Page 47 of Tis the Season
While my eyes began to water, Richard’s widened, as if waiting for us to hazard a guess at what his secret ingredients were. ‘I’ll make it easy for you. You’re only looking for four.’
Erin and I made a show sniffing the air. With nothing discernible coming through, we were in danger of being there all night.
‘It’s best if you keep things like that to yourself,’ I said.
Richard appeared crestfallen.
‘Otherwise, people will steal your ideas.’
‘No, they won’t,’ Erin muttered under her breath.
‘I take your point.’ Richard cocked his head. ‘We seem to be a guest short. No Gideon tonight?’
‘He’s been delayed,’ Erin replied. She gave me a furtive look. ‘Something came up at work.’ Like me, she was clearly envious of that fact.
Richard scoffed. ‘What? Again?’
‘Busy time of year,’ I said, toeing Gideon’s party line.
Richard raised his wooden spoon. ‘No problem. I’m happy to save him a plate.’
I envisaged Gideon sat at his laptop, rubbing his eyes thanks to its glaring screen and a mountain of complicated paperwork. He probably hadn’t eaten since lunch and, knowing him, that would’ve consisted of a soggy plastic-wrapped sandwich and a bag of crisps. As I wondered if I should forewarn him and suggest he pick something up before landing, a picture of Julia, with her big brown eyes and cascading raven waves also popped into my head. ‘Please do.’ I gave Richard the most honest smile I’d given him since arriving. ‘And make it a big one.’
As Richard turned back to the kitchen, Erin shook her head at my naughtiness.
‘Gideon needs to realise there’s more to life than work,’ Richard called out as he disappeared.
I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. ‘It’s not that long ago you were just as bad.’
Richard popped his head back through the doorway. ‘And don’t I know it.’
Erin and I headed to the lounge in search of Joyce.
‘At last! First I thought you weren’t coming, then you stand chatting in the hallway.’ Joyce eyed our bags. ‘Can’t you see I’m wasting away?’ She waved her hands down the front of her fuller figure. ‘And look at my cheekbones.’ She thrust her face forward. ‘I’m skeletal.’
‘I’m surprised you’re still alive,’ Erin said. ‘I know you told us Richard’s cooking was bad. But whatever’s on that stove it most certainly isn’t spaghetti bolognaise.’ She paused. ‘He did check his sell-by dates, didn’t he? Because when it goes off, beef can be rancid.’
‘I’m sorry, but I did my best.’ Joyce put a hand up. ‘I tried to intervene but as is now customary, he wouldn’t let me anywhere near the cooker. Anyway, enough of that. Please tell me you brought food?’
Erin indicated her stash and without warning, Joyce made a grab for it. She pulled out the opened box of mince pies. ‘Thank goodness.’ She clutched the festive treats to her chest. ‘Richard hasn’t left the house all day so I’m famished.’ Eager to sample its wares, Joyce shoved her hand inside the cardboard. Training her eyes on me and Erin, she froze, and her smile vanished. ‘How could you?’ Her fingers wiggled inside the packaging and, producing one solitary mince pie, she double-checked the inside of the box. She returned her attention back to us. ‘Do you want me to die from starvation?’
I indicated my bag for life. ‘Don’t worry. There’s more in here.’
‘You’d think he’d learned his lesson after the foraging,’ Joyce said. ‘And realise that he’s no Alain Ducasse. But he’s getting worse. If another new kitchen gadget enters this house, I won’t be responsible for what happens.’ She released a drawn-out sigh. ‘Maybe that’s the answer. Maybe I have no choicebutto take action.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
Joyce stuffed the single mince pie into her mouth whole. Investigating the other foodstuffs on offer, she suddenly thrust the bag behind her back. As Richard appeared in the doorway, her cheeks bulged. She immediately stopped chewing and attempted a smile.
‘Dinner is served,’ Richard said.
While her husband led the way to the dining room, Joyce nudged Erin and me forward.
‘I’m not sure I can do this,’ Erin said.
‘Me neither,’ I said.
‘Follow my lead,’ Joyce said, frantically trying to swallow. ‘And you’ll be okay.’
