‘I guess we’ll have to improvise,’ Elliot said, trying not to grimace.
‘Story of my life.’
* * *
A methodical, step-by-step, slightly improvised hour later we were sitting at the table eating pesto chicken with rainbow salad and sauteed potatoes, a forlorn mound of white chocolate and raspberry profiteroles chilling in the fridge.
‘Not bad,’ Elliot pronounced. ‘But you know what would make it perfect?’
‘Mango mayo from Charlie’s Chips!’ I grinned.
‘Precisely.’ He got up, opened a cupboard door and handed me a bottle.
‘What sweet heaven is this?’
‘They started selling bottles a few years ago. It’s the main reason I moved back to Houghton.’
As I squirted a giant dollop on the side of my plate, Penny got up and scampered out of the room. Knowing that this meant someone was about to come in the house, I automatically froze.
‘What do we do?’
Elliot ate another potato. ‘About what?’
‘About Isaac or Arthur—’
A hello to Penny from the hallway signalled that it was my brother.
‘—discovering that I’ve been practicing the meal,’ I gabbled, panicking. ‘He’ll know I’m bluffing.’
‘Hey.’ Elliot nodded to Isaac as he walked in.
Isaac collapsed into the chair next to mine, snatching a potato off my plate.
‘That’s boy not man behaviour!’ I scalded, slapping his hand a second too late.
‘Ooh, it’s good, though. Any leftovers for a man who’s just spent three hours explaining why we can’t switch wedding themes for the second time with three days’ notice?’
I pointed to where a few charred potatoes sat in a bowl on the side.
Isaac turned his nose up, opting to steal another one of mine.
‘Ew!’ He grimaced, as soon as he’d stuffed it in whole. ‘That’s mango mayo! You could have warned me. You two are the only people on the planet who can stomach that evil. Even Charlie Chips loathes it. Sales will double now you’re back in the village.’
He got up and opened the fridge. ‘What’s this? Profiteroles? Did you make this, sis?’
‘Um…’
Isaac turned to look at his best friend and sister, sat eating a meal together, a bottle of wine open on the table.
‘I was concerned that all three of us learning to cook together on Friday would be too much of an overload for me, so Jessie offered to do a one-on-one session this evening, while the house was quiet.’
‘A one-on-one?’ Isaac asked, still holding the fridge door open.
‘Yes.’ Elliot shrugged. ‘I didn’t do too badly, either. You can try the salad if you want, see what you think.’
‘So who are you cooking for when you do it solo?’ Isaac asked, with overexaggerated nonchalance. Sheesh. Everyone in this room knew each other far too well to pretend we didn’t know where Isaac’s imagination had skidded off to.
‘Your mum?’ Elliot said, picking up his empty plate and dumping it in the sink.
