Free Storms Over Blackpeak by Holly Ford Page A

smiled again. Lizzie watched Cally blush and turn away as he began to rub the cat’s ears. The cat closed its eyes and purred. Cally busied herself pouring coffee.
    Luke had barely begun drinking his cup before his gaze slid to the window.
    ‘Well,’ he said lightly, shifting the cat to another chair and getting to his feet, ‘I’d better go and get on with my reading.’
    Lizzie let him escape. Standing up herself, she looked out of the window on her way to the sink. Carr was back. Over the roof of Luke’s gleaming Aston, she could see him in the garage. He had the inside panel off the door of the Hiluxand was squatting on his heels in front of it doing something with fencing wire.
    ‘Here.’ Cally took the cup from her hand. ‘I’ll take that.’
    Lizzie watched her spirit it into the dishwasher and turn, with what sounded like a sigh, to look at the fridge.
    ‘I was wondering,’ Lizzie began, as tactfully as she could, ‘if you’d let me cook dinner tonight. Would you mind terribly?’
    ‘But,’ Cally frowned, ‘you cooked last night.’
    ‘I had some duck in my freezer that had to be eaten,’ Lizzie swept on, ‘and I know Ella loves it, so I thought I’d bring it along. Now it’s defrosted, you see …’ She shrugged. ‘It’d be a shame to throw it away.’
    ‘Duck,’ repeated Cally dubiously.
    ‘You don’t like it?’
    ‘I’ve never tried it.’
    ‘Oh!’ Lizzie beamed. ‘Then we really have to have it.’
    To her relief, Cally surrendered. ‘You’ll let me help, though?’
    ‘Of course, if you’d like to.’ She glanced out the window again. Carr was still busy with the Hilux. ‘Actually, I might make a start now.’
    Cally looked over at the clock in surprise. It was only half past ten.
    Lizzie smiled. ‘When I’m cooking for people,’ she said, ‘I always try to get the preparation work done early. It takes the pressure off.’
    Cally nodded seriously.
    ‘You know,’ Lizzie added, already heading for the pantry, ‘I think good food is a lot like wine. You just can’t make it in a hurry.’
    ‘What can I do?’ Cally asked, as Lizzie returned with the supermarket bag full of ingredients she’d bought in town the day before.
    ‘Here.’ Rummaging deep in the bag, Lizzie broke off three thumbs of ginger and handed them to Cally. ‘Could you julienne these?’
    ‘Sure.’ Cally carried them over to the bench.
    Lizzie went back to the pantry. The shelves had been tidied. It took her a few moments to work out that Carr’s collection of herbs and spices, to which she’d been adding with every visit, was now in a series of plastic containers. And in alphabetical order.
    Exiting with cardamom pods, saffron and Szechuan peppercorns, she found Cally standing at the bench, still looking at the ginger.
    ‘Lizzie?’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Can you show me?’
     
    Half an hour later, watching Cally slice the ginger into ever-finer julienne strips, Lizzie couldn’t help but think it was just as well they’d started early. Cally stared down at the chopping board, her forehead furrowed with a concentration she was going to regret by the time she was forty.
    ‘There,’ she said at last, letting out a long breath and tilting her head to consider her handiwork. ‘Are those fine enough?’
    ‘Perfect,’ Lizzie told her.
    Duck legs in the oven at last, Cally eyed the tick of the timer. ‘Now what?’
    ‘That’s it for a while.’ Lizzie finished washing her hands. ‘But there is something else you could help me out with, if you have a minute.’
    Popping out to the Land Rover, she returned with a cardboard box. ‘Come on.’ She held out a conspiratorial hand to Cally. ‘Come upstairs.’
    In Carr’s bedroom, she put the box down on top of the bed. ‘I was trying to make some room in my wardrobe,’ she lied, ‘and I found these jumpers. They don’t fit me any more.’ She unfolded a rust-coloured polo neck and laid it out on the bed. ‘I really do have to get rid of