Page 59 of A Recipe for Romance

It was only just light on Easter Sunday morning when we met in the churchyard like a pair of conspirators. Raffy was carrying the big basket of chocolate eggs.

‘What, no Easter Bunny costume?’

‘Couldn’t get one big enough,’ he said with a grin, kissing me. ‘And look!’ He held aloft a small wooden object.

‘What is it?’

‘A wooden rabbit’s foot! An elderly parishioner who carves walking stick handles made it for me. It’ll save getting Effie’s lucky rabbit’s foot brooch dirty and be much easier to make paw prints in the flowerbeds with.’

We went around hiding the eggs in crevices, under bushes and in low tree branches.

‘Isn’t this a bit irreverent?’ I asked, as he inserted one between the feet of the marble angel that had almost fallen on him.

‘No, because Jesus said, “Suffer little children to come unto me,” and since the church is his house, this is his garden.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ I said, reflecting that I was going to have to get used to this sort of conversational gambit, now it came with the whole new Raffy package. ‘What about keeping a few eggs back, in case one or two of the children don’t find any?’ I suggested.

‘Good idea. OK.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’ll take morning prayers in a minute – it’s just a short service today, because the big one is mid-morning and only a couple of regulars will show up. Then the egg hunt will be directly afterwards.’

He gave me a kiss and went off into the church, and a few moments later Effie Yatton arrived to help, with a big roll of Easter Bunny stickers, a picnic table and folding chair, which she erected just inside the gate.

By the time he came out again, there was quite a crowd of excited children and their parents waiting for the off, and Effie had absent-mindedly eaten one of the spare chocolate eggs.

Later that evening an exhausted Raffy and I were sitting on my little sofa, with Arlo curled up and snoring in front of the fire.

The lights were off and the curtains open, so we could see Jake and Kat in the garden.

He was getting extremely good with the firesticks, weaving intricate patterns in the darkness.

‘I don’t really want to leave my little cottage and walled garden,’ I said drowsily.

‘You don’t have to. Presumably you will still come over here every day anyway, to make Wishes?’

‘Yes, and type up Grumps’ books,’ I said. ‘And Jake can either stay with us, or here in the cottage, in his university holidays, can’t he?’

‘Whichever he prefers,’ Raffy agreed. ‘I think he should have his own room at the vicarage, though, so he knows he’s always welcome.

And I’m going to get plans drawn up to install a proper kitchen in the main part of the house, so Maria can just do the cleaning and housekeeping and not the cooking, after we’re married! ’

‘You only want me because you think I’m a better cook,’ I accused him.

‘No, I want you because I can’t resist your chocolate,’ he said, kissing me.

‘And I can’t resist you.’ I returned the kiss enthusiastically. ‘You’ve gone from being forastero to criollo and now – gran couva!’

‘I hope that’s a good chocolate?’

‘The best,’ I said simply, then groaned as the phone at my elbow rang. ‘Who on earth can that be?’

‘Chloe, is that you?’ asked a once-familiar, brittle voice.

I sat up straighter. ‘ Mum? ’

‘Yes, it’s me. Mags said the gaff was blown, so I thought I might as well ring you.’

‘Why? What do you want?’ I demanded suspiciously.

‘Nothing – only that I hear you haven’t got a man yet, so if you want to come out to Goa for a holiday with Mags, I can guarantee to find you one.’

Typical! Six years of silence and then the only thing she’s interested in is whether I’m still single or not!

‘That’s all right,’ I said, relaxing back into Raffy’s embrace, ‘I think I’ve found one for myself.’