Recipe for Love (18 page)

Zoe inspected the powder-blue machine that was giving Fenella such aesthetic pleasure. ‘Actually, have you got a hand mixer?’ Zoe asked. ‘I think it would work better than that. I’ll use the KitchenAid for the icing,’ she added, by way of compensation.

Fenella and Sarah laid out seventy-five cupcake cases. ‘Thank goodness you’ve got this huge table,’ said Sarah. ‘I’d never be able to do this at home.’

Fenella shook her head. ‘But you wouldn’t be doing it at home, would you? You’d get a caterer.’

‘Or Bron,’ said Sarah, referring to a mutual friend. ‘I’d have got her to do the wedding cake in the first place only the bride wanted her favoured cake-maker.’ Sarah
was
obviously still furious about it. ‘So,’ she went on. ‘Is there any chance we can get the colours that were going in the original cake?’

‘Which are?’ Zoe felt a film of sweat form as this cupcake idea just got harder.

‘Deep crimson, the colour of dark red roses, and a sort of very pale yellow. I do have samples of fabric.’ Sarah’s expression was encouraging, as if this would definitely be helpful.

‘I have dried rose petals exactly the right shade,’ added Fenella. ‘And, if it helps, it just so happens that we have a rose out with petals exactly the right yellow. I don’t know why yellow roses always seem to be the first to come out, but they are.’

‘If you’re doing the wedding-veil thing we could use them to help decorate the cakes,’ said Sarah.

‘Will the cakes be white?’ asked Zoe. ‘Or cream-coloured?’

Sarah cleared her throat. ‘The kitchen shop was pretty good. It had colouring. Is there any chance you could do coloured icing?’ She produced the colours as if giving a present she wasn’t certain of.

Zoe inspected the pots, read the tops and nodded. ‘I could do red cakes, like roses, pale yellow, ditto and’ – she paused – ‘two-tone cakes. Well, the icing is two-tone.’

‘Wow!’ said Fenella. ‘How do you do that?’

‘Easier than it sounds. I’ll show you if you’re around when I’m doing them.’

Sarah came round the table and hugged her. ‘You’re a star! I don’t know what we’d do without you!’

Zoe accepted the hug. ‘All part of the service.’

About twenty minutes later she said, ‘Now, I think I’m about ready to fill the cases.’

‘OK, as you fill them we’ll put them on trays and put them in the oven,’ said Fenella. ‘Are you sure you don’t
want
to use the Aga? It’s the perfect temperature to do cakes at the moment.’

Zoe was torn. The woman she’d learnt about cupcakes from said that range cookers were a nightmare for cupcakes. But it would be much quicker if they could use all the oven space available.

Zoe looked at Sarah hoping for a decision. ‘You could try a trayful,’ Sarah said, possibly reading panic and indecision in Zoe’s eyes. ‘It would speed up the process and it will be OK if you keep an eye on them.’

‘Yes, but don’t open the oven door within the first ten minutes or they’ll sink for sure.’

‘We’ll set the timer,’ said Fenella. ‘I make cakes in the Aga all the time. I’ll keep a close eye.’

‘All right,’ said Zoe. ‘But it’ll be your fault if it all goes wrong! If the cakes are cooked too hot they turn into volcanoes. Then we’d have to cut the tops off and it would take ages.’ She peered at the thermometer and relaxed a little. It wasn’t too hot.

‘That’s OK,’ said Sarah, using tones well practised on the anxieties of brides’ mothers and sometimes bridegrooms. ‘We’ll keep an eye. It’ll all be fine.’

At last all the cakes were in the oven and Zoe dashed back to her canapés at her station in the cooking tent. As she passed the other competitors and saw what further beautiful creations they had produced while she’d been baking she felt she’d never survive the round. She just hadn’t had the time.

Adrenalin made her work fast but she kept looking at her watch. Although Sarah and Fenella were both in the kitchen with timers and her number on their phones so they could ring the minute the cakes were cooked, she was still worried about a batch getting burnt and her having to make them all over again.

She got the call just as she was trying to think up a last canapé, aware she’d wandered off the list she’d originally given but trusting that not having the ingredients would be sufficient excuse. Abandoning some toasted ciabatta and slices of camembert, she galloped over to the house and checked that all the cakes were golden brown.

‘They look amazing!’ said Sarah firmly. ‘Just check in case you don’t believe me and then go back to your day job. You can’t ice these until they’re cool.’

‘OK,’ said Zoe, slightly out of breath. ‘I’ll make the icing after the judging.’

The contestants had had to prepare as far as they could, given that many of the canapés would have to be cooked just before serving. They’d been told that a sample of everything had to be ready so the judges could taste it all but they wouldn’t make their final decision until the following day, just before everything was ready to serve.

They walked along the line, tasting, exclaiming, making noises of appreciation. Zoe was horribly aware how rushed and rustic her offerings looked.

There was a silence as they arrived at her station.

‘She’s just made seventy-five cupcakes for the wedding cake,’ said Sarah after a panicked moment. ‘She’s rescued the whole wedding.’

‘We can’t judge her differently from the others because she’s used her time to do different things,’ said Anna Fortune.

‘Try a cupcake,’ said Sarah. ‘Obviously it’s not iced. We’ll be doing that tomorrow.’

‘And is Zoe doing that?’ Anna asked, addressing Sarah, not Zoe.

‘Yes. We’re hoping some of the others will help.’ Sarah spoke with a confidence she might not have entirely felt.

‘But why should they jeopardise their chances in the competition to help ice cakes?’

Gideon, who had been standing back, stepped forward. ‘The challenge is about a wedding. Surely the cake is a major part of it. I think the cupcakes should be taken into consideration.’

Zoe looked away. She was finding it hard being around him in public and was terrified she might reveal her feelings for him. And him sticking up for her now made her feel that even he thought her canapés were hopeless.

‘I say,’ put in Fred, with his mouthful. ‘These are delicious!’

‘What are?’ Anna and Gideon regarded the plates with sudden interest.

Fred finished his canapé and pointed. It was to the ciabatta with melted camembert. Zoe had drizzled honey over them and added ground-up hazelnuts. They had been a last-minute, desperate attempt to come up with something to make up her required number of items. If the sample had worked, she’d make them just before the service tomorrow.

Gideon and Anna both took one. They nodded and Gideon widened his eyes, indicating his approval.

‘Well,’ said Anna eventually, ‘the final judging isn’t until just before the wedding tomorrow and those are very delicious and unusual. Maybe we don’t need to throw Zoe out just yet.’ She gave a smile that convinced no one but did at least mean that Zoe was off the hook for now. She let out a very long breath.

ZOE HAD HER
phone on vibrate and had set her alarm for half past five. She wanted to be in the Somerby kitchen by six to make the butter cream and start icing. She had given up hope of getting any of the others to help her. Far better to do it herself and know it was done than to trust her fellow competitors.

She also wanted to avoid Cher as much as possible. She had been worrying at Zoe like a dog after a flea the night before, trying to get details of what had been going on when Zoe had been out of sight of everyone else. For the most part she’d been dashing to and from her cooking station in the marquee and the Somerby kitchen being all things to all men, but she had snatched a quiet moment in the secluded walled garden where Gideon had happened to chance upon her and snatch another kiss. It had felt wonderfully decadent but foolhardy. Luckily none of the windows faced on to it. When Fenella told Zoe how important it was that she should be careful, she had been preaching to the converted. She must not jeopardise her chances in the competition for a man – any man – but particularly not one like Gideon. He might be sexy, he might even be kind – in fact he definitely was both those things – but was he ever going to settle down with a girl like her? She didn’t even want to settle down! She had a competition and a career to think about it. So she must not let her wayward hormones (which was
probably
all it was really) get in the way of this amazing chance.

So however much she yearned to sneak over to Somerby for another night of passion she stayed in her own narrow single bed. The thought of what had gone on the night before had distracted her from Cher’s gentle but persistent snoring from the other side of the room and then the anxieties of the day had waned and she’d fallen into a deep sleep. The fact that she might catch a glimpse of him at breakfast had absolutely nothing to do with the spring in her step as she ran over to the house in the morning. If only Gideon hadn’t made her feel as if she’d had a whiff of some wonderful gas that made her heart fizz and sing and her feet feel they couldn’t just walk they had to dance.

Somerby was bathed in a lovely early-morning light as she crossed the courtyard. It looked wonderfully romantic, but then everything had a romantic glow at that moment. She greeted the dogs and let them out and then went to the scullery where all the cakes were laid out, covered in muslin cloths. She lifted a cloth, dreading to see them too brown, or risen in the middle. But no, they had all risen evenly and wouldn’t have to be trimmed off or baked again. Fenella and Sarah must have watched over them with stopwatches in their hands.

The butter had been left in the kitchen overnight so it wasn’t too hard and Fenella’s KitchenAid was soon whirring away, creaming the sugar and butter together. Zoe added several drops of vanilla essence.

Sarah had not been able to provide disposable piping bags, which was a shame but, undaunted, Zoe carried on.

Firstly she prepared the cream-coloured icing, which needed only a tiny touch of yellow, just to deepen the natural creaminess of the icing. Then she made up the dark red icing, which was more or less the same colour
as
the dark red rose petals. Finally, she made a large sausage of cream-coloured icing and a much slimmer one of dark red and laid them next to each other on clingfilm. This would make the cream coloured with a crimson blush that she felt would produce the very prettiest cupcakes of them all.

She was just inserting a clingfilm sausage into a piping bag when Rupert, rubbing his eyes and looking bleary, appeared in the kitchen, his feet bare, wearing pull-on pyjama bottoms and a Bart Simpson T-shirt.

He looked across at what Zoe was doing, faintly horrified. ‘Isn’t it a bit early for that sort of thing?’

‘Morning!’ sang Zoe cheerily, partly to be annoying. She was slightly disappointed that it wasn’t Gideon but then thankful. She couldn’t afford to be distracted.

‘Did you sleep here again? Is your middle name Cinderella? Have you had tea? Coffee?’

‘No, no, and yes,’ said Zoe, laughing. ‘I wanted to get started early. If I can get the cakes iced they can be decorated later. Maybe some of the others will help.’ Cher was more likely to help sprinkle on spangles than she was to do anything harder. ‘Do you know when Sarah is likely to turn up?

‘Soon, I’m sure. She’s staying a little way away with a friend of Hugo’s. She would have stayed here only we’re in such chaos.’ He put the kettle on and rubbed the back of his head. ‘Fen isn’t feeling too brilliant.’

‘Oh?’

‘Bit of backache. I’m trying to convince her that she doesn’t need to hurl herself out of bed. I’m hoping a cup of tea and some ginger biscuits will help.’

Zoe sipped her tea and then went back to her icing as Rupert headed back upstairs. For a moment she wondered if she had time to slip upstairs herself with
a
cup of tea for Gideon before doggedly returning to the task in hand.

Her next interruption came just as she finished. It was Sarah. She came in through the back door, laden with carriers. ‘Oh wow!’ she said when she saw the cupcakes all iced in rows on the table. Zoe had even added touches of edible glitter and spangles. ‘Oh wow!’ she said again. ‘Now all we have to do is get them to the marquee. I’ve got the tulle. When do you have to carry on with your canapés?’