Saving the Day (Quick Reads 2021), page 1
Katie Fforde
* * *
Saving the Day
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
The Recipes
About the Author
‘I live in the beautiful Cotswold countryside with my family, and I’m a country girl at heart. Each of my books explores a different job and my research has helped me bring these to life.’
Keep in touch with Katie.
@KatieFforde
/KatieFforde
www.katiefforde.com
www.penguin.co.uk
Also by Katie Fforde
Living Dangerously
The Rose Revived
Wild Designs
Stately Pursuits
Life Skills
Thyme Out
Artistic Licence
Highland Fling
Paradise Fields
Restoring Grace
Flora’s Lot
Practically Perfect
Going Dutch
Wedding Season
Love Letters
A Perfect Proposal
Summer of Love
Recipe for Love
A French Affair
The Perfect Match
A Vintage Wedding
A Summer at Sea
A Secret Garden
A Country Escape
A Rose Petal Summer
A Springtime Affair
A Wedding in the Country
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THANK YOU FOR YOUR DEDICATION IN KEEPING THE SCHEME GOING.
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Chapter One
Allie hung up her overall, pulled the tie off her hair and shook it loose, and then she picked up her bags of shopping. At last she could leave the supermarket where she worked and get into the September sunshine. Allie was tired and hungry and wanted a chocolate bar. She never seemed to see daylight when she was at work, and it got her down.
Once Allie was out of the building, she opened the multipack of Mars bars on the top of the bag and ate one as she walked. She finished at four on a Saturday, but the time always dragged.
Allie got on with most of the people she worked with, but there were two women, Edith and Rita, who always worked together and who really got her down. Edith and Rita were older than she was and always grumbling and telling Allie how to run her life. She was twenty but Edith and Rita made her feel younger. Allie thought it was partly because her mum lived in Canada, and had done since Allie was little. Edith and Rita seemed to think they had to take her mum’s place.
One of the things Edith and Rita were always on about was why hadn’t Allie and Ryan, her boyfriend, got married yet. Ryan was a lovely boy. They knew this because his mum, Dorothy, was their friend. Ryan was very good to his mum and thought the world of Allie, they told her. Edith, Rita and Dorothy were all married young, because they were pregnant, and Allie sometimes felt they wanted her to get married and have children so she would be the same.
Allie knew Ryan was good to his mum – she saw it. Besides, he had a bad tattoo on his arm of a heart with Mum written across it. He did her shopping, brought her flowers and often took her on outings. But Allie never felt that he thought the world of her, Allie. Ryan never took Allie anywhere except the pub, and then only if there was a match on, so he didn’t have to talk to her. He never brought her flowers, or chocolates – or even a bar of chocolate. The most he could do was buy her a half of lager at the pub, and that was only when it was his round. Not for the first time, she thought about dumping Ryan, if only she could summon up the courage. They had been together since before they left school. They were together through habit.
As she passed Jango’s café in the middle of the High Street, Allie slowed down. It was in a part of town that used to be a bit run down, but now new shops and businesses were starting up and there was a buzz about it. The café hadn’t been there long and had an empty shop on one side of it. It was doing plenty of business, full of office workers, young mums with huge buggies and couples. In there, coffee was more than a teaspoon of Mellow Bird’s in a mug. It was a treat – special.
Allie sighed. This was where she really wanted to work. In here the staff always seemed to be laughing and chatting with the customers. They wore bright aprons that looked attractive and fun. She loved the smell of coffee and cake that wafted out whenever anyone opened the door. There was one boy she quite fancied who always seemed to be laughing and joking with his colleagues. He was cute!
She stopped and looked in through the window. An older man, who she guessed was the owner, was cleaning the big coffee machine – it was nearly the end of the day. Several glass domes were arranged on the counter. When Allie passed on her way to work there were huge scones, muffins, giant biscuits and enormous layered sponge cakes inside them.
Now, there wasn’t much left except the odd slice of cake, some crumbs and maybe a single scone. Once, when Allie had passed and the owner was cleaning up, she had seen him take the last piece of cake and a scone, wrap them up and then give them to a homeless person settled into a doorway nearby. Edith and Rita from the supermarket thought that homeless people were on the street because they didn’t want to work – perhaps, Allie felt, because Edith and Rita had always worked so hard themselves. But Allie knew that sometimes bad things happened to people, and sometimes they ended up on the street. It wasn’t always their fault.
Although Allie usually looked in the window, this time something was different. There was a card. Kitchen assistant wanted. General help with some simple cooking.
Her heart stopped. Her favourite place, the place where she wanted to work, was advertising. She couldn’t believe it!
Allie didn’t let herself think about it or she would never have dared – she just opened the door and went in.
‘I’m here about the job,’ she said, pointing at the notice.
The owner didn’t speak right away, but then he nodded. He looked over at a younger man who was stacking bottles in a fridge. It was the cute guy Allie liked. ‘Si? You OK here?’
Si nodded. Allie glanced at him and noticed he looked even better in his tight T-shirt and apron than she had thought.
The owner smiled at Allie. ‘I’m Mac and this is my café. Come into the office and have a chat.’
He showed her into a tiny office, just big enough for a desk and a couple of filing cabinets. ‘Have a seat.’
Mac pulled out a stool from under a table.
Now she was here, Allie wanted to run out, to escape. Why had she thought she could work somewhere like this? She should stick to what she knew – stacking shelves at the supermarket.
‘Why do you want to work here?’ Mac asked.
Allie made herself think before she spoke. ‘I’ve always wanted to work in a café like this.’
‘Where do you work at the moment?’
‘At the supermarket. I’ve worked there since I had a Saturday job and when I left school I just started working there full-time.’
‘But you need a new challenge?’ Mac smiled. He didn’t seem to be judging her, which was nice. ‘Are you interested in cooking?’
‘Yes.’ Allie shrugged. She liked watching cookery programmes on TV when she was alone in the house.
‘I need someone who can knock up a batch of soup without too much trouble,’ said Mac. ‘Could you do that?’
‘What, make soup?’ asked Allie.
Mac nodded. ‘Yep.’
Allie didn’t know what to say. She didn’t realise you could make soup. It was something that came in a tin or a packet. She shook her head.
‘What about cakes?’ Mac went on. ‘Scones? Sandwiches?’
‘I can make sandwiches,’ she said. The sandwiches she made were thick, using sliced bread, but her dad often asked her to make them. ‘And I do a wicked cooked breakfast.’ Her dad loved her breakfasts with baked beans, fried bread and, sometimes, black pudding. ‘I also do fried cheese sandwiches. My boyfriend likes them.’
‘Let’s go into the kitchen,’ he said.
Allie looked around the kitchen with interest. It had stainless-steel worktops and a large mixer, like they had on Bake Off, only huge. There was a microwave – good to see some bit of equipment she knew how to work – and pots full of wooden spoons. There was a rack of knives on the wall. She spotted a potato masher, and something that could be used for bashing things, but really she didn’t know what anything was. She felt down-hearted. She didn’t really know very much about cooking, and didn’t know how to use most of those gadgets.
‘It’s busy in here in the mornings,’ said Mac. ‘We’re making scones, soup, salads, and quiches and pies. We bake our baguettes from frozen.’ He grinned. ‘It’s mad but w
Allie really wanted to work here. She knew the time would go quickly, that she would learn useful skills, meet new people, and she wanted to work for Mac. He didn’t seem to be a bully like the few men she had worked with in the past. ‘Could I have a trial?’
Mac breathed in deeply and then let go of his breath. ‘To be honest, I want someone with a few more kitchen skills than you seem to have, but I like your attitude and in say … a month, you could have a trial. A month would give you a chance to learn to cook one or two things. If you tried out now, you’d struggle. I don’t want you to struggle – I want you to do well. I’d like you to work with us here.’
‘But there won’t still be a job in a month, will there?’ said Allie. She knew she was sounding a bit desperate. ‘You couldn’t keep it open for me, not for a month.’
‘True, but if you worked at learning what you need to know, I’d find space for you. Lots of us work part-time. Some would like more time off. I’d find some hours for you.’
Chapter Two
As she walked home Allie didn’t know if she felt happy or let down. She didn’t know enough about cooking for her dream job, but Mac, the man in charge, did want her to work there. He had given her time to learn to cook. But how would she learn those basic skills?
Her mother hadn’t been around to teach her and even if she had, she wouldn’t have known how to make soup. Her mother only really cared about her band and her music – she had a great voice – and had never been much of a home-maker. Although to be fair, Allie always knew her mother really loved her. She often sent letters and little presents, in between birthdays and Christmas, from her home in Canada.
She still hadn’t decided if she was feeling happy or gloomy, when she noticed the woman next door’s wheelie bin halfway down the road. It was annoying how the wheelie bins got blown about, if you didn’t get them in as soon as they had been emptied. Allie went and fetched the bin. She didn’t know the woman next door, she’d not long moved in, but she looked pleasant enough.
Allie was just putting the wheelie bin next to the shed by the front door when the woman came out. Mrs Ferris – that was her name, Allie remembered. Her dad had found it out.
‘It’s Allie, isn’t it?’ said Mrs Ferris. ‘Thank you so much for saving my bin. Would you like a cup of tea as a reward?’ Mrs Ferris smiled in a friendly way.
Allie suddenly did want a cup of tea. She’d have to make her dad one when she got home, but it would be good to have one herself first.
‘And a biscuit,’ said Mrs Ferris. ‘I’ve just made them.’
‘Oh. Yes, please!’ said Allie. ‘I’d love one!’ And she followed Mrs Ferris into her house. Mrs Ferris had made the biscuits!
Once inside the house, Allie couldn’t help staring. It had the same arrangement of rooms as their house, but was totally different. And it wasn’t like an old lady’s house, either. When her dad had told Allie they had a woman as their new neighbour, Allie had assumed he meant an elderly person. But Mrs Ferris wasn’t that old. In fact, she was probably about the same age as Allie’s mum.
There were ornaments, but not china ladies in old-fashioned dresses, or little boys, or cats, like Allie’s gran had. Mrs Ferris had weird glass ornaments, and lamps made of pottery and wood. There were pictures on the walls, shelves filled with books, photographs in frames in front of the books. And there were vases full of dried grasses, peacock feathers, chopsticks. Strange things – but Allie liked them.
‘Go and sit down, then,’ said Mrs Ferris. ‘I’ll bring the tea.’
Allie looked around as she waited. There was a fireplace with a gas fire and the shelf above held even more photographs.
Mrs Ferris came in with a tray. ‘Can you take the papers off that table for me, please. Just put them on the floor.’
Allie did as she was asked. Mrs Ferris seemed to be doing a huge crossword puzzle.
‘I like to do puzzles,’ Mrs Ferris said. ‘It’s supposed to help your brain stay active.’
‘My gran likes word searches.’
‘There you go. Now, do you want sugar in your tea?’
‘No thank you.’ Her mother had once said sugar in your tea could make you fat. Allie thought about her mother every time someone asked if she wanted sugar in her tea.
‘Right,’ said Mrs Ferris. ‘Try the biscuits. Chocolate chip. It’s a new recipe.’
Mrs Ferris held out a plate of biscuits and Allie took one. Allie’s gran would have given her a plate to put the biscuit on to stop crumbs going on the carpet. Mrs Ferris’s carpet could have done with a quick hoover, Allie noticed. She bit into the biscuit and her eyes opened wide. It was amazing. It wasn’t too sweet and the chocolate was yummy. It was crisp but crumbly.
‘Did you really make these biscuits?’ she asked.
Mrs Ferris smiled and nodded.
‘They are insane! So good!’
‘Have another,’ said Mrs Ferris, holding out the plate.
Allie put out her hand, but then held back. ‘Could I take one home for my dad?’
‘Of course!’ said Mrs Ferris, still smiling. ‘I’ll put some in a bag for you to take home. Have another one now.’
‘How do you make biscuits like these?’ asked Allie.
‘Mostly you just mix flour, butter and sugar together and bake it.’ Mrs Ferris looked at Allie a bit oddly. ‘Have you never done baking? At school, maybe?’
Allie shook her head.
‘Not with your mum either?’
Allie felt she had to explain about her mum. She didn’t want Mrs Ferris to think badly of her. ‘My mum was in a band. She sang and played the guitar and toured the country when I was little. She took me with her, of course, but I didn’t like it so I came home to be with Dad. Then they got divorced and Mum married again.’
Allie paused. She had been teased at school because she didn’t have a mum, although she wasn’t the only one who didn’t. ‘Mum did ask me to go and live with her in Canada but who’d keep an eye on Dad if I wasn’t here? Baking isn’t really his thing.’
Allie laughed to think of her football-loving dad with a pinny on. He had kept her fed when she was a child though, and called himself the King of the Ready Meal. He never really did what Allie thought of as cooking. ‘Although some men do baking. I love Bake Off.’
‘Me too.’
‘You could go on it!’ said Allie. ‘They always have an older lady on it.’ She took a breath. ‘Sorry, was that rude?’
‘Not at all! I am an older lady. But I’m not good enough to go on Bake Off. My scones are good, my biscuits are OK and I can make a basic cake, but I can’t do fancy icing.’
Allie had an idea and suddenly felt hopeful. ‘Can you make other things?’
Mrs Ferris frowned. ‘What sort of other things?’
‘Soup?’
‘Soup?’ said Mrs Ferris. ‘Yes, of course. When I was bringing up my family we ate a lot of soup.’
‘Could you teach me how to make it?’ asked Allie. Mrs Ferris could be the answer. If she could teach her how to cook, then Allie could go back to the café and possibly get a job there.
‘Of course. It’s not difficult. Why do you want to learn now?’ asked Mrs Ferris. ‘Are you trying to save a few pennies?’
‘No! Do you know that café in the High Street – Jango’s? They want someone to work in the kitchen. I’ve always wanted to work in a café like that, and there was a card in the window. The owner was really nice and said to come back when I had learned how to cook the basics. Soup was one of the things I need to make.’ Allie realised all over again how much she wanted the job.
‘I go into that café sometimes,’ said Mrs Ferris. ‘It’s nice. And all the cakes are home-made. Not sure who makes them, but they’re lovely.’
‘It looks like a great place to work and I need a change,’ said Allie.
‘Well, that’s a brilliant reason for wanting to learn to cook. When can you start your lessons?’
Allie pulled out her phone and checked the time. ‘Not now. I’d better get back to Dad.’
