She glared at him and then she put her hands on the table.
‘Then we will both cook, in tandem, and Marc will decide. He will be the blind-baking judge of Pudding Hall.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ scoffed Simon.
‘Is it? If you believe you are the better chef then prove it. Marc won’t know who cooked what and then we can just let it go and you can rest knowing you beat your ex-wife in the final round of our relationship.’
Simon stared at her. ‘Fine, bring it on. I look forward to proving my point to you and you finally seeing you would never even be here, cooking for a billionaire, if it wasn’t for me. I also look forward to your apology when Marc chooses my soufflé. And the sight of you waving goodbye when you leave Pudding Hall.’
‘You want me to leave if you win?’ she asked, incredulous at his nerve.
‘Yes.’ Simon sneered at her.
‘So you agree to leave if I win?’ she said.
‘Absolutely.’
‘Fine,’ she said. A warm feeling of satisfaction knowing he would soon be gone came over her body. ‘Bring it on.’
He stood up from the table and drained the wine that Adam had left in his glass.
‘I’m going to bed. Goodnight,’ he said and he left the kitchen with Avian scurrying after him.
Marc looked at Christa. ‘Why the hell did you rope me into judging this? I don’t even eat soufflé. I always choose the affogato.’
Christa felt her blood start to simmer down with Simon’s departure.
‘I needed someone more powerful than him. He’s easily impressed by money and success; your word would be final. He’s actually really chauvinistic.’
Marc scoffed. ‘You think so? He’s like something from the 1950s; it’s kind of bizarre to see such old-fashioned ideals.’
Christa sighed and leaned back in her chair. ‘He makes me so furious. I shouldn’t have taken the bait.’
‘I get it. They know us and they know where to place the cuts, because they know where the old wounds are.’
They were quiet as they sat in thought.
‘So, can you win?’ Marc finally asked.
Christa looked him in the eye and a knowing look crept over her face. ‘Absobloodylutely.’
25
The next day Simon charged Peggy with buying the ingredients for the soufflé bake-off, which would take place that evening.
‘Of course, he’s too lazy to go into town,’ said Christa as she finely chopped chives for the mushroom soup she was making for Avian.
‘This air in this house is so tense I could carve it up and serve it for lunch,’ said Peggy as she folded napkins and wiped down the table from breakfast.
Christa had not spoken to Marc as he seemed to be hiding in his office. Simon was also missing in action but not Avian who had announced she needed selenium and mushrooms would be the only remedy.
‘If Mr Ferrier chooses the other soufflé, then I will have to make my shepherd’s pie for their Christmas lunch,’ said Peggy.
Christa slammed her knife onto the bench and turned the cutting board around.
‘He will not win. Trust me on this. He never gets the egg white consistency right. He rushes it like he rushes everything. He’s half-arsed, lazy, selfish.’
She chopped furiously, thinking about all the times Simon put himself first.
