But that would have to be another day, for this one was to be devoted to macaroons and I wanted to get two articles out of it a simple recipe for Sweet Home, and a longer piece all about this new macaroon shop that Ma had told me about, for my Tea & Cake page. Id already made a start on that one.
Since moving up to rural West Lancashire Ive heard tell of a magical macaroon shop in a nearby market town, though it seems a bit of a mythical beast to find so far from London. Ill let you know when I have investigated further, but meanwhile, heres my own very good macaroon recipe.
Ma had gladly relinquished the kitchen to me, since shed rarely done more than microwave a ready meal or slap a sandwich together in there herself, and already it had taken on a new and familiar persona, being now full of my mixers, bowls, implements, cookbooks and notebooks, with a laptop area in the pine breakfast nook in the corner.
I made plain macaroons and then some chocolate ones, which were delicious, and then typed some notes into the laptop. I was trying to build up an even bigger hoard of articles than I had before Stella was born, seeing Id be occupied with other things in autumn and winter and I still couldnt quite believe that we were committed to flying across the ocean for a risky operation. My fear that she would fall ill before then was almost as extreme as my fear of the operation itself even thinking about it made me eat four macaroons straight off, one after the other.
The magazine and newspaper were fine about my filing my articles from Lancashire (or they would be, once broadband had been installed in the cottage next week), and would send a photographer round as necessary, when they couldnt use illustrations from stock. Actually, I prefer it when they use pictures of my baking, because I get loads of despairing mail from readers saying the things they make never look perfect, like in the cookery books, but they can see that most of mine dont look like those either. Food needs to look good enough to eat, but it doesnt need to win a beauty competition. I hate this cult of food presentation where someone fiddles around with the food, adding a scoop of this and a dribble of that, and mauling it about, or the magazine hires a food stylist, which is a bit like airbrushing a naturally beautiful fashion model, setting an unattainable standard because it isnt real.
Not me: Id so much rather have a chunk of crumbling apple pie with a dollop of cream, or a delicious fruit fairy cake with slightly singed edges.
Its probably just as well for my figure that I now have someone else to help me eat all my baking, though not so good for Mas. Not that Ma cares about her figure: she says she was born to be a dumpling and why fight nature?
Stella wandered into the kitchen in her pyjamas just as I was arranging a pyramid of chocolate macaroons on a plate, her silken hair in a tangle and dragging Bun, the large plush rabbit that Ma had bought her when she was born, by one ear. She looked at the cakes and removed her thumb from her mouth long enough to say, sleepily, Awesome.
I think Ive been letting you watch too much TV while Ive been unpacking and sorting out, I said ruefully.
Stella seemed no worse for the move now wed settled in. We went to Alder Hey Childrens Hospital in Liverpool later in the week, where she was checked over thoroughly, though she was to be monitored regularly by Ormskirk Hospital, which was nearer, and only referred back in future for any problems which I sincerely hoped there wouldnt be.
The vicar, Raffy Sinclair, came to call one afternoon he often visited Ma, but this time he came specially to see me.
Id never met him to speak to before, though Id seen him about sometimes. He was a tall, handsome man, an ex-rock star who moved to the village a couple of years ago and married Chloe Lyon. When I went to her chocolate shop to buy the chocolate angel lolly for Stellas Christmas stocking shed said they had a little girl too, called Grace, though I think she is much younger than Stella. (And that big chocolate angel she gave me before Christmas had a most inspiring message inside, telling me not to fear the future. As I ate the delicious chocolate, I felt I was ingesting hope with it.)
Stella was having her afternoon nap when the vicar arrived so we were able to have a good talk. He knew about her problems, of course, because Ma had told him.
Martha says youve sold your flat and moved in here, in an effort to raise enough money to take your little girl to America for a life-saving operation, he said, when Id made coffee and fetched in a plate of macaroons (I was still experimenting with flavours).
Yes, I said, and told him all about the operation and Stellas medical condition I really opened up and poured it all out, but he was the kindest man.
I still need about another twenty thousand pounds, I think, because all kinds of extra expenses keep cropping up. Someone advised me to take a qualified nurse on the plane there with me, for instance. And insurance well, thats difficult too.
How long have you got to raise the money?
The surgeon in Boston has pencilled her in for the start of November so we need to be there by the end of October. I ought to start booking the plane tickets and the hotel and so on Ive just waited to see how far off the target I was after selling the flat. My best friend, Celia, and her husband, Will, have been a huge help, setting up the Stellas Stars fundraising site, which is getting lots of small donations, too.
Im sure youll make it and I and the rest of Sticklepond will help you, he promised.
Thats kind of you, but Im really a stranger here. I mean, weve only visited before, we arent really part of the community
Oh, that wont matter, he said, and assured me that the villagers would all unite to support a good cause.
Ma, whod wandered in at that moment still holding a fully loaded paintbrush, taken a macaroon and begun to leave again without seeming to notice the vicar, stopped and focused at that.
They may not for this one, because my family were never well liked in the village: I told you, she said to Raffy, taking the jade cigarette holder from her mouth and gesturing with it. A half-smoked red Sobranie dropped out of the end and Toto, whod followed her in, sniffed at it before making friendly overtures to Raffy. Id have warned him about getting white dog hairs on his black jeans if he hadnt already got a liberal sprinkling there from his own little white dog, which Id seen him out with sometimes.
Ive heard the odd rumour about the Almonds, he admitted, but it was something that happened so long ago that I think only the most elderly parishioners know the details. But when it comes to helping a child, I cant see any of them thinking twice about it.
Why exactly arent the Almonds well liked? Youve never actually told me, I said, emboldened to press Ma by the presence of the vicar.
She straightened with the Sobranie in her hand, shoved it back in the holder, and then shrugged her plump shoulders. Its as the vicar says, an old story, and I dont know all the details. Lets let sleeping dogs lie.
The important thing is to raise the money, Raffy agreed, and well soon do that so trust in the Lord and make all the bookings. Theres nothing the village likes so much as uniting to fight for a good cause only look how we saw off those property developers in the village itself, and then managed to have planning permission for turning the Hemlock Mill site into a retail park overturned.
True, Ma said, and then she suddenly seemed to become aware of the loaded brush in her hand and, without another word, went out again.
I wish shed put a coat on, because that wind is cold, even if it is May, I said, watching her through the window as she started back up the garden towards the studio. Then Hal suddenly loomed up next to her from behind a clump of Fatsia japonica, draped his tweedy, shapeless jacket over her shoulders, and they turned and went up the steps together.
Hmm I dont think Ive ever seen Hal smile before, Raffy said thoughtfully. He usually looks like Indiana Jones on a bad day, crossed with just a hint of the Grim Reaper.
They do seem to be good friends, I said noncommittally, and hes here quite a bit though weekends and evenings, mostly. Perhaps today is his half-day from the Hall.
I dont think it is, actually, Raffy said, but with the estate coming right up to his cottage on the other side of the lane, I expect he just popped back for something.
He smiled at me. Chloe said shed had a nice chat with you before Christmas in the shop. She loves your Cake Diaries in the newspaper and says that you also write about cake in a magazine I dont know where you find the time, he said, taking another macaroon.
To be honest, sometimes Im not too sure myself, I confessed. Things have been slightly easier as Stellas got older and stabilised, though shes prone to infections and then we have to get her treatment straight away. Each bout seems to sap what energy she has
Yes, I dont suppose she has a lot of resistance to things and it must be a huge worry to you.
It is, and I really dont want any more complications till we leave for Boston. She needs to put a little weight on before the surgery too. Youd think with all the cakes around shed quickly do that anyway, but shes the pickiest eater in the world.
Unlike me, he said, ruefully eyeing the macaroon plate, now almost empty.
I asked suddenly, You do think Im doing the right thing, dont you? Only the operation is experimental and although Dr Beems has been very successful with it, there are no guarantees
Of course you are. Youve had to make the decision with your head, not your heart, because logically theres no other course of action you can take, is there? If she doesnt have it, youve been told that she doesnt have a long-term future, its as simple as that.
I felt better for hearing him spell it out. Then Stella woke up sounding a little fractious and I fetched her in to meet Raffy. She seemed to like the look of him and who wouldnt?
I nearly forgot, he said, digging out a Cellophane-wrapped chocolate figure from his pocket. Chloe sent you a gift. Are you allowed chocolate now, before tea?
I dont see why not, I said, its very good chocolate.
An angel, breathed Stella raptly, taking it.
Stellas very into angels at the moment, I told Raffy. I think its Mas fault for pointing out all the angels in the graveyard.
And the funny little men with horns and tails in the window, Stella said.
Oh, yes, the Heaven and Hell window is great, he agreed.
Grandma paints angels in her pictures, Stella confided. Flying ones with bird faces. Moses and Toto are flying round in her new one and Hal is holding on to the angels leg to stop it flying right off.
Id like to see that!
I thought I saw an angel when I was having Stella, I told him, and though Ma said it was a nun going by in a white habit, it seems to have stuck in her head. The oddest things do.
You saw an angel? I must tell Chloe, he said, interested. Were both great believers in guardian angels. Get her to tell you about the time she saw one when she was a little girl.
Stella announced that she was going to show the chocolate angel to her Sylvanian Families and vanished off back into her bedroom.
Transylvanian? Raffy asked, looking mildly surprised.
No, Sylvanian. Theyre collectable toys, little fuzzy animals.
Oh, right. He passed on an invite from Chloe to take Stella to her Mother and Toddler group, which met on Monday mornings up at the old vicarage.
If shes well enough, it would be nice to go and meet other local mothers and children, I said, though so far Ive tended to avoid that kind of thing in case coughs and colds are going round.
Ill ask Chloe to warn you if there are, he promised. But if not, I should give it a try and if Stella finds it too tiring, you neednt stay long.
Youre right, and it would get us out of Mas way for a bit too Though actually, she doesnt seem to mind Stella hanging around her, because in many ways theyre kindred spirits. Mas already said that shed much prefer to keep an eye on Stella while I go into Ormskirk on Saturdays and do the big weekly supermarket shop than do it herself.
Let me think about fundraising for the rest of the money, and Ill get back to you with some ideas as soon as I can, Raffy said, getting up and shrugging into a long black leather coat. We need an organised push to raise it quickly, but it will come, he assured me, and with a smile left me feeling hopeful, comforted and cheered.
When I got back after seeing him out, the last two macaroons had vanished from the plate and Toto and Moses were lying innocently before the stove.
You have crumbs in your whiskers, I told them coldly, before going to see what Stella was up to.
Chapter 8: The Happy Macaroon
On Thursday morning it was Stellas first check-up at Ormskirk Hospital and although she is amazingly stoical about these things, I could gauge how stressed she was by the rate of the thumb-sucking.
But actually, when we got there it was not too bad. She was seen very quickly by a friendly consultant who was already up to speed on her condition and the projected operation in America.
She was quite pleased with Stella, but said shed like to see her gain more weight and so would I, though of course not too much, since that would also add strain to her heart and other organs its a fine balance.
Afterwards, since Thursday was a market day, I drove into town and parked, so we could have a walk around. It was an ancient market and very good, though the part selling fruit, eggs, cheese and foodstuffs had vanished a few years back, which was a pity.
Ormskirk now had a huge and increasing student population, since the university on the edge seemed to be expanding like a mushroom every night, but it did give the place a new buzz.
I knew Stella was tired, but she still insisted on getting out of her buggy as soon as wed got to the top of the hill from the car park. Ma had given her some money to buy a treat with, which I suspect was going to become a habit, and shed also asked us to get her a new tube of yellow ochre oil paint from the art shop up a side street, so we went and did that first. Stella spent most of her money in there on a new watercolour paint box and a Hello Kitty pencil case, which reminded her of the mummy cat from one of her toy families.