CORNISH PASTIES

The next day, the Carsons both woke up with a slight headache, that fortunately fizzled out later on with their breakfast.

When Mr Carson opened his eyes at the sound of the alarm clock, he groaned in frustration and discomfort. He turned to look at his Elsie, who was also already awake, but with eyes closed and her palm resting on her forehead.

"Have I ever told you cider makes me deranged?"

"You showed me last night." She bit her lip, trying not to laugh, and opened her eyes to look at him.

"That's not funny, Elsie." He furrowed his brows. "I can't believe you didn't sit down in the same spot after you came back."

At that she just chuckled and shook her head.

"I don't think I'll be able to look him in the eye." Charlie continued.

"I think he is more understanding than you think. I saw him patting Mrs Hart's…" She looked away and lowered her voice to a minimum. "…bottom yesterday after we'd arrived."

"But that's highly inappropriate!" Mr Carson's appal was obvious.

"Well really, after yesterday, I don't think he deserves to be judged by you of all people, don't you think?" She scolded him playfully.

"Perhaps not…" He admitted reluctantly and she stroked his arm. "I don't want to get out of bed, Elsie."

"We have to, we've got a programme for the whole day prepared."

"Yes, that's exactly why I'd rather stay in bed." He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, go on, you will enjoy yourself," She tried to sound encouraging. "Fishing with the men."

Mr Carson just grumbled.

"I promise you, Charlie, on my first day off, and if you're free that day as well, we can sleep in and stay in bed as long as you like-" Elsie was contemplating seriously. "Even the whole day if you want, we deserve it."

"We certainly do." He smiled at her and then inhaled deeply. "But it might turn out to be more exhausting than you think." He whispered and raised his eyebrows.

A strange high-pitched sound escaped Elsie's mouth (something between a laugh and a moan). She looked away shyly and started gathering herself to get out of bed.

"We ought to get ready." She announced after a moment, and he eventually followed her lead.

…

Knowing their guests are likely to be hungover, the Harts prepared a greasy fry-up for breakfast, which expectedly cured everyone of any unpleasant feelings from the previous night.

After breakfast, they split into two groups. Messrs Carson, Mason, and Hart were picked up by Mr Staunch and boarded his large, old fishing boat.

The ladies were joined by Mrs Smith, who came down from a local bakery in the village.

Mrs Hart took everyone into the hotel's kitchens. "Now, I have invited Mrs Smith to show us how to make Cornish pasties. I thought it might be a nice activity for us to do while the men are out at sea. And I thought you, Beryl, might especially enjoy that, with being a cook and all." She giggled. "I will be down here with you but once every now and then I have to pop upstairs to check how John and the guests are doing."

Shortly, Mrs Smith started showing the ladies how to make the dough, she also gave them a rough idea of how to make the filling – but she encouraged them to be creative and experiment with ingredients. She wasn't necessarily unpleasant, but she wasn't a pleasant woman either. She was rather straight forward and irritable, cursing every time something went slightly wrong.

After they put the first batch of pasties in the oven, and started a new batch, Mrs Hart popped back into the reception, leaving the two friends alone with the baker woman.

"Why do men always get to do the interesting stuff while we're here stuck with rolling pins?" Mrs Hughes leaned in closer to Mrs Patmore, rolling her eyes.

"You'd rather be fishing?" Mrs Patmore was quite taken aback by her friend's proclamation.

"I think so." She nodded. "Don't tell me you wouldn't fancy a nice boat ride around the shores of Cornwall?"

"Well, when you put it like that!" The cook joshed.

Their conversation was interrupted by Mrs Smith. "How are we doing with the second set of pasties?" She looked over their shoulders. "I can see you wrap yours very neatly Mrs Mason, well done." Then she looked at Mrs Hughes' creation and muttered "let me help you," under her breath. "In our shop, a lot of wives of miners regularly buy our pasties. They are perfect for men who get their hands dirty at work – and I mean that literally – you can eat the part with the filling and then chuck the dirty dough fold away – no need to wash your hands when you're down in the pit."

"That's very handy." Mrs Hughes admitted, watching the baker fold her pastry.

"It is indeed." She howled as she approached the oven to check the colour of the pastries.

Mrs Hughes tried to copy Mrs Smith's folding technique, but ended up crumbling the dough in her hands, smashing it against the table with annoyance and sighing.

"Oh, come on," Beryl watched her little frantic display. "I'm sure Mr Carson would be pleased, knowing you're learning this." She tried to cheer her up but miscalculated.

Elsie laughed out loud at that. "I am sure he would, thank you, Mrs Patmore, that thought somehow makes it even more tedious!"

"Now, ladies," Mrs Smith approached them with the first tray. "Time to try these out." She split one of Elsie's pasties into two and popped one half into her mouth. "But this is absolutely delicious, Mrs Carson." She praised her and Elsie couldn't believe her ears.

"Now yours, Mrs Mason," The baker tried one of Beryl's, chewing for a while before speaking. "Hmmm… I am not sure these flavours work together, Mrs Mason…"

"What?" The cook couldn't believe her ears either, especially since she noticed the housekeeper tittering at her in the corner.

"Well, I am finally starting to enjoy this, Mrs Patmore." Elsie poked her friend further, while Mrs Hart re-entered the room with a bottle and three small glasses in her hand.

"I've brought some gin; I thought it might make the baking even more fun!" Ann chimed handing out the glasses.

Mrs Patmore quickly took one from the host and then looked at Elsie, raising her glass. "Now I am starting to enjoy this."