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Picking the pan that appeared most like a basin, she poured in the mixture and covered it.
‘Tie string under the rim and across the top to make a handle.’
String? Where on earth… Searching through the drawers, she discovered a treasure trove of items that she’d never expected to find in a kitchen. Andrew apparently liked to mend things. Taking out a ball of twine, she studied the pan. There wasn’t really a rim. She tapped a finger to her chin. Hmm. In that same drawer, she found a roll of duct tape and fastened the string on the sides and across the top.
Feeling proud of herself, she read on. ‘Place a trivet in the base of a large saucepan.’
There were no trivets in the house, or if there were, they weren’t in the kitchen. Feeling good about her newfound ability to ‘make do’, she substituted an upside down pie pan.
‘Lower the pudding into a saucepan with enough boiling water to come two-thirds of the way up the sides of the basin. Pour in more boiling water if necessary.’
That meant she’d have to keep an eye on it.
Whew. Now she didn’t have to do anything until the pudding was cooked. Then she was supposed to pour the remaining brandy over it and re-cover the pan. It didn’t say how long to boil it, so how would she know when it was done?
It would take three to four hours of gentle boiling to reheat. Did it take that long the first time? Was there enough brandy left, or would she have to open another bottle? Kati took another slug. She was beginning to feel really calm, considering the ordeal she’d been through.
To serve, she was supposed to add a sprig of holly. Okay. And flambé at the table with warmed brandy. Those damned raisins were really going to be stoned.
‘Can also be served with brandy butter.’
Ohmigod. She might have to make a liquor run. Except she was feeling a little dizzy. Maybe it was from all the red lights reflecting off the silver tinsel. Maybe she needed to lay her head down and close her eyes. For just a moment.
* * * *
Andrew couldn’t wait to get home to Kati. He’d missed her so much. And it was Christmas Eve. He hadn’t been this excited since he was a kid waiting for the next morning. They’d opened gifts at his grandparents’ after dinner, and he’d hated the wait. Couldn’t Father Christmas come during the night so they could find their presents when they awoke on Christmas morning?
He had a gift for Kati. He patted his coat pocket as the taxi drew up at his house. He hoped she’d love it. Running up the front walk, he tried to think what looked different. The lights inside appeared dim…and red? Kati hadn’t turned on the porch light. Wasn’t she eager to greet him? He turned his key in the lock and stepped inside.
The lamps all glowed—red. Silver tinsel dangled from the chandeliers, and Christmas music poured through the house. He strode to the kitchen. A pot bubbled on the stove. And Kati, her head lying on the table, was sound asleep.
What in the hell was she cooking, and why wasn’t she tending it?
He shook her by the shoulders. “What’s going on?” A bottle of brandy less than half full sat close at hand. “Kati! What are you cooking?”
She blinked, shook her head and laid it down again.
“Kati,” he yelled. “Are you drunk? You could have started a fire, letting the stove go and sleeping. Wake up, woman.”
She reared up. “Ohmigod. The Christmas pudding.”
Andrew looked at the pot on the stove. “You’re making one?”
“It’s a surprise,” she said, smiling crookedly.
“It certainly is.” He helped her to her feet and held her close.
“For you.”
“The decorations are a surprise, too,” he assured her.
“Do you like them?” Her head lolled.
“Sweetheart, it looks like a bordello in here.”
“Thanks a lot,” she said and fell sobbing onto his shoulder. “I don’t know how to tell when the pudding is done.”
* * * *
