Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
At Oxford, Stella stepped off the train in the evening sun to find the Redmans waiting on the platform. Benedict took her rucksack and Daniel skipped at her side.
‘Have you got me a birthday present?’ he asked.
‘Daniel,’ intoned his father, ‘it’s bad mannered to ask for presents.’
Eyes downcast, the boy mumbled an apology.
Stella smiled. ‘You’ll have to wait until your birthday, little man, but I have made you some special birthday biscuits.’
‘Ooh, have you? Can we eat one now, please?’
‘When you get home. They’re right down at the bottom of my bag, but as soon as I unpack, you can have them.’
Daniel beamed and swung on her arm as they walked to the car park, where she watched Benedict trying to open a mustard-coloured classic sports car by actually putting the key in the lock.
‘Triumph Stag.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s my one vice. To be honest, I hardly ever drive, except to the station now and then, and she does do a fairly reasonable number of miles to the gallon, especially considering her advanced years.’
‘Relax,’ said Stella, ‘I’m not the environment police. ’
‘You might not be, but Miranda most definitely is the environment police. She loves to make me feel guilty so I’m always on the defensive when it comes to cars. I saw one of these in a James Bond film as a boy and wanted one ever since.’
Stella slid into a leather seat and ran her hand over the wooden dashboard that was punctuated with over half a dozen silver dials. This car from another age was beautifully made. Daniel hopped into the back and his father fastened the safety harness.
‘Old Bessie’s a bit of a boneshaker, I’m afraid, so if you’ve any loose fillings, the country roads should soon see them off.’
Fillings were something she didn’t have, but to be on the safe side, Stella gripped the seat to either side of her. They drove through the city with a running commentary from Daniel about the weekend ahead, which guests were coming to the party, how he was looking forward to jelly and ice cream and how he hoped for a sunny day so they could hold the party in the garden.
The city of Oxford certainly didn’t disappoint and the sluggish traffic provided ample opportunity to take in the ancient and elegant buildings, with their many towers, spires and cupolas. They made their way through some of the university colleges, with Daniel excitedly pointing out where his father worked. In the evening sunlight, the yellow stone colleges glowed as if made of fairy-tale gold.
Before long, they were out of the city proper and driving through leafy streets, where large red-brick houses sat back from the road, their manicured lawns lolling before them. Benedict turned down a broad, tree-lined avenue and pulled into a drive. He climbed out of the car to close the gates behind them, unfastened Daniel and picked up Stella’s bag. Together, they scrunched up the gravel drive towards a detached house with bay windows set either side of a bottle-green front door.
‘Of course, it’s too big for just the two of us, but I can’t bear to part with it. We bought it when it was tumbledown, and Anna restored it…’
He didn’t have to say any more. Clearly, Mr and Mrs Redman had hoped to fill this lovely house with children: Daniel only the first of many. It must be bittersweet living in the house with its memories of Anna tinged always with sadness. When she crossed the threshold, Stella was conscious that she was entering a home made by another woman. Far from feeling strange or upsetting, she felt as if Anna’s spirit was welcoming her.
‘Hello there.’ Stella whispered, starting slightly as Benedict turned on hearing her voice. She shook her head as if to say she’d not said anything.
‘Come on upstairs, and I’ll show you to your room.’
Stella made to follow upstairs when a small figure squeezed past her.
‘Daddy, please let me show Stella to her room. I helped to get it ready,’ he added for her benefit.
The little boy led her to an airy room, which overlooked a back garden that was stocked with plenty of playthings. The room contained a dark wood bedstead, covered by an old-fashioned eiderdown. On the middle of the bed sat a battered yellow bear wearing a hand-knitted blue jumper.
She picked up the bear. ‘And who would this handsome chap be?’
Daniel blushed and held out his hands for the teddy.
‘He’s Tedward. He was Daddy’s bear when he was a little boy, and now he’s mine. My mummy knitted him this jumper to keep him warm because he has a baldy tummy.’ In case proof were needed, Daniel raised the bear’s jumper to reveal a threadbare torso. ‘I put him in your room so you wouldn’t be frightened in a strange room by yourself, but now Tedward looks a bit sad in here.’
‘That’s because he must be missing you. Tell you what, how about you take Tedward back to your room, and I’ll try to get along by myself? If it gets too much, I’ll come and borrow Tedward. ’
‘All right, then. But you won’t need him, will you?’ asked Daniel with a worried frown, clutching the bear to his chest.
Stella shook her head, trying to maintain a serious expression. ‘I’m going to be fine. Look, why don’t you sit on the bed and help me unpack?’
Stella opened her rucksack and started laying things out in neat piles. She carried the piles to the chest of drawers, deliberately leaving a tartan tin on the bed. Daniel was taking a close interest in it, but having been told off once already for asking for things, the boy was clearly holding his tongue. Seeing Daniel’s solemn face was more than she could bear, so she passed him the tin.
A wide grin spread slowly across his face. ‘Are these my biscuits?’
‘Indeed they are. Fetch them downstairs and we’ll ask your daddy if you can have one with a glass of milk.’
He slid off the bed, his arms full of Tedward and the biscuit tin.
‘Let me carry that tin until you make it downstairs.’
In the kitchen, Benedict had brewed a pot of tea and poured out a glass of milk. The three of them sat at the table while Stella opened the tin and offered the biscuits around. Daniel took one and studied it carefully, then dipped it into his milk before taking the biggest bite he could manage. Benedict took one and opened his mouth to take a bite, then paused to examine it more closely.
‘You actually made him biscuits with broccoli?’
‘It took a little while to figure out the recipe. The first time I put cooked broccoli into the mix, but it looked, smelled and tasted vile. So then I baked the biscuits and just before they cooled and set, I sprinkled them with buds of raw broccoli, and they’re not too bad, believe it or not.’
‘Eat up, Daddy. They’re delish!’
‘Delish, eh? Well in that case, I’d better eat this one before they’re all gone.’
Benedict made a big show of being afraid to take a bite and clutched his throat as if poisoned. However, seeing Stella and Daniel’s unimpressed faces, he finished eating without any further drama.
‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘Not bad at all. One way of getting my five-a-day.’
Stella smiled. ‘You’d have to eat an awful lot of biscuits, which would kind of defeat the object.’
‘A good point.’ Benedict leaned forward and put the lid on the tin before putting it in a cupboard.
‘We’ll keep some for another day. Now, it’s about time for someone’s bath, teeth and bed. What do you say, Daniel?’
‘All right, but will you read me a bedtime story, Stella? Me and Tedward?’
‘If it’s all right with your dad.’ She looked to him for assent and he nodded. ‘Just let me know when you’re ready.’
The sound of happy squeals and splashing put her in mind of her own childhood bath times, of being lifted out of the bath and wrapped in a towel that had been warmed on the radiator. Enveloped in this way, she used to feel happy and secure, as if nothing bad could possibly happen in a world where she was wrapped in a warm towel.
From above, she could hear Daniel protesting about getting out of the bath, but Benedict clearly won the battle as she soon heard footsteps moving along the landing. She’d washed up and was wiping down the table when Benedict appeared, his shirt drenched.
‘I thought Daniel was the one having the bath.’
‘Yes, although you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise. It’s always like landing a whale lifting him out. Well, he’s shiny-faced, fluffy-haired and in his pyjamas if the story-reading offer still stands.’
‘Absolutely. Any favourites?’
‘He’s very keen on Horrid Henry at the moment, and he learns some of his best pranks from him, so read it at your peril.’
‘Oh, I’m more than a match for Dastardly Daniel and Horrid Henry,’ she replied as she made her way upstairs.
Stella had to read twelve pages of Horrid Henry before being allowed to leave the bedroom. She tucked Daniel in, with Tedward by his side, and kissed him on the forehead. She was struck by how angelic he looked. Ruffled hair, round pink cheeks, plump red lips, and those dimples – she’d been right about the Libran ascendant. She sighed, feeling for his mother who’d never known her lovely little boy. She was still gazing at his sleeping form when Benedict came into the room and stood next to her. They remained there for a short time, watching him and listening to his even breathing.
After a few minutes, Benedict drew Stella out by her elbow and pulled the door half-closed before treading softly down the stairs. Stella followed into the kitchen, where he began rattling about in the cupboards and the fridge. She took a stool at the central island and twirled round on it to watch, slightly bemused, as he lined up flour, sugar, butter, eggs and lemons on the counter.
‘Are you baking a birthday cake by any chance?’
‘I’m going to give it the old college try. Daniel wants a spaceship cake and I promised to get him one. Of course, there was no such thing in any of the shops so I planned to bake the cake tonight and do the decoration tomorrow night.’
‘Do you need a hand?’
‘No thanks. Miranda has already offered – it seems that nobody has any faith in my baking abilities. Got myself a recipe here and some designs from the internet. I mean, how hard can it be?’
‘Not hard at all,’ she said. ‘But the offer of help stands if it all gets too much.’
Benedict propped up his tablet, then weighed and measured his ingredients, moving back and forth from the recipe to the scales. After a considerable amount of checking, adding and taking away from the bowl, he looked satisfied, although a little floury. Next, he picked up the ceramic bowl, ready to cream the butter and sugar together. He dug the wooden spoon into the block of butter, which, fresh from the fridge, scooted out of the bowl and shot across the floor. Without a word, Stella picked it up and put it in the bin.
‘You might try cutting the butter into small cubes next time. Assuming you’ve got some more.’
‘Good thinking. Don’t know why that didn’t occur to me. There’s more in the fridge.’
This time, he cubed the butter before adding it to the dish and started creaming again, more gently this time. After several minutes, all he had to show for his efforts were many mutilated cubes of butter, somewhat coated with sugar.
‘Is this part meant to be so difficult?’ he demanded.
‘Not usually, but if you insist on using brick-hard butter straight out of the fridge, then you’re bound to struggle. Here, let me help.’
Stella washed and dried her hands then plunged them into the mixture, rubbing the sugar into the butter with her fingers. Once the fat started to soften and her fingers started to get stuck, she pulled her hands out of the dish and pushed it back to Benedict with her elbow. While she washed her hands again, he started to cream the butter and sugar, with rather more success this time, and he looked quite delighted when the mixture turned to a grainy-looking cream. Encouraged by this small triumph, he picked up an egg and made to crack it on the side of the bowl and only Stella’s sharp intake of breath stopped him.
‘What now?’
‘Sorry, nothing. Don’t mind me. You just go right ahead.’
‘If I’m doing something wrong, then tell me.’
‘Well, if you just toss the eggs in, the mixture will curdle.’
He frowned at the eggs. ‘And that’s bad, is it?’
‘Yes. Look, mix them up in a cup first, then just add a few drops at a time, and mix them in thoroughly before you add the next lot.’
He trickled in some egg and whisked. ‘Like this?’
‘Yes, just like that.’
Eventually, all the eggs were blended in.
‘Lemon zest next?’
‘If you like.’
Benedict washed his lemons and grated the zest into the mixture. He put his hand on the bowl of flour and looked up for guidance.
‘You’ll need to sieve it first to get rid of the weevils.’
‘Weevils? But I bought this flour from the supermarket only a few days ago.’
‘I know,’ she laughed. ‘I’m kidding. You just need to get rid of any lumps and make sure it’s airy. So get sieving and then fold the flour in very gently so you don’t knock the air out of the mix.’
He followed these instructions and poured the batter into two cake tins before putting them into the oven. No sign of any greaseproof paper.
‘I’m impressed,’ she said.
‘Let’s see how it turns out before we start the congratulations, shall we?’
‘Fair enough, but short of a major burning incident, you should be fine. You do know not to open the oven door, I take it?’
‘Stella. I’m hurt that you underestimate my culinary expertise by even asking that question.’
He was smiling broadly and had a rather fetching smudge of cake mixture on one cheek. She couldn’t help herself and reached out to smear it off with her little finger before popping it into her mouth.
‘Mmm, I take it all back, there’s nothing wrong with this mix.’
He wasn’t laughing now, but was staring at her and Stella felt frozen, finger in mouth as he took hold of her shoulders with floury hands and pulled her towards him. Every hair on her body stood on end as a shiver ran through her. He pulled her close and leaned in, and Stella’s breath caught in her throat.
Suddenly, the door crashed open and a small boy with tousled hair appeared, clutching his teddy. ‘Daddy, me and Tedward’s scared. I had a nasty dream and now there’s a big monster in my wardrobe.’
Benedict moved away from Stella with a trace of regret in his eyes as he scooped up Daniel and Tedward.
‘Come on, let’s go and check out that cupboard. Stella, do you want to come and help us do the monster hunting?’
‘I’d love to, as long as it’s not too scary.’
‘It’s definitely not scary is it, Daniel? We have a special monster zapper, don’t we?’
Daniel managed a tiny nod. Benedict pointed at the vacuum cleaner in the corner and mouthed, ‘Would you mind?’
Puzzled, Stella picked up the vacuum and carried it upstairs. Once inside the monster-infested bedroom, she put the cleaner down on the floor and awaited further instructions.
‘Shall we let Stella get the monsters out of the wardrobe?’
Daniel, still clinging to his father, nodded.
‘Stella, if you’re not too scared, point the nozzle into the cupboard door and turn on the monster zapper. You’ll need to plug it in first, though.’
She adopted a slightly fearful but brave face, plugged in the hoover, turned it on and aimed the hose through the wardrobe door, sucking for all she was worth, wrestling, grunting and fighting with the monsters inside until she heard boyish laughter.
‘Well that was certainly a very big and very mean monster,’ she said. ‘He was so big that he must have eaten all your clothes.’
‘Goody, I hope he ate my uniform so I don’t have to go back to school and can stay at home all the time! ’
‘Well, son, you’ve no school for a few more weeks yet, so no need to worry. Come on, Dan Dan, it’s time to get back to sleep. What do you say?’
Daniel looked up, ready to appeal, but on seeing his father’s stern face, gave in gracefully. Snuggling up to Tedward, he blew a kiss to Stella, who blew one back. Amazingly, after all the drama, he was soon asleep again and they returned downstairs. Stella was the first to notice the burning smell, and she ran to the kitchen. As she opened the oven door, black smoke billowed out. She jumped back before she got a faceful andput on the oven gloves to extract the two cremated lumps. Benedict raced to the back door and opened it, wafting the smoke out with a tea towel.
‘If Daniel gets a whiff of this, we’ll have another nocturnal visit. How bad is it?’
‘Pure carbon, I’m afraid, and only fit for the bin.’
‘Typical luck and that was the last of the eggs. How am I going to bake another cake and decorate it in time now?’
‘I’ll buy more eggs in the morning and bake another cake before Daniel gets up, ready for you to decorate in the evening.’
‘Stella, I can’t ask you to do that – the shop’s over a mile away.’
‘I’ll be going for an early morning run anyway and may as well make myself useful.’ She suppressed a yawn. ‘Speaking of an early start, it’s way past my bedtime.’
‘You go on then. I’ll tidy the kitchen and lock up. See you in the morning.’
Stella wondered if she should kiss him goodnight, but the moment had passed, and he seemed hopelessly distracted by the burned cakes.
‘Goodnight, Benedict, see you in the morning.’
‘Sleep well, Stella.’
Once she was ready for bed, she slipped beneath the warm quilt and snuggled into the soft pillow. The room was warm but there was a cool breeze coming through the sash window, which was slightly open at the bottom and top. It was perhaps the first time in her life she’d seen a sash window that was actually operational and not painted shut or held open with a block of wood. Outside, the night was quiet and the only sounds came from inside the house as Benedict softly moved about turning off lights and locking doors.
As she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help thinking about the near-miss kiss earlier. That hadn’t felt platonic. What would have happened if Daniel hadn’t woken up? Maybe, just maybe, they were destined to be more than friends.