Page 7 of Cooking Up a Christmas Storm (Highland Cookery School #2)

Jodie’s palm itched. She rubbed it absent-mindedly.

Once she had an idea, she wanted to crack on with it.

Waiting made her feel like there was somehow too much blood in her body and it was running too warm.

It made her want to step out of her skin and run away.

When she wasn’t doing something there was nothing but the thoughts, and the thoughts got in the way.

They overwhelmed her with practicalities and minutiae and often a thousand and one other things that didn’t even relate to the task at hand, but that somehow had to be dealt with before her mind would let her get on at all.

And right now it was Pavel’s disapproving face that was sitting at the front of her attention, pointing out all the flaws in her idea, without the man himself having to say a word.

She could try to hitchhike, from this village in the middle of nowhere that probably saw about one car go through per day.

And then what? Without this job she had no income, so she’d be in Inverness or Aberdeen or Edinburgh without a place to stay or a job to pay for one.

She’d have no choice but to swallow her dignity, press the emergency button on her life and call her parents to bail her out. Again.

She’d avoided that after Gemma left. She wasn’t going to give in now.

Right. Doing anything was better than standing here thinking about it all.

Back to the Dower House. Back to spag bol with the family.

Back to trying to be the best, and most convincing, version of Gemma that she could.

She started to trundle her way back and then stopped at the sound of footsteps behind her.

She turned to see Pavel jogging towards her.

She flagged him down. ‘Do you mind not telling anyone you saw me here?’

He looked at her for a second before he answered. There was something she couldn’t quite fathom about his expression, like he felt let down by her. Jodie shivered and told herself it was just the autumn evening air. ‘You’re not going to make another bid for freedom tomorrow?’ he asked.

‘No.’ She wanted him to believe her. She wanted to believe it herself. What would Gemma say? Gemma was better than Jodie. Gemma would play it down. ‘A first day wobble.’

‘All right, but if you change your mind, tell them, for goodness’ sake.’ His instruction was softened by a smile. ‘At least then they’ll be able to tell you when the trains run.’

‘I won’t need to.’ She was aware that she was gripping the handle of her case so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. ‘It’s going to be absolutely fine.’

She managed to find her way back to the Dower House without – she hoped – anyone seeing her, and by the time she’d put her case into the biggest bedroom she’d almost convinced herself that her escape attempt was nothing more than first day nerves.

Anyone could feel like that in the midst of such a big change.

This evening was dinner with the family. Another wave of panic hit. Jodie couldn’t do dinner with the family. People’s families never quite got Jodie. Gemma’s parents had hated her. She always felt like she was one step behind the conversation and whatever she said was never quite right.

Jodie’s parents, of course, had loved Gemma. Everyone loved Gemma. Gemma was polite and thoughtful and didn’t lumber in with whatever thought popped into her head. That was the new plan. Same as the original plan. The only way through was to be more Gemma.

Pavel watched Gemma Bryant drag herself and her worldly goods back through the castle archway. It was getting too dark to continue his run along the road. He could absolutely justify strolling back home from here, grabbing a shower and getting on with his evening. A new idea stopped him.

He made his way down the path to the coach house outside the castle gate.

As he’d guessed, the door was unlocked. Inside there was a definite smell of damp, but his walk around with Adam earlier had left him relatively confident that was simply from a couple of leaks that could be fixed and a lack of habitation.

The rest of the work, while time-consuming, wasn’t complex.

He’d need to call in a few favours, and work some evenings, but it was doable.

Adam and Bella needed the coach house available for guests to make Lowbridge a viable concern. That was a problem.

And where there was a problem Pavel wanted nothing more than to find a solution. What were a few more hours’ work and a few quid on materials when balanced against helping out a friend?

Jodie went over to the castle just before six.

What time did posh people eat dinner? In her mind later seemed smarter.

More cosmopolitan and continental, but Lowbridge didn’t scream cosmopolitan.

Maybe dinner here was served promptly at five p.m. by an elderly cook who had no truck with flighty English lasses breezing in an hour late.

She made her way into the grand hallway and was greeted by a very bouncy chocolate Labrador.

Jodie loved dogs. Of all the four-legged waifs and strays her mum had taken in, the dogs were always Jodie’s favourite.

Dogs were simple. Waggy tail for happy. Downturned tail for sad.

She bent down to pet her new friend. ‘Hello. Who are you?’

The dog rubbed its face happily against Jodie’s calf.

‘Dipper!’ The voice shouting from the other side of the door past the stairway was recognisably American. ‘Dipper!’ A second later Darcy appeared and shook her head at the Labrador at Jodie’s feet. ‘She likes you!’ Darcy narrowed her eyes. ‘You don’t have a pocket full of roast chicken, do you?’

Jodie shook her head. No. Obviously no.

‘Then she actually likes you.’ She shrugged. ‘That’s not saying much. Dipper has no discernment at all. She tries to run away with the postman most mornings.’ Darcy nodded at the large grandfather clock that was partly obscured by the suit of armour. ‘Wine o’clock, I think?’

Jodie glanced at the clock. It appeared to be stopped at ten past two.

‘Come on through.’ Darcy led the way down a substantially less grand corridor, and into the kitchen Pavel had marched her through earlier when they first arrived. That felt a very long time ago already.

Bella was sitting on a stool at the kitchen island with her laptop open in front of her. Adam was on his phone leaning on the worktop. He hung up the call as they came into the room. ‘Hey. Settled in OK?’

Jodie hadn’t settled one bit. She hadn’t opened her suitcase, let alone unpacked. She’d spent most of the time since they’d left her in the Dower House plotting, and then failing, to escape. What would Gemma say? ‘Yeah. It’s lovely,’ she told him.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s decorated like the inside of an ageing great-aunt’s knicker drawer.’

She couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Sorry. Budgets don’t run to redecorating at the moment, but if you want to have a go, feel free. There’s remnants of paint and stuff from other rooms in the small hall. Help yourself.’

She could paint the fireplace wall red in the living room. She’d always wanted a red wall. Had she? Jodie wasn’t actually entirely sure, but now she’d thought of it she very much wanted one right now. Gemma would have hated a red wall. She was all Scandi-neutral and minimalist. Be more Gemma .

‘It’s fine, really,’ Jodie reassured them.

It wouldn’t be sensible to decorate, and sensible was her new Gemma watchword.

Being here was a stopgap while she sorted herself out and worked out her next move.

She’d be here until she got her first pay packet.

Second at most. And then it would be time for this version of Gemma Bryant to simply disappear.

Darcy was pulling glasses from a cupboard and opening bottles. ‘Red or white?’ she asked.

Jodie, honestly, wasn’t a drinker. She was an awful drunk – she got loud and embarrassing so it was better all round if she abstained.

Gemma had exquisite taste in wine though and also exquisite manners.

The Gemma she was creating would be the sort of sophisticated woman who would have one or two drinks and never get lairy at all.

‘I don’t mind. Whichever you’re opening. ’

Darcy opened a bottle of red and poured four glasses, topping them up to finish the bottle. She held Bella’s glass in front of her. ‘Work time over.’

‘I need to send this email.’

‘Adam!’ Darcy called in reinforcements.

‘No work after six on a weekend,’ he insisted. ‘Seriously, laptop closed in five, four, three…’

Darcy joined in with the rest of the countdown. ‘Two, one!’

Bella pulled her fingers from the keyboard just as Darcy flipped the lid down. ‘Finished.’ She picked up her wine glass. ‘Actually I might not drink tonight. I’m feeling a little bit off.’

Adam frowned. ‘Off how?’

‘Little bit queasy. I’m fine. Probably just hungry.’ She pushed her stool back from the island and stood up. ‘Speaking of which…’

Bella opened the fridge. From where Jodie was perched on her stool at the island she could see that the fridge was rammed full of Tupperware.

Adam frowned. ‘Why did you make so much ragu?’

‘I wanted it perfect, and Hugh got such a good deal on the beef so it seemed worth buying more.’

‘We’re going to be eating bolognaise for the rest of our lives,’ Darcy murmured.

‘No. We won’t. I’ll freeze some and I’ll take a batch to the Strachans, and I’ve already messaged Jill to ask if she wants some for the pensioners’ lunch club. And we can put it on the lunch menu at the pub. We’ll get through it in no time.’

It didn’t take long for Bella to reheat the ragu and cook pasta on the stove.

Adam moved around her, finding bowls and cutlery.

Jodie watched mutely. This was what home life was like in adverts.

Couples together in the kitchen laughing and exchanging affectionate glances.

This was the life that Jodie was supposed to fit into.