Page 34 of Christmas for the Village Midwife
‘Were you good at art?’ Corrine asked.
Billie shrugged. ‘I was all right. I got an A.’
‘There you go then. Baking isn’t only chemistry; it’s art too. It’s as clear as day to me you have art in you. The way you put your flavours together, it’s like an artist mixing his colours for the right shade.’
‘What’s all this?’ Victor ambled in, used mug in his hand. ‘Art and paints. It’s just cake, i’n’t it?’
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ Corrine huffed. ‘Great heathen lump that you are. You’ve never mixed a cake batter in your life.’
‘Ah, but I’ve eaten enough of them.’
‘Your belt’s telling me that,’ Corrine said with a wink at Billie. ‘Had to put another hole in, didn’t you?’
Victor began to protest that it wasn’t his fault and that Corrine had told him at the time not to worry and he was still slim and handsome and then stopped as she began to laugh. ‘Rotten, that’s what you are.’
Corrine was laughing as he took his mug to the kettle for a refill, and when Zoe chanced a quick look at Billie, she caught the merest ghost of a smile.
A couple of hours later, Corrine stood with her arms folded, studying Billie’s gingerbread house. It was far from perfect – messy joints, off-centre decorations and blackened edges where the gingerbread had caught, but even Zoe could see it oozed a certain creativity. ‘Not bad,’ Corrine said. ‘Not bad at all for your first go.’ Then she moved over to Zoe’s house, looking as though she was stifling a grin. Although, Zoe had decided it was less of a house and more one of those bomb shelters you used to see in old public information films about what to do in the event of a nuclear attack. One of the walls had already fallen off, and the roof looked ready to collapse at any moment.
‘I’m sure it will taste all right,’ Zoe said.
‘I’m sure it will,’ Corrine agreed, still trying to keep that grin under control. ‘Shall we try some?’
Zoe snapped a corner from her fallen wall and then put it into her mouth. ‘I was wrong – it doesn’t taste all right either.’
‘I’m sure it’s not that bad,’ Corrine said, taking some from her.
Zoe watched Corrine’s face as she chewed laboriously. It was dry, too stringent, the heat of the ginger overwhelming and there wasn’t enough sweetness from the sugar. Zoe couldn’t tell where she’d gone so wrong, but had to assume that at some point she’d messed up on the measurements and not noticed her mistake until it was too late.
‘It’s a…ummm bold flavour,’ Corrine said, and Zoe had to laugh.
‘It’s that all right! I did try to warn you!’
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ Corrine said. ‘It’s really not that bad.’
‘I’m a big girl,’ Zoe replied. ‘I can take the truth. I don’t know how I got it wrong – must have missed something off the instructions, maybe.’
‘Maybe when Dad phoned as you were measuring, it put you off,’ Billie said.
Corrine nodded. ‘That’ll be it.’
‘Should I try it?’ Billie asked.
Zoe shook her head with a rapidly widening grin. ‘As your midwife and friend, absolutely not! There’s no telling what it will do to you. And as everything you eat gets passed to your unborn baby, it might count as child cruelty. Come on – let’s try yours instead. I bet it’s as nice as it smells.’
Billie chewed on a piece she had left over from her construction. ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘Fine, I think.’
‘Wow, that’s good!’ Zoe exclaimed through a mouthful. ‘The orange really works!’
‘Do you think?’
Corrine snapped off a corner and bit into it. ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘It works very well. Did you put a little honey in too?’
Billie nodded. ‘I mean, you said about honey, and I thought…’
‘I did, and I’m glad to see you trying different combinations. It’s very nice,’ Corrine said. ‘Delicious, in fact.’
At that moment, Victor returned to the kitchen, armed with the same dirty mug to be refilled a third time with tea. ‘All done in here?’ he asked.
