while Flinty and Anna stood to one side chuntering about not having any truck with the modern instaface malarkey, like the women knitting in front of the guillotine.

Bella tapped to start a live video on the Lowbridge community appeal page and pointed the camera at Nina and Netty.

‘Are we starting?’ asked Nina.

‘Yes!’

‘When?’

Bella bit back her giggles. ‘Now! We’re live. You’re on!’

‘Oh! How exciting. Hello Facebook!’ shouted Nina with the intonation and volume of a rock superstar playing Wembley stadium. ‘I’m Nina Stone. And I’m here with the one and only Netty Wetherall, who is just seconds away from completing her sponsored silence in aid of the Lowbridge community appeal to raise funds for our new footbridge to link the village and the Lowbridge estate once again! Let’s all join in the countdown. Ten! Nine!’ Nina waved her arms to encourage the crowd she was clearly imagining to join in.

Flinty pursed her lips.

‘Eight, seven, six…’ muttered Anna.

Bella did her best to show willing. ‘Five. Four. Three.’

Nina, fortunately was generating enough enthusiasm for everyone. ‘Two! One!’ she bellowed. ‘So Netty, what do you want to say now you can finally talk again?’

Netty murmured something that Bella missed entirely, but, out of the corner of her eye, she could see Anna and Flinty nodding. Nina clapped her hands together. ‘Well I think we can all agree with that! Thank you everyone who has sponsored Netty, and don’t forget that you can still donate on our fundraising page.’ She waved happily at the camera as Bella ended the live stream.

‘OK. That went out live.’ Bella handed Nina’s phone back to its owner. ‘And then it’ll be there for everyone to watch in a few minutes.’

Everyone agreed that that was marvellous, and that Netty had done a great job. Any hope that this might distract the group from the main reason for their get-together swiftly evaporated though.

‘Do we need to be in the kitchen for your demo thing love?’ Anna asked.

‘No. Anywhere with a table should be fine.’

‘Well why don’t we do it out here then?’

The weather was warm and there was a large metal garden table on the centre of the lawn.

‘We might get a few shoppers wandering through,’ Anna added. ‘But we don’t mind that, do we?’

Bella shrugged. What was a few more passers-by to see how bad she was at this?

Anna and Flinty made tea while Bella laid out her demo on the table. There were only five of them including herself, so everyone got their own board with a sheet of pre-rolled pasta on it, carefully passed through the pasta machine at the castle and then floured so it wouldn’t stick. She also set out a Tupperware tub of mushroom filling with five spoons.

‘All right then. We’re going to do one simple thing so I can practise and make sure I’ve worked out how to plan everything through,’ she explained. ‘The task is shaping tortellini.’

Making and shaping pasta was one of those slightly repetitive kitchen tasks that Bella had a strange but deep affection for. Each member of the Ladies’ Group had enough pasta to make four tortellini – a task which, in Bella’s mind, took about fifteen seconds. She guesstimated the whole demo and practice would only be five minutes.

And that was the first thing Bella learned about teaching cookery. The five minutes she’d worried she’d be struggling to fill stretched to ten and then to fifteen, and that was with women who cooked regularly and who were more than competent following a recipe. In a group, though, they chatted and distracted one another. They looked over one another’s shoulders and questioned whether they were doing it right.

Bella had attempted to do one long demo from cutting the pasta into rounds, spooning in the right amount of filling, folding the proto-tortellini into half-moons, and then wrapping them around the tip of her little finger to create the final shape.

Halfway through adding the filling Anna had held her hand up. ‘I can’t remember all this. Let’s do one bit at a time.’

Breaking up the demo into stages meant it took longer but also meant that people didn’t have to remember step one while Bella was talking about step four. She might not be able to do that for longer recipes though. ‘I’m going to need to do instruction cards,’ Bella said.

Flinty nodded. ‘You could do little booklets for each session – something for people to take away.’

Nina agreed. ‘People feel like they’ve got more for their money if they’ve got something to take away.’

Netty added her thoughts to the conversation.

Anna laughed. ‘Well I don’t think that’ll be a problem for Bella.’

Bella could only hope she was right.

After twenty minutes – four times longer than Bella had planned – all her ‘students’ had a row of four passably shaped tortellini in front of them.

Anna frowned. ‘Four’s not really enough for a dinner is it?’

‘Sorry. I wasn’t thinking about that. I wanted something we could do in the time.’ Bella pulled an apologetic face. ‘But we couldn’t do it in the time.’

Maybe the whole cookery lesson thing was a terrible idea. Teachers were organised, orderly people. Bella wasn’t a teacher. Miss Smith might be a teacher, but in Bella’s mind that name called up one of those very young nervous teachers who only lasted one term before getting eaten alive by the sorts of bottom sets Bella had spent her school days in. Mrs Lowbridge could be a teacher. Mrs Lowbridge sounded positively tweedy and responsible. Lady Lowbridge was something else – both entirely unteacherly and entirely un-Bella.

Flinty leaned over and patted her arm. ‘That’s the point of a practice though isn’t it? And look – we’ve all got little pasta wotnots. I think you did well.’

The rest of the Ladies’ Group nodded in agreement.

‘So you’ve got lots to think about for your proper trial day,’ Nina said. ‘Have you worked out what you’re teaching them yet?’

Bella had barely slept for thinking about it. Ideas had been whirring around her head, and she’d spent half the night with her phone in hand, notes app open, jotting down anything and everything that came into her mind. By six a.m., when she’d abandoned the pretence of trying to sleep altogether, she had at least the outline of a plan for the day.

‘OK. The basic idea is The Perfect Stress-Free Dinner. ’ She pulled out her phone and opened her menu notes. She had so many ideas, but really everything was going to come down to oven space. There was the big range in the main kitchen, and there were also two smaller electric ovens in the two prep kitchens, which Flinty informed her were originally the castle bakery and scullery. She’d made a note of bakery on her ever-expanding list of things that might one day bring income into the estate.

That meant that she could cook eight big dishes at a time, but only eight, so if, for example, everyone made a lasagne then nothing else they made could go in the oven at the same time. Although if the idea was that they were making food to take home for dinner then maybe the lasagne didn’t have to be cooked. They could bake her demonstration one for people to taste and they could take their own home with instructions to bake in their own oven. She didn’t know why she was fixated on the idea of eight lasagnes. Lasagne wasn’t even on her shortlist of things to make.

She tapped into her ideas list and noted: Cuisine theme meals – Italian, Indian, etc.

‘I was going to do all the teaching before lunch and then have them cook after, but I don’t think that’ll work, will it?’ If the Ladies’ Group couldn’t retain four simple steps, there was no way her much less kitchen-confident group on Saturday would retain the steps for three different recipes. ‘I think I need to break it down into shorter steps and demos and give them written instructions as well.’

‘Sounds sensible,’ Nina said. ‘I love the idea that they get a full meal to take home though. That’s great for a full-day session.’

‘If you’re doing handouts you should have a logo,’ Anna chipped in.

Netty nodded silently.

Bella shook her head. ‘The trial is in three days. I’ll think about stuff like that if it goes well and we decide to definitely go for it.’

‘You should have feedback forms though,’ Flinty said. ‘That’s the point isn’t it? You might think it’s all gone marvellously, but you need to know what the punters make of it.’

‘Do I have to give Veronica one?’

‘Veronica’s coming?’ Anna’s tone was half-aghast, half-fascinated.

‘And Darcy as well.’ Bella was still trying to put Veronica’s attendance to the back of her mind. ‘I think Darcy’s quite keen and Veronica didn’t want to be seen as less supportive.’

‘Or she didn’t want to miss out,’ Anna suggested.

‘Or she’s genuinely trying to help with something that might be good for all of Lowbridge,’ Flinty added.

Bella could see the scepticism on Anna’s face, but she nodded anyway. ‘Yeah. Maybe.’