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She slumped down at the scrubbed pine table, her face buried in one of her aunt’s tea towels, which was unfortunately covered in film of strawberry jam and stuck to her hair when she triedto remove it. Her personal “Bake Off” odyssey had been an unmitigated disaster. Clearly she was not destined to have her broken heart fixed by a batch of strawberry tarts any time soon. Not only that, her hair was sticky and reeked of burnt pastry, and her body felt as though she’d gone five rounds with a hyperactive Thai masseuse.
If this was what it took to ‘Bake Yourself Better’ then she was a lost cause.
Chapter Sixteen
When Rosie woke the next morning, her muscles screamed their objection to the unfamiliar brush with physical exertion they had been subjected to the previous afternoon. After soaking in a hot bubble bath, she returned to her bedroom to stare at the totally unsuitable outfits she had brought with her. She briefly considered raiding her aunt’s wardrobe, hoping to find attire more suited to a sortie into the wilderness, but before she had even brewed her morning pot of tea, Emily rang.
‘Hi, Rosie, how are you this morning?’
‘I’m fine. Oh, and I’m not cross with you, by the way.’
‘Cross with me? Why would you be cross with me?’
‘I understand that you shared my deepest, darkest secrets with my aunt.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Emily, her voice laced with confusion. After listening in silence to the synopsis of Rosie’s discoveries in the old toy box, and the contents of Aunt Bernice’s letter, she continued, ‘Well, that certainly isn’t the way I would have wanted you to be staying on in Somersby – a posthumous guilt trip from your aunt about dating your boss! But the outcome is the same, I suppose. Welcome back!’
Rosie laughed. ‘Thank you, Em.’
‘I’m thrilled you’re staying on for a while, Rosie, and I hope you will use the time to heal your wounds while you’re safe from the ferocity of your corporate world and the tigers that prowlin its corridors. I also hope that you’ll take your aunt’s advice seriously and start socialising, and so, to that end, we’ll see you at the village show later this afternoon.’
‘Oh, no, Susan’s already mentioned it and I politely passed.’
‘Refusal is not an option. The boys have spent the whole morning baking chocolate crispie cakes, butterfly buns, and a batch of scones. If there are any left, we’ll bring them along to the Refreshments tent, where I know your aunt’s annual contribution of sweet treats will be sadly missed. We’ll collect you on the way. Is two-ish okay?’
‘Do I really have to, Em? It’s not my idea of fun.’
‘Whatisyour idea of fun, Rosie? I hear you’ve spent the whole of this year organising the wedding of the decade for your sister or at the beck and call of that cheating loser, Edward, when you are not chained to your desk amassing riches for clients who are already rich enough? I don’t call that fun, Miss Hamilton!’
Silence. How could she argue? It was true.
‘What else do you have planned, anyway? Making a start on the garden?’
‘Well, as a matter of fact…’
‘Oh, and I see you don’t hang around either.’
‘What?’
‘The For Sale board. I saw it when I collected Ethan from after-school club yesterday. Oh, and by the way, I checked with Nick, and he confirmed what I thought. When the vicar left the Old Rectory, the property was sold for £350,000, so Willowbrook Lodge should at least be in the same vicinity. Why not get a second opinion?’
‘Okay, okay, Em. I’ll look into it.’
‘Good. See you later, then… and a batch of scones, like your aunt used to make, wouldn’t go amiss!’
Before Rosie could argue, the line was cut. She slotted her phone back into her pocket and sauntered to the kitchen, eyeing the Aga as though it were a monster in the corner of the room ready to pounce as soon as she approached. Maybe she should take to wearing a matador’s red cape, just in case it decided to charge.
She wondered whether Emily had been joking about requiring a batch of scones for the village fair that day. What if it was rude to turn up at such an event empty-handed, or worse, with a shop-bought offering? But could she risk another baking catastrophe?
She grabbed her aunt’s journal, flicked swiftly over the Strawberry Tarts page, and there it was – the very next recipe – ideal for the way her body had felt that morning after her horticultural madness the previous day.
Cherry Scones for Aching Bones
I hope you love this twist on the traditional English scone, Rosie. I’ve added cherries because I know how much you loved sitting under the cherry tree last year whilst we doodled on the sketch pads and put your heart back together again. Scones are a staple of afternoon teas across the country. They are best eaten fresh from the oven and slightly warm. Always serve with a fine blend of tea with milk, preferably from a teapot, in a bone china cup with saucer. Especially enjoyable after a day’s hard toil in the garden with lashings of fresh butter or clotted cream whilst you relax with your feet up to survey the results of your horticultural labour.
As a splatter of raindrops toppled from the sky and splashed the bedroom window, Rosie dressed quickly in her one pair of jeans. She donned her aunt’s trusty navy Barbour, green Wellington boots and an old straw gardening hat she found on a peg by the back door and set off to the village store to replenish the larder with the ingredients she had wasted the previous day.
‘My goodness, Rosie,’ cried Susan, clutching at her chest theatrically. ‘You gave me such a fright! What with Bernice’s old straw hat and her Barbour jacket! However, I’m pleased to see you’re joining in with the community spirit and taking part in the village fair. Bernice would have approved. So, scones, you say. Will you be using your aunt’s old family recipe?’
