bowl and the ubiquitous wooden spoon. The violent crushing motion seemed to please her.
‘I’m imagining that this is Jennifer … and this bit is that appalling Troy-the-Bank … and this, oh joy, is the adenoidal Tyler,’ she said happily. ‘It worked a treat with the pomegranate. I pretended the pomegranate was Tarnia Snepps’s head.’
Doll laughed. ‘You and Tarnia are going to cross swords over the village hall, you know that, don’t you? She won’t be happy at all about you organising activities without her calling the shots.’
‘I’ll deal with that when it arises. Right now I’ve got other things to think about …’ Mitzi’s tongue just protruded as she concentrated on adding the right amount of powdered ginseng to the bowl. She gave it all a rather haphazard beating then stopped and peered at it. ‘Do you think it needs an egg?’
‘I think it needs a decent burial,’ Doll said dubiously, watching as her mother crossed the kitchen, removed some speckled ready-rolled pastry from the fridge and slopped it into a shallow dish before spooning the various concoctions into it, slapping the pastry lid on the top and hacking away at the ragged edges. ‘Why is the pastry spotty? And if you’re only just making the pie, what’s in the oven?’
‘The pastry isn’t spotty .’ Mitzi opened the oven and gave a little shriek as a red-hot blast shot out into the kitchen. ‘It’s textured – with chopped endive. Granny Westward’s book says that endive is helpful in matters of the heart. Not clear on whether she meant circulation or love actually … and this—’ she tugged a bubbling dish from the cooker ‘—is a bit of an extra just in case anyone wants seconds.’
‘Er – right.’ Doll stood up. ‘As it looks like a battle zone out here, I guess we’re eating in the living room, so I’ll just go and set the table then, shall I?’
With the table laid with rainbow plates, blue-handled cutlery, three odd champagne flutes, four purple candles in pink holders, red paper napkins left over from last Christmas, and a centrepiece of the orange and yellowchrysanthemums remaining from Mitzi’s leaving bouquet, Doll thought it set the room off a treat.
Putting a Mott the Hoople CD on the player and leaving Abba for afters, she turned off all but one of the table lamps, and with the candle glow and the fire’s flickering flames, the living room looked wonderfully cosy. If only the bungalow could be half so welcoming.
‘Right,’ Mitzi bustled in carrying a steaming vegetable dish, ‘Lulu’s just come in, and everything’s ready – so I’m prepared for the moment of truth. No, you sit down love – I’ll bring the rest in.’
As Doll sat, Mitzi and Lu passed in the doorway. Richard and Judy shot into the room between them and settled down for a happy reciprocal grooming session in front of the fire.
‘Wow.’ Lu looked around with pleasure as she plonked herself opposite Doll, shaking her beads and braids away from her face. ‘This all looks gorgeous. And it’s so lovely and warm. I’ve just come back from Niall’s bloody freezing loft and it looked so stark and harsh after being back at home for a while.’
‘Just what I was thinking about the bungalow,’ Doll reached for one of the many bottles on the table and scrutinised the label. ‘Oh hell, it’s one of Clyde’s. Well – are you ready for this?’
Lu grinned, helping herself to a hefty glass of parsnip and raspberry. ‘More or less. We’ll have to eat it anyway so as not to hurt her feelings, and at least the veg smells okay.’
‘And so does the rest of it,’ Mitzi backed into the room carrying a loaded tray, ‘even if I say so myself. I’m really proud of the way this has turned out.’
‘So you should be …’
Doll and Lu surveyed the pie with ill-disguised astonishment. It appeared perfectly normal – and smelled wonderful. Still, Doll thought, the proof of the pudding and all that.
Mitzi, her hair
‘I’m imagining that this is Jennifer … and this bit is that appalling Troy-the-Bank … and this, oh joy, is the adenoidal Tyler,’ she said happily. ‘It worked a treat with the pomegranate. I pretended the pomegranate was Tarnia Snepps’s head.’
Doll laughed. ‘You and Tarnia are going to cross swords over the village hall, you know that, don’t you? She won’t be happy at all about you organising activities without her calling the shots.’
‘I’ll deal with that when it arises. Right now I’ve got other things to think about …’ Mitzi’s tongue just protruded as she concentrated on adding the right amount of powdered ginseng to the bowl. She gave it all a rather haphazard beating then stopped and peered at it. ‘Do you think it needs an egg?’
‘I think it needs a decent burial,’ Doll said dubiously, watching as her mother crossed the kitchen, removed some speckled ready-rolled pastry from the fridge and slopped it into a shallow dish before spooning the various concoctions into it, slapping the pastry lid on the top and hacking away at the ragged edges. ‘Why is the pastry spotty? And if you’re only just making the pie, what’s in the oven?’
‘The pastry isn’t spotty .’ Mitzi opened the oven and gave a little shriek as a red-hot blast shot out into the kitchen. ‘It’s textured – with chopped endive. Granny Westward’s book says that endive is helpful in matters of the heart. Not clear on whether she meant circulation or love actually … and this—’ she tugged a bubbling dish from the cooker ‘—is a bit of an extra just in case anyone wants seconds.’
‘Er – right.’ Doll stood up. ‘As it looks like a battle zone out here, I guess we’re eating in the living room, so I’ll just go and set the table then, shall I?’
With the table laid with rainbow plates, blue-handled cutlery, three odd champagne flutes, four purple candles in pink holders, red paper napkins left over from last Christmas, and a centrepiece of the orange and yellowchrysanthemums remaining from Mitzi’s leaving bouquet, Doll thought it set the room off a treat.
Putting a Mott the Hoople CD on the player and leaving Abba for afters, she turned off all but one of the table lamps, and with the candle glow and the fire’s flickering flames, the living room looked wonderfully cosy. If only the bungalow could be half so welcoming.
‘Right,’ Mitzi bustled in carrying a steaming vegetable dish, ‘Lulu’s just come in, and everything’s ready – so I’m prepared for the moment of truth. No, you sit down love – I’ll bring the rest in.’
As Doll sat, Mitzi and Lu passed in the doorway. Richard and Judy shot into the room between them and settled down for a happy reciprocal grooming session in front of the fire.
‘Wow.’ Lu looked around with pleasure as she plonked herself opposite Doll, shaking her beads and braids away from her face. ‘This all looks gorgeous. And it’s so lovely and warm. I’ve just come back from Niall’s bloody freezing loft and it looked so stark and harsh after being back at home for a while.’
‘Just what I was thinking about the bungalow,’ Doll reached for one of the many bottles on the table and scrutinised the label. ‘Oh hell, it’s one of Clyde’s. Well – are you ready for this?’
Lu grinned, helping herself to a hefty glass of parsnip and raspberry. ‘More or less. We’ll have to eat it anyway so as not to hurt her feelings, and at least the veg smells okay.’
‘And so does the rest of it,’ Mitzi backed into the room carrying a loaded tray, ‘even if I say so myself. I’m really proud of the way this has turned out.’
‘So you should be …’
Doll and Lu surveyed the pie with ill-disguised astonishment. It appeared perfectly normal – and smelled wonderful. Still, Doll thought, the proof of the pudding and all that.
Mitzi, her hair
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