“Don’t tell me what you think it is. Tell me what you can taste.”
This is a trick question, surely.
“I can taste … gravy.”
Her expression doesn’t change. She’s waiting for something else.
“Er … meat?” I hazard.
“What else?”
My mind is blank. I can’t think of anything else. I mean, it’s gravy. What else can you say about gravy?
“Taste it again.” Iris is relentless. “You need to try harder.”
My face is growing hot as I struggle for words. I feel like the dumb kid at the back of the class who can’t do the two-times table.
“Meat … water …” I try desperately to think what else is in gravy. “Flour!” I say in sudden inspiration.
“You can’t taste flour. There’s none in there. Samantha, don’t think about identifying the taste. Just tell me what the sensation is.” Iris holds the spoon out a third time. “Taste it again—and this time close your eyes.”
Close my eyes?
“OK.” I take a mouthful and close my eyes obediently.
“Now. What can you taste?” Iris’s voice is in my ear. “Concentrate on the flavors. Nothing else.”
Eyes shut tight, I block out everything and focus all my attention on my mouth. All I’m aware of is the warm salty liquid on my tongue. Salt. That’s one flavor. And sweet … and … there’s another taste as I swallow it down.…
It’s almost like colors appearing. First the bright, obvious ones, and then the gentler ones you’d almost miss.
“It’s salty and meaty …” I say slowly, without opening my eyes. “And sweet … and … and almost fruity? Like cherries?”
I open my eyes, feeling a bit disoriented. There is Iris, smiling. Behind her I suddenly notice Nathaniel, scrutinizing me intently. I feel a tad flustered. Tasting gravy with your eyes closed is a fairly intimate thing to do, it turns out. I’m not sure I want anyone watching me.
Iris seems to understand. “Nathaniel,” she says briskly. “We’re going to need ingredients for all these dishes.” She scribbles a long list and hands it to him. “Run down and get these for us, love.”
As he leaves the room, she looks at me with kindness. “That was much better.”
“By George, she’s got it?” I say hopefully, and Iris throws back her head in laughter.
“Not yet, sweetie, by a long chalk. Here, get a pinny on.” She hands me a red-and-white striped apron and I tie it around my waist, feeling self-conscious.
“It’s so good of you to help me,” I venture. Iris is pulling onions and some orange vegetable I don’t recognize out from a bin by the door. “I’m really grateful.”
“I like a challenge.” She takes a knife from a block on the counter. “I get bored. Nathaniel does everything for me. Too much sometimes.”
“But still. You’d never even met me—”
“I liked the sound of you.” Iris draws down a heavy wooden chopping board from a shelf above. “Nathaniel told me how you got yourself out of your mess the other night. That took some spirit.”
“I had to do something,” I say ruefully.
“And they offered you a pay rise as a result. Wonderful.” As she smiles, fine lines appear round her eyes like starbursts. “Trish Geiger is a very foolish woman.”
“I like Trish,” I say, feeling a stab of loyalty.
“So do I.” Iris nods. “She’s been very supportive to Nathaniel. But I do sometimes wonder—” She pauses, her hand resting on an onion.
“What?” I say tentatively.
“Why she needs quite so much help. Why the full-time housekeeper? What does she do with her time?” She looks genuinely interested.
“I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “I haven’t quite worked it out.”
“Intriguing.” Iris seems lost in thought for a moment. Then she focuses on me again. “So you’ve taken the Geigers in completely.”
“Yes.” I smile. “They have no idea who I am.”
“And who are you?”
Her question takes me completely by surprise.
“Is your name really Samantha?”
“Yes!” I say in shock.
“That was a little blunt,” Iris acknowledges. “But a girl arrives in the middle of the countryside out of nowhere and takes a job she can’t do …” She pauses, clearly choosing her words with care. “Nathaniel tells me you’ve just got out of a bad relationship?”