Read Online Recipes for Melissa by Teresa Driscoll - Free Book Online

parents would talk when they sometimes joined them for a few days. Stories about Max on the beach when he was a little boy.
    ‘You OK?’
    ‘Yeah. Just daydreaming,’ Eleanor smiled as Max deposited bags in the hall while Melissa headed straight for the fridge to check for the cream.
    It was only later as they unpacked Melissa’s small bag that Eleanor caught herself trying not to look at the second single bed in her daughter’s room. The agreed pact was that they didn’t dwell on it. Her and Max. They were still trying – technically . Had been trying for more than three years now, but Max felt there was no need to be panicked into fertility treatment. Not while they were still so young. And Eleanor was trying very, very hard not to panic.
    Technically.
    ‘So tomorrow we go shopping for food. And I was thinking we could get the stuff to make cookies. Give us something nice to do if it rains, Melissa?’ Back in the kitchen, she was watching Melissa spread an alarming quantity of jam onto half a scone as Max rifled through a drawer for more cutlery.
    ‘Do you know that in Devon they put the cream on first?’ Max interceded.
    ‘Can we get pink icing?’
    ‘For the scones?’
    ‘No, silly Daddy. For the biscuits we make.’
    ‘Cream first would be ridiculous,’ Eleanor pulled a face secretly to Max as Melissa used a knife to smooth cream from a spoon onto her generous puddle of jam. ‘Pink icing? Sounds lovely darling.’
    ‘You know there is a pastry shop right along the front? If you want biscuits and cakes…’
    ‘You don’t get it, do you?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Four days with no head of department having kittens over when these new Ofsted inspectors are going to rock up. Four days with no emergency investigations into how a teacher could get locked in a bloody cupboard by second years.’
    ‘That really happened?’
    ‘That really happened.’
    ‘And you think – let’s bake?’
    ‘Yes I do. Bliss.’
    ‘Mummy said bloody.’
    ‘All right, Melissa. Mummy is very naughty.’
    Max pulled a face. ‘I’ll never understand women.’
    ‘It’s the penis, Max. Gets in the way.’
    ‘Mummy said penis.’
    ‘No she didn’t. She said it was a heinous crime not to understand women. Now how about we finish this cream tea then we can get the beach stuff together and try out Jaws.’
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    It was not, in fact, until Wednesday that the baking tins came out – the weather being kinder than was fair to expect for Easter. Two full days of glorious sunshine and then a downpour so that Max was out fishing under a large umbrella – Eleanor reflecting that she did not understand men either – while she and Melissa left the cookie dough in the fridge to rest.
    Eleanor sprinkled flour across the kitchen table as Melissa selected cutters from the plastic box she had brought.
    ‘I like the snowman. Can we use the snowman?’
    ‘Well, it’s not really the season for snowmen, is it honey? Why don’t you look for the rabbit. There are some heart shapes too. Should be in there somewhere. Have a look.’
    And then Eleanor noticed that she had managed somehow to sprinkle more flour over her jumper than the table and began brushing it down off her chest – the rhythm fast and firm, wishing she had brought a full apron, and then suddenly interrupted.
    She paused and brushed the left breast downwards again. Eleanor frowned. She must have caught her finger on some twist in the bra fabric. She used three fingers to press the fabric smooth. But it would not be stroked smooth.
    ‘Can you just give mummy a minute? I just need to wash my hands.’
    In the bathroom – a complete change in her body temperature as if she was outside suddenly. A cold draught through her whole body. She wanted to look. And yet she didn’t want to look.
    Eleanor moved across to the larger mirror above the fitted towel rail, pulled her sweater quickly over her head and moved her bra down on the left side. She felt softly at first and then more