Page 111 of A December to Remember
“Bloody hell, Duncan, I almost peed my pants!”
A closer look at his expression showed that he was distinctly shaken.
“Thank god I’ve found you!” he said, letting out a puff of held breath. “You need to come quickly, Star is freaking out.”
“Star?” Maggie was incredulous. “Star doesn’t freak out, she meditates.”
“She’s not meditating now.” Duncan looked grim.
“Right, lead the way.” There was nothing like another person’s crisis to help you shelve your own.
When she entered the cookery school kitchen behind the Stag and Hound, the preparations for the feast were well under way. Saucepans full of parsnips and potatoes waiting to be parboiled before roasting covered half the hobs. A vat of redcabbage simmered gently, pushing out steam perfumed with red wine and cinnamon. Mounds of peeled brussels sprouts and carrots sat beside a pile of cauliflower florets ready for the leek and cauliflower cheese.
Across the kitchen ten large raw chickens in roasting tins were lined up along one long stainless steel worktop. A bucket-sized bowl of stuffing sat nearby, amid the detritus left by peeled garlic cloves and branches of herbs.
Standing beside chicken number eight, wearing rubber gloves that reached up to her elbows and a maniacal expression on her face, was Star. Her gloves were shiny with raw chicken and butter and smeared all over with stuffing. She was brandishing a lemon like a weapon.
“Hello, Twinkle-Star, everything all right?” Maggie asked in her most soothing voice.
Star’s eyes seemed to focus, as though just realizing Maggie was there. “Nigella says I have to put lemons up chickens’ bottoms!”
“Does she now? Pervert.”
“She’s made me massage butter into their crevices.”
“Nigella is a very sensual woman.”
“I don’t eat meat. I’ve never handled dead birds. I’ve never handled dead anything. Do you know what massaging a dead chicken feels like?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. But I can see that this has been something of a baptism of fire for you.”
Star shook the fist that clenched the lemon. “This is what love looks like. I’ve forced lemons into dead chickens’ bottoms because you are sad. True love is lemons in chickens’ bottoms!”
Maggie noticed that Duncan was backing toward the door. She didn’t want to laugh at her sister’s obvious distress, but ithad been a hell of a weird day and this absurdity was just too much. Once the giggles started, she couldn’t stop them.
“Star, I’m sorry you were left with all this,” she said through her snickering. “I’m going to take over from you now, okay?” She was moving slowly around the worktop, one hand out like she’d seen Chris Pratt do with the velociraptors inJurassic World.
“They’re all dead!” Star squeaked, but she was starting to laugh too.
“Given the circumstances, that’s probably for the best.”
“I was supposed to be in charge of the nut roasts.”
“I know, sweetie, and I’m sorry. I’m here now.” Star still held the lemon, but her stance was beginning to relax a little and she burst out sporadically in paroxysms of laughter. “Star, I need you to step away from the chickens and put the lemon down.”
Star looked at her hand as though only just seeing the lemon and placed it down on the worktop.
“Good girl. Let’s get you over to the sink and rinse those gloves off, shall we?” She took her sister by the shoulders and carefully maneuvered her toward one of the sinks. The pair of them were practically squealing with laughter.
“That was intense,” breathed Star once she was clean and divested of chicken gloves. Their giggles had subsided, and Maggie felt a sense of relief at having burned off some of the fire raging inside her.
“Of all the things, I never expected it to be raw chicken that would break your spirit.” She smiled. “Where on earth is Simone? I don’t understand why she isn’t helping you.” Maggie looked at her watch. It was just after one o’clock. “Shouldn’t Verity be back by now? It was only a morning playdate. And where’s Patrick?” It was like she was just coming back to her senses after a long dream.
“Verity’s over with Antonia watchingThe Muppet Christmas Carol. She was here, but she got bored of breaking the cauliflowers into florets and grating cheese. She said both her arms were broken.”
“That sounds about right. What about Patrick?”
“I’m here, Ma.”
