Read Online 7 A Tasteful Crime by Cecilia Peartree - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cecilia Peartree
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sound.
‘It’s Christopher’s office!’ said Amaryllis.
Deirdre and Oscar were sitting behind the desk , with a backdrop that made the office at the Cultural Centre look like a busy studio, talking to each other about the things they said they could see happening, which began to appear on another screen. After a while the other screen expanded to fill the whole picture and Jemima was seen, serenely chopping up courgettes with all the appearance of somebody who was confident that courgettes were a viable cake ingredient.
‘I’m glad I don’t have to do the tasting,’ said Charlie.
‘It’ll be all right – Jemima can make cake out of anything,’ said Amaryllis. She noticed Eric had now appeared, interviewing Jemima as she chopped. It would be more fun if Eric got in the way and had his hand chopped off or something, but that would never happen in Jemima’s kitchen of course.
‘Is this a private party, or can anybody join in?’
Jan from the wool-shop had just come in to the bar. Normally Amaryllis would have claimed that it was indeed a private party – just her, Charlie and the dog, in fact – but even with her slightly sub-standard powers of empathy she could tell there was something wrong. Perhaps it was the red rims round Jan’s eyes or the choke in her voice...
‘Coffee all right for you?’ said Charlie Smith, bringing out another cup.
Amaryllis felt a bit irritated with Jan. She hadn’t felt quite comfortable with the woman ever since she had found out about Jan’s infatuation with Neil Macrae. Even before that she had sensed that she and Jan might as well have been from different planets. Me from the Planet Zog, she reflected, and Jan from boring old Earth. No, that was unfair. Jan had been very helpful when Amaryllis had attempted to learn to knit a couple of years before. It wasn’t her fault that Amaryllis had taken to knitting like a cat to water.
‘Thanks,’ said Jan. She glanced at the television. ‘My goodness, is that Jemima’s kitchen?’
‘They’ve only just started.’
‘I was asked to leave Tricia’s house,’ said Jan. ‘One of these television people told me they didn’t want anybody who looked as miserable as me to appear in the live show.’
‘ The cheek of it!’ said Charlie Smith. ‘Those media people think they own the place.’
The camera zoomed in on Jemima’s frown as she chopped. She was probably getting annoyed with Eric’s prattling, thought Amaryllis.
‘... so, as I used to get the audience to say when I was in panto, look out, he’s behind you!’ said Eric. He paused, apparently waiting for audience reaction, as the camera panned round to show Dave lifting a baking tin down from the cupboard and placing it on the table.
‘It’s sad to see Eric McLaughlin coming down so much in the world,’ said Jan. ‘We always used to go over to the Royal Albert to see the panto. He seemed to play Buttons every year - even when they weren’t doing Cinderella. It was a wee bit strange. But of course, that was years ago. I suppose if I’d thought about him since then I would have assumed he was dead.’
Blimey, thought Amaryllis, she really is a ray of sunshine. No wonder they didn’t want to feature her in the show, even by accident.
She said out loud, ‘ I suppose some people might say he hasn’t really come down in the world, though. TV star and everything.’
Charlie shot her a surprised look. She realised it wasn’t the kind of thing she would usually say. What was it about Jan that made her so uncomfortable?
Jemima peeled some potatoes and grated them with the courgettes.
‘This is looking like a recipe for vegetable soup,’ commented Eric, staring at it with disfavour. ‘Are you sure it’s going to turn into a cake?’
‘I’ve still to add the oranges. And the treacle. And a wee bit of sugar,’ said Jemima, lifting a massive bag of granulated sugar from the table and holding it up to the camera.’
‘Any chance of a wee dip
‘It’s Christopher’s office!’ said Amaryllis.
Deirdre and Oscar were sitting behind the desk , with a backdrop that made the office at the Cultural Centre look like a busy studio, talking to each other about the things they said they could see happening, which began to appear on another screen. After a while the other screen expanded to fill the whole picture and Jemima was seen, serenely chopping up courgettes with all the appearance of somebody who was confident that courgettes were a viable cake ingredient.
‘I’m glad I don’t have to do the tasting,’ said Charlie.
‘It’ll be all right – Jemima can make cake out of anything,’ said Amaryllis. She noticed Eric had now appeared, interviewing Jemima as she chopped. It would be more fun if Eric got in the way and had his hand chopped off or something, but that would never happen in Jemima’s kitchen of course.
‘Is this a private party, or can anybody join in?’
Jan from the wool-shop had just come in to the bar. Normally Amaryllis would have claimed that it was indeed a private party – just her, Charlie and the dog, in fact – but even with her slightly sub-standard powers of empathy she could tell there was something wrong. Perhaps it was the red rims round Jan’s eyes or the choke in her voice...
‘Coffee all right for you?’ said Charlie Smith, bringing out another cup.
Amaryllis felt a bit irritated with Jan. She hadn’t felt quite comfortable with the woman ever since she had found out about Jan’s infatuation with Neil Macrae. Even before that she had sensed that she and Jan might as well have been from different planets. Me from the Planet Zog, she reflected, and Jan from boring old Earth. No, that was unfair. Jan had been very helpful when Amaryllis had attempted to learn to knit a couple of years before. It wasn’t her fault that Amaryllis had taken to knitting like a cat to water.
‘Thanks,’ said Jan. She glanced at the television. ‘My goodness, is that Jemima’s kitchen?’
‘They’ve only just started.’
‘I was asked to leave Tricia’s house,’ said Jan. ‘One of these television people told me they didn’t want anybody who looked as miserable as me to appear in the live show.’
‘ The cheek of it!’ said Charlie Smith. ‘Those media people think they own the place.’
The camera zoomed in on Jemima’s frown as she chopped. She was probably getting annoyed with Eric’s prattling, thought Amaryllis.
‘... so, as I used to get the audience to say when I was in panto, look out, he’s behind you!’ said Eric. He paused, apparently waiting for audience reaction, as the camera panned round to show Dave lifting a baking tin down from the cupboard and placing it on the table.
‘It’s sad to see Eric McLaughlin coming down so much in the world,’ said Jan. ‘We always used to go over to the Royal Albert to see the panto. He seemed to play Buttons every year - even when they weren’t doing Cinderella. It was a wee bit strange. But of course, that was years ago. I suppose if I’d thought about him since then I would have assumed he was dead.’
Blimey, thought Amaryllis, she really is a ray of sunshine. No wonder they didn’t want to feature her in the show, even by accident.
She said out loud, ‘ I suppose some people might say he hasn’t really come down in the world, though. TV star and everything.’
Charlie shot her a surprised look. She realised it wasn’t the kind of thing she would usually say. What was it about Jan that made her so uncomfortable?
Jemima peeled some potatoes and grated them with the courgettes.
‘This is looking like a recipe for vegetable soup,’ commented Eric, staring at it with disfavour. ‘Are you sure it’s going to turn into a cake?’
‘I’ve still to add the oranges. And the treacle. And a wee bit of sugar,’ said Jemima, lifting a massive bag of granulated sugar from the table and holding it up to the camera.’
‘Any chance of a wee dip
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