Authors: Kirsty Greenwood
As I’m pondering this unsettling revelation there’s an impatient knock on the cubicle door.
“
Let me in!
”
It’s Meg.
“
Oh noes.
”
She frowns when she sees my face.
“
We’re not really going to die, Natty. There’s enough tinned tuna
in this village to last seventy
gazillion years.
”
“
Is that an exact number?
”
I ask, a slight grin lifting the corners of my mouth.
“
It is. Really, Natty. Whatever's wrong?
”
“
I fancy Riley,
”
I blurt out in answer to her question. My face contorts into a shamed grimace.
Meg is unperturbed.
“
So what? He’s hot! It’d be weird if you didn’t fancy him!
”
“
So what?
So what
? I’m marrying Olly. I love Olly. I can’t fancy anyone else.
”
Meg crouches down so that her face is level with mine.
“
I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, pet. There is nowt wrong with being attracted to someone else. Loads of married couples probably have crushes on other people. You don’t have to do anything about it.
”
“
But it’s weird. I’m not used to feeling like this.
”
“
That’s because you’re lovely and loyal. It’s only a crush.
”
“
A massive crush,
”
I correct.
“
But you love Olly?
”
“
Yes.
”
“
See. That’s the truth. That’s the only thing that matters. As long as you love Olly, you’re not going to act on a little crush. Stop fretting.
”
She’s right. I obviously do love Olly. The truth-telling says so. And I’m excited about our wedding. About our life together as a family.
“
You’re right,
”
I say to Meg, feeling stupid for getting into such a tizz. I’ll just stay out of Riley's way. Wait until the snow clears, go home and forget all about him.
“
I’m always right. Anyway, come on.
”
She takes my hand.
“
We don’t want to miss all the free cups of tea.
”
“
No.
”
I follow her out.
“
We definitely don’t.
”
NATALIE TEXT TO: OLLY
Thinking of you. Please text back?
“
We were so disappointed when you left the last time, duck
.
We had the whole media splash planned out!
”
It’s midday and the pub has emptied considerably. Mrs Grimes and the Braithwaites have gathered round a table with Meg and I. It’s Operation Locate Brian reunited. Well, apart from Uncle Alan who is off tending to his vegetables in the greenhouse.
Dionne has gone for a lie down with all the stress of being snowed in and Barney Braithwaite is talking about putting me on the radio.
“
I think it’s your only hope now, love,
”
he says earnestly.
“
Brian might be listening, or someone else who could help you.
”
“
We could put it on our site too,
”
Morag says eyes alight.
“
Little Trooley dot online dot co dot uk dot.
”
“
Oh yes. And I can do a video on my iPhone,
”
says Mrs Grimes.
“
My son could put it on YouTube. See if we can’t get it to catch a virus!
”
“
It’s viral, Edna. It’s called going viral,
”
says Barney irritably.
“
But she’s right,
”
he says, turning back to me.
“
You need all the publicity you can get, young lady. The more people who know about the hypnosis means a higher chance of finding someone who can help you.
”
Hmmm. I don’t really like the idea of going on the radio or on the internet, especially not in my dangerous state of mind. It’s one thing to embarrass yourself in front of a few people. But loads of internet viewers and radio audiences? That’s quite another.
“
I'm not sure there are any other options,
”
Meg shrugs.
“
Brian really is nowhere to be found. Olly may be peeved at you right now. But there is no way he’ll call off the wedding. You know that. And when you get to the church, you need to be able to take your vows with a completely clear head. You can’t do that under mind control.
”
“
Oh yes. Vows are very important,
”
Mrs Grimes nods, glancing at Meg with approval.
“
And worse,
”
Meg continues.
“
What if the vicar asks you a question and you do the truth-telling bit and say something you regret?
”
“
I won’t,
”
I answer at once.
“
But you said to me that sometimes you don’t even know what you think until it comes out of your mouth. The vicar might say ‘do you promise to love him in sickness and in health’ and you might say something daft, like ‘only in health, he’s a real pain in the arse when he’s got man flu’.
”
It’s supposed to be funny, but I don’t laugh. Because as silly as it sounds, saying something like that is a very real possibility. Olly is horrible when he has man flu. Grumpy and groaning and shuffling from room to room, bumping into furniture. I could very well say that. It would ruin the entire day and our wedding memories would be forever tarnished.
“
Okay,
”
I say, knowing that I have little or no alternatives.
“
I’ll do it.
”
A little cheer goes up around the table.
“
Good girl,
”
Barney rubs his hands together.
“
The public will love it.
”
What have I let myself in for?
Staying away from Riley is about as easy as threading a needle in boxing gloves. Especially since I agreed to let him bend my ear about his plans for serving food at The Old Whimsy.
While Meg is trekking through the snow to Hobbs Manor to do pop star stuff, and Dionne is talking Honey (I can only hope) half to death in the pub, Riley and I are sitting in the kitchen of dreams with a bottle of Barolo, a stack of battered looking cookbooks, his mum’s recipe notes
and the scent of the beef s
troganoff Riley prepared earlier wafting out from the oven and under our noses.
“
And the thing is,
”
Riley is saying.
“
Y
our r
atatouille made me realise that I was thinking in completely the wrong way. Yorkshire is stuffed full of poncy gastro pubs, foams and jus’ and quenelles of everything under the sun. But it’s also stuffed full of pubs that serve basic home cooked pub grub. No taste and no flair. I was thinking I’d like The Old Whimsy to be somewhere in the middle.
”
I take a sip of my wine and try not to think about how delicious he’s looking today. That white t-shirt clings to his torso and arms. Revealing - not a sculpted body like Olly’s - but a strong, natural muscle definition. His deep silver slate eyes are glowing with excitement at his plans.
“
…So somewhere in the middle. But a bit different, if you know what I mean. What do you think?
”
He eyes me hopefully.
“
I think it’s a great idea,
”
I say at once.
“
Home cooked food with an indulgent twist.
”
“
Yes! The dishes people have grown up with, but taken to a new level. A bit more sophisticated.
”
“
I like it.
”
“
Really?
”
he asks grinning madly.
“
I do. But…
are you sure you can take that on? I mean, it’s hard enough to get basic dishes right. Putting a twist on them takes training.
”
His smile falters.
“
I was worried you might say that.
”
Well, he did ask the question.
“
I
have
been practising. Ever since I
saw people’s reaction to that r
atatouille, I’ve been practising new dishes every
day, you know.
”
He gets up from the table and, putting on some flowery oven gloves, takes the stroganoff out of the oven. He sets it down in front of me and hands me a fork.
“
What do you think?
”
I pull a face, not happy at his blatant questioning.
“
I’m sorry, I’ll stop with the questions. I’d like to know what you think. No questions. I promise.
”
I take a forkful of stroganoff, blowing gently first to cool it down.
I chew and taste, examining the flavours on my tongue. Hmmm. It’s meh. What a shame! I was so hoping it would knock my woolly socks off.
“
The mushroom sauce is fine, though it could stand to be a tad creamier,
”
I say carefully.
“
And the beef is a little bit sinewy… I can’t taste any gherkins.
”
“
Gherkins?
”
he looks horrified.
“
Yes! You must have gherkin in Stroganoff. It’s a definite improvement, though. You know, on the pig’s trotters.
”
“
But it’s still not amazing.
”
He doesn’t say it as a question, so I don’t have to answer. But looking at his face, disappointed after he’s been trying so hard, I speak without thinking, and it’s nothing to do with the hypnotism.
“
Let me help you. I want to help.
”
“
Really?
”
“
Yeah really. I don’t know how long I’ll be here for but your Uncle Alan says it will be at least three days before we can leave. It’s not like I have anything else to do and I wouldn’t mind the distraction…
so I’ll teach you.
”
“
In three days?
”
“
Sure. I can teach you a few of the recipes you want on the menu. It would be intense, but it’s possible.
”
“
I can do intense,
”
he says widening his eyes into a silly intense stare.
My heart flips.
“
At least you’ll have a good basis to be getting on with.
”
“
Thank you, Natalie,
”
he says sincerely.
“
But…
I’m afraid we can’t afford to pay you. Except in beer. I could probably pay you in beer. Or bread.
”
I nod slowly, thinking.
“
All right. I’ll do you a deal.
”
“
Go on?
”
“
I’ll teach you six dishes in three days. And in return, you let Meg, Dionne and I stay here for free.
”
“
Done,
”
he says at once.
He holds out his hand for me to shake. I think about last time we held hands when I cut my finger. Not a good idea.
I grab onto my wine glass with both hands and grin stupidly.
“
Done.
”
Email From:
alisonbutterworth
To:
nattyb
Subject: Re: CHATTERLEY WEDDING CHECKLIST
Natalie,
You’ve buggered off again. I wish you would let me know when to expect you. It’s like living with a fifteen year old.
Dionne texted me to say that you were stuck in Yorkshire. How the bloody hell did that happen? I tried to ring you but for some reason I cannot get through.