Half an hour later, they were sitting at the kitchen table. A small glass jar with rosebuds sat in the middle of the table. Jemima had found the red and white checked table mats he'd unpacked earlier, and the cutlery was at each place setting rather than thrown in the middle like it was when the girls set the table when he'd cooked.
Ned frowned when Jemima placed a bowl of salad in the centre of the table and turned back to the cupboard. She was quiet, not saying much as she put the dinner plates on the table. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and a tiny dimple that he hadn't noticed before appeared in her left cheek when she pursed her lips.
"I think that's everything," she said as she sat down beside Kelsey. "Oh, I forgot the potatoes." She jumped straight back up.
"And the roast," said Kelsey.
"The roast?" Jemima paused as she lifted the bowl of mashed potato from the bench top.
"I can smell roast." Kelsey frowned as she looked at the salad bowl. "I thought we were having a baked dinner."
"No. We've got steak and salad and mashed potatoes, and then peaches and ice cream." Jemima sounded quite proud as she outlined the menu. "Oh, and bread. Garlic bread. I almost forgot that." She went back to the kitchen and opened the oven.
"Do you need a hand?" Ned asked.
"Thanks. I'll get the bread if you can carry the steak for me."
He left the table and stood behind Jemima as she opened the oven door and slid out a tray of golden bread. She turned with a huge smile and handed him the other oven mitt.
"Perfect. The steaks are on the bottom shelf in that brown dish thing."
Ned raised his eyebrows.
Brown dish thing? Maybe she casseroled the steak?
"The casserole dish?"
"Yeah, that's it." Jemima reached up a hand and tucked back a strand of hair that had fallen from her clip. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the kitchen, and there was a smudge of something brown on her cheek. He reached over and wiped his thumb gently on her skin.
"Gravy?"
Her flush deepened, and she shook her head. "No, no, I didn't make gravy. Should I do some?"
"No, I was asking if that was gravy on your face?"
"Shouldn't be." Her eyes brightened as she smiled back at him. "Probably dirt off the potatoes when I peeled them."
"I'm hungwy!" Ryan picked up his plate and banged it on the table.
Jemima walked over and stood beside him. "Is that good manners, Ryan?" she asked softly.
"No." He put his head down and mumbled. "But you're slower than Daddy."
Ned carried the casserole dish across to the table and lifted the lid. An overwhelming smell of garlic wafted up, and he frowned as he looked down at the … at the … something in the dish. It was a sort of grey, but he could see a bit of gristle on the edge. It was definitely meat of some sort, covered with half-cooked onion rings and whole garlic cloves.
"Sit down, Jemmy. I'll serve up."
Everyone sat quietly as he served a piece of steak to each of them and then put the spoon into the potatoes. The yellowish mash stuck to the spoon, and he had to reach for a knife to scrape the glutinous stuff into Ryan's bowl.
"Who'd like some garlic bread? And some salad?" Jemima's voice was louder than usual, and Ned glanced up. Her eyes were wide as she reached hesitantly for the salad bowl.
"Yes, please." The three kids spoke together as they watched Ned serve their dinner.
Jemima sliced the garlic loaf and then put a piece of bread on each plate. She picked up the salad tongs and placed a slice of tomato and lettuce beside the bread.
Ned sat down. "You can start now, girls. I'll just cut Ryan's steak for him." He held the knife firmly as he tried to cut into the steak, but the knife wouldn't go through to the plate. All was quiet as everyone watched him try again. Ned looked at the knife and smiled. "Ah, it's a bread knife. Can you pass me a steak knife, please?"
Jemima passed him a serrated knife, and he tried again. This time, the knife made a tiny tear in the meat.
"Is this meat from the freezer, or did you buy it in town today?" He stopped trying to cut the tough meat and looked over at Jemima. Her face was bright red, and she was blinking quickly.
"From the freezer."
"What cut is it?" he asked.
"What?" she said, brushing the back of her hand over her eyes. "What do you mean, what cut?"
"Is it rump or-"
"Rump, I think. It started with R, anyway. Maybe it's tough because I thawed it out for too long in the microwave. All the juices came out of it." She rushed on, and her words ran together. "And then I tried to grill it under the griller, but it went grey and curled up. So I put it in the dish in the oven with some water and garlic and onion to make a sort of casserole-what? Why are you all looking at me like that?"
Gwennie and Kelsey were giggling.
"It started with R?" Ned said slowly, trying to hold back the chuckle that was threatening. "From memory, I don't think there was any rump left in the big freezer. Maybe it was round steak?"
"Yes, that was it," Jemima said triumphantly. "Round steak."
"And you microwaved it, grilled it, and then casseroled it?" Ned nodded slowly and managed to keep his face serious. "There must have been something wrong with the beast. After all that attention, it should melt in our mouths." He couldn't hold back the chuckle any longer and was pleased to see Jemima smile, too.
"So I stuffed up the first meal I cooked?" She looked over at the girls. "Don't try and eat it. I'll go find something else."
"Um … do we have to eat the potato stuff?" Kelsey tried to twirl her fork in it, and it got stuck.
Ned dug into his and put a forkful in his mouth. "Yes, it's tasty, and you have to eat your-" Before he could say "vegetables," his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He stood and crossed to the sink and tore off a piece of paper towel and tried to spit the offending mass into the towel. Behind him, he could hear the girls giggling as he reached for a glass and turned the tap on.
Finally, he turned around. "Don't be rude, girls. Jemmy did her best. And that's the lesson we learned from this. Whatever you try, do your best." He held her gaze and was pleased to see her eyes were dancing.
"The salad is really nice," Gwennie said quietly.
"Oh, sweetie!" Jemima pushed her chair back and walked around and hugged Gwennie. "Thank you, but you don't have to eat it."
"I think we'll find some chicken nuggets and chips in the freezer. How 'bout we show Jemmy how to heat them up in the oven?"
"I already know how to do that," she said softly. She was still standing next to Gwennie's chair. Ned held his hand out, and she looked at it for a moment.
"Come on, Ms. Cosmopolitan. You are about to have your first cooking lesson."
A little tingle went up his arm when Jemmy put her hand in his, and he led her over to the freezer.
Two hours later, the children were in bed, their tummies satisfied with oven fries and chicken nuggets. Jemima had gone to bed, and Ned stood beneath the shower for a long time. When she'd taken his hand in the kitchen, a familiar feeling had filled him, but he'd ignored it. That wasn't in the deal; this was a business relationship. He turned the water colder. Taking a cold shower every night for the next year might be hard, but if that's what it took, he was going to have to do it. He stepped out and dried himself before pulling his boxer shorts and T-shirt on. The light was off, and he slipped into bed, pleased to see that the line of pillows was already firmly down the middle.
It took him ages to get to sleep. Jemima wore some sort of musky body lotion that surrounded him every night. He sat up and turned his pillow over and then rolled to the very edge of the bed. Maybe he should have insisted they go with his original suggestion. Perhaps the foldout bed in the wardrobe would be safer. He lay there, and finally Jemima's gentle breathing from the other side of the bed lulled him off to sleep.
The next thing he knew the bedroom door opened with a creak. Ned struggled out of a deep sleep; it was still pitch dark. A sleep where he'd been dreaming about a soft body pressed close to his.
"Daddy, I'm firsty."
His eyes flew open as Ryan switched on the light. Ned froze. The pillow fence was in a jumbled pile at the foot of the bed, and Jemima's head was on his shoulder, and her legs were tangled with his.
He lay there, not sure what to do, but when Ryan ran over to the bed and called out again, "I'm firsty," Jemima opened her eyes, and Ned felt her body stiffen against his as she took a sharp breath.
"It's okay, mate. Daddy will get you a drink." He lifted his arm that had somehow gone around her shoulders, and Jemima rolled over and sat up. Her T-shirt was bunched up, and Ned's eyes lingered on her bare stomach before she pulled it down. He had the grace to look away when she glared at him, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.