“Ambrose!” Zelda turned the stove down and darted over.

“I simply had to come to congratulate the chefs myself!” He gave her a vigorous handshake. “We’ve certainly put Fenley on the culinary map, haven’t we? Some of the BBC chiefs are out there, and they’re raving about your Scrod St. Jacques—now why didn’t you do that for the contest? It’s absolute perfection.”

“You have no idea how much I regretted it. But it seems I didn’t need to be a BBC presenter to become a head chef, after all—and Nell, well…It’s such a lovely story, isn’t it? The kitchen maid who rose to fame.”

Ambrose laughed. “Yes, and what marvelous work she is doing. We make a great team.” He spotted the pram in the corner of the room and trod carefully over. “Is this The Kitchen Front baby? Look, she’s fast asleep through all this commotion and celebration.”

“Yes, she’s had a long day. And true to The Kitchen Front ideals, she has a culinary name to match: Madeleine.”

“Oh, how glorious!” He glanced from the child to Zelda. “So are you…raising her, then?”

Zelda looked at Audrey and grinned. “We’re raising her.” She gave Ambrose a meaningful look. “You don’t need to be in a traditional family these days. Perhaps it’s a sign of things to come.”

The evening was frenetic. Plates of beautifully prepared food were delivered to happy customers, and empty plates were returned to the scullery for washing—thank goodness for Alexander and Ben, serving and washing up, Christopher helping where he could, too.

As planned, they waited until all the tables had finished their main courses before rolling out the desserts for everyone to see.

The centerpiece—the magnificent croquembouche—had been enlarged to feed everyone. It was over three feet tall and contained no less than a hundred profiterole balls.

Oohs and ahhs went around, as people leaned forward—some even getting out of their chairs to get a better view.

     Having finished the cooking, the four women came into the restaurant for the presentation. A makeshift stage had been formed from a few pallets, painted cream for the occasion, and set in the middle of the room at the side.

Ringing a spoon against a champagne glass, Gwendoline gathered everyone’s attention. She looked as thrilled to be onstage as ever, only this time she wasn’t wearing her Ministry of Food suits. Tonight, she wore a beautiful green silk dress and looked less like a home economist and far more like a proper restaurant owner. After a few shushes and murmurs, the room fell quiet.

“Welcome, everyone, to the very first evening at The Four Friends, the best restaurant in Fenley.”

A huge round of applause went up, with some cheers and whoops, and someone calling out, “It’s the only restaurant in Fenley!” to a ripple of laughs.

“First of all, I want to tell you about my three friends, the very talented cooks that complete this restaurant.” Gwendoline gazed over to her friends. “Without these three women,” Gwendoline continued, “this restaurant would never have been possible. We are utterly blessed to have an haute cuisine professional as our head chef, Zelda Dupont.” She beckoned Zelda to come and join her on the makeshift stage, and, delighted, Zelda went up to stand beside her. “What a boon to have such a dexterous and capable chef! Without your expertise and knowledge of top restaurant kitchens, we would be nowhere.” She turned and looked into Zelda’s eyes. “Thank you, Zelda, for choosing to stay with us. We know you had offers from London, and we are eternally grateful to you for remaining here, making your home here in Fenley.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else!” Zelda said quietly, gazing over to the other women with warmth. Somehow, she looked different from usual. The hardness had gone, and her face shone with a smile that was so fresh and exuberant that her true, natural beauty seemed to beam out for the very first time.

Gwendoline gave her a warmhearted pat on the back, her other arm going out to the crowd. “I think we all have appreciated your very considerable culinary talents here tonight, and I would like everyone to join me in congratulating our head chef, Zelda Dupont. May she go from strength to strength.”

     Everyone began to clap, some of the crowd giving her a standing ovation, including Ambrose and the BBC officials.

“Next, I would like to bring over Miss Nell Brown—now a national presenter on The Kitchen Front BBC radio program.”

Nell was dressed in a lovely new floral dress she’d bought specially for the occasion—the first new dress she had ever owned. Her hair wasn’t pinned back for a change, instead it curled elegantly around her neck. Although Paolo couldn’t be there for the opening, she’d dashed off to the farm beforehand, returning with a sparkle in her eyes.

Who’d have known that beneath that kitchen maid’s outfit she could look so elegant? Audrey thought to herself.

After a little shove from Audrey, Nell stepped up, standing on the other side of Zelda, blushing hotly but thrilled as a button.

“You’ve heard her voice over the radio waves. You’ve tasted her impeccable food. And now, you have had her as your waitress.”

Laughter carried around the room.

“Her incredible energy, skill, and experience has made our cooking team complete. Bravo, Nell, and good luck in your new radio career.”

She lifted her glass and a cheer went up, Ambrose standing again to toast his fellow presenter. “Here’s to you, Nell!”

“And finally,” Gwendoline began as the crowd fell once again into silence. “We have my dearest sister, Mrs. Audrey Landon. Or should I say, at the beginning, because it all began with Audrey. A few years ago, after she was widowed by this dreadful war, she started her own cooking business, baking pies and cakes to make ends meet. It is out of those humble beginnings that this glorious restaurant has grown. Her extraordinary knowledge of growing and foraging for the best ingredients and her nuance for flavors and textures has made her into one of the most proficient cooks in our country. It is with immeasurable respect, heartfelt gratitude, and immense love that I ask Audrey to come up.”

Claps and congratulations filled the room as Audrey, overcome with pride, made her way to the front. As she went, people stood up to shake her hand, congratulating her. Village ladies, the vicar, some clients from restaurants in Middleton, and a lieutenant from Fenley Hall all clamored to wish her well.

     On the makeshift stage, she came to stand beside Gwendoline, and her sister’s arm slid through hers, the four women standing linked together.

Tentatively, Audrey began. “I would like to say a few words.” Her eyes met Zelda’s and Nell’s. “None of us would be here today if it wasn’t for my ingenious sister, Gwendoline. She has been the business mind behind The Four Friends, and any success it has is due to her leadership and skill. Thank you, Gwen, for making your dream into our dream.”

The room went into another round of applause, and Audrey waited until it was silent once again to finish.

“This war has been a tragedy for so many of us. My own dear husband was killed.” She looked around at the sea of faces, tears in her eyes. “But, with patience and a willing heart, out of the ashes came surprisingly beautiful new beginnings.” Again, a pause. “This restaurant isn’t just a business with four talented women cooks. It is the passion of four very special friends, joined first by necessity and now by kinship and love.” She gathered the others in close. “These three women arrived into my life, and together they made me realize that, however bad things may seem, with the help, understanding, and camaraderie of friends, we can make the world better for all of us.” She gazed from one to another—each so incredibly dear to her. “So, finally, ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to propose one final toast.” Audrey raised her glass. “To the best gift one could ever have: friendship. No matter how near or far, there will always be that invisible thread that binds us together.”