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Amelie and Isla were born a few months later. One arrived screaming (Millie), the other quiet as a mouse (Isla). They slept side by side on their backs in the cot, but always facing each other, their tiny fingers often intertwined. Simon was ecstatic, Stella exhausted but elated. And just like that, they were a family of five. Six, if you counted the Labrador puppy Max had begged them for and Stella had agreed to have in a moment of weakness not long after the twins were born.
Once the first few months of nursing twins had passed, of which Stella could remember very little with any real clarity other than being shattered, she had managed to settle into some sort of routine, albeit revolving mostly around food. She found herself cobbling together endless meals for Max, while trying to get something puréed or mashed for the twins in the meantime. Stella started batch cooking to fill the freezer – years of forward planning and spreadsheets in her working life had left their mark – and before long, a few friends and neighbours with children the same age were asking if they could buy some of her meals to squeeze into their freezers. From fish pies to shepherd’s pies, pasta bakes to chicken casseroles and vegetable stews, Stella cooked up all the things she knew Max loved eating but were a faff to make unless made in bulk, and the requests for more just kept on coming.
Soon she was sourcing proper packaging and labels with the help of an old friend from her supermarket marketing days, and with the help of another set up a website to take orders. Calling the fledgling business Star Pots, Stella asked a few of her fellow mothers to act as ‘ambassadors’ in return for free frozen toddler meals and before long word spread, her kitchen becoming a hive of activity with more people drafted in to help.
Just before she was due to return to work after her year’s maternity leave was up, Stella had decided to hand in her notice and instead give the business a proper go. Simon was all for it, suggesting she give it six months and if the company didn’t grow, she could always return to a salaried job.
With hours spent pounding the pavements, the twins in a buggy and a cooler bag of samples over her shoulder, Stella approached numerous independent shop owners and managers and soon learned to tell the difference, within minutes, between those who thought she was completely deluded and those who might just be persuaded to give her products a trial run.
After numerous false starts and more red tape than she could ever have imagined, even with her retailing background, Stella had slowly begun to secure listings in local cafes and delicatessens frequented by parents on their way to and from nursery school. So she gave it a further six months and the orders just kept coming. Countless business fairs, school fairs and local pop-ups later, she was able to move the business out of her own kitchen and rent space in a professional test kitchen. She’d never been so exhausted, but as the business took shape, she loved what she did more than she ever imagined possible.
A few years later, with all three of the children now at school, she had found herself sitting in a meeting room of her previous employer at the supermarket pitching the business to the baby food buyer. By this time, Stella had built up a small core team around her, some of whom she’d worked with at her old company, covering product development, operations and marketing. Simon had left his job to come and run the financial side of the business, securing investors as Star Pots continued to grow. And once the brand hit the shelves of its first major supermarket, rival retailers had come knocking. The hours were gruelling, the workload immense. But through sheer hard work and determination, Star Pots had grown to become a brand as much admired as envied by its competitors.
Having put practically every penny they’d made back into the business since the day she’d sold her very first batch, and with the children getting older, Simon and Stella had agreed it was finally time to enjoy some of the rewards of their hard work, and decided to move to a bigger house. Their belongings were packed up from Simon’s house, the one they’d lived in for the past decade, and moved into one they’d often walked past on their way to the common with the children, and the dog in tow, on their weekend outings. The house had always appealed to Stella, despite its overgrown garden clearly visible over the low stone wall and permanently drawn thick curtains in the windows at the front of the house. But she could see its potential and had eventually persuaded Simon that they should go for it.
They had moved in on a crisp autumn day and, over time, traces of the previous owners disappeared, from the heavy curtains, thick carpets and dark colours, replaced with restored, polished floorboards, off-white walls and a mix of old and new furniture. A new kitchen extension at the back of the house had created a large room with a glass ceiling over the long oak dining-room table, letting light flood into the room and spill over into the house. Stella had filled the small, decked area at the back with wild grasses and pots overflowing with ever-changing flowers and herbs and, with the help of a local landscape gardener, overhauled the front. By the following spring, newly planted cherry trees had filled the garden with their blossom and heavenly scent and whenever Stella walked in through the side gate and up to the front door, her stomach still flipped at the thought that the house was hers. They’d worked hard for it, but when she thought of Simon, their three children and the life they had together, she just couldn’t believe her luck.
5
‘So, how was lunch?’ Stella pushed her stir fry round the plate. The children were in the sitting room watching television and Simon and Stella sat together at one end of the table, a glass of red wine each in front of them.
‘Good, actually. Usual stuff – what are the projected sales, when’s the new range going to be ready, when is it going to go into all stores rather than just two-thirds of them…’ Simon picked up his glass and took a large slug of wine.
‘Sorry you had to do it on your own.’ She picked up her glass but didn’t take a sip. She glanced up at him again, trying to push the question down that had been threatening to come out since she’d walked through the door. Simon has loosened the top button of his shirt, but the tie still sat around his neck, seemingly daring her to ask about it.
‘How did the photo shoot go?’ Simon held another mouthful on his fork.
‘Oh, fine. Stand in front of kitchen counter. Cross arms and look businesslike but with a friendly smile.’ She imitated the fixed smile she’d done for the camera that afternoon.
Simon laughed. ‘Very convincing. When is the article coming out?’
‘Hopefully in a few weeks’ time, so that should help get a few more listings over the line. Nice tie, by the way.’
‘Thanks.’ Simon nodded at her plate. ‘Are you going to eat that?’
Stella pushed it across the table towards him. ‘You finish it.’ She watched as he tucked into her leftovers. ‘I haven’t seen it before. Where’s it from?’ She tried her best to sound casual.
He picked up the tie with his free hand and looked at it. ‘Um, I’m not sure. Can’t remember.’ He took another mouthful of food.
‘What’s the label?’
Simon looked up at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The label. Have a look on the back. That’ll show where it’s from.’
‘What’s so interesting about this tie?’ Simon stopped, his fork mid-air.
Stella felt her cheeks reddening. ‘I just wondered, that’s all. Like I said, I haven’t seen it before and it’s just quite different. From your usual style, I mean.’
‘What are you trying to say, Stella?’ He waved his fork, the food on it falling to the plate.
‘Nothing. It’s just… I like it, that’s all. And I wanted to know where it comes from. I thought maybe I might buy you more like that, it suits you.’
He shook his head and carried on eating. ‘No idea.’
Despite desperately wanting to reach across the table and grab the tie to see, Stella decided to change the subject completely. ‘We’ve been asked over to Caroline’s for lunch on Sunday and I’d like us to go, we haven’t seen her for ages.’
