Chapter 43
43
Boathouse Cottage, St Aidan
Scaling up and winding down
Saturday evening
I f someone had told me seven weeks ago that I’d be hosting an evening for twelve in Scarlett’s kitchen, I wouldn’t have believed them either, but it’s all because I’m proving my point with Miles. When we’re fighting, I take risks that I’d never have dreamed of doing otherwise. Worst of all, what happens with tonight’s baking evening proves Miles right before we even begin. I’m thinking of a quiet night in for six, and within seconds of me mentioning it to his mum and her friends it’s doubled in size. I’ve never seen a clearer sign of impending disaster.
It began with Miles’s mum who added in Harry, then grew to include Martin and Carol too. Then Malcolm, and Edie’s Aunty Jo jumped in, and Angela and Barry. Once it was obvious it was getting party-sized, Zofia wouldn’t think of staying away and brought Aleksy too. I only managed a size limit because of the seating plan. If the island had been bigger, we’d have had every pensioner in town.
Once I’d committed, there was no point panicking. I took inspiration from last night’s dining out and threw together some platters of colourful chopped vegetables and dips to nibble in the gaps between rolling sessions. Miles made bite-sized versions of his savoury croissant curls when he’d finished his massive Saturday shop bake, and everyone came with the promise of a box of boathouse buns they’d baked, to take away.
Miles maintains one of the major problems is what he refers to as his mum’s friends’ ‘hollow legs’, so he called in Huntley and Handsome wine merchants. When I saw the delivery more than filled one of the mud room fridges with beers and bottles of pink fizz I was glad Miles was the one covering the bill.
There was so little time between closing the shop and the guests arriving, I only had a second to slip on a new frock or two before we were popping the corks and handing out the Betsy & Milo aprons along with the drinks. Zofia threw herself into organising an over-sixties playlist and I can already hear Ed Sheeran singing about kissing under the light of a thousand stars.
Miles managed a dash to Falmouth to stock up on rolling pins, knives and extra baking trays, and while the more reluctant pastry chefs like Aleksy hover at the end of the island, the rest of us spread out around the remaining three sides.
Jackie has taken the place next to Miles and she pulls him into a hug. ‘When your curly croissants take off big time, Boathouse Cottage cookery courses would be a great natural next step.’
I’m starting to see where Miles gets his drive from.
Carol waves her glass. ‘If the fizz is always this good, you can count us in for those too!’
Zofia pulls her apron ties tight and brushes an invisible spec off the knee of her white jeans. ‘Once Betsy & Milo takes off these two will be moving so fast, they will just be a blur.’
As it’s my fault they’re all here tonight, however shy I feel I owe it to them all to do a little welcome speech. As they finally put their glasses down for long enough to climb up onto their stools, I give a little cough.
‘Welcome to Boathouse Cottage everyone. I need to start with a big thank you to my sister Scarlett and her husband for letting us use their kitchen and for having the forethought to buy enough stools to seat us all when the place was really designed for two.’
Had I known this evening was going to get this out of hand, I’d never have brought them here, so this is my way of apologising to Scarlett in advance.
Miles laughs. ‘We all know Tate and Scarlett by reputation if not in person, they always think big.’
I overcome the twang in my chest when I think that they might never be here together again, and smile round at everyone. ‘I’m also truly grateful to you all for missing the Over Sixties Gardening Group and coming here instead.’
I take another deep breath. ‘As I mentioned to you when I asked you all here yesterday evening, Miles and I are hoping to open three more “pop up” shops very soon, which means we’ll need a lot more boathouse buns than Miles can make on his own. As we’re trying to keep everything local and fresh, my idea is to recruit a team of bakers to help us with supplies over the summer. The search is on to find versatile people with energy, knowledge and life experience, who may have a few hours to spare in the mornings a couple of days a week– so we naturally thought of you.’
Malcolm nods. ‘You’ve come to the right place.’
Jackie’s eyes are shining. ‘It’s going to be just like a baking version of The Thursday Murder Club! ’
Harry nods. ‘With pastries instead of corpses.’
Martin grins. ‘And rolling pins instead of revolvers.’
Carol beams. ‘And pink champagne instead of Kopparberg.’
As I look round the table every person is watching me. ‘I take it you’re all interested, and fully committed to keeping this project secret?’ Not that we’re paranoid, but I’ve already explained that due to industrial espionage we wouldn’t want them chatting about this to just anyone.
There’s a huge chorus of ‘You bet we are!’ and ‘Count us in!’
I beam at them. ‘In that case I’ll hand over to Miles, who is master, creator and the boathouse bun baker. He’ll be making all the dough in advance, and this evening he’s going to show us how to roll it out to make perfect pastries. Tonight is simply a taster to let you decide if you’d like to take this further.’
Miles grins at me. ‘Thanks for bigging me up there, Betsy Beth.’ He holds up his flour sifter. ‘You probably already know that if we shake flour on the board before rolling out it stops the dough sticking, but in case you don’t, this is how we do it.’
It’s useful that I have a valid excuse to watch him, because when he’s swinging around with his bare forearms, alternately concentrating on the square of pastry in front of him then looking up to interact with the people around the island unit, he’s so compelling to watch I literally can’t look away.
Eventually Zofia gives me a nudge in the ribs. ‘Come on Mrs, we know those are quality pecs, but if you don’t do your own pastry you won’t get your buns done.’
I vow to concentrate more so I don’t look like a ditz in front of Miles’s mum, but before I do a vibration in my apron pocket takes my attention away again. I slide out my phone, and murmur to Zofia. ‘It’s Scarlett, she’s FaceTiming. If she’s phoning with an update on her sex life, I’d better take it.’
I step back towards the sofa area and Zofia steps into my place. ‘No worries, I’ll keep your pastry up to speed while you talk.’
I dive behind my clothes screen and ignore that with the music and the rising background noise it sounds more like a party for a hundred than twelve, and make a mental note to take control before she does, to tell her what I’ve been meaning to tell her for weeks now.
‘Scarlett!’ I beam back as her face fills my screen, and wave wildly. ‘So pleased you rang, I have exciting news– Miles and I have opened a shop. Down on the quayside.’
I need to get her used to the idea of a St Aidan branch before she finds out for herself that we have a chain of the damn things.
‘You’ve got what?’ Her voice and her lips are slightly out of sync. ‘Whatever it is, I hope you know what you’re doing. Miles can be very persuasive.’
I give a sniff. ‘Which is why it’s a good thing I’ve had practice at resisting.’ If she calls me out on this, I have no idea what I’ll say when my whole brain is suddenly filled with the image of his lips coming towards mine in the walled garden yesterday.
‘There’s a lot of noise, have you got the TV on?’ The way she’s peering at me out of the phone and over my shoulder reminds me why I avoid FaceTiming, but at least I’m off the last hook.
As I hear Olly Alexander’s ‘Dizzy’ blasting out of the kitchen I’m guessing they’ve turned up the volume possibly to do a dance-routine break, which Zofia tells me is another thing this group are big on.
‘Miles’s mum, Jackie, and her friends dropped round to do some baking.’ I’m trying to hide one shock with another. ‘They’re funny, one of them is so into Harry Styles she talks about him as her boyfriend!’
Scarlett’s staring past my head. ‘Show me, without being obvious.’
In spite of all my misgivings I spin round to give her a long view behind me, and regret it immediately when she lets out a shout.
‘Why is the kitchen full of flowers?’
I walked into that one. ‘They’re from Zofia’s garden, her plants do better when they’re pruned, these are the clippings.’ I’ve got so used to the place bursting with more vases than a florist, I’ve almost forgotten how it looked when it was sad and empty.
Scarlett’s voice goes up a key. ‘Are they dancing? Is Zofia there too? ’
‘And Aleksy. If anything untoward happens it’s good we have a cleaner and a builder in the house.’
‘A baking evening shouldn’t get out of hand– should it? ’
I turn so she can’t see how many empty fizz bottles are already lined up next to the sink, but she’s onto me again.
‘What was that? ’
Damn . I move so there’s a patch of bare wall behind me. ‘Probably my four-panel screen, with a few dresses draped over.’
She isn’t hiding her shock. ‘It sounds like you’ve done a complete makeover. Did I see cushions?’
My stomach drops. ‘Only a couple.’
‘Jeez, Bets.’
I’m trying for my soothing voice. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll all disappear when I do.’
She sniffs. ‘Tate would have a fit.’
I blow out a breath. ‘That’s the whole point– I thought you’d enjoy that.’ I move onto safer ground. ‘How about you? Are your evenings still fully booked and fabulous?’
The beat of silence is the giveaway.
She sighs. ‘None of them want to see me again. I didn’t want to be left hanging so before each date ended I gave them a list of future activities and time slots to choose from, and every single one politely passed up the offer.’
‘Oh Scarlett.’ My heart is breaking for her for all the reasons.
She’s shaking her head. ‘I can’t understand it. You’d think they’d put a value on outstanding organisational ability in a partner.’
I hold in my dismay. ‘Have you thought that guys may find it easier to commit to showing up for a coffee?’
Her lips are pursed. ‘I’m worth a lot more than ten minutes in Starbucks.’
I’m taking on board what Miles hinted at last time he spoke about her and Tate’s relationship. ‘You don’t think you’re being too prescriptive? People at the start of a relationship might warm to someone more collaborative?’
I’m not sure how much of this she’s taking on board.
She thinks for a moment. ‘Making decisions for other people is what I’m good at.’
I should be supporting Miles and spreading jam on my rolled-out pastry strips by now, but having told Scarlett some hard truths, I can’t stop halfway.
I screw up my courage and launch. ‘But you could be waving a lot of red flags here?’
She looks horrified. ‘ Excuse me? Which would they be?’
‘Pretty much all of it– when you stop to think.’ I ponder how best to carry on. ‘No one likes being told what to do, people prefer to give and take.’
She gives a defiant toss of her head. ‘Tate liked me to choose.’
I’m hitting the hard balls here. ‘Are you sure?’
She wrinkles her nose. ‘Maybe not at first. But he did eventually. It wasn’t always me dictating, it was his choice for us to come to New York.’
I’ve got an answer to that. ‘New York was different. That was his work trip that you jumped in on.’
Her voice rises. ‘What are you saying here, Betsy?’
I’m holding my ground. ‘I’m simply suggesting it’s good to examine what might have led to your break-up, so you don’t make the same mistakes again.’
Her face is filled with horror. ‘If you’re saying Tate and I separated because I told him what to do, that’s not true. We broke up because he had the hots for Virginia bloody Kemp! ’
This is one of the hardest conversations of my life. ‘If Tate was truly happy and fulfilled with the life you shared, would he have left? ’
‘You mean, this is more about me than her?’ Her eyes are wide. ‘Shit, Betty, if I’d become that much of a nightmare why didn’t you tell me?’
I’m backing off. ‘I wasn’t living with you. But even as an outsider, you were very decided and hard to challenge.’
‘Well, thank you, Betsy, I appreciate your honesty. I’ll give it some thought.’ She sounds completely deflated, then she tenses again. ‘ Was that a dog? ’
As a volley of barks bounces off the walls there’s nowhere to hide. I run across the lounge and push my way out into the field.
Then I close the French window firmly behind me and try to explain what should have been dealt with weeks ago. ‘That was Fudge, he belongs to Miles’s mum. He sometimes comes along the beach with Pumpkin and me.’
‘I’ve met Fudge.’ Scarlett looks dreamy. ‘Tate and I talked about getting a dog when we got back from New York. That won’t be happening now.’
At least I can commiserate with that. ‘Dogs aren’t all a walk in the park. Recall can be a nightmare, and they eat footwear.’
‘They eat what? ’
‘Shoes. Pumps. Anything with a sole that’s chewy.’
She lets out a cry. ‘Shit, Betsy, don’t let him anywhere near my wardrobe, it’s stuffed with Manolo Blahniks.’
My jaw drops. ‘You wear those to the beach? ’
‘No, Bets. I put my favourites there for safekeeping.’ There’s a pause. ‘So let’s make sure they stay that way.’
She stops and smiles. ‘Miles’s mum is lovely, she found us Boathouse Cottage.’ Scarlett’s tone hardens. ‘Let’s make sure her son shows you respect. I don’t want Miles pushing you into things you’re not comfortable with. You’re keen to please and easily convinced, I don’t want him taking advantage.’
I grin. ‘I’ll certainly pass that on to him.’ Then I stop and think. ‘I’ve learned a lot since I got here, Scarlett. I’m less of a pushover than I was.’
If nothing else, sharing a cottage with a horror like Miles forced me to stand up for myself. I might have been easy at the start, but I seriously doubt he’d describe me as that now.
‘Would you like to say hello to Pumpkin?’ I hold up my phone so she gets a view of him silhouetted against the sunset.
Scarlett sighs. ‘I miss it all a lot more than I thought I would.’
I smile. ‘With constant crowds to make a fuss of him and a field of his own, Pumpkin would stay forever.’
Scarlett laughs. ‘How about you? Has St Aidan won your heart yet?’
Ever since I arrived I’ve tried to only think of the day we’re in, and even that small reference of the future is enough to remind me that the bit beyond October is stretching like one big empty, scary void. I’ve never minded living day to day before, so I don’t know why it should feel so uncomfortable now.
I smile at Scarlett. ‘You know me, I go where the wind blows. I can’t afford to form attachments.’ I might also need to remind myself of my own mantra about not getting attached. If I’m feeling settled and making friends, I have to remember it can’t last. As for me feeling like I might need a plan for the winter– when did I ever have one of those?
I turn to give Scarlett a view across the bay behind me, and glance back towards the cottage. If the bakers are on their feet I need to get Scarlett off the line before she spots the party through the window.
‘I’d better go and get my pastry rolled out.’
‘You can’t talk for longer?’
I have one chance to get these over-sixties on the baking team. ‘Honestly, I’d better go.’
It’s odd that I’m the one ending the conversation. It’s odd that Scarlett’s still on the line when she used to make the world’s briefest calls. It’s even odder that I just managed to say ‘no’ to her.
Scarlett bites her thumbnail. ‘Thank you, Bets. For all of this. Talk soon.’
Scarlett taking time to say thank you? That’s the strangest of all.