Chapter 24
S ettledown was small and compact, so it didn’t take Erin and me long to reach the edge of town where Joyce lived. Talking to Erin might not have solved my problems, but it had lifted my mood and as we turned one last corner to walk down Joyce’s street, I felt a lot more relaxed.
‘I’ve always liked these properties,’ I said, admiring the row of immaculate cottages.
‘In all my time in real estate,’ Erin said. ‘I don’t remember seeing any of these advertised on the open market. It’s all word of mouth. As soon as there’s a whiff of one coming up for sale, it’s snapped up. That’s how sought-after they are.’
Each with their own long front garden, every house embodied the Christmas spirit.
Some were festooned in brightly lit decorations that had to render them visible from space.
Blow up Santas, acrylic snowmen and numerous red-nosed Rudolphs contrasted with more aesthetically stylish giant-antlered reindeer in woven rattan.
Holly wreaths were pinned to almost all their doors and bauble-clad trees sat in windows.
Joyce’s cottage, with its solar lanterns, festive hanging baskets and boxwood globes fitted in perfectly.
‘I wonder what delights are on tonight’s menu,’ Erin said, as we reached Joyce’s garden gate.
After what we’d heard, I dreaded to think. ‘I guess we’re about to find out.’
We made our way to the cottage door and knocked.
‘Come on in,’ Richard called out.
Not knowing what to expect, Erin and I looked to each other in anticipation. We took a moment to prepare ourselves and nodding to signal our readiness, made our entrance.
‘Jesus.’ Erin immediately gripped the door frame.
We should have known no amount of mental priming could prepare us. The attack on our nostrils was instant.
I grimaced at the smell. Perhaps Gideon had had the right idea in working late, and I felt tempted to ring him and ask if he needed an assistant.
As Erin and I took off our hats and coats to hang on the bottom of the banister, Richard appeared in the hall from the kitchen. Failing to notice our discomfort, he had a tea towel slung over his shoulder and a wooden spoon in his hand. ‘Good timing,’ he said. ‘Dinner’s almost ready.’
Struggling to ignore the unfortunate aroma, Erin and I forced ourselves to smile.
I tried to hold my breath and speak at the same time. ‘Can’t wait,’ I said, my voice croaking. ‘It’s good to see you looking so well after your foraging mishap.’
‘Don’t worry. There are no horse chestnuts on tonight’s menu.’ Richard puffed out his chest. ‘We’re on spaghetti bolognaise.’
Appreciating the clarification, my nose tried and failed to uncover any hint of garlic and basil. ‘Yummy,’ I replied.
Richard delighted in what wasn’t really a compliment and seeing his sheer joy, I understood why Joyce hadn’t the heart to be honest with him.
‘I wouldn’t call it any old spaghetti bolognaise, mind,’ Richard continued.
‘Me neither,’ Erin said.
‘Gordon Ramsey and Delia Smith have nothing on me.’
I heard myself wince. This from a man with no training, no experience, and no palate.
‘You got that right,’ Erin said.
‘The trick is to introduce an array of secret ingredients. Not just one or two.’
While my eyes began to water, Richard’s widened, as if waiting for us to hazard a guess at what his secret ingredients were. ‘I’ll make it easy for you. You’re only looking for four.’
Erin and I made a show sniffing the air. With nothing discernible coming through, we were in danger of being there all night.
‘It’s best if you keep things like that to yourself,’ I said.
Richard appeared crestfallen.
‘Otherwise, people will steal your ideas.’
‘No, they won’t,’ Erin muttered under her breath.
‘I take your point.’ Richard cocked his head. ‘We seem to be a guest short. No Gideon tonight?’
‘He’s been delayed,’ Erin replied. She gave me a furtive look. ‘Something came up at work.’ Like me, she was clearly envious of that fact.
Richard scoffed. ‘What? Again?’
‘Busy time of year,’ I said, toeing Gideon’s party line.
Richard raised his wooden spoon. ‘No problem. I’m happy to save him a plate.’
I envisaged Gideon sat at his laptop, rubbing his eyes thanks to its glaring screen and a mountain of complicated paperwork.
He probably hadn’t eaten since lunch and, knowing him, that would’ve consisted of a soggy plastic-wrapped sandwich and a bag of crisps.
As I wondered if I should forewarn him and suggest he pick something up before landing, a picture of Julia, with her big brown eyes and cascading raven waves also popped into my head.
‘Please do.’ I gave Richard the most honest smile I’d given him since arriving. ‘And make it a big one.’
As Richard turned back to the kitchen, Erin shook her head at my naughtiness.
‘Gideon needs to realise there’s more to life than work,’ Richard called out as he disappeared.
I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. ‘It’s not that long ago you were just as bad.’
Richard popped his head back through the doorway. ‘And don’t I know it.’
Erin and I headed to the lounge in search of Joyce.
‘At last! First I thought you weren’t coming, then you stand chatting in the hallway.’ Joyce eyed our bags. ‘Can’t you see I’m wasting away?’ She waved her hands down the front of her fuller figure. ‘And look at my cheekbones.’ She thrust her face forward. ‘I’m skeletal.’
‘I’m surprised you’re still alive,’ Erin said. ‘I know you told us Richard’s cooking was bad. But whatever’s on that stove it most certainly isn’t spaghetti bolognaise.’ She paused. ‘He did check his sell-by dates, didn’t he? Because when it goes off, beef can be rancid.’
‘I’m sorry, but I did my best.’ Joyce put a hand up. ‘I tried to intervene but as is now customary, he wouldn’t let me anywhere near the cooker. Anyway, enough of that. Please tell me you brought food?’
Erin indicated her stash and without warning, Joyce made a grab for it.
She pulled out the opened box of mince pies.
‘Thank goodness.’ She clutched the festive treats to her chest. ‘Richard hasn’t left the house all day so I’m famished.
’ Eager to sample its wares, Joyce shoved her hand inside the cardboard.
Training her eyes on me and Erin, she froze, and her smile vanished.
‘How could you?’ Her fingers wiggled inside the packaging and, producing one solitary mince pie, she double-checked the inside of the box.
She returned her attention back to us. ‘Do you want me to die from starvation?’
I indicated my bag for life. ‘Don’t worry. There’s more in here.’
‘You’d think he’d learned his lesson after the foraging,’ Joyce said.
‘And realise that he’s no Alain Ducasse.
But he’s getting worse. If another new kitchen gadget enters this house, I won’t be responsible for what happens.
’ She released a drawn-out sigh. ‘Maybe that’s the answer.
Maybe I have no choice but to take action. ’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
Joyce stuffed the single mince pie into her mouth whole. Investigating the other foodstuffs on offer, she suddenly thrust the bag behind her back. As Richard appeared in the doorway, her cheeks bulged. She immediately stopped chewing and attempted a smile.
‘Dinner is served,’ Richard said.
While her husband led the way to the dining room, Joyce nudged Erin and me forward.
‘I’m not sure I can do this,’ Erin said.
‘Me neither,’ I said.
‘Follow my lead,’ Joyce said, frantically trying to swallow. ‘And you’ll be okay.’
Sharing a look, Erin and I both doubted that.
Joyce finally rid her mouth of food. ‘Trust me. I’m an expert.’