Hubble Bubble (7 page)

Fondling their grey heads, Doll tried not to laugh. ‘Um – how’s it going?’

‘Great, love. Great.’ Mitzi blew a strand of hair away from her face as she peered at the ancient recipe book. ‘I’ve no idea why I didn’t crack cooking before. It’s child’s play.’

Doll looked at the ingredients with mounting trepidation: bamboo, ginseng, pomegranate, sage, sunflower seeds and walnuts, she recognised; others she simply didn’t. ‘Er – is it going to be a sort of soup?’

Mitzi shook her head. ‘No, love. It’s a pie. A Wishes Come True Pie – served with fresh greens, because according to Granny Westward’s notes green brings luck, and mashed potatoes because there has to be a white veg for lasting happiness. Lu was right of course, I couldn’t get all the right stuff from Big Sava, but Herbie’s Healthfoods helped a lot – and I’ve sort of improvised a bit with substitutes for things like the liquidamber and the tonka …’

‘Oh, good,’ Doll said faintly, now wishing she’d had beans on toast with Brett. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘No thanks. I’m all under control.’

Doll grinned. ‘Glad you think so. Where’s Lu? Still at work?’

‘No, she’s popped over to the flat to pick up some more of her stuff. It’s Niall’s night out with the boys so she reckoned she’d manage to avoid him – again. I’ve told her dinner will be ready at eight-thirty-ish.’

Doll pulled a face. It looked as though Lu and Niall were really kaput this time, then. Poor Lu. She’d had such high hopes. Doll had never thought the snobbish, desk-bound and upwardly mobile Niall was right for her sister, but at least their relationship was emotionally explosive. Volatile. All Lulu’s affairs had been pretty lively. Unlike her and Brett.

The phone shrilled in the hall.

‘Can you get that, love?’ Mitzi waved a wooden spoon like a baton. ‘And if it’s for me can you say I’m busy and I’ll ring back?’

Doll picked up the receiver, listened to the babbling voice, then put her hand over the mouthpiece. ‘I think it might be a funny phone call, you know. It’s someone called Christopher who says he’s replying to your advert and that he’s keen to meet up and – Jesus! You haven’t put a Sad
Singles ad in the
Winterbrook Advertiser,
have you?’

Mitzi waved the wooden spoon a bit more. Some green gunge dripped glutinously to the floor. Richard and Judy pounced on it, sniffed it, then retreated growling. ‘Don’t be daft – it’s for my BBC – Baby Boomers Collective, Doll, love. Remember? Can you just take his name and number, what he’s interested in, and write it in that little book there and tell him I’ll give him a ring tomorrow? Ta.’

Doing as she was told, Doll added Christopher – pyrotechnics and heavy metal, beneath Avis – light opera, Dorothy – snooker, Ronnie – exotic dance, and James – needlework.

‘Blimey, there are loads of them in here!’ She flicked through the notebook in amazement. ‘Just what are you going to do with them all?’

‘Goodness knows,’ Mitzi grinned. ‘I’m going to book the village hall and get them all together to start with, and then see where we go from there. Oooops – this doesn’t look quite right. Can you give me a hand? Grab this …’

Hurrying back into the kitchen, Doll grabbed. The suppurating saucepan smelled like burnt socks. With her eyes watering, she sat down at the table and peered at it. ‘What the hell is this?’

‘Desiccated Lady’s Mantle.’ Mitzi elbowed a lot of clutter from the table top and sat opposite her. ‘Herbie’s Healthfoods said it was used in love potions in ancient times, which is why I’m using it in place of the Grains of Paradise, which again probably explains why it hasn’t – er—’ she consulted the recipe book ‘—coagulated, quite as it should.’

Doll watched with amusement as her mother propped Granny Westward’s book in front of her then carefully selected a handful of bamboo, a pinch of sage and a few walnuts, and hurled them into a small bowl. Clearly not having the required pestle and mortar, Mitzi was improvising with the bowl and the ubiquitous wooden spoon. The violent crushing motion seemed to please her.

‘I’m imagining that this is Jennifer … and this bit is that appalling Troy-the-Bank … and this, oh joy, is the adenoidal Tyler,’ she said happily. ‘It worked a treat with the pomegranate. I pretended the pomegranate was Tarnia Snepps’s head.’

Doll laughed. ‘You and Tarnia are going to cross swords over the village hall, you know that, don’t you? She won’t be happy at all about you organising activities without her calling the shots.’

‘I’ll deal with that when it arises. Right now I’ve got other things to think about …’ Mitzi’s tongue just protruded as she concentrated on adding the right amount of powdered ginseng to the bowl. She gave it all a rather haphazard beating then stopped and peered at it. ‘Do you think it needs an egg?’

‘I think it needs a decent burial,’ Doll said dubiously, watching as her mother crossed the kitchen, removed some speckled ready-rolled pastry from the fridge and slopped it into a shallow dish before spooning the various concoctions into it, slapping the pastry lid on the top and hacking away at the ragged edges. ‘Why is the pastry spotty? And if you’re only just making the pie, what’s in the oven?’

‘The pastry isn’t
spotty
.’ Mitzi opened the oven and gave a little shriek as a red-hot blast shot out into the kitchen. ‘It’s
textured –
with chopped endive. Granny Westward’s book says that endive is helpful in matters of the heart. Not clear on whether she meant circulation or love actually … and this—’ she tugged a bubbling dish from the cooker ‘—is a bit of an extra just in case anyone wants seconds.’

‘Er – right.’ Doll stood up. ‘As it looks like a battle zone out here, I guess we’re eating in the living room, so I’ll just go and set the table then, shall I?’

With the table laid with rainbow plates, blue-handled cutlery, three odd champagne flutes, four purple candles in pink holders, red paper napkins left over from last Christmas, and a centrepiece of the orange and yellow
chrysanthemums remaining from Mitzi’s leaving bouquet, Doll thought it set the room off a treat.

Putting a Mott the Hoople CD on the player and leaving Abba for afters, she turned off all but one of the table lamps, and with the candle glow and the fire’s flickering flames, the living room looked wonderfully cosy. If only the bungalow could be half so welcoming.

‘Right,’ Mitzi bustled in carrying a steaming vegetable dish, ‘Lulu’s just come in, and everything’s ready – so I’m prepared for the moment of truth. No, you sit down love – I’ll bring the rest in.’

As Doll sat, Mitzi and Lu passed in the doorway. Richard and Judy shot into the room between them and settled down for a happy reciprocal grooming session in front of the fire.

‘Wow.’ Lu looked around with pleasure as she plonked herself opposite Doll, shaking her beads and braids away from her face. ‘This all looks gorgeous. And it’s so lovely and warm. I’ve just come back from Niall’s bloody freezing loft and it looked so stark and harsh after being back at home for a while.’

‘Just what I was thinking about the bungalow,’ Doll reached for one of the many bottles on the table and scrutinised the label. ‘Oh hell, it’s one of Clyde’s. Well – are you ready for this?’

Lu grinned, helping herself to a hefty glass of parsnip and raspberry. ‘More or less. We’ll have to eat it anyway so as not to hurt her feelings, and at least the veg smells okay.’

‘And so does the rest of it,’ Mitzi backed into the room carrying a loaded tray, ‘even if I say so myself. I’m really proud of the way this has turned out.’

‘So you should be …’

Doll and Lu surveyed the pie with ill-disguised astonishment. It appeared perfectly normal – and smelled wonderful. Still, Doll thought, the proof of the pudding and all that.

Mitzi, her hair still awry, but looking a little less harassed, dished up three portions. Doll continued to look at her plate in surprise. Considering she knew more or less what was in it, it had turned out looking like one of those ‘and here’s one I made earlier’ jobs that the telly chefs served up. However, as you could never be too careful, she topped up everyone’s glasses with Clyde’s toxic home brew.

‘To my first venture into cookery—’ Mitzi looked more amazed than any of them ‘—and to making our wishes come true …’

Giggling, they clinked glasses in the firelight as Mott the Hoople crooned in the background.

‘And yes, it’s entirely suitable for vegetarians.’ Mitzi beamed at Lulu as she reached for the greens. ‘Granny Westward must have known. Right – gravy anyone? More potatoes? Okay – so now for the good bit. The Wishes Come True only works if you wish when you take the first mouthful, or so it says in the book.’

Lu poured more wine. ‘What are we all wishing for? Weekly lottery wins and size ten figures for ever?’

Mitzi laughed. ‘No way. And none of the Miss World universal peace and health and happiness for man, woman and animal-kind, either – we all want that anyway. According to Granny Westward’s notes, the wishes must be personal and contrary to tradition, spoken out loud. So, who’s going first?’

‘You must,’ Doll said. ‘You’ve done all the work. Go on then.’

Mitzi sat back in her chair, her loaded fork hovering. ‘Well, as I’ve been feeling a bit lonely and adrift since being forced into retirement, I’d really like to feel needed and useful again. I want a purpose in life and I want to be loved. For myself. I’m going to wish for that. For someone to really need me and love me.’

Doll pulled a face. ‘That’s so boring, Mum! Everyone loves you and needs you anyway – me and Lu and the
neighbours and your friends – and look at all those people who’ve been ringing up for your baby-boomers thing … Nah, you should wish for something much more personal.’

Mitzi pushed the forkful of food into her mouth and chewed. ‘Far too late, I’m afraid. I’ve done it – oh, and this tastes okay. Now you two …’

Lu topped up her glass again and lifted her own fork. ‘Easy-peasy. I wish someone would give me Heath Ledger – in his scruffy, shaggy-haired, drop-dead sexy Knight’s Tale mode, not all cropped haired and straight-looking, of course – as a plaything.’

‘Lu!’ Doll and Mitzi howled in unison. ‘That’s not in the spirit of the game at all!’

‘Tough,’ Lulu gulped down her first mouthful. ‘That’s what I’ve wished for and oh, hey, Mum – this is great. Really great … Go on then, Doll – what’s your wish?’

Doll took a deep breath. She’d been wishing for so much earlier in the evening, hadn’t she? Holidays, more money, sex … They all seemed a bit too personal and grasping somehow. Oh, of course this was all a load of hokum, but if, just if, it worked. ‘Well – getting married and having kids would be lovely – but there’s fat chance of that at the moment, so to get things kick-started in the right direction I’ll settle for wishing that Brett would show some impromptu romantic inclinations …’

Lulu frowned. ‘Oh, pul-ease! That’s too disgusting to even contemplate. Postman Brett on the rampage – yuk! Still, if it’s what you really want … go on then – eat it or it won’t come true.’

Doll looked down at the pie. Years of living with Brett had deadened her taste buds to all but the plainest of plain cooking. Even a touch of coriander was considered exotic in the bungalow. Oh, well. She took a mouthful of the pie. It tasted unusual, but certainly not unpleasant. The textures all blended into rich creaminess and even the spotty pastry melted in the mouth. She smiled and forked up some more.

‘Congratulations, Mum – I think you’ve found your new
forte. Watch out Nigella, is all I can say.’

Mitzi went pink with pleasure and, staggeringly slightly, swapped Mott the Hoople for Abba.

The doorbell chimed faintly. Richard and Judy turned pale green eyes towards the hall.

‘I’ll go,’ Mitzi said. ‘It’s probably Lav and Lob – they knew I was cooking and they’ll be on the lookout for leftovers. Whoops! My legs have gone all tingly – must be too much of Clyde’s parsnip and raspberry.’

Scraping her plate and surprising herself by reaching for seconds, Doll watched her mother make a sort of zigzag exit from the living room. ‘I feel a bit woozy myself …’

‘Mmmm, me too.’ Lu rattled her braids. ‘And this pie really is ace. Hey – you don’t think it’s this that’s made us all light-headed, do you? You don’t think Mum has really unleashed some sort of
magic
?’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Doll tried to focus. ‘It’ll be Clyde’s booze …’

They smiled squiffily at one another across the table, listening as Mitzi unlocked the front door. It was all very peace and love. Jigging gently, they joined in a very giggly duet of ‘Gimme Gimme Gimme a Man After Midnight’.

The giggles suddenly died as they heard Mitzi scream.

Chapter Five

‘Oh, my God!’

Mitzi clung to the bottom banister and gawped at Heath Ledger standing on the doorstep.

‘I’m really sorry to have startled you,’ he grinned at her, his teeth very white in the gloom. ‘Are you okay?’

Mitzi nodded. The twinkly, floaty feeling seemed to have robbed her of her powers of speech. This vision in front of her, young, tall and beautiful, his perfect features tanned, his shaggy blond-streaked hair falling towards his dramatically blue eyes, surely couldn’t be real.

‘Er—’ she gurgled a bit, wishing that her legs would stop shaking ‘—um, yes, I’m fine, I think.’

‘This is number thirty-five, isn’t it?’ Heath Ledger still looked concerned. ‘Only I couldn’t quite make out the numbers from the street.’

‘Yes – that is, no,’ Mitzi corrected herself quickly. Goodness – the poor boy was going to think she was doolally. What on earth was wrong with her brain? ‘We’re thirty-three. Thirty-five is next door.’

He grinned a bit more. ‘Oh, right. Then I’m really sorry to have – oh …’

He was staring into the hall. Still clinging to the newel post for support, Mitzi turned her head carefully to follow his gaze.

To the loud background accompaniment of ‘Gimme
Gimme Gimme A Man After Midnight’, Lulu and Doll were shoulder to shoulder in the living-room doorway. They too seemed to have lost the power of coherent speech.

But not for long.

‘Mum … are you okay? I mean—’ Lulu’s jaw dropped. ‘Wow!’