‘No, I’m fine, thank you. I’m just tired and stressed out and feeling like a failure. There are plenty of reasons why a grown woman can’t cook properly. All this reminds me that my reasons are because my life has been mostly a complete shambles. Because Iallowedit to become a shambles. No. That’s not true, either. Because I actively made it that way… Oh, for goodness’ sake, I’m not going to start crying and I’m definitely not feeling sorry for myself. So, no, I will not be needing any more kitchen roll!’
‘Um…’ Elliot blinked a few times, still holding it out. ‘You’ve got some cream…’
Contrary to my last statement, I burst into tears. Elliot stepped closer and tentatively started patting at my hair and the smears on my collar and shoulder. As my volume increased, he gave up, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me up against his chest. This manoeuvre only made me howl even harder. How pathetic could I be? Standing here, in the kitchen of the man whose life I helped derail, blubbering with self-pity?
‘What we need is a plan,’ he said, as I fought to get a grip on myself. ‘Breaking it down into straightforward, sequential steps makes everything easier to tackle.’
‘I think that’s called a recipe.’ I sniffed, stepping back, my head ducked to hide my mortification at the whole situation.
‘Okay. But we need a recipe that goes beyond the food. Step one, wash up the used pots so we have clean equipment. Um… step two, tidy up the remaining mess and wipe down the countertops so we have a clean, clear space to work.’
‘You honestly don’t have to help. It’s my mess. I’ll clean it up and get out of your way.’
‘Then what about Friday? How are you going to teach your clients to cook a meal if you’ve not figured it out yourself?’ Elliot leaned up against the fridge, folding his arms. It was such a familiar pose my heart did a tiny stutter.
‘I could hand them the recipes, sit at the table with a gin and tonic and bark instructions, swearing and shouting insults if they get it wrong?’
‘Or, we could figure it out together, now.’
‘If you help then do I forfeit the rent discount?’
Elliot shook his head, his expression a mix of frustration and amusement. ‘If we succeed today, will I be able to prepare a three-course meal that I couldn’t make before?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Then you’ll have successfully completed task one.’
‘You really don’t mind helping me?’
‘I would significantly prefer that to walking away and leaving my kitchen like this.’
‘Okay.’ I offered a hesitant smile. The more time I spent with Elliot, the more naturally we slipped back into the friendship we’d once had. Beneath the shadow of my horrible secret, Elliot and I had once been one of each other’s favourite people. It felt increasingly impossible to maintain the distance required for self-preservation.
But that was a problem for another day. Right now I had a kitchen to rescue and a three-course meal to master and for that I needed all the help I could get.
‘Can I suggest a slight amendment to step one?’
‘Of course.’ He gave a serious nod.
‘Maybe the pots aren’t the only thing needing a wash?’
Elliot looked down at his football kit, eyes widening with horror. ‘I gave you a hug while covered in sweat. You probably want a shower too now.’
‘It’s fine. The hug was worth it.’
‘I didn’t overstep? I usually stay far enough back to avoid any possibility of crossing any lines. But, I don’t know, with you…’
‘If you’d have overstepped, believe me I’d have told you. I’ll get started on the washing up.’
‘Right. You wash, I’ll dry?’
I grabbed a sticky note from the pad on the counter and wrote:
SHOWER IMMEDIATELY
Help Jessie
I then stuck it on his forehead.
