The Secret Cooking Club (18 page)

THE BAKE-A-THON

One month later . . .

15 November: 5 p.m.

I can't believe that The Secret Cooking Club Online has been up and running for a whole month already! Thanks so much to my 451 friends and followers – you are amazing – please keep writing in and sending photos of the lovely things you are making. And don't forget – when you leave free samples in your school canteen, leave a note with our web address.

Now for a few bits of news:

First, the countdown to the online bake-a-thon has begun. Only seven days to go! Click below to sign up
and enter.

Second, I'm happy to announce that my mum – yes, you heard that right – is helping us in our push for 1000 followers. She's going to link my blog to hers and publicize us on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram. She thinks that together we can raise loads of money to help Mrs Simpson, and raise awareness so that other elderly people can get the care they need.

Third, we helped our newest member make the most AMAZING rainbow layer cake for his mum. She couldn't BELIEVE he could bake something that good. So go on, everybody, have a go – you might enjoy it!

I can't believe how much better things have got between Mum and me. I finally told her about The Secret Cooking Club, and also that I accidentally started a fire at our neighbour's house. She was surprised – to say the least – especially about the website. Things got a little tense again, but we got through it. And now it's almost like we're partners – and that seems to suit both of us down to the ground.

And you know what's surprised me most? It's that Mum can actually cook! For my birthday she made me a two-tiered cake with purple icing, strawberries and jelly babies on top – and it tasted really delicious. She and Rosemary sometimes spend hours in the kitchen, making real, healthy, home-cooked meals for me and my sister and my friends. And my friends and I do the same for her. We're finally learning how to respect each other.
And it feels good – really good. Maybe now that I'm thirteen, I'm finally growing up.

16 November: 8 p.m. Guest Blog by ‘Shh . . . Mum's the Word'

I've never written a guest blog before on a 13-year-old's website, and all credit to my daughter for trusting me to do so when I've done little to earn that trust over the last three years. I want to say to ‘The Little Cook' that I love you and am proud of you. But seriously . . . Help! My daughter's bake-a-thon is turning my kitchen into a tip!

17 November: 6 p.m. Guest Blog by ‘The Little Cook' on ‘Shh . . . Mum's the Word.'

You all know who I am – and way more about my life than I want. But now that I've found my own voice and Mum and I have talked through things, I feel a lot better about myself and Mum. I don't even mind her writing stuff (the good stuff, at least) about me – well, not too much anyway. But if you want the real story, check out my blog.

The best thing that has come out of all this is our neighbour – she's become almost like an adopted grandmother. We're trying really hard to raise money for people like her – elderly people living alone – so that they can all have a few more home comforts. And if possible, we want to help these older people get together to share yummy food and treats and make new
friends. Click here for more information on our online bake-a-thon.

If you think this is a great cause, click on the donation link below and show your support.

Oh, and stay tuned for the bake-a-thon. If you're lucky, you'll have a member of The Secret Cooking Club near you to make something scrummy. We are dedicated to sharing happiness and friendship through baking. Even if you're (gasp!) a grown-up, we'd still be pleased to have you as a member. Here's that link again . . .

OK, so the blog is doing really well, and I'm enjoying ‘meeting' so many new people and connecting with them. But as much as The Secret Cooking Club Online is proving to be a success, the bake-athon is keeping me awake at night. We're making tons and tons of food – not only for the school canteen, but for other schools, and for the hospital, and a few of the old people's homes in the area and for a couple of lunch clubs set up specially for older people. In other words, it's a big job. The good thing is that it's not just us – there are twelve people at our school who have ‘joined up'. I don't know who they all are (because we have anonymous user names) but hardly a day goes by when there's not something delicious left in the canteen at lunchtime. Every day, I get from three to ten
new followers on the blog.

Mrs Simpson is an interesting mix of grandmother, drill sergeant and kind fairy godmother. The one thing she insists on is that the blog doesn't get in the way of the main event – learning how to cook, and sharing what we cook, not just as pictures, but in real life with as many people as possible.

But not everything is going quite so well. For one thing, Mrs Simpson is getting a lot of headaches, and sometimes she loses her balance and seems to forget things. And Mr Kruffs is still in the picture, even though he seems to accept that Mrs Simpson is not going anywhere – for the moment, at least.

As soon as he got back from London, he turned up and paid another visit to Mrs Simpson. He came by her house and caught us with our hands in the cookie jar – or at least the cookie dough (Mrs Simpson was helping us to make chocolate-covered gingerbread people). And right away, you could tell that he wasn't too impressed.

He launched into his usual tirade – about how places at the ‘nice home' don't come up very often, and wasn't Mrs Simpson tired of having to struggle through every day on her own? He also wasn't very happy when I told him that we hadn't had time to look into getting a carer yet for his aunt. But then
the really bad thing happened.

Mum must have heard the commotion through the wall of the Mum Cave and she came over to add her opinion. She invited Mr Kruffs over to our house for a cup of tea and a chat about Mrs Simpson's future. And when I got home hours later and came into the kitchen, I couldn't believe it – he was still there!

‘Hello, Scarlett,' Mum said, giving me a quick hug. ‘Emory and I were having ever such a nice chat.'

‘Oh?' I replied coolly.
Emory?
My eyes fixed on the half-empty bottle of red wine and the remains of a selection of nice cheeses that Mrs Simpson had bought Mum from a local shop.

‘Yes,' Mr Kruffs stood up stiffly. ‘Your mum is a very interesting person.'

‘Yeah, she is.' I couldn't believe it. Is the “new Mum” all some kind of sick joke? Is she suddenly in cahoots with Mrs Simpson's enemy?

‘Oh, not really.' Mum blushed. ‘We were speaking about publicity, that's all. Building a profile and all that. Which I know one or two things about.'

‘I confess that I'm not familiar with your mother's blog,' Mr Kruffs said. He smiled at her, looking almost boyish. ‘But she says she'll forgive me.'

‘Yes, of course.' She grinned back and their eyes locked together. Gross. ‘Especially since I've
started taking it in a whole new direction. Right, Scarlett?'

‘Yeah.'

Mum's already started ‘transitioning' her blog from nasty tell-all rant to ‘inspirational women's blog'. For the ‘parenting' section, she's had this new idea where she and I collaborate. It would be a ‘dialogue' (her word) between a mother and daughter with a view to resolving their differences. At first I laughed and suggested that she'd have to come up with a whole new kit for Boots –
Mothers and Daughters Together
or some rubbish like that. Unfortunately, she loved that idea. I guess I'll try to keep an open mind.

‘Anyway,' Mr Kruffs said to Mum, ‘it's been very nice to meet you, Claire. I'll email you about that gallery opening I mentioned.'

Claire.

‘Oh yes.' Mum's face looked rosy and flushed. ‘Please do.'

OMG. All the blog stuff about ‘The Single Mum's Guide to Dating' and the ‘way to a man's heart is through is stomach' comes rushing back.

Mum is going on a date with Mr Kruffs!

‘Excuse me,' I said in a choking voice. ‘I've got homework.'

‘Night, Scarlett.' Mum kissed me on the cheek. I went upstairs to my room and stared up at the
glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. At least they have stayed put while everything else is a whirlwind of change.

The day that I've been both eagerly awaiting and secretly dreading finally arrives. The day of the online bake-a-thon. Thanks to all of Mum's guest-blogging, tweeting and other publicity, I've got over eight hundred followers on my social media sites, and just over a quarter of them have signed up for the bake-a-thon. The format is this: everyone participating will bake something to take to their school, or hospital, or an old people's home, or local lunch club for the elderly, or just set up on the high street somewhere. Everyone is getting sponsors and publicity from local businesses. People donate to an online charity fund to help the elderly.

Of course all this is happening out in cyberspace and the world in general, so I have very little control over it. But so far, the donations have been coming in at a steady pace. I've had to set up a whole new site linked to my original Bloggerific account to accommodate all the photos that members have been sending in for each of our sections: ‘Scrummy Cakes and Bakes', ‘Healthy Bites at Home', ‘Home-cooked Dinners', and ‘Recipes for Sharing'. And as for my own branch of
The Secret Cooking Club – well, we've been cooking around the clock. Every spare fridge shelf, table, worktop, tin and cupboard is filled with the things we've made. And in a last-minute ‘if you can't beat 'em, join 'em' move, Mr Kruffs called Mum and agreed to match whatever funds we raise from the bake-a-thon, in order to help pay for his aunt's carer. So now I'm even more fired up to raise as much money as we can.

I'm up and dressed well before the time that Gretchen's mum is supposed to come with her car to collect the food from Mrs Simpson's house. It's a crisp, bright autumn morning, and I can hear the birds singing in the garden as I go next door to get things ready. I let myself into Mrs Simpson's house quietly, in case she's still asleep upstairs. I'm surprised to find her sitting in her light-flooded kitchen, the doors to the garden flung open. On the table in front of her is a steaming cup of tea and one of the fluffy croissants that she helped us make. There's also a piece of paper and a pen. As soon as I enter, she folds the paper and tucks it away.

‘Scarlett,' she says, reaching out her wrinkled hand. I take it and she grips my fingers. ‘It's a lovely day for your bake-a-thon.'

I look closely at her lined face. Her cheeks have more colour in them than usual, and her eyes
seem to sparkle, as clear and blue as the sky outside. She looks younger somehow. She's wearing her nicest flowered dress and ivory knitted cardigan, and her hair is smoothed back in a neat bun at the nape of her neck.

‘You look nice, Mrs Simpson,' I say. ‘Are you expecting company?'

‘No, child.' She looks at me for a long moment. ‘Not exactly. But there's magic in the air today. Do you feel it?'

I stand still for a moment – something I haven't done for a while. I listen to the sound of a pigeon cooing from the roof, the wind rustling through the orange and gold leaves. I feel the warmth of the pale sun on my face. Maybe those things are magic, I don't know. But I feel a little bit calmer and ready to face the day ahead.

‘Yes, Mrs Simpson.'

She smiles. ‘I'm so proud of you, Scarlett.'

‘Thanks.' Her praise means the world to me. I lean over and give her a kiss on the cheek.

Just then, the doorbell rings. I go to answer it – it's Gretchen and Violet. ‘Hi!' I say, ushering them in. ‘Right on time.'

We go into the kitchen, but Mrs Simpson is no longer there – I see her outside in the garden, leaning on her stick and looking up at the sky. She gives us a little wave as we empty the fridge and
fill Gretchen's mum's car with heaped baskets, pans and boxes of food. Alison and Nick are helping to coordinate food pick-ups from some of the new members at our school – Susan, Eloise and Fraser – who have made even more stuff.

Gretchen's mum drives us around to the places that we've pre-arranged – the hospital where we once took the flapjacks to Mrs Simpson, two old people's homes, the local council headquarters, a branch of a local charity that run lunches for the elderly, and several local businesses that have agreed to support us. We're left with a generous batch of chocolate chip cookies, brownies and cupcakes to take to school, and I have reason to believe that several more new members of The Secret Cooking Club (who we haven't met yet) will be bringing things too.

We carry everything inside through the back door of the canteen – everyone at school pretty much now knows or suspects who's a member of The Secret Cooking Club, and even if they don't, the dinner ladies are totally on board and helping us. They've even said that club members can use the school catering facilities (closely supervised, of course).