Cooking Hellwas one of those shows that featured a different set of participants each week, with only the winner of each set going through to the next round. Each episode began with the same lines.
“So we’ve met the contestants,” Fin said.
“The knives are out,” Claudia said.
“Let’s start creating a stir,” Jack said.
The end of each episode had a little ritual, too.
“So which contestant will be our winner?” Fin said.
“And who will be eating humble pie?” Claudia said.
“The person going through to the next round is…” Jack said.
Despite its cheesiness, the programme clearly had a winning formula and like the rest of the nation, I found myself hooked from the very first episode through to the last.
23
Isat, perched, on the edge of my seat full of anticipation. Having partaken in aCooking Hellviewing marathon, I’d invested hours of time and energy in getting to that moment and I was eager to find out who the ultimate victor would be.
Taking in the final three contestants, I appreciated their nervousness. Round after round they had fought hard for their places in the final, conjuring up dishes, under the most extreme of circumstances and using some pretty weird and wonderful ingredients. Every plate had been worthy of attention in even the finest of restaurants. As they stood there, all holding hands as they waited for the winner to be announced, I had my fingers crossed for Daniel, a seriously talented home cook from Portsmouth.
My excitement began to build as I watched Fin prepare to speak. Never mind the competitors, the expectation was killing me.
“Time to find out who will be crownedCooking Hell’sking or queen,” Fin said.
I let out a wistful sigh. Boy, was that man sexy.
Suddenly startled, I heard the front door open and close. Looking in the direction of the hall and then at the telly, I couldn’t believe Fin chose that precise moment to land home. Talk about not-so-perfect timing, I was going to miss the winning reveal and shooting forward, I muttered expletives as I grabbed the TV remote and switched off the TV. As the screen went black, it seemed I’d been so engrossed in my viewing I hadn’t realised the room had fallen into darkness. Taking advantage of the lack of light, I threw myself into a prone position, closed my eyes, and pretended to be having a nap.
“Are you asleep?” Fin asked, surprised, flipping the light on as he entered the room.
I screwed my eyes up as they struggled to acclimatise to the brightness. “What time is it?” I asked, my apparent awakening worthy of an Oscar.
Fin checked his watch. “Five o’clock.”
“I may have been resting my eyes a little,” I said. Fin laughed as I rose to my feet. Immediately needing to stretch out my back,Cooking Hellhad obviously made me more tense than I’d realised. “Did you have a good day?”
“Productive. My work meeting went well.”
“Anything interesting you’d like to share?” I said, hoping he’d finally open-up about his standing. Having, at last, seen his show for myself, I had tonnes of questions.
He looked at me as if he wanted to say something, but then seemed to change his mind. “Not really,” he said instead, much to my disappointment. “Oh, and I called at Annie’s on the way back.”
I smiled as I recalled my friend’s excitement at the prospect of becoming a grandmother. “How is she?”
“Clucking and fussing over her daughter like any mother hen.”
I laughed, knowing that would suit Emma down to the ground. “That’s a bit of a turnaround,” I said. “Only days ago Annie was complaining about Emma not doing enough.”
“Ah, but that was before she learned her daughter was carrying precious cargo,” Fin replied. “Cup of tea?”
As he left the room, I paused to consider his words. He seemed to have a knack of saying the nicest of things. I knew if my friend hadn’t told me, I’d never have guessed Fin was famous. Despite his Hollywood and UK connections, he didn’t show off or name-drop or expect everyone to run around after him as if he was entitled. From what I saw, he didn’t seem to have ado you know who I ambone in his body. I had no clue about the fortune, but Fin certainly had the fame, as well as the personality and good looks to go with it. I sighed, also picturing the calm, commanding and respected professional I’d just seen on TV.No one’s that perfect, surely?I had to ask, before joining him in the kitchen.
“You’ll never guess what I saw on my way back from Annie’s,” he said, as I sat at the table.
Taking in his sudden excitement, I guessed whatever it was had to be good.
