Christmas Wishes at Pudding Hall by Kate Forster
Two Years Later
‘I’m going to call you train tracks from now on,’ Christa gently teased one of the young students in her class.
‘Why?’ the older boy looked belligerently at her.
‘Because you haven’t cut all the way through the leeks.’ Christa picked up some leek that was still joined.
‘You have to cut all the way through,’ she said to the group of teens.
They came every Wednesday and she taught them how to cook basic meals. Today was potato and leek soup. A staple that was cheap and easy and nutritious.
‘You should now have your onion, potato and leek chopped,’ she said. ‘And one clove of garlic crushed and at the ready.’
The kitchen was quiet after the lunch rush, which is when the teens came in and cooked. Some had been in trouble with the courts, some had been recommended by social workers and others by Zane and the team at St William’s.
Hartley House, as the pub had been renamed, had become a place to meet, get help, give help, connect and learn.
While it wasn’t an easy process to create Hartley House, with the paperwork and permits and convincing the council, eventually Zane and Christa got it over the line and then more hard work began.
Paul had helped design a place that was both warm and comforting, but not over the top, under Christa’s guidance.
‘I don’t want people to feel they’re in McDonald’s but I also don’t want them to feel intimidated as though they’re at a wannabe Cliveden,’ she had said.
And Paul had delivered something lovely and welcoming. The old wooden panelling had been painted a soft blue and with white walls, papered in a faux pressed metal, it gave the old pub a sense of style without being piss-elegant.
Paul had loved that phrase when Christa said it to him.
‘Piss-elegant. I know a few celebrities who adhere to that style. Namely one ex-president’s wife who has a penchant for white and gold. Only the Pope is allowed to wear white and gold, although he teams it with red shoes, which is a lot, you know, even for the head of the Church.’
The kitchen was completely fitted out with the largest space for the lunch preparation and then a smaller kitchen with ovens for the cooking classes. It was Selene who came and consulted on the kitchen design after working on the smash hit Blind Baking.
Selene was the star of the show and her French candour, mixed with her natural warmth and kindness, shone through in every episode.
Avian had suggested they do an episode at Hartley House and show it to the rest of the world. They would be arriving to shoot next week and the twins would be coming with her to stay at Pudding Hall for the summer.
Christa saw Marc come through the back door and speak to some of the staff, and he waved with his free hand.
She waved back.
She walked the class through the rest of the instructions for the soup.
‘Now you can take a break but set a timer. I don’t want the stink of burned potato and leek soup lingering in here for days on end.’
Christa undid her apron and left the kitchen, saying hello to a few of the social workers who were talking to clients and the dentist who had just finished packing up after some check-ups.
‘Hi.’ She beamed at Marc and she leaned over and kissed him and then kissed the soft downy head in the crook of his arm.
‘How is she?’
‘Terrible. All she does is sleep, eat and poop,’ he said and he passed Christa their daughter.
Juniper Beatrice was born on a warm summer evening with little to no trouble, while Marc cried and Christa swore like a kitchen hand. Juniper delivered herself and promptly suckled at Christa’s breast and sighed as though she had been waiting for her moment.
Christa rocked her now and touched her little cheeks. ‘She looks like Seth at times and then Ethan at other times,’ she said, completely smitten.
‘They’re identical twins,’ he reminded her.
‘But they’re so different,’ she said looking up. ‘Ethan’s hair sticks up at the back and Seth’s at the front. When Seth frowns he squints but when Ethan frowns he almost sneers. Not to mention the freckle – that was the first way I could tell them apart.’
‘The freckle?’ Marc asked.
‘Yes, the one on Seth’s cheekbone. Ethan doesn’t have one.’
Marc groaned and then slammed his hand on the arm of the chair but Juniper didn’t stir.
‘Are you telling me for twelve years I’ve struggled telling them apart and all I had to do was notice the freckle on a cheek.’
Christa shrugged. ‘This is why you’re a terrible parent,’ she teased.
‘I know I am,’ he said. ‘Lucky I have you to show me the way to salvation.’
But in truth, both Marc and Avian had stepped up as parents. They shared custody comfortably and easily and the boys were going to finish high school in America but were hoping to attend university in England in the years to come. And they were back and forth all the time, both adoring their baby sister.
Juniper woke and stared at her mother and then smiled a gummy smile but Christa could see a hint of a tooth.
‘She has a bottom tooth coming through,’ she said to Marc.
‘No wonder she’s been grumpy,’ he said, leaning over and rubbing his finger over her gum and nodding.
Christa sat her up on her lap and Juniper grabbed the Christmas pudding on her mother’s necklace and tried to suck it and scrape her tooth on the jewels.
‘No pudding for you, missy,’ said Christa and she tucked the necklace away from the little hands.
‘I have to finish this soup class and then we can go,’ she said, standing up and rocking Juniper so she laughed, delighted with her mother’s tricks.
‘Yes, Peggy said she had made something for Junie, and Petey wanted to show me the agreement for the sale of the business.’
Petey had sold the fudge business to a small confectionary brand and he and Peggy were planning on travelling to Scotland to celebrate soon.
Now that they were living together, Christa had teased them about a wedding but Peggy had refused.
‘I’ve been married once – that was enough for me.’
‘Not for me, it seems,’ Christa had joked.
She and Marc had married at Pudding Hall early in the summer after they met, a small event with only Peggy, Petey, Adam, Paul, Selene, Bill and the twins in attendance.
They had a lunch in the garden and then they napped and lolled about the house, and it was perfect for everyone. Christa wore a blush pink sundress with pink roses in her hair and Marc wore jeans and a white shirt and in every photo they were laughing and kissing and holding the boys close.
Christa saw Zane waving at her from the office.
‘Okay, let me finish up here,’ she said and handed Juniper back to Marc, who started to blow raspberries on her protruding baby tummy.
‘What’s up?’ she asked Zane.
‘I have the council mothers’ group in the phone. They want to know if they can discuss a cooking for babies series?’
Christa clapped her hands. ‘Oh yes please, I’ve been thinking about this.’
She walked back to the kitchen where her teens were starting to blend their soups.
‘How does it taste?’ she asked and the young cooks nodded and some said it tasted great.
‘Now you all have your large containers. This will keep it warm until you get home, and then you can serve it to your family for dinner. Won’t your parents be happy they don’t have to cook for a change?’
The kids laughed and some looked embarrassed.
‘I have bags of rolls for you all, left over from lunch, and some butter portions. For dessert there’s chocolate brownies. Healthy ones,’ she said as the young cooks moaned, used to Christa’s continual discussions about nutrition and the importance of supporting their mental and physical health. ‘They have zucchini in them, but don’t tell your younger brothers and sisters or they won’t eat them – but I know you’re all not immature like that.’
She saw a few looks exchanged but she knew the brownies would all be gone in every house. They were so good to eat and so easy to make.
‘Next week we’re making shepherd’s pie,’ she said and she heard some groans.
‘But not your usual shepherd’s pie,’ she said. ‘This is a shepherd’s pie devised by a Michelin-hatted chef.’
One of the teen boys frowned. ‘You wear a car tyre as a hat?’
Christa laughed. Served her right for showing off, she thought. Those things didn’t matter to these kids and nor should they; it was all smoke and mirrors, as Simon had proven.
After losing his role to Selene, and losing Avian, he had a new restaurant – bankrolled by his parents again – but this time, with no Christa, the reviews weren’t as complimentary as he was used to. It was all over the tabloids that Simon had gone to a reviewer’s house and had relieved himself in the man’s shoes by his back door.
Except the man had caught him on camera and the footage was released to the papers.
‘The second time a camera undid him,’ Marc had said to Christa as she was reading the story on her iPad while she fed Juniper.
‘I don’t understand where he would get the idea to do that to someone’s shoes,’ she had said to Marc. The twins had laughed hysterically at this but she paid them no attention. Poo jokes were still very popular with them both but for some reason this story, in particular, seemed to amuse them for days on end.
As the teens were leaving with the soup and extra goods, Christa called out, ‘Jackson?’
The young man walked away from the group to join her.
‘You know, I need some help around here, and I think you show real promise in the kitchen,’ she said to him.
It was true, Jackson had a natural way with the knife and seemed to understand food at a higher level than the others. But she also knew he needed a job. His mum was undergoing cancer treatment, Zane had told her, and his dad had been laid off. His home was loving but money was tight.
She gave him an extra container of soup and more bread. ‘For the freezer,’ she said.
Jackson looked like he was about to cry as he took the soup. ‘Thank you, miss,’ he said and she smiled at him. ‘You have the makings of a chef, Jackson – I can see it. So have a chat to your dad and you can work here a few afternoons a week and can do more in the holidays if you like?’
Jackson nodded.
‘You can be my commis cook,’ she said.
‘What’s that?’ he asked, looking worried.
‘That’s the most important role in the kitchen,’ she said with a smile. ‘The new cook.’