You can do it!

“This is Nell Brown here, and I’m absolutely delighted to be on The Kitchen Front, albeit a little nervous. As a kitchen maid, with help from Mrs. Quince, the best manor-house cook in the country, I discovered a wealth of techniques and shortcuts, not only to deal with the rations and shortages, but also to make our dishes taste that much better.”

Ambrose was nodding enthusiastically, urging her to continue. Even the technicians had stopped panicking.

“And yes, Ambrose, after competing against one another in The Kitchen Front Cooking Contest, the four competitors have joined forces to open a new restaurant in Fenley. You’ll be able to try the winning dishes from the contest, as well as some terrific new ones, all using local ingredients from the countryside where we live. We’re calling the restaurant The Four Friends.”

Ambrose stepped in. “What a splendid name! I can’t wait to taste some of those special dishes again. When do you plan to open?”

“The opening night will be on November the eighth, so please telephone Fenley five-three-three to book your table.”

“I’ll have to make a reservation,” Ambrose said wholeheartedly. “But, let’s get back to today’s program. After a few ideas for recipes with salt cod, Nell is going to tell us how to make pastry go that little bit further…”

The rest of the program went perfectly, and as they were hustled away from the desk to make way for another news presenter, Ambrose patted her back.

“You see! You were marvelous!”

She grinned, relief flooding through her. “Thank you, Ambrose, for helping us spread the word about the restaurant.”

“It was my pleasure. After all, the cooking contest has become quite the national sensation, and I have you ladies to thank for that.”

Audrey

The Four Friends Dinner Menu

    3 courses for 5 shillings

     Starter

Wild Mushroom Soup

Scrod St. Jacques

Main Course

Rabbit Cacciatore

Spam and Game Pie

Desserts

Summer Pudding

Croquembouche

The evenings were no longer light, and a chilly mist had already fallen by seven o’clock on the auspicious November date. The four women had been in the restaurant all day. It’s not every day that your very own restaurant is opened, after all.

Audrey had popped home to pick some more fresh herbs from the garden and to fetch the boys. Baby Madeleine was already in the restaurant, tucked into her pram—thank heavens she was a good baby, an absolute poppet with her big eyes and rosy cheeks.

     If Audrey was quick, she’d have time to change, like the others already had, their best dresses under their aprons. She raced up the stairs and into her bedroom, throwing open her wardrobe and parting the old coats and boots at the front.

“I know it’s in here somewhere.”

Pushing back Matthew’s old clothes that she wore for the garden and the cooking, she felt as if she were going back into the mists of time.

And suddenly, there they were: her dresses.

First there was the peach one she had worn to one of the boys’ christenings—it must have been Christopher’s, judging by the style. She smiled as she remembered the day, how Matthew had looked so proud holding the baby in his best suit, the other two boys nestling in beside them. And it struck her that she was lucky to have such memories. How wonderful that era had been—how fortunate she was to have had Matthew—and for once, the feeling wasn’t all consuming, devastating.

“Mum!” An urgent voice called from downstairs. “Are you coming?”

Quickly, she brought out the peach dress, took off her messy trousers, and for the first time in years, slipped the dress over her head. It fit well, although she’d lost a little weight, and as she looked at herself in the mirror, grabbing her hairbrush to give her curls a quick tidy, she realized that she could still look good.

She found the matching shoes and slid her feet inside, then grabbed a coat and dashed down the stairs, feeling the strange daintiness of wearing shoes with heels.

“Mum, you look wonderful!” Ben was at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes opening wide with incredulity. “Come and see, everyone. Mum’s put on a dress.”

Christopher came running in from the kitchen. “Wow, Mum! You’re beautiful!”

“Well, she always was beautiful, only wearing Dad’s clothes.” Alexander tried to be tactful, but he gave her his broadest grin. “Although I’d forgotten how good she could look.”

     Together, with the basket of freshly picked thyme and chives, they hurried out into the chilly evening, their torches beaming ahead of them into the misty night.

“Are you going to make a speech?” Ben asked. “If you are, you need to tell everyone that we helped with the painting and decorating. Credit where credit’s due, you always say.”

She put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him toward her as they walked. “I think Aunt Gwendoline will be the one to give the speech, but I’m sure she’ll do you proud.”

As they turned the corner into the main part of the village, though, their hearts fell. Instead of the bustle and excitement of an opening night, the place looked completely deserted. No one was going in or out, no lights or noise. There were no signs of life at all.

They drew to a disappointed halt.

“Where is everyone?”

Audrey grabbed their hands and hurried them on. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Perhaps people mistook the date—and then there’s the blackout, too. We won’t be able to see any light from the road.”

But she picked up her step, feeling a sense of dismay sear into her.

What happens if this doesn’t work? she thought anxiously. Fenley is a small village, maybe we were too optimistic to think that we could fill a whole restaurant.

“Wait,” Ben said as he ran ahead. “I can hear something.”

They all rushed forward, and sure enough, low at first, and then gaining pace into a throng, the noise of chatter and laughing was spilling out into the street. It had only been the blackout, shielding the light from the road.

Hurriedly, Ben went to the door, and with a dramatic whoosh, he pulled it open.

“There it is!”

What a sight to behold! The place was crowded and noisy. People were crammed around every table, some already eating. Sporadically, tables of men in uniform indicated that the officers from the hall had already found their way there. Audrey recognized some of the local women, giving them a nod or a wave, going over to say hello.

     “What a terrific paint job!” One of the village ladies admired the boys’ work. They’d managed to get some cream-colored paint, and together with Matthew’s modern art and the antique chandeliers, the place looked like a kind of abstract art gallery—the evening a majestic celebration of art and food if ever there was one.

Christopher whispered, “Will we be famous now, Mum?”

“Well, not quite famous. But it’s a good start,” she said, trying to quell her excitement.

Bustling between the tables, trays held high like professional waiters, Nell and Gwendoline looked delighted.

“The place is packed!” Audrey said delightedly to Gwendoline.

“I know! Every table taken. Ambrose is here of course, and he brought a crowd of his BBC friends.” She indicated a table on the far side of the room, where Ambrose was holding forth to a jovial group.

“How marvelous!” Audrey stood in awe, drinking up the atmosphere, relishing the moment. “Our first night—what a success!”

But Gwendoline’s hand was on her shoulder, pressing her to the back. “I’m sorry to hassle you, Aude, but we need you in the kitchen. Zelda’s working miracles in there, but she needs help.”

Sitting the boys down at their reserved table, she hurried into the kitchen to find Zelda in full head chef mode.

“Over there,” she ordered without pausing from the stove. “We need the herbs, finely chopped. We need more of the wild mushroom soup.”

With a jubilant smile, Audrey quickly got to work. The renovated kitchen was still a little makeshift—there were limits to what four women and a few boys could do in the middle of a war—but it was spotless, repainted, and contained all the equipment they needed. Pots and pans of every size hung from the ceilings. Bowls and dishes sat in readiness on the shelves lining the walls. Mincing machines and weighing scales were poised, as was a selection of long, sharp knives of different shapes and sizes.

Zelda had everything working like clockwork, although they had to enlist the help of Alexander to wait tables as Nell was needed for the main courses. Soon, compliments to the chef were being delivered via Gwendoline, and one customer came in himself.

     “So this is where it all happens,” a familiar voice declared.