By Shirley Deering
It’s lovely when a plea for help is answered, but it may be in an unexpected form.
Emma sighed as she stood at her open bedroom window, gazing at the tranquil summer evening sky. If only her own mind were as calm and peaceful as that sky, but it was in utter turmoil and for the silliest of reasons.
Emma loved her job as catering manager at Willowvale Residential Home, it was such a happy, well-run place. Recently a large extension had been completed, providing extra accommodation and a bigger, and even better equipped, activities room. The Mayor had accepted an invitation to perform the opening ceremony and join residents for lunch afterwards, and there was the reason for Emma’s anguish of mind.
She had decided on the main course for lunch immediately - chicken in mushroom sauce. That was always popular with the residents. But what to make for dessert? Emma felt it should be something a bit special, to mark the occasion, but what? Everything she thought of seemed either too ordinary or too elaborate, too stodgy or too airy-fairy. Her colleagues tried to make helpful suggestions, but nothing fitted.
There was a story in Emma’s family that a distant ancestor had been a renowned cook and worked for a titled family. The father had been a friend of the Prince Regent’s and had once invited him to a dinner in celebration of his birthday. Emma’s ancestor had created a special dessert for the occasion which the Prince had enjoyed so much he had asked for three helpings.
“I wish you were here now, great-great-great-great-gr-oh I don’t know how many times great grandmother, could give me some inspiration” Emma said to the darkening sky; Then she went to bed and immediately fell asleep, but was soon awoken by a growing lightness in the room.
She opened her eyes to see the room filled with a soft glowing light. At the foot of the bed stood a female figure, a canvas apron tied over her plain brown dress, her hair completely covered by a stiffly starched, snowy-white mobcap.
Emma felt no fear or alarm, just curiosity.
“Who are you and how did you get in here?” she asked.
“I am Alysson your nine times great grandmother. I am come to give you my recipe for Celebration Pudding.”
Emma sat up, seized the notebook and pen she kept on her bedside table and scribbled furiously as her ancestor recited a list of ingredients and the method of combining and cooking them.
“Serve with clotted cream” concluded the apparition and immediately started to fade.
“Good bye, nine-times great grandmother Alysson. Thank you so much for coming to my rescue”, cried Emma. The last vestige of the figure vanished, the light faded, and Emma fell asleep.
Her first thought on waking was of the extraordinary dream she had had, then she saw the notebook, pen still between the pages, and knew it had been real. Eagerly she read through her notes, but her heart sank at the odd list of ingredients: Eggs, milk, slices of bread spread with best butter, raw carrot, chopped raw suet, apple slices, currants, sultanas, raisins, squeeze of lemon juice, pinch of spice. It sounded like a bizarre bread and butter pudding, surely it would never work?
She must try it out first. But then Emma told herself sternly she must do no such thing, it would be most dishonouring to nine-times-great grandma Alysson. The opening ceremony went without a hitch. The Mayor was friendly and genial. His speech paid tribute to the dedication of the staff, expressed admiration for the range of activities and entertainment available for the residents and had just the right trace of humour. Formalities over, he chatted with the staff and residents and charmed everyone with his genuine interest in what they had to say.
He certainly enjoyed his lunch and afterwards asked to be taken to the kitchen to give his personal thanks to the cooks.
“That was an excellent meal” he said. “Really tasty and the chicken was just melt-in-themouth. As for the dessert, well, I’ve never tasted anything like it. Light and fluffy, with a hint of lemon and a touch of spice, it was simply out of this world”.
And only Emma knew how true that was.
