Free Recipe for Love by Katie Fforde Page A

Fortunately deep-fried choux pastry was only one of her ideas.
     
    The minibus took everyone down to the pub in the village but only some people wanted to stay late. Cher was an early leaver, catching a lift with a local she’d found in the bar and trusted enough to take her home. But although Zoe arrived back less than twenty minutes later, when she got back to their room, she found the door firmly locked.
    ‘This is bloody ridiculous,’ said Zoe, after banging on the door for several fruitless minutes and searching through her list of contacts on her phone in the faint hope that she had Cher’s number and could ring her to ask her to unlock the door. ‘Cher?’ she shouted. ‘It’s me, Zoe. You can’t be asleep already! Let me in!’
    There was no answer. It was all so quiet Zoe wondered if she was actually in there. For a few moments she worried whether Cher, having accepted a lift from someone she didn’t know, had actually been kidnapped. But he’d seemed well known in the pub and had spent a lot of time talking about his wife and children.
    Still, a few scenarios went through Zoe’s mind involving Cher being hideously murdered before she spotted a hairclip on the step. She was fairly sure it hadn’t been there when they left, which made her confident Cher was inside.
    She shouted through the door again but got no answer and then she walked round the building, trying to find a window or something she could climb through. There was nothing, although a good peer through one of them revealed Cher’s bag. She hadn’t been murdered – yet!
    She didn’t want to wake up the other contestants who were on the premises and anyway, what could they do? There was only one thing for it: they would have a spare key at the house. She walked up there, but she was very annoyed. It was well after ten and she knew Fenella was getting to bed as early as she could. Rupert might be up though.
    This optimistic thought faded as she approached the back door. There was no light on anywhere downstairs. She could see one high up on the second floor, but the basement, where the kitchen was, appeared to be deserted. Although she knew it was pointless, she tried to open the back door. Of course it was locked.
    ‘This is so stupid!’ said Zoe and marched back to the cowshed, determined to make Cher wake up this time.
    She banged on the door until her fist felt bruised. No response. She decided she would have to throw stones at the light in the Somerby window and get Rupert up. There was an incline to the front of the house and she walked up it briskly, fired by irritation that was bordering on anxiety . What would she do if she couldn’t get into her accommodation? She had to sleep somewhere!
    As she arrived, puffing slightly, at the front door, a car drew up. Relief flooded over her. Here was someone who could help. She was even more relieved to see it was Gideon. Although he would think her mad or incompetent for not being able to get into her little house, she did at least know him.
    ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked. ‘Have you just prepared your food for tomorrow or do you have an assignation?’
    ‘Neither! My bloody room-mate has locked me out and I need to get into the house to find another key.’ She paused. ‘There must be one.’
    ‘I haven’t got a key to anywhere but I know where the one to the back door is. Let’s go round.’
    Zoe began to feel calmer. Soon she would be able to go to bed. She’d kill Cher in the morning.
    The key was on the top of a thick old door that led to a cellar and Gideon soon had the back door open. As they walked up the passage to the kitchen Zoe rubbed her head and found she was sweating.
    ‘God, I need a cup of tea!’ she said, sounding desperate, as they entered the kitchen. She moved the kettle on to the hot plate. It was an emergency and tea was always a good thing at such times. Despite the sweat she was also rather cold. ‘Do you want one? Then we can look for a key to