Page 6 of A Brambleberry Manor Christmas
‘Er, yes. Nice to meet you, too.’ I quickly stuffedeverything under one arm so I could shake her hand, and a single chicken nuggetescaped from its bag, bounced down and came to a stop by Marjery’s left foot.
We all stared down at it.
Then Marjery looked me straight in the eye and said in arather chilly tone, ‘Well, Jenny, I look forward to sampling your…fine dining.Fen assures me it’s first class.’
‘Er, yes. Thank you,’ I muttered, my face on fire. ‘I’m reallylooking forward to cooking for you.’Was it my imagination or did she putquotation marks around the words, ‘fine dining’?
She started walking away. ‘Come on, Fen. We’d better get tothe florist’s or she’ll be closed.’
‘I’ll be there in a minute,’ Fen called.
‘All right. See you in there. Goodbye, Jenny.Bon appétit!’
This time, there was no mistaking the irony in Marjery’s tone,and I wanted to shout, ‘It’s for my teenage step-daughter, not me! I don’tusually eat this sort of stuff!’ But she probably wouldn’t have believed me.And anyway, it would have been a lie. I’d been known to enjoy a burger andchips from this fine establishment myself on many an occasion…
Fen grinned. ‘Don’t be put off by Mum’s rather stern manner.She’s got a good heart underneath it all.’
I smiled. ‘Of course. And I’m so grateful to you for puttingmy name forward. I promise I’ll do my best to justify your faith in me.’
‘I know you will, Jenny. Just do what you always do andit’ll be brilliant! Honestly, Mum’s her own worst enemy at times. She expectseveryone else to be as focused on achieving perfection as she is, with theenergy to match.’ She shot me a rueful look. ‘Being her daughter, I’ve had alifetime of falling short in her eyes. She’s always telling me I allow myshyness to stop me “achieving my potential”. But I know she loves me anyway.’
I took all this on board, and tried to banish my nerves. Butsince Harvey had his fatal heart attack, my confidence – which wasn’t exactlyoverflowing in the first place – had taken a real dive. And it wasn’t helped bythe fact that my relationship with Tavie – once a delight – seemed to haveturned into a constant battleground…
*****
Standing at the front door of the manor with my dessert, Istraighten up at the sound of footsteps in the hall. The front door opens andMarjery herself appears.
‘Jenny. Come in, come in.’
She ushers me into the hallway and I’m painfully aware ofher eyes flicking over my filthy knees and grubby skirt.
‘I’m so sorry to arrive looking like this,’ I begin,flustered. ‘I heard screams coming from the zip wire and I thought someone wasin trouble and I managed to…well, fall over…twice…’ I trail off as shedismisses my apologies with a wave of her hand.
‘No matter. As long as you’re all right?’
‘Er, yes. I am. Thank you.’
‘Good.’ She clips off in the direction of the kitchen. ‘It’syour food I’m interested in,’ she calls back. ‘Although obviously you’ll needto look smart for serving.’
‘Of course.’ I hurry after her, having to break into alittle run with my meringue roulade in order to catch her up. Fen did say hermum had the energy and determination of a woman half her age – and she wasn’twrong!
‘Now, the kitchen is yours,’ she says, handing me a key,after I’ve stored the dessert in one of the fridges. ‘You can come and go asyou need to, even if there’s no-one in. The menus we agreed are excellent. Ilike the idea of you giving us a little taste of food from around the globeeach evening; it’ll be nice to discover what other countries enjoy eating whenthey’re celebrating the festive season. But if we could just tweak one thing?’
‘Yes, of course.’Perhaps she thinks the Mexican chillicould be too hot for everyone’s tastes? Or maybe she’d prefer beef instead oflamb on the second night?
She smiles. ‘Jam roly-poly.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘My son, Richard, loves a jam roly-poly. So if we could justswitch out one of the desserts to include it, that would be fabulous. I mustadmit to being a fan of it myself, having been practically reared on it when Iwas small. Along with tripe and onions, of course.’ She sighs with happynostalgia. Then she peers at me. ‘You are familiar with the great institutionthat is the jam roly-poly pudding?’
I smile brightly. ‘Yes. Yes, of course.’
Can’t stand the nasty, doughy things. But I’ll make thebest one Marjery has ever eaten!
‘Good. Right, well, I’ll leave you to get on, Jenny. A fewof our guests are already here – Richard’s old university buddies.’
‘Yes. Melanie, Noah and Fergus were at the zip wire?’
