Helen
Nigel put the cookbook he’d been flicking through back on the shelf. ‘No, I’m cooking Mother’s Day lunch.’
‘Wow! For the whole Farnham clan?’
‘Just me and Mum. Everyone else is away doing other things. I’m not looking forward to it.’
‘You always used to be an excellent cook. I loved your spaghetti carbonara.’
‘Used to be. I haven’t cooked in years. Madison was quite territorial about her kitchen unless she was getting a private chef in, in which case they could do what they liked.’
The more Helen learnt about Nigel’s home life, the more she wondered why he’d stuck it for so long. But he’d started talking about it in the past tense. A good sign that he was moving on, because, from what she could gather, Madison wasn’t budging on her plans to divorce him. ‘What’s on the menu?’
‘I haven’t decided yet. She loves a roast so I could do one of those.’
‘Bit over the top when there’s just the two of you. If you’re cooking your first meal for years, I’d keep it simple. Steak, a sauce, chips, broccoli or peas. Something like that.’
He looked like he was giving the idea serious consideration. ‘Steak’s a good shout. I’m not sure about chips though.’
‘You could do something fancier on the potato front. Gratin Dauphinois is not too tricky and looks like you’ve made an effort. Then roast the broccoli with garlic and chilli flakes to make it more interesting.’
‘It’s starting to sound complicated. I’ll need a practice run.’
‘Won’t that spoil the surprise?’
‘Possibly. I don’t think Mum’s got any plans to go away between now and next Sunday.’
‘You could cook it at my house?’
He grinned. ‘And you get a free dinner?’
‘I’m not as stupid as I look.’