Chapter Seventeen
Saskia
“Caterers, caterers… why are there no pissing caterers in Cornwall?” Saskia muttered to herself a few hours later.
This was a misstatement, of course. There were a bazillion caterers in Cornwall, just as there were probably a bazillion around the rest of the country.
Indeed, Saskia currently had a bazillion tabs open on her laptop, each holding the website of a different caterer or other food establishment service.
She’d expanded her search across the entirety of Cornwall, and even one or two in Bristol.
Although she doubted that they would want to make the three-hour journey, even if it was for the daughter of one of the world’s best modern-day musicians.
Not that anybody is allowed to know that, Saskia.
She only told you so that you can honour Eulalia’s memory in the wedding.
“For God’s sake,” Saskia muttered as she scratched yet another one off the list. There were none that seemed to be just right.
Most were too expensive. Others too far away.
Many didn’t cater for Cass’s nut allergy.
Several didn’t pass Saskia’s ‘vibe check’ – perhaps a trite reason to strike them off, but Saskia had learned a long time ago to trust her gut.
On matters such as this, at least. Her gut had been very wrong about some other things, but wasn’t that part of the reason she was doing this now?
To apologise to the universe? To compensate?
Everything had to be just right for Cass and Felicia.
She had decided already. There was something about the perfectly-matched pair that had struck a note in her – her softest note.
They had been so kind, so sincere in their love for each other, that she wanted nothing less than the best for them.
This was why she was sitting in her room, ignoring the tempting smell of chocolate cake that was wafting up the stairs from Kivi’s kitchen, and swearing at her own laptop.
“Perhaps I’ll have better luck looking at bakeries,” she muttered, opening up a new window entirely.
Her laptop took that opportunity to activate its fan in protest, making a droning noise akin to a plane about to take off and blowing a load of hot air out onto Saskia’s shorts-clad legs.
She winced and shifted positions, then sighed.
Felicia had said that “most eating places won’t touch allergies with a bargepole these days”, and she was quickly finding this to be true.
As she waited for the laptop to calm down, wishing to avert potential spontaneous combustion, Saskia thought back to the contents of the meeting. Specifically, the bit where they had talked about food. Kivi had been about to go and make the toasted sandwiches, when Cass had stopped her.
“Before you do that, you should know,” she’d said, “I have a… problem. When it comes to eating.”
Kivi had frozen – and Saskia thought she’d darted a quick glance in her direction, although she didn’t see why. Cass had clearly realised what she’d said, because she’d rapidly backtracked.
“No – not an eating disorder!” She’d shaken her head, and pulled a face.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to phrase it like that.
I have a nut allergy. So it can make eating very difficult when I’m out and about.
If you’re not comfortable cooking for me with an allergy, that’s absolutely fine. I can eat something when I’m home.”
“Not at all,” Kivi said – and Saskia had watched her almost deflate with relief. “We’re a nut-free establishment here. Even the toiletries.”
“Toiletries?” Saskia had wondered aloud, and that had segued into a conversation about nuts while Kivi cooked. But now Saskia wondered exactly why Kivi had looked over at her. She couldn’t possibly have guessed. HOW could she have possibly guessed?
Saskia was probably asking for trouble, taking on the responsibility of acquiring the caterers.
After all, one of the only ways she kept her…
little eating idiosyncrasies… at bay, was to not pay too much attention to what she was actually eating.
Easier said than done, when everything Kivi produced was so delicious.
If she thought too much about food, then she might start thinking about the calories, and if she paid too much attention to the calories…
“No,” she said aloud now. “No. You are not going back there. You’ll just have to do the best you can. Because we sure as hell aren’t telling them how we struggle with food.”
By them, of course, she meant all of them.
Kivi, Cass, Felicia and the alters… any of them.
Even if Kivi guessed, which was highly unlikely.
Saskia had come out the other side of a bad relationship with food and recovered, entirely by herself.
She didn’t need anybody else’s opinion now, when she was doing better than she had done in a decade.
Kivi was certainly… insightful, though. She had a way of looking at Saskia that made her feel like her skin and bones were glass, absolutely no use at covering the roiling thoughts and emotions within.
It had made her feel very exposed, in their brief conversation after the meeting.
She had been able to feel her face turning red, and she had thanked God when Kivi had abruptly changed the subject.
At dinner that evening, Saskia was still picking at her macaroni cheese when Kivi sat down opposite her. She looked exhausted after the dinner rush, but she still smiled at Saskia. “What do you think?”
“Sorry?”
Kivi nodded at the macaroni cheese. “I’ve not made it before. I’m trialling some new, quicker recipes, since I’ll have less time to cook, and that’s one of them. What’s your opinion? Is it all right?”
So much for not thinking too much about food, Saskia thought, but swallowed her mouthful and replied. “It’s good. It’s… cheesy.”
“Good. I put a shit ton of cheese in there, so I’d hope so. Is it… like, bland, or anything?”
“No, not bland,” Saskia said. “Uh… salty? Oniony?”
“That’ll be the spring onions and the salt then. Any other thoughts?”
“Do I look like Gordon Ramsay to you?” Saskia sniped before she could stop herself. The way Kivi was looking at her, it felt almost like she was challenging her. “This isn’t Masterchef.”
“Gordon Ramsay never did Masterchef,” Kivi said mildly. “He did Kitchen Nightmares, if I remember rightly.”
“He did do Masterchef. In the US. And kitchens are a nightmare for me, so I’m not the best person to comment,” Saskia said. She couldn’t look at Kivi, and she could feel her face turning red again.
They were mercifully interrupted by another customer coming into the dining room and asking for some milk.
Kivi swiftly got up and exited the room, and Saskia was able to breathe a sigh of relief.
She placed her knife and fork together neatly.
There was no way she would be able to manage another bite now.
Cheese… cheese has so many calories – and pasta! Pasta’s full of carbs, and carbs-
“Oh, I hope I haven’t put you off,” Kivi said, re-entering the dining room. “I didn’t mean to interrogate you. I just wanted opinions on the new dish, and you’re the person I felt most comfortable asking, so-”
“Really? Sounds a whole lot like you did intend to interrogate me then,” Saskia said, standing up and glaring at Kivi.
The blonde took a step back, seemingly thrown by the intensity of Saskia sudden vitriol.
It’s not her fault, the rational part of Saskia’s brain said, but the insecure part of her brain took over.
“Only for your opinion. Not to make you feel uncomfortable,” Kivi said, but Saskia was already on the move. She couldn’t bear to see the hurt in Kivi’s eyes that was already so apparent in her voice.
“Just leave me alone,” she said on her way out, nearly taking out another customer in the doorway.
She stormed up the stairs, conscious that her heavy footfall might be disturbing other people but too angry to care.
Her bedroom door slammed behind her, and the loud sound broke the dam.
She gave a sudden sob, then clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound.
She hadn’t cried about food in so long, but now all the old feelings were flooding back.
The images of bloat, of numbers on the scales, were crowding her brain.
And of course the itch was there. The compulsion. The call that she had always answered.
The bathroom was right there. It would feel so natural to-
“No,” she growled out loud – a guttural sound that didn’t sound like it could have come from her usually measured, controlled voice box. “No,” she whispered.
“We are not doing this again.”