Page 56 of Love ad Lib
‘What?’ Estelle asked.
Henry cleared his throat. ‘Apparently Libby thinks I’m like a cinnamon roll.’
His sister blinked, then burst out laughing. ‘Overly sweet, a bit doughy in the middle and lacking spice? Yep, that sounds about right.’
Libby’s cheeks flushed. Estelle may have said that she was allowed to slag her family off, but Libby wasn’t putting up with any criticism of Henry, fake boyfriend or not.
She squared up to Estelle. ‘I’ll have you know that Henry is hotter than a Habanero and spicier than a street market in Marrakesh.’ She lifted her chin. ‘And there’s nothing wrong with being sweet. I’ll take sweet over sour any day of the week.’ She planted her hands on her hips. ‘And whilst I’m at it, I won’t hear a word said against Henry. Ever. Okay?’
There was a stunned silence and her eyes darted between the Foxbrooke twins. They were mirror images, with wide eyes and open mouths as they stared at her.
Estelle was the first to break, bursting into peals of laughter. She hugged Libby tightly, lifting her off the ground. ‘Oh, you’re just too adorable for words!’ Her two dogs barked in agreement. She let Libby back down, but kept a tight grip on her shoulder as she propelled her towards the side of the house. ‘Honestly, I don’t know how he managed to bag someone as interesting as you—’
‘What—’
‘Oops. Sorry, force of habit. I’m sure you’re simply perfect for each other. True love and all that bollocks.’ Estelle pushed open a door. ‘Right, Libby Bennet, it’s time to follow your nose. And this time it’s not dung you’re smelling, but freshly baked buns.’
‘Perry!’Estelle cried as she led the way into the kitchen. The room was large and ancient, with a big open fireplace that was used in the past to roast whole animals. Libby tried not to gawp. The kitchen appliances were modern, and light streamed in through the window onto the marble countertops.
In the centre of the room was an enormous prep area with a butcher's block at one end and a stainless-steel table at the other. Sitting on the top was a plate containing two marrow bones and another containing a pile of Chelsea buns. Estelle tossed the bones into the old fireplace for Chester and Joy, then bit into a bun.
‘Perry,’ she groaned. ‘You’re the best.’
A woman in her late fifties, her dyed blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, was untying an apron. It had the words ‘cook knows best’ printed on the front. She took it off and held her arms out to Henry.
‘Come here, love.’
He leaned down to hug her. ‘Hello, Perry. It’s good to see you.’
She grabbed his cheeks. ‘Not as good as it is to see you, young man.’ She looked past him at Libby and smiled. ‘And you must be Libby Bennet.’
Libby smiled in return, but her stomach was knotted with anxiety. Every time someone referred to her as Libby Bennet, it reminded her of all the lies she was telling.
Henry drew his shoulders back. ‘Yes, this is my g-girlfriend, Libby. Libby, this is Jan Perry, who has been the cook here for as long as I can remember.’
‘G-girlfriend?’ said Estelle. ‘It sounds like you c-can’t b-believe it.’
Jan tutted. ‘Less of that, young lady. You’re just jealous that Henry has finally found love.’
‘Barf,’ Estelle replied. ‘Don’t put me off my b-buns.’
Jan ignored her and hugged Libby. ‘You can call me Jan or Perry, like everyone else. Sit down and help yourself.’
Henry pulled out a chair for her and she sat as Perry placed a bun on a plate. ‘Tuck in while they’re warm. Cup of tea?’
Libby nodded. ‘Thank you.’
She peeled back a strip of bun, tore it off and placed it in her mouth. The spice and fruit zinged on her tongue and her stomach decided that lying to nice people was okay as long as freshly baked Chelsea buns were consumed at the same time.
Henry took a seat and held his bun up to hers as if making a toast.
‘Congratulations,’ he said. ‘Not counting animals, that’s four family members down and you’re still alive.’
She tapped her bun against his and smiled.
‘How are they?’ Perry asked her. ‘Up to London standards?’
‘You must know they’re a million times better,’ Libby replied. ‘I’ve only tried to make them once with my sourdough starter, but they didn’t work very well.’
