Page 39 of A Recipe for Love
Flinty laughed. ‘Not me. Poppy.’
‘Who?’
‘Poppy.’ Flinty shrugged. ‘I mean we don’t know she’s called that, but Darcy said she ought to have a name.’
Even in a castle there couldn’t be a whole other person clattering around that Bella hadn’t noticed. ‘Who’s Poppy?’
‘The ghost.’ Flinty seemed entirely matter of fact about this. ‘Well one of them. The only one that really bothers us anyway.’
‘A ghost moved my knife?’
‘Aye. She likes moving things. I don’t know why. Must be boring being dead though.’
Bella shook her head. She hadn’t been born yesterday. ‘Nice try. Messing with the new girl.’
‘I’m serious. It was her that sneezed too. She does nay like black pepper.’ Flinty looked unconcerned. ‘That’s probably why she moved your knife. She’s not happy with you making her all sneezy.’
Flinty didn’t sound like she was joking, which was impressive. Bella would not have suspected her as an accomplished prankster. She decided to play along. ‘So, you’re saying the castle is haunted? Seriously?’
‘Well it’s very old. More surprising if it wasn’t, I’d say. When Darcy first came here she got this woman in to wave sage about the place and commune with the spirits and that. She reckoned Poppy was a restless Victorian girl. But I don’t know. Ghosts are always Victorian aren’t they? Especially little girls.’ Flinty shrugged. ‘She don’t mean any harm so we let her be and accept that sometimes your shoes won’t be where you left them.’
‘Okaaaay.’ Bella tipped the now perfectly crisp bacon into a bowl and tossed the onion, and then the mushrooms, into her pan while she added a dash of milk to her eggs and grated a small block of cheese. Once the mushrooms had browned ever so slightly she added the bacon back in, and it was time for the eggs.
This was the pure joy of making an omelette. Through honing and repetition she’d come to understand why so many thought it was the bedrock of good cooking. It came together quickly but every single ingredient needed to be cared for and added at precisely the right moment. Nobody wanted weird flavoured scrambled egg. They wanted something smooth and slightly unctuous. You could add a twist more pepper at this point if you chose. Bella often did, but that was when she was cooking in kitchens not already occupied by a curiously anti-seasoning spirit.
Bella tipped her beaten egg into the pan. The temptation now was to mix and prod and poke but you had to resist, just for the first minute or two. She tilted and swirled the pan to spread the mixture evenly over the bacon and mushrooms, but she didn’t stir. To Bella’s mind, if you’d beaten and seasoned your egg well enough to start with you had to keep the faith and simply let the heat of the pan work its magic.
And finally the cheese. Another bone of contention. Some people flipped the whole omelette, like a pancake, added the cheese right at the end after cooking both sides, and then folded the omelette to create a cheesy pocket within the half circle of fluffy eggy loveliness. Bella preferred to sprinkle her grated cheese onto the top side of the omelette just at the last moment while the egg on top was still slightly runny, and then fold, without flipping at all, and trust the heat of the pan to cook the final few millimetres of egg and melt the cheese into the whole.
It was when she’d worked that out that she’d finally understood what her old boss meant about every chef having their own individual idea of the perfect omelette. Finding her own hadn’t been a test so much as a rite of passage. Less than ten minutes, the most basic ingredients and a lot of care and love. That was the perfect omelette.
‘That smells good.’ She’d been so lost in the reverie of heat plus ingredients plus care that she hadn’t heard Adam come back in. ‘I’ve never really seen you cook before.’
‘I was cooking when you met me.’
‘You were fending off half a stag do when I met you.’
‘While making Crêpes Suzette at table.’
‘I was too mortified to pay attention to the cooking.’
She kissed the top of his head as he took a seat next to Flinty at the island. ‘And I thought you were hypnotised by my beauty.’
He smiled slightly. ‘Sure. Let’s say it was that.’
Bella slid the omelette onto a plate and placed it in front of him.
‘For me?’ he asked.
‘No, actually for Darcy, but she’s not down yet so I can make her another.’
He looked at the omelette. ‘I’m not sure how hungry I am.’
She knew she was staring at him. Since they’d arrived at the airport and Flinty had delivered her dagger to their plans, Bella had become fixated on Adam’s face, checking it for signs of distress, or perhaps for signs of hope. Right now he simply looked exhausted. ‘You still have to eat.’
‘Fine.’ He took his first mouthful and closed his eyes for a second. ‘That’s really good. Thank you Bel.’
‘That’s OK. I enjoyed making it.’
