Read Online The Secret Cooking Club by Laurel Remington - Free Book Online Page A

Simpson’s.
    â€˜I’m going inside to feed the cat,’ I announce.
    Violet looks at me. She smiles.
    I unlock Mrs Simpson’s door and we go inside. Right away, I can tell that something’s wrong.
    â€˜Where’s the cat?’ I whisper. My skin prickles with goosebumps.
    â€˜Maybe it’s asleep?’
    â€˜But it’s always been here before.’
    Inside, there’s no sign of the cat, and other things are different too. Mrs Simpson’s pictures have been taken off the wall and stacked against each other, and a lot of her knick-knacks have been cleared away. There are a few open boxes with bubble wrap spilling out. Mrs Simpson is obviously in no state for spring cleaning, so it canonly be one person – Mr Kruffs. The idea that he’s been here gives me the shivers.
    Violet seems to have the same thought. ‘What if he’s still here?’ she says guardedly.
    We stand still, listening for sounds from upstairs or inside the kitchen. Everything is quiet.
    I square my shoulders. ‘We’re not doing anything wrong. We’re only here to feed the cat.’
    â€˜Maybe we should leave.’
    â€˜I’m staying,’ I say. ‘We may never get another chance to be here. You can go if you want to.’ I give her a sideways glance. ‘But I’d rather you didn’t.’
    Her violet eyes widen with shared understanding. ‘OK,’ she says. ‘What shall we make tonight?’
    The kitchen has avoided being ransacked, but only just. The cat’s bed and food dish are gone – at least whoever took it away is going to feed it. There are other things different too: dirty teacups in the sink, a list of ‘house clearance’ firms on the worktop, and the little book of recipes is off its wooden bookstand. I notice how tattered its binding is; how faded the cover. It’s covered with crumbs, like someone used it for a cutting board to make a sandwich on.
    I pick up the book and blow off the crumbs. I set it back on the bookstand and open it up at random. It falls open almost automatically to a recipe for ‘Georgie Porgie’s Banoffee Pie’.
    â€˜Banoffee Pie!’ Violet says. ‘That’s my favourite pudding in the whole world.’
    I lower my eyes. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever had it.’ I skim over the ingredients. Banana and toffee – not two things I would ever have thought of putting together – plus lots of cream.
    â€˜Are you serious?! Then we have to make it!’
    Violet’s excitement wins me over – that, and the fact that there’s a fruit bowl in the centre of the table that has a big bunch of fresh bananas in it. Some things are just meant to be, I guess.
    â€˜OK.’ I say, ‘Let’s do it.’
    The rest of the ingredients aren’t so neatly lined up this time. It’s like the magic kitchen elves have all fled from Mr Kruffs. We have to dig through the cupboards to find a packet of oaty biscuits, a can of condensed milk, and a half-used packet of brown sugar. In the very back of the fridge, we find the double cream and butter.
    When everything is assembled I read through the recipe again. ‘Look at him,’ Violet says over my shoulder, pointing to the cartoon-like picture of fat little Georgie Porgie. He’s chasing a flock of merry girls with his lips pursed in a kiss. ‘He’s gross.’ She makes a face. ‘I wouldn’t want him to kiss me. Unless he happened to grow up to be a boy like Nick Farr.’
    My insides judder. ‘Nick Farr?’
    â€˜He’s cute, isn’t he?’ She laughs.
    â€˜Yeah.’ There seems no point in lying.
    I turn on the hob ready to melt the butter. For some reason, I feel kind of nervous and on edge – it could be the hospital visit, or the intruder that was here. But if I’m honest, it’s probably Violet’s mention of Nick Farr.
    Violet squishes the