Recipe for Love (23 page)

‘And it’s gone a bit further than just fancying him.’

‘Ah.’ Jenny thought for a moment. ‘Tell you what, let’s tack up. You take Bert and I’ll borrow Buzz next door. Annabel won’t mind. I’ll just text her.’ Jenny pulled out her phone.

‘But I haven’t ridden for ages!’ Zoe protested, half excited and half nervous at the thought of being on a horse again.

‘There’s nothing to it!’ said Jenny, heading for the tack room. ‘It’s just like—’

‘No, it’s not like riding a bicycle!’ said Zoe. Didn’t they say that about sex too? God, her mind seemed to be on little else these days.

‘It is a bit,’ said Jenny, ‘and you’ll be fine. Bert will look after you. We’ll just go up in the woods where we can ride abreast and have a good old chat. I want all the gory details.’

They made their way through the woods to where they used to ride together when they were thirteen years old. Zoe found it was familiar being on Bert’s back.

‘I’d forgotten how lovely it is up here,’ she said to Jenny as they reached a clearing at the far end of the copse.

‘You should get up here more often. Annabel is always glad for Buzz to be ridden and you and Bert are a team.’

‘It’s the old enemy, time,’ said Zoe, her eyes raking the plants and bushes, remembering the happy times she and Jenny had spent. ‘Oh look, wild garlic,’ she said. ‘It’s late for that, isn’t it?’

Jenny shrugged. ‘I suppose it depends where it’s growing. I made some great pesto with it the other day.’

‘Oh? So you’re into cooking a bit more now?’

‘Only a bit. Now come up beside me and tell me what you’ve been up to. And don’t leave anything out!’

‘Well, I think it sounds lovely. Really romantic,’ said Jenny when Zoe had finished her story. It was a relief to talk about Gideon to someone, especially someone she trusted implicitly and knew her so well.

‘But it’s so wrong! He’s a judge! And he probably only wants me for a little fling because according to Sylvie he’s in love with some childhood sweetheart.’

‘He’ll be over that by now!’ Ever practical, Jenny was impatient with the thought of childhood sweethearts. ‘But he sounds nice. You know, not only after one thing.’

‘Does he? I’m glad you think so. When I’m with him I find it quite hard to work out if he is really nice or if I just fancy him so much I can’t think straight.’ She sighed. ‘But what I absolutely must not do is let him stop me focusing on the competition. I didn’t expect to last this long, Jenny, but now I have, I feel perhaps I can make it. There are some great cooks still in the competition. There’s a girl called Becca who’s brilliant, but sometimes her nerves let her down.’

‘But you manage to control yours?’

‘Mostly. It’s not always easy, but I can.’

‘Well, I’m impressed!’ She pulled Buzz round and said, ‘Fancy a gentle canter up this incline? I know Bert would love it.’

‘OK, but you heard the gentle part, didn’t you, Bertie, darling?’

‘He did. You’ll be fine!’

*

When Zoe finally got back to her parents’ house after her ride she felt much more at ease with herself and the situation. She’d known it would help talking to Jenny. Her friend hadn’t thought she’d done a terrible thing, just reassured her that you couldn’t help whom you fell in love with but that it was important to concentrate on the competition. Like Fenella she’d said that if Gideon really liked Zoe, he’d wait.

Zoe was now more determined than ever that she would focus on her cooking. She also resolved not to allow herself to have any private contact with Gideon until the competition was over – or at least over for her. She knew she could do it. She had strong will power when she wanted it. In fact, she told herself, she wouldn’t give him a moment’s further thought.

She went to sleep dreaming of him.

AS THE REMAINING
contestants gathered in the marquee waiting for the judges Zoe noted that everyone looked better than they had done the last time they’d seen each other. Then they’d been hollow-eyed, greasy-haired, verging on the hysterical. Now they’d all had a rest and had probably been cooking in their own homes, reassuring themselves that they really could do it, and they did have enough left in them to continue the competition. They had arrived back at Somerby during the day and now, before they were bussed off to the pub for supper, they were going to be told their fate: the challenge for the next day.

But there were only five of them. A quick look round told Zoe Alan wasn’t there. She hoped he hadn’t left because he was ill or had a family emergency. She liked Alan. In fact she liked everyone – apart from Cher.

It was ironic, thought Zoe, that the closer they became as a group of people (excluding Cher, of course) the more direct the competition felt between them.

‘It’s like being gladiators,’ she muttered to Becca, who happened to be next to her. ‘We’re all a team but we have to fight against each other.’

‘What?’ said Becca, who obviously hadn’t seen the relevant films.

‘Never mind. I’m nervous, I’m rambling. Here are the judges.’

Except that Gideon was missing. In spite of all her resolutions, the plans she had declared to herself as well as to Jenny and Bert for keeping him out of her mind at all times vanished. All she could think of was why he wasn’t there.

‘Gideon is still in New York,’ said Anna Fortune, looking straight at Zoe and making her feel extremely anxious. Did she know anything or – worse – was she a mind-reader? Were they about to be exposed, and on cameras? Thank heavens this wasn’t live.

‘And Alan has been offered a part in a soap, starting immediately, which is why he’s not here. It’s very good news for him.’ Somehow she managed to imply he wasn’t going to be getting good news about his cooking skills, so he might as well join a fictional community in the North-East. Everyone murmured and smiled.

‘Now Fred is going to tell you about the next task.’

‘Well, chefs,’ said Fred, smiling and friendly as usual, ‘this is going to be a real challenge to some of you. It’s to make just one course …’

‘Easy!’ said Cher from behind Zoe.

‘… from what you find on a foraging trip that you’ll take under the watchful and informative eye of Thorn here.’

He indicated a dark, bearded man, who could have been an extra in a Narnia film. Thorn was wearing a selection of clothing that seemed grown on or half sloughed off: leather, tweed and various unidentifiable fabrics that could have been rescued from a recycling bin.

‘Good evening. I’m an experienced forager, I live mainly on what I find for free and have done for years.’

Zoe thought, unkindly, that he possibly hadn’t come across much soap in his foragings, or even the plants that were purported to serve the same function.

‘Tomorrow morning, bright and early, we’ll meet up here and I’ll take you for a walk in the woods that I’m confident will change your cooking lives for ever.’

There was no denying the fanatical glint in his eye as he said this. The mutterings behind Zoe became louder and more obscene.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t do weeds or fungi: they kill people,’ said Cher.

‘Then you’ll be out,’ said Bill. ‘Don’t be such an idiot.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll be checking everything you find. You won’t be allowed to eat anything harmful,’ said Thorn.

As Thorn and Cher contemplated each other Zoe thought they hardly seemed from the same planet. Thorn was like a faun, wild, almost animal. Cher, glossy and pale, looked even more mannequin-like than usual beside him.

‘And you’ll be glad to hear that there’ll be a good selection of ingredients you can add to your wild food,’ said Fred. ‘Thorn here wouldn’t have permitted adding things you hadn’t gathered, but we persuaded him. And we do have to eat what you cook.’ He smiled to indicate he’d made a joke and everyone laughed politely.

When everything had been explained, several times, with the cameras and without, they were dismissed and wandered over to the minibus. ‘Shame for you Gideon’s not here,’ said Cher to Zoe. ‘How will you manage without your pet judge?’

Zoe said nothing. Muriel, who always managed to put Cher in her place, was no longer there to stand up for her. But Cher’s casual jibe made her think. Had he in fact fought for her specially? Was she good enough to get through the next round without him there?

‘You’ll be able to have the cowshed to yourself though,’ Cher went on. ‘I got Mike to put me in a room at the pub. A bit more what I’m used to.’

Cher’s slightly sneering tone managed to imply the cowshed still sheltered cows and hadn’t been turned into luxury accommodation.

‘That’s fine. I like to be on hand myself,’ said Zoe.

‘So you can go sneaking up to the house whenever you want to.’

‘That’s right!’ said Zoe, hoping Cher wouldn’t see her blush. Why on earth had she thought absence might have made her heart fonder towards Cher? If anything she disliked her even more.

‘Well, you do seem very keen to help out.’

‘I like Fen and Rupert,’ said Zoe, trying not to sound defensive. ‘And what’s wrong with being useful?’

‘The fact that you need to ask that means you’re just not a winner. Haven’t got the right personality. But hey!’ She flicked her hand in a way that showed off her French manicure to best effect. ‘There’s only room for one at the top and that place has a great big reserved label on it – with my name underneath.’

Zoe shook her head and smiled, hoping she looked pitying of Cher’s uber-confidence. Part of her admired Cher for her self-centred ambition. And another part feared she was right – maybe she, Zoe, wasn’t a winner. The thought stiffened her resolve. She’d bloody well make herself one!

After a warm welcome back from Fenella and Rupert, Zoe had enjoyed a blissful Cher-free night in the cowshed. It was just a shame she’d had to get up so early. She shifted from one foot to the other and scrunched her toes inside her wellies. She was cold and although the scenery was beautiful, five o’clock was just too early to enjoy anything. Everyone felt the same, she could tell by the way they were hugging their arms and muttering. At least Zoe
hadn’t
been to the pub with the others the night before.

The rain didn’t help. It wasn’t torrential and they’d been warned to wear boots and waterproofs, but it made the unearthly hour seem as if it was still night-time. It
was
still night to most sensible people.

They’d been driven in four-wheel-drive vehicles to a wood and then made to get out. Cher moaned the loudest but for once Zoe had to agree with her. She had more sense than to agree out loud, though.

But Thorn, who seemed to be even more made of moss and bark than he had done yesterday, was convinced it was the zenith of the day and mere wetness couldn’t dampen his enthusiasm. ‘Don’t worry about the rain, people. The sun will come out in a moment.’ His soft voice and ancient-hippy demeanour seemed to give him magic powers because at that moment the sun did come out. There was just time for a rainbow to form before the rain stopped.

‘Oh wow! That was so amazing!’ said Cher, doing a movement with her hands more suited to a fifties musical than a foraging expedition.

The others agreed and Zoe’s spirits lifted a little. When the alarm on her phone had beeped her awake she’d been ready to resign from the competition, having concluded that never seeing Gideon again was by far the best option. With the sun turning raindrops into tiny diamonds and the prospect of learning new skills she decided to give it her best.

‘Now, we’re going to have a walk through the woods together,’ said Thorn, ‘and then you’re going to go off and gather things for your meals. I’ll check everything first to make sure no one’s going to poison themselves.’

It was a revelation. Zoe knew that there were lots of edible things apart from blackberries but Thorn seemed to pick anything and everything. He wasn’t a cook but
he
knew what things tasted like and soon everyone was chewing on bits of leaf – except Cher who seemed to find the idea of eating random bits of greenery weird and faintly disgusting.

‘OK, folks. Go forth and forage,’ said Thorn at last.

Zoe walked as fast as she could in the opposite direction to the others. She didn’t want to get stuck with Cher saying ‘eewu’ and ‘yuck’ all the time. Once out of earshot of the others she paused for a few seconds, to worry that she might not find them again before starting to look for food. She began to enjoy herself. It was strangely absorbing and she was reminded of sloe-picking with her father.