Free Just Desserts by Jan Jones Page B

‘Oh, that’s fabulous.’
    â€˜Then there was the birthday cake. Do you still have that every year?’
    Penny nodded.
    â€˜With rationing in force, no one could make a whole one, so we pooled our ingredients. Some of the flour was definitely greyer than others, the butter was on the scanty side and Mrs B claimed privately that Lady R – who had a very sweet tooth – had added her ounce of sugar so quick that she couldn’t swear it had gone in at all. But it only tasted a little bit tart and we all had a slice, so that’s what counts.’
    Penny felt a stirring of loss. ‘Sharing sugar and marge is much cosier than everyone putting money towards the ingredients like we do today. Maybe I should suggest it for next year.’
    Mrs Ingle grinned with impish approval. ‘Another thing we did was to start up the Salthaven Show. Not straight away. It was on the radio, I think, the Red Cross made an urgent appeal for money to replenish their funds after air raids had devastated towns and cities. So we held a produce and flower show. It was such a success that we did it every year after that, either for the Red Cross, or the Seaman’s Mission, or Dig for Victory funds, or some such. We managed a surprising range of items, but oh it was lovely when sugar rationing was lifted and we could have jam again.’
    â€˜That’s always been a popular class,’ said Penny with a laugh. ‘No one makes jam at all for a whole year – then kitchens all over Salthaven fill up with scalding, sugary steam! Oh, and we still give the Ingle Cup for the most unusual ingredients used in a dish. Was that your idea?’
    Mrs Ingle looked smug. ‘Yes, it was partly for fun – it’s so important to have a good giggle now and again – and it was partly to get people through the door to see and taste the combinations. A PR stunt, they’d call it these days.’
    Penny was impressed. The young Henrietta had been a smart operator. ‘Something to stop the show becoming stale,’ she mused. ‘It’s a grand idea. Entries have been dropping off gradually for years. The show is part of Salthaven’s heritage – I don’t want it to fold.’
    Leo leaned forward. ‘Which is exactly why we need Mrs Ingle’s history and reminiscences for the paper. It’ll be a story for me, and a nice advertisement for the WI and the Salthaven Show. ‘ These women laughed so others could live!’ ’
    Penny sat back and listened as Leo took over the interview. It seemed that Mrs Ingle had done all sorts of things with her life since her husband’s job had taken her away from Salthaven after the war. Bringing up a family, jumping out of aeroplanes for charity, knitting scarves and gloves for London’s homeless …
    â€˜You don’t realise how little they have until you’ve spent a night sleeping on the street, wrapped in a bin bag,’ she said conversationally.
    â€˜No,’ said Penny, taken aback.
    Leo’s pencil was flying across the page. ‘Have you returned to Salthaven at all? Would you like to see it again?’ he asked at the end. ‘Maybe for the WI birthday celebrations next year?’
    Henrietta Ingle chuckled. ‘What a splendid idea. I’d love to. Just as long as Jerusalem artichoke soup isn’t on the menu.’
    â€˜You’re very quiet,’ said Leo as they parked at the RAF museum so Penny could look at the de Havilland Vampire before they headed to his parents’ house for the evening. ‘I thought you’d be full of admiration for the old girl.’
    â€˜Oh, I am. But also humbled,’ said Penny ruefully. ‘She was so lively! She’s put so much into life and got so much out of it. It made me realise Aunt Bridget was right. I’m in a nice, comfortable, wall-to-wall-carpeted rut. What do I have to show for all these