Just Desserts

Just Desserts.

‘Good morning mirror. Another bloody Thursday, date unknown. I’m still a sad old bat living alone in a converted schoolhouse with just you to converse with and a heart full of regret to keep me warm at night. Audrey Moloney, queen of the scrap heap. You’d never think that the platinum blonde with the purple streaks, the fashionable clothes and designer accessories is also queen of concealing the fact that she’s just a selfish cow who ruined lives because it suited her.  2020 promised so much but all it has ensured is that everyone is imprisoned in their own home.

Baking day again but I’m giving the banana bread with a side order of sourdough a miss today.

I fancy something sweet. Perhaps some Bog Roll Roulade followed by a slice of Payback Pie with A trio of Just Desserts is in order. I’ll leave you to it mirror.’

Audrey wandered aimlessly into the kitchen and made herself a green tea.

She grabbed her cookbook from the shelf beside the stove and flicked through it until she found what she was looking for.

A few minutes later, she’d assembled all the ingredients and had set them out on the table.

As she placed the parchment paper on her swiss roll tin, she was transported back to her Aunt Mae’s cottage shortly after Honora Mae had been born. It had been early afternoon when an exhausted Audrey had walked into the kitchen where her aunt was making meringues for a local fundraiser.

‘There you are Audrey. Sit yourself down there while the baby is asleep, and I’ll get you some lunch. I heard her crying during the night, but the first few weeks are the toughest.’

‘I can’t do this Mae. I’m exhausted and afraid all the time.’

‘Sure you can pet. It will get easier.’ Aunt Mae wiped her hands on her apron and went to plate up the food that had been warming in the Aga effectively ending the conversation.

As Audrey picked at her food, Aunt Mae went back to beating the eggs whites.

Now, as she set her bowl on the table, Audrey dragged herself back to her recipe book.

‘First, separate the eggs…I know it’s painful but necessary.

 (It didn’t bother you too much when you gave your daughter away)

 Crack the shell and leave the white (transparent bit) escape into the little blue bowl, while holding the yoke (yellow bit) prisoner in the shell.

(Was that why you did it? Did you feel hemmed in?’)

When you’re certain that both have completely parted ways, feck yolk into red bowl. Repeat with other eggs.

Cover red bowl with clingfilm and place into fridge to be used for lunch omelette later…waste not and all that.

Beat the shite out of the egg whites, either with a wooden spoon or mixer until you feel better, and the transparent mix is now white.

Add the caster (yes caster) sugar, dash of cornflour and drop of white vinegar before beating again.

When mix is white, glossy and standing in little peaks, hold the bowl above your head and if you don’t end up with snow covered hair, you’re hot to trot and ready to spread the mix on the parchment paper. Chuck a handful of flaked almonds on top before placing in pre heated oven for twenty minutes.

Now grab the bog roll and wrap around the banister.’

Audrey washed up the bowls and picked up the novel that she’d been trying to get stuck into since Christmas.

Twenty minutes is a short time, but a lifetime ago, it was the amount of time that it took her to change her life and that of her child.

She’d been so sure that Sam would want her to keep the baby, but he’d insisted that he needed to concentrate on qualifying as a doctor. He was such a coward that he left it to his wealthy father to buy her off with a wad of money to pay for an abortion and ‘get herself a little treat afterwards,’

Aunt Mae had been a lifeline, but Audrey couldn’t do it, so she’d given Honora Mae up for adoption. Now almost forty years later, she’d discovered that her daughter had died, leaving Audrey’s granddaughter wanting nothing to do with her.

‘Up you get Audrey and prepare your Payback Pie, served with a Trio of Just Desserts.’

 Ingredients:

Plain flour, sprinkled with a large tablespoon of regret.

Icing sugar to sweeten the blow of being an old fool.

Butter, chilled or frozen out as you are now.

Egg yolks, aptly named Sam and Audrey.

For the filling:

Cooking apples (also named Sam and Audrey) …peel, chop, core and murder.

Caster(ated) sugar…obvious use.

Method:

Mix flour and sugar and feck in the butter. Add the egg yolk and combine into a lump as big as the one in your throat. Wrap in clingfilm and dump into fridge to cool.

In the meantime, put apples in a heavy bottomed pot and stew slowly with a little water.

Preheat your oven and find the heaviest rolling pin you can find as you about too bate the shite out of the pastry.

Once you have sliced it in two, just like your heart was sliced, give vent to your feelings and flatten the two bits.

Grease your pie dish and fix one flattened pastry bit onto it.

Lob the apples on top and follow with the second pastry piece. Tuck edges together just as you have clamped your heart together and bake in preheated oven until ready.

While pie is baked and cooling on the counter, prepare the trio of just desserts.

Bailey’s Ice cream:

Fill a tall glass half way up with Baileys and skip the ice cream.

Brandy Butter:

Top up the Baileys with Brandy and skip the butter.

Rocky Road:

Self-explanatory.

‘Here’s to you, my darling Honora Mae. I hope you can forgive me for not being there when you needed me. Cheers.’

After a second and possibly a third helping of dessert, the day is done.

1016 words.