The Cotswolds Cookery Club: A Taste of Spain - Book 2. Alice Ross

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СКАЧАТЬ know about intriguing, but it’s great fun. I set it up a few months ago and it’s really taken off. It’s even become a bit competitive. In a nice way.’

      Trish laughed, the girl’s bubbling enthusiasm making her wish she had something in her life to be so passionate about. ‘I love cooking but I only have my teenage daughter to try stuff out on now,’ she said. ‘Not the most enthusiastic of audiences.’

      The girl chuckled. ‘I can imagine. My only experience of teenagers is with the paper boys and girls. Which is interesting to say the least.’

      ‘You’re lucky. Living with one is like walking on eggshells – the free-range variety, of course, otherwise I’d suffer a never-ending lecture on the miserable plight of battery hens. Before I run her down too much, though, my daughter is actually the reason I’m here. She’s interested in taking up one of your paper rounds and I have a couple of questions I wondered if you’d mind answering, before I agree to it.’

      ‘Of course. I’m Connie, by the way. I’m shop-sitting for a few months while the owner is away.’

      ‘Trish Ford,’ said Trish, accepting the girl’s proffered hand. ‘And I know I’m going to sound completely neurotic, but I suppose I’m just getting used to her growing up.’

      Connie laughed. ‘Look, why don’t I make us a nice cup of tea and we can talk over any concerns you have.’

      Trish grinned, instantly feeling less neurotic and more like a normal human being. ‘That,’ she said, ‘sounds like a wonderful idea.’

      Ten minutes later, a mug of tea in hand, Connie had patiently explained all the details of the paper round.

      ‘It sounds fine,’ said Trish. ‘And I know I’m being pathetic conjuring up a million and one things that might happen to Amber, but it honestly doesn’t seem two minutes since she was a babe in arms, and now she wants a tattoo on her arm.’

      Connie giggled. ‘I don’t have kids myself but I’m sure I’d be the same. I can’t guarantee the absence of any child-snatching psychopaths at six in the morning, but as far as I’m aware, Eleanor – the owner of the shop – has never had any dramas. And she’s been here for eons.’

      ‘In that case, I give Amber’s idea my full approval,’ said Trish. ‘Although I can’t guarantee how long she’ll stick it. I have an awful feeling that, when the cold, dark mornings kick in, the lure of the duvet might just win out.’

      ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure she won’t be the only one. I’m fully expecting a mass exodus come October. But that’s my problem, not yours.’

      Trish smiled. ‘Thanks so much for giving her a chance. I had no idea she was even considering it.’

      ‘That’s because anything resembling communication with parents when you’re a teenager is so not cool. She seems like a really nice kid, though.’

      ‘She has her moments,’ puffed Trish, trying to recall any in the last few months and failing dismally. ‘But I’m hoping this job might teach her a bit of self-discipline. And show her that money doesn’t grow on trees.’

      ‘You never know. Does she share your love of cooking?’

      Trish shook her head. ‘Not any more. We used to spend many an afternoon baking together when she was younger. But now all she does is whinge about how many calories are in everything. Which is why your cookery club sounds so appealing. It must be lovely to cook for someone who appreciates your efforts. Even when my husband and I were together, he was never overly enthusiastic about anything I served up. Which might, now I come to think of it, have been a reflection on what I served up.’

      Connie gave a snort of laughter. ‘I’m sure that’s not the case. But listen, if you really would like to cook for an appreciative audience, why don’t you come along to the cookery club? The next meeting is tomorrow night – which I know is short notice. But as we’ve all been allocated our dishes, you wouldn’t need to bring anything other than yourself.’

      Trish gawped, the invitation completely knocking her for six. The only other invite she’d received that year had been to a smear test. It was hugely flattering to be asked but she couldn’t possibly join the club. For one thing, she wouldn’t know anyone. And for another, she wasn’t sure her cooking would be up to the required standard.

      ‘I’m hosting it at my friend Anna’s house,’ Connie went on, obviously sensing her reticence. ‘It’s a small group – just me, Kate the village vet, and Melody, who’s now pregnant. Eleanor – the owner of the newsagent’s – was also a member, but she’s moved to Spain. We’ve been talking about looking for someone to replace her for a while now, and I think you’d fit in beautifully.’

      Trish’s already widened eyes widened a shade further. The way she currently felt about herself, she couldn’t imagine fitting into a made-to-measure dress.

      ‘You could come along and see what you think. And if you decide it’s not for you, you need never see any of us ever again.’

      Trish was on the verge of saying thanks, but no thanks, when it struck her that the club sounded perfect. A small group of – if Connie was any indication – friendly, welcoming women, all sharing a love of food. Why shouldn’t she join them? Or at least try it? It wasn’t like she had a million other social engagements to work around. Indeed, other than putting out the bins on a Tuesday night, all her diary contained was blank pages.

      ‘Hey, sexy.’

      Trish started as a hunky guy strode into the shop. He was about to embrace Connie when the object of his desires gave a meaningful cough. ‘Max, this is Trish. Trish, this is my boyfriend, Max.’

      The man turned sparkling hazel eyes to Trish. ‘Woops. Sorry. Didn’t see you there.’

      Trish laughed. ‘No need to apologise. I was just going. And yes, Connie,’ she said, with a sudden surge of assertiveness, ‘I’d love to come along tomorrow, if you’re sure that’s okay.’

      ‘It’s more than okay. It’s brilliant.’ Connie turned to Max. ‘I’ve persuaded Trish to give the cookery club a go. I think she’ll fit in perfectly.’

      ‘I have no doubt she will,’ agreed Max. Then, winking at Trish, ‘Although between you and me, it’s a bit sexist. I think it needs a couple of men in there to liven things up.’

      Connie shook her head in mock despair. ‘Take no notice, Trish. Men would only cause a stack more washing-up. By the way, I should tell you that we’re working our way around world cuisine – we’ve exhausted Italy and have now moved on to Spain. France is next but we’ve banned frogs’ legs in any shape or form. We’ll be meeting at seven o’clock tomorrow evening at Primrose Cottage, just along the road. Look forward to seeing you then.’

      Trish said her goodbyes and left the shop with a fizzle of something unfamiliar in her stomach. Something she subsequently recognised as excitement. A sudden urge to phone Ian and tell him about the cookery club overtook her. Followed by the crushing realisation that she couldn’t. Because he was no longer her Significant Other. He was Chloe’s. Were the two of them as in love as Connie and Max obviously were, she wondered? Did they share the same playful banter and loving looks, just as she and Ian had when they’d first teamed up? It seemed a million light years ago, firmly lodged in the past. A past there was absolutely no point dwelling on. She had the future СКАЧАТЬ