Page 61 of A Class Act

‘What about Dean? Washehappy that you were parenting Sorrel as well as doing everything else you do?’

‘Dean’s a pillock,’ Jess snapped tersely. ‘Always has been and always will be. And I’m glad to be finally shot of him. The barmaid’s welcome to him. But I’m keeping him in my life forLola’s sake – I don’t wanthergoing off the rails once she goes to high school next September.’

‘OK, I totally get that,’ I soothed. ‘And you’ve done a fantastic job with Sorrel – been a second mother to her and provided her with a secure home when Mum wasn’t always up to it. But at the end of the day, once she hit those awful teenage years, you really can’t blame yourself for what she’s been getting up to.’

‘I tried to do everything.’ Jess dashed away an angry tear. ‘It’s not been easy –youwere off having a ball andhe’ – she jabbed an angry finger in Jayden’s direction – ‘was off jamming and gigging and doing whatever else it is that he does…’

‘Earning a living, Jess,’ Jayden protested. ‘I can’t bring any money in by singing in Beddingfield village hall.’

‘Come on, Jess,’ I soothed. ‘You know Jayden’s always on the road, or recording in London.’

‘Enjoying himself while doing it though. Not really like hard work, is it?’

‘Actually, it’s bloody hard work, Jess. I get fed up with it at times.’

‘Sorry, Jayden, if you’re looking for sympathy, you’ll find it in the dictionary between shit and syphilis.’ She glared once more at Jayden. Blimey, she obviously really needed to vent all her frustration and anger at where life had taken her. ‘AndI’vehad to pick up all the pieces,’ she spat angrily, reaching for her wine glass and draining the contents. She turned, now looking daggers at the pair of us.

‘I know, I know, Jess, and I’m sorry I wasn’t here more to help,’ I said. ‘I should have been.’ I went to give her a hug but, after a brief response, she pushed me away with the usual self-deprecatory tutting.

‘Yes, well, I don’t blame you.’ Jess sniffed, trying to smile. ‘And, if I’m coming over as being bitter and jealous, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to – you know, don’t want to rain on your parade,as it were. You had your dream of the West End; no point in hanging round this backwater. Funnily enough, our waitress in Pizza Express in town, a couple of weeks ago, was an out-of-work actor. Lovely girl, bags of personality, but I wanted to tell her, especially as she now has a four-year-old at home, that her dreams of hitting it big in the West End, or even in Leeds or Manchester, were just about over.’

‘Oh, never burst someone’s bubble, Jess. And Iamsorry,’ I went on, meaning it. ‘It’s not been easy for you. But you wouldn’t be without Lola, would you?’

‘That’s a jolly silly question, Robyn. Of course, I wouldn’t be without her, but, had I not got pregnant at nineteen – and convinced myself I was in love with Dean – I’d have been off, studying food sciences. I was always really good at chemistry – did it at A level, if you remember – and was fascinated by the actual science behind creating food dishes. God, what I’d give to have a meal at Heston Blumenthal’s place.’

‘Heston Blumenthal? Goodness, really? And there was me about to—’ I broke off. Why tell Jess that Fabian had been somewhat cavalier about booking a table there and, worse, I’d not been overly interested or particularly excited at the prospect.

‘About to what?’ Jess stared.

‘About to offer you egg and chips over at Mum’s for tea one night,’ I lied.

‘You know, I’ve read everything about Blumenthal,’ Jess went on, obviously cheering up as she spoke of her chef hero. ‘Got all his books and tried out all his recipes. When I get fed up, when I can’t see anything beyond the day-to-day reality of my life, I get out his recipe books, try another one; adapt them, even.’ Jess gave a little self-conscious laugh and, when Jayden and I didn’t scoff, she continued. ‘Did you know he’s been described as aculinary alchemist? His recipes are created by identifying molecular similarities between different ingredientsand bringing them together. His white chocolate with caviar is to die for. I once saved up my housekeeping for weeks to buy some caviar.’ She laughed again, Jess’s indomitable spirit chasing away her bad temper, as it always did.

‘But you’re such a brilliant cook, Jess.’ Jayden, who up until then had said very little – I think he’d always been slightly frightened of Jess – patted her arm soothingly. ‘How about looking into starting your own business again? You know, outside catering? You were planning to do that at one point. I’ll try to help you financially as much as I can.’

‘Yes, I was talking about that, before Covid hit and scuppered everything.’ Jess shook her head. ‘Jayden, I don’t have the energy, let alone the money, to see to Mum, Lola and Sorrel as well as the shifts at the care home, to eventhinkabout starting up a new business. Anyway, folks round here can’t afford the luxury of outside catering any more. Have you seen the price of an avocado and truffle oil these days? As well as the cost of petrol to get to these rich people’s houses out in the sticks?’

‘There’s always someone with money who wants their dinner cooking,’ I enthused. ‘Promise me, once we’ve sorted Mum and Sorrel, you’ll look into it again? I’ll help you, too.’

‘You?’ Jess actually laughed, bending down to kiss my cheek. ‘You daft thing. With that knee? And what doyouknow about gourmet food? You’ve never even watchedMasterChef, have you? And, I bet, in your fridge in London, there was nothing more than a heel of mouldy Cheddar and a jar of Nutella…’

‘There was a jar of Hellmann’s,’ I started indignantly. ‘Put a dollop of mayo onto anything and you’ve a fabulous meal. It was anewbig jar as well. Tanya, at the flat, will have got well stuck into that by now,’ I added crossly.

‘Anyway, you’ve never been interested in food. Probably why you’re so skinny and why I look like I do.’ Jess patted her generous behind contemplatively. ‘You and Sorrel got Mum’sgenes. Who the hellIinherited this big backside from is anyone’s guess.’

‘Actually, I did start becoming more interested in food watching Fabian when he cooked. He was a superb cook.’

‘What? The Posh Bucks Buccaneering Barrister’ – Jess started to laugh, falling over the alliterative consonants – ‘could cook? I thought he’d have had his meals shipped in from Harrods on a daily basis? Or from some little chichi deli in Knightsbridge?’

‘No,’ I said, indignant on Fabian’s behalf. ‘Jess, you’re as prejudiced about people as Fabian liked to suggestIwas.’

But Jess, glancing at the kitchen clock, wasn’t listening. ‘Right, come on, food’ll be spoilt if we don’t eat. We can’t wait any longer hoping Sorrel will be back. Lola’s laying the table.’

‘You’ve laid the table beautifully, Lola.’ I smiled, admiring the artistic way my niece had arranged cutlery, dishes and even a bunch of late-blooming pink roses from Jess’s tiny garden on the crisp starched tablecloth. ‘Blimey, who starches tablecloths these days?’ I grinned, enjoying the feel of the stiff cotton fabric between my fingers.

‘I do’ – Jess sniffed – ‘and make no apologies for it. How you serve and present food is almost as important as the food itself. What’s the point of cooking with wonderful ingredients if the first thing you see is a plastic plate on a polyester tablecloth?’

‘Smells good anyway.’ I grinned. ‘Jesus, I tell you, after a day like today, I need a reward like this.’ I felt my face fall as I remembered. ‘I’m already dreading facing the hordes again tomorrow.’

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