Saving Grace Read online

  GLUTEN-FREE COCONUT AND CHOCOLATE MACAROONS

  (Serves 8)

  INGREDIENTS

  2 tablespoons coconut oil or unsalted butter, melted

  25g almond flour

  1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  1 teaspoon almond extract

  200g shredded coconut

  60ml coconut milk

  80g agave

  1 teaspoon stevia

  A pinch of sea salt

  3eggs

  ½ teaspoon baking powder

  40g dark chocolate chips

  Preheat oven to 170°C/gas mark 3.

  Mix together coconut, almond flour, sea salt, stevia, and baking powder.

  Mix coconut oil/butter with beaten eggs, vanilla and almond extract, and coconut milk.

  Mix wet and dry ingredients together. Fold in chocolate chips.

  Divide into small pyramid-shaped mounds on an oiled baking sheet, and bake for 18–20 minutes until golden.

  Cool on a wire rack.

  Twelve

  ‘What are you doing with Beth?’ Ted comes into the kitchen just as Grace places the pitcher of iced tea on the table, straightening up the glasses.

  ‘She’s helping me with this meeting,’ Grace says. ‘Where are my napkins?’ She turns in a frenzy. ‘Good God. Why can’t I ever find anything?’ She pulls open drawers, whirling around the kitchen. ‘Where are the damned things?’

  ‘Are these what you’re looking for?’ Ted points to the kitchen counter, where the napkins are neatly folded.

  Grace’s face falls. ‘Oh God. I did them earlier.’ She looks at Ted, embarrassed. This isn’t what she used to be like, she thinks, unable to believe how disorganized she has become, how much she has been forgetting.

  ‘It’s our age.’ Ted interrupts her thoughts, as Grace wonders whether or not to point out how very much older Ted is than Grace. ‘You remember folding the napkins?’

  ‘Well, yes. Now I do.’ She shakes her head. ‘You must be right. It’s age. Is it okay for me to borrow Beth? Do you need her? She’s just been so incredibly helpful with putting this Harmont House thing together, but if you need her, I understand.’

  Please don’t need her, she thinks. Please be able to look after yourself just this one morning.

  ‘Of course you can have her!’ says Ted, reaching out for a mini carrot-cake muffin that Grace made earlier this morning, filling the inside with extra cream cheese icing and topping them with a maple glaze.

  ‘She is amazing,’ Grace says. ‘Honestly. I have no idea how we managed without her.’

  ‘Nor I,’ he says. ‘She seems to read my mind and have everything done before I’ve even had a chance to think about it.’

  ‘You know, she got the timber yard to donate the wood to create the raised beds for the garden at Harmont? And she got them to send two men to build it. For free! I have no idea how she’s doing it, but she seems to make friends wherever she goes, and people end up doing stuff for her.’

  ‘It must be those big brown eyes,’ says Ted. ‘She bats her eyelashes and men sink like stones.’

  ‘As long as you’re not sinking like a stone.’

  ‘Darling wife.’ Ted steps towards Grace, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her tight. ‘The only woman in the world who has the capacity to make me sink like a stone is you. I sink only for you, repeatedly, and pleasurably.’

  Grace allows herself to rest against him for a second. If only it were like this more often. If only Ted were always this kind, this loving, this calm, how much happier everyone would be.

  ‘Now, get out of my hair.’ She kisses him gently on the cheek. ‘People will be arriving soon.’

  Sybil is there, Jennifer from Harmont House, Theresa – a friend of Sybil’s who begged to be involved in organizing this event, who has thus far sold more tickets than the rest of them put together – and Beth.

  The garden has gone in – six raised beds, seedlings taken from Sybil’s greenhouse – and they are discussing the food. Grace is planning individual fig and camembert tarts with a hazelnut dressing to start, poached salmon with a sweet pepper compote, cucumber dill salad, and fresh new potatoes from the garden, followed by a selection of desserts.

  Grace is donating not only her time, but the ingredients, the biggest expenditure going to hiring equipment – tables, chairs, tablecloths, plates, glasses, et cetera.

  ‘Where are we on the hire equipment?’ Sybil looks over to her.

  ‘All booked. I spoke to them last week and got the quote. I put the order in yesterday. Very simple, crisp white tablecloths and pretty bamboo chairs. It will look lovely, and we’re all in agreement, yes? That it’s now, a sit-down lunch?’

  ‘It’s a bit late now!’ laughs Sybil. ‘The event’s right around the corner, but yes, everyone’s expecting a sit-down. That’s why we were able to increase the ticket price, but you’re fine with all the cooking? Can any of us help you?’

  ‘The chef is going to demo the fig and camembert tart, right? You’re using his recipe?’ Jennifer asks.

  Grace nods. ‘Beth’s going to help me. And the chef is going to demo the food for the audience before we sit down. It’s perfect. It’s going to be perfect.’

  ‘I’m just worried we’re overwhelming you, Grace. You’re doing the cooking, the hiring, and the flowers.’

  ‘I’m not really doing the flowers,’ says Grace. ‘You’re just clipping them from my garden. Frankly I’m delighted. The peonies will be fantastic and you’ll get them before they start drooping. It’s always such a waste when the heavy rain comes and washes off their petals. I’m having nothing to do with the floral arrangements other than giving you full access to my gardens.’ She laughs. ‘Nothing for me to do.’

  ‘Are you sure there’s nothing we can take off your hands? I’ve sent all the invitations and I’ve nearly filled the goodie bags with donated items. I have time.’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ says Grace. ‘I am fine.’

  Later, after the meeting, Beth types up the notes and emails them to everyone, clearly defining what jobs are left and who is doing what.

  ‘Can I do something to help?’ she says, taking the notes in to Grace in the kitchen. ‘How can I make myself busy?’

  Grace pauses. ‘You could help with the food shopping,’ she says eventually. ‘That would be wonderful. And maybe just chase the party rental place. I never received the confirmation.’

  ‘No problem,’ says Beth with a smile. ‘And nothing else?’

  ‘Can they clone you?’ Grace turns to her. ‘You are amazing. Honestly, Beth, you’ve come in and in a matter of weeks you’ve turned our lives upside down, in the very best possible way.’

  ‘I’m so happy,’ says Beth, her face lighting up with that disarming smile. ‘There was one other thing . . . completely changing the subject, I noticed you have a pile of clothes in the wardrobe. Is that the dry-cleaning because I’m going out now to do some errands?’

  ‘Thank you for the reminder! It’s actually all for charity. Clemmie will occasionally steal my clothes, but she says these are all too grownup for her. I’m having a much-needed spring clean.’

  ‘Oh, but those clothes are beautiful! Couldn’t you sell them instead? I’m happy to put them on eBay.’

  ‘Thank you, but I don’t think that’s a good use of anyone’s time, and honestly, I’m not sure it’s worth it for the hassle. You know.’ She peers at Beth. ‘If there’s anything at all in there you want, please help yourself. I’d be thrilled for you to take whatever you want.’

  ‘Really?’ That smile again. ‘You wouldn’t mind?’

  ‘No! As long as they go to a good home, that’s all I care about.’

  Beth flings her arms around Grace and hugs her tight. When she steps back, Grace sees, much to her amazement, that there are tears in Beth’s eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, wiping them away. ‘I know this seems like a bit of an overreaction, but I’ve been desperately paying off the debt of school, an
d I’ve had no money to spend on myself for ages. I don’t even remember the last time I bought myself new clothes. You have no idea what an incredible gift you’re giving me.’

  Grace feels her own eyes prick with tears. This poor woman. How hard she has worked, and how conscientious she is. She is swept at once with a wave of almost maternal love as she reaches for Beth’s hand and squeezes it.

  ‘You’re part of our family now,’ she says. ‘You don’t have to worry about anything anymore. We’ll make sure you’re looked after.’

  Beth’s eyes fill with tears again. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, as, this time, Grace takes her in her arms, soothes her just as she has done so many times with Clemmie. ‘I just didn’t expect you and Ted to be so wonderful. I didn’t expect to feel like I’ve come home. My childhood was just so awful, I never knew what it was like to have a proper family.’

  Grace nods, but says nothing. She knows what it is like to have an awful childhood. Her entire life has been filled with shame about her mother, fear that people may find out, and guilt at never having been able to do anything to save her.

  In many ways, her mother dying when Grace had just turned twenty-four should have been a relief. Certainly, relief was the first emotion she felt. But that relief quickly gave way to guilt. A guilt that continues to inform her life today; a guilt that has been behind almost every decision she has ever made.

  The kind of difficulties Beth experienced, Grace understands, and knowing this, her heart softens even further for this young woman who has so unexpectedly entered their lives. Grace couldn’t help her mother, but she can help the women at Harmont. And she can also help Beth.

  At 3.26 a.m., Grace is wide awake. Again. She hasn’t slept most nights over the past couple of weeks. It could be that she is worried about the event at Harmont House, or could simply be, as she suspects, middle age. Tonight she realizes she has been dreaming about Patrick. How odd, after all this time, to find her unconscious mind going to her childhood friend.

  Lydia was not in the dream, but perhaps this is a sign that she needs to call her. It has been a couple of months since they spoke. Might it mean, she wonders briefly, that she should call Patrick? But they have only seen each other less than a handful of times in years, Patrick’s career taking him all over the world. The last time she saw him it had been strained.

  Eton mess! That’s why she is thinking of Patrick. He was the first person to talk about a dessert she had never heard of – a froth of whipped cream, strawberries, and meringue – which she came to love. That must be why he was hovering in her subconscious.

  Either way, it is time to call Lydia. She will. In the morning she will. In the meantime, how to go back to sleep when she is so very wide awake?

  She doesn’t like taking pills, but has resorted to sneaking Ted’s Ambien, so desperate is she to break the pattern of waking up at 3 a.m. to go to the bathroom and finding that by the time she climbs back into bed, her mind is fully awake and sleep is no longer an option.

  Perhaps the lack of sleep helps explain her moodiness. Or perhaps that too is middle age. Life is running smoothly again, thanks to Beth, in a way it hasn’t for ages. Grace has nothing to worry about, yet frequently she finds herself irritated.

  It must just be lack of sleep, she tells herself, climbing out of bed and walking into the bathroom, reaching for the medicine cabinet above Ted’s sink. I will surely be back to myself soon.

  ETON MESS

  (Serves 8–10)

  INGREDIENTS

  500g strawberries

  4 teaspoons sugar

  2 teaspoons water

  475g double cream

  1 packet of individual meringue nests (Or follow the pavlova recipe on page 30 to make your own meringues, although much easier to buy pre-made ones.)

  Hull and chop all strawberries quite roughly. Place half in bowl with 2 teaspoons of sugar to macerate, and leave for around 1 hour in the fridge.

  Take remaining chopped strawberries, and place in pan with 2 teaspoons of sugar and 2 teaspoons of water. Cook gently uncovered for around 10 minutes until strawberries have softened. Remove from heat and blend into a puree. Set aside.

  Whip cream in a large, cold bowl until thick peaks form. Roughly crumble 8 meringue nests, then fold meringue and strawberries into cream. Drizzle with strawberry puree and fold lightly, but make sure you can still see threads of the puree running through.

  Reserve a handful of fresh strawberries and some juice to serve.

  Thirteen

  No one would have believed it was possible to create a garden out of a wasteland in just under a week. Between Grace, Sybil, Jennifer and Beth, not only have beds been built and planted, but turf has been donated and laid to create a perfect green lawn, boxwood balls edge the grass, and hydrangeas given to them by Linda McLellan, one of their most important patrons, spill their blue flowers over the edges. Inside, the dining room table is crammed with vases stuffed full of peonies, waiting to be moved onto the hired tables as soon as they arrive.

  The garden at Harmont House looks beautiful. The chef is busy setting up his demo area outside and Sybil is putting the finishing touches to the garden. Inside, the kitchen is covered with aluminium trays and baking sheets, carefully wrapped in cling film, filled with delicious food created by Grace.

  ‘Where is Wondergirl?’ Sybil calls. ‘Shouldn’t all the hired equipment be here by now? I thought they normally drop off the day before. We’ve only got two hours to go and I’m in a panic. How are we going to set the tables?’

  Grace admits this is pushing it, but Beth has assured her everything will be fine. ‘They’ll be here any second,’ she says. ‘We can manage it.’

  ‘We have to plate all these tarts, and right now we have no plates,’ grumbles Sybil. ‘I’ve heard of cutting it fine, but this is ridiculous.’

  ‘Calm down, Sybil,’ Grace says, mostly to stop herself from panicking. ‘Why don’t you come with me and help brief the ladies on waitressing. They want me to go over what they have to do one more time. Don’t worry.’ Grace forces a smile as she walks into the kitchen, forgetting about the stress when she catches sight of the residents of Harmont House done up in all their finery, including, in some cases, extravagant hats that are usually reserved for church. Their excitement is contagious and Grace cannot help but give each of the women a tight hug. Some of the women have been here almost a year, others as new as three weeks, but Grace loves each and every one as if they were her sisters.

  ‘This is for you,’ she says, beaming at them as she wipes away a tear. ‘This is all to help each of you get back on your feet and reclaim your lives.’

  ‘Wow!’ Grace turns to hear Sybil whistle as Beth walks into the kitchen. Sybil claps her hands together. ‘Look how beautiful you look!’

  Beth gestures to Grace. ‘I have Grace to thank. She gave me these clothes! I feel like a princess!’ She twirls, taking a bow at the end as the ladies in the kitchen applaud. ‘I love them all,’ she says to Grace, hand on her heart, as Grace smiles, agreeing how lovely the clothes look on Beth.

  When she had offered the clothes to Beth, she hadn’t thought there would be much that Beth would choose, plus there was no doubt Beth was bigger than her and that many of the clothes – the tight, fitted jackets in particular – would not fit her.

  But here Beth is, in the Lanvin jacket and grey silk skirt. Grace had never thought to put those two particular items together – she always wore that particular jacket buttoned up, with camel trousers, but it does indeed look wonderful on Beth, who is wearing it loose, casual and has teamed it with a chunky shark’s tooth necklace. It looks better than Grace could ever have expected, not least because up until very recently this jacket, surely, would not have fitted Beth, would have been, at least two sizes too small.

  ‘You’re so tiny!’ Grace exclaims. ‘I never realized we were exactly the same size. In fact, I think you’re smaller than me.’

  ‘I wasn’t,’ Beth reassures her, her face se
rious. ‘I’ve been on a huge diet.’

  ‘You look incredible. Not that you needed to lose any weight.’

  ‘I did to fit into your clothes!’ Beth laughs. ‘And I’m so glad I did. I feel like a new person. Actually, I feel like you, only the ugly version.’

  ‘Beth!’ Grace instantly reprimands her. ‘Are you kidding? You’re beautiful.’

  ‘I’m okay,’ Beth says. ‘But I’m not you. I’ll never be you.’

  ‘And nor should you be.’ Grace is gentle. ‘You’re perfect as you are.’

  As Grace tries the party hire place yet again, having already left a number of messages, she realizes there is something bothering her. She cannot quite figure it out. It is a feeling of being unsettled and she knows it has something to do with Beth, with Beth in her clothes, but still she cannot put her finger on it.

  The phone is answered! Finally! A human voice!

  ‘This is Grace Chapman. I’m wondering what time our tables and chairs will be arriving. The event starts in two hours and there’s nothing here. We’re all starting to get a bit panicky.’ Grace forces a laugh.

  ‘Hold on a minute, Mrs Chapman. Let me see what’s going on.’ There is a pause. ‘Mrs Chapman? Are you there? We have the event down for next Thursday, the twenty-eighth.’

  ‘What?’ Grace’s voice is a shriek. ‘No! I filled out the form myself. It’s the twenty-first. It’s today! It’s in two hours!’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Chapman, but we definitely have it as the twenty-eighth. Twelve round tables of ten, one hundred and twenty bamboo chairs, white linen tablecloths, one hundred and twenty white dinner plates, salad plates, dessert bo—’

  ‘Yes! I know what I ordered! But it’s today! It’s now! What am I supposed to do? You have to send it over now. We can start the event later, but we have to have it today.’