Recipe for Love (36 page)

‘We can do that. A sort of enhanced natural, and you could have a few false lashes at the end of your own for added oomph, if you’d like that.’

It was with Becca that the change was most dramatic. She never wore any make-up but she’d given her artist free rein and while it wasn’t overdone, she now looked like the pretty girl she was and not the anxious mouse who had first turned up as a competitor. The new look added to her confidence too. This young woman wouldn’t succumb to gamesmanship.

In spite of her limited range of expression Cher managed to show displeasure at Becca’s transformation; she wanted to be the prettiest, and not have a rival in the glamour stakes.

‘And now, ladies, if you’re ready, we’ll do the photo shoot.’ A glamorous girl in the skinniest jeans and the highest heels that Zoe had ever seen outside a celebrity magazine smiled approvingly at them.

Zoe longed for Mike and the friendly team they’d got to know at Somerby. These people were nice enough but they were strangers. The others had begun to feel like part of the family.

‘I don’t remember there being all this non-cooky publicity
for
other cookery comps,’ she muttered to Becca. ‘You only ever saw them in their whites.’

‘This show is much bigger than anything they’ve had before,’ said Cher. ‘My uncle told me all about it. We’re going to be stars.’

‘I’m sure we’re not,’ said Becca. ‘Unless we win, and we can’t all win. And even then, we’ll only be famous for five minutes, and only because of our cooking.’

Cher gave her a knowing look which said, ‘You know nothing, sweetheart.’

Zoe followed the others to the set-up for the photo shoot. It was a fake kitchen, with a big range cooker, lots of copper pans and jugs of herbs, right in the middle of the work surface. Pretty but really irritating if you actually had to cook there, she decided.

‘Now we want you all together to begin with,’ said the girl in charge. ‘Come along, Shadrach, we’ll have you in the middle, surrounded by the girls. That’s right …’

It took for ever. At one point Zoe found herself lying on her tummy with her legs bent up and her chin in her hands looking – there was no other word for it – cute.

Cher excelled at it; she revelled in the attention and adored every extravagant request.

‘I think if they asked her to sit on the hot stove with her legs apart, she’d do it,’ said Shadrach.

‘I need a drink,’ said Becca, ‘and I don’t mean water!’

‘We’ve just got a few shots for magazines to do now. All of you sit on the sofa together,’ said the girl on the stilt heels, still upright, still in charge.

Zoe found she got used to smiling to order. After nearly an hour though her jaw was beginning to ache and her top lip kept sticking to her teeth. But at last they were released and glasses of champagne were put into their hands.

‘Just a little time to wind down before you go home to get early nights before your big day,’ said the girl in spiky heels. ‘Or you won’t sleep!’

Zoe had just come out of the loo before their taxi arrived to take them back to their hotel when she saw Gideon. He saw her at the same moment and they moved together like magnets hardly aware of the people milling around in between.

‘Hello, you,’ she said, breathless. All the love and lust she’d been telling herself wasn’t real more or less since she’d last seen him came flooding back. Then she remembered Cher. ‘Where can we be alone? We need to talk.’

‘And the rest!’ He laughed down at her, his eyes dancing.

‘Oh Gideon, it’s not that. I wish it was! I’ve got something I must tell you. But not here!’

He nodded. ‘I know a place. Follow me. In here.’ Gideon opened a door.

It was a small room full of stacked chairs and tables. ‘How did you know about this?’ asked Zoe, impressed.

‘I opened the door by mistake when I was looking for the Gents.’ His expression softened. ‘Oh Zoe, I’ve missed you so.’

He pulled her into a hug and for a while they stayed with their arms around each other, not even kissing. It was bliss. Eventually she pulled away and looked up at him. ‘I’ve got to pull out of the competition.’

‘What? Why? What are you talking about?’ He held her hands as if reluctant to let her go.

‘I don’t mean pull out really. I mean – deliberately fail.’

‘That makes even less sense!’ He was frowning now.

She moved away, aware that she was going to annoy him. She couldn’t look at him; she felt so ashamed, besmirched, by what had happened. ‘Cher has pictures.
Of
us. Together. She took them in the wood, during the foraging.’

‘So?’

She looked at him now. Why was he being so dense? ‘So? So she said if I don’t make sure I don’t win she’ll tell everyone that we’ve been having an affair. The show might have to be pulled for all I know. It’ll be tainted by scandal!’ Zoe fought not to sound hysterical but wasn’t doing a good job. She wanted to pace the floor to get rid of some of her tension but there were piles of chairs and tables in every corner.

‘But that’s blackmail!’

‘Yes! But we did have an affair and she has got proof. She’s in a position to blackmail me.’

‘Us. I was there too.’

‘And your career will be affected, won’t it?’

‘Yes, I suppose it will.’ He sighed. ‘But you can’t let this affect you now. You have a real chance of winning this competition.’

She shook her head. ‘I really should have thought of that before.’ Why, oh why hadn’t she controlled her feelings? What had been so wonderful now just seemed unbelievably sordid. Then she felt a flicker of anger. He should have thought of it. He was there too. He encouraged her!

Gideon pushed his hand into his hair as if to help his thinking process. ‘I know I’ve never shown you any advantage. That must count for something.’

‘Nothing is going to count against the fact that you’re a judge and I’m a contestant and we slept together.’

Gideon groaned. ‘There’ll be a way out of this, we just need to find it. Damn it. This is serious.’

‘The way I see it, I have two options. Either I can resign, but then all the reasons for it would come out – Cher
would
make absolutely sure of it – or I make a mistake with one of my recipes, and just lose.’ Zoe paused and looked up at Gideon. ‘I probably wouldn’t have won anyway.’

‘I’m not having it! You’re not throwing the competition because of Cher. She’s not above trying to seduce the judges herself. I happen to know!’

This made Zoe feel even worse. ‘Unfortunately I wasn’t able to get photographs of you in bed together—’

‘I didn’t sleep with her, you idiot!’

‘Don’t call me an idiot! You’re the one who can’t see what is so bloody obvious.’

‘Look, I’ll sort it! You’re not to pull out. ‘

‘I won’t pull out, but I will have to fail. I mean it. I’m not risking your career or the show.’

Gideon put his hands on her shoulders. ‘And I won’t let you. I can’t believe you’re prepared to give in to Cher like that.’

‘It’s my decision,’ Zoe said, trying to stop her voice wobbling. ‘You can’t stop me. I have to do this.’

‘Don’t be a fool! Christ, I’m disappointed in you, Zoe. I thought you cared about this competition.’ He looked thunderous, as if he wanted to shake some sense in to her.

‘Stop shouting at me.’

At that moment the door opened and a young woman came in, obviously staff. Gideon was still glaring at her and obviously angry, so Zoe took the opportunity to escape. She couldn’t deal with it any longer – any of it – least of all Gideon.

BY 8 A.M. THE
following morning, Zoe was wearing whites, with the logo of the cookery competition embroidered on her breast. She’d been given an area to work in and all her ingredients were in boxes around her, apart from those in the fridges and chillers. She felt numb. Gideon was furious with her. She’d just have to find time at the party to explain to him. He’d said he’d sort it, but she knew he couldn’t. He’d be angry, and she might lose him, but the thought of what Cher might do with those photographs was far, far worse.

She had decided she was going to put every inch of heart and soul she had into creating this meal. At the last minute she’d do something – she didn’t yet know what – to ruin it. But of course if something went wrong, she wouldn’t have to do that, she could just make out to Cher that the mistake was deliberate. Gideon would just have to get over it. Once he’d had time to reflect he must realise it was the only thing she could do.

She was aware that ‘three ways with fillet’ wasn’t usual, but she wanted to do it. She’d sourced some beef from her home area that had been hung a very long time and was sure it would be delicious. She decided to start making the brioche dough for the bun for the mini-burger. No one would expect a burger and with the mini beef Wellington it might be a bit filling, but her other courses were fairly light.

Once the dough was proving she started on her rough-puff pastry. She would have to roll it out and chill it several times. Next, the soup. Fresh peas, podded and without their skins, briefly cooked in chicken stock, thickened with cream. She would whizz it up at the last minute and serve it in her mother’s coffee cups and call it cappu-cino. She made a pile of parmesan crisps, drying them over a rolling pin to give them the look of Pringles.

Next she made her choux buns for her croquembouche. The television company had hired her a mould at vast expense, which should be much easier than building it freehand had been.

She didn’t want her meal described as heavy, or too much. She started on the big fat squared-off chips. She was going to fry them at least three times in duck fat for maximum crispiness. There was a deep-fat fryer there for her.

She consulted her list. It was very important not to get into a panic and cook things out of order. Everything that had to be cooked in advance needed to be done but not so far in advance they’d be past their best. The chips would get their final fry while the judges were eating their John Dory. (The lemon thyme, from her mother’s garden, was, like the coffee cups, another good-luck talisman.) She put the wild mushrooms that were going with the John Dory in a bowl of water to soak.

She was just beginning to feel she might get everything done by one o’clock, her slot, when along came the television crew and a celebrity chef to interview her about her menu. (Cher had been beside herself with glee at the line-up of celebrity judges they needed to impress.)

At least it wasn’t Gideon. That would have been awful.

‘So, Zoe, you’ve got quite an unusual menu here: cappuccino of fresh peas. That’s just a fancy way of saying pea soup, isn’t it?’

He was a chef known for his confrontational attitude but as Zoe felt she’d already lost everything she cared about she didn’t flinch from straight talking.

‘That’s right. Part of fine dining is making the food seem as attractive as it can be. Calling it cappuccino and serving it in coffee cups is part of that.’

‘So you’re not giving us much soup?’

‘No. When you have four courses you don’t need much soup.’

‘And is soup enough of a challenge to qualify as fine dining?’

‘Any food can qualify as fine dining if it’s done well enough.’ She was pleased with this one.

He nodded. ‘It’s a bit eighties, but retro is in at the moment.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ said Zoe promptly, who thought soup was soup and didn’t know it could be retro.

‘So then we have John Dory, simple enough, but three ways with fillet? Are you taking the – are you joking?’

Zoe laughed. ‘Not at all. We have beef Wellington, a bit of steak, simply cooked in the pan, and a miniature burger.’

‘That is a bit out of left field, if I may say so, Zoe.’ The chef grinned. Perhaps he was coming round to Zoe’s way of thinking. ‘A burger? For a fine-dining meal?’

‘Why not? What is more delicious than a perfect burger?’

‘Will you mince the meat yourself?’

‘I’m going to chop it finely. I’ll have more control that way.’

‘And serving it with … ?’

‘A brioche roll and tomato and chilli relish. I’m using cherry tomatoes.’

‘Small but perfectly formed, eh?’