Wedding bells, a date for Helen and Ed gets lucky

Vicar praises kindness and calls out trolls

The Revd Alan Franks says he is ‘delighted’ with the response to this year’s ‘Pay for a Favour’ Lent appeal.

‘I’ve heard of some remarkable acts of generosity,’ he said. ‘For instance, a chap called Tim, who seems new to Ambridge, has given plenty of work to Ed Grundy, paid him over the odds, bought him lunch, got Eddie Grundy a replacement van and even paid Emma Grundy a compliment – all without wanting anything in return. I can only think the appeal is inspiring people to be kind and nice to each other. And not a moment too soon, I must say.’

The Revd Franks also used Sunday’s sermon to warn against the rising tide of online abuse that he said can threaten individual wellbeing and social cohesion.

‘I wouldn’t go quite as far as Joe Grundy, who says social media is the devil’s work,’ he said. ‘But I can tell you that responding to a video of Jolene Archer’s singing with the comment: “Get back to the care home, Granny,” is neither kind nor helpful. From now on, no phones will be allowed in Junior Church and I would urge parents to monitor all the family’s screen time.’ 

Coffee break with… Natasha-soon-to-be-Archer

This week we grabbed a few minutes on the phone with Ambridge’s newest bride-to-be, who just happens to be a high-flying entrepreneur!

Q Natasha, it doesn’t seem five minutes since we interviewed you about planting trees with Tom Archer. And now you’re getting married! You’re a fast mover! 

A Sorry, what was that? I’m stuck on the Catthorpe Interchange and the signal’s terrible – anyway, I don’t really care what you asked me so I’ll tell you about the wedding. It’s on my birthday on Friday – we chose that date so our wedding will always really be about me, see? It was like the stars aligned, just like Harry and Meghan, but more Welsh.

Q  How are you managing to organise the wedding at such short notice, and run your business?

A  We’re keeping the wedding simple, so while I was on the M6 the other day I dictated a quick four-page email telling guests about the dress code, timetable, expected behaviour standards and gifts. We don’t want people to go to the trouble of buying presents, so cheques (or cash) will be fine. Anyway, by the time I’d driven from Corley to Lancaster it was all done! 

Q And what about the catering? With you and Tom both in the food business, can we expect something spectacular?

A To be honest, I’m not a massive foodie; it’s more about the presentation for me. So we’re having a buffet at The Bull and my only brief to Jolene was: No cinnamon. And no singing. I dare say we might have Tom’s sausages on sticks, to make it festive. And we’re having a cake made of Pop Tarts, because they’re my favourite. Makes a croque-en-bouche look so 2018, if you know what I mean? Oh thank God the traffic’s moving. Gotta go – I’m already late for my packaging supplier in Brownhills. 

   

Recipe of the Week

By popular demand, this week’s recipe is Susan Carter’s legendary chilli, which Susan tells us she’ll be cooking for hubby Neil to celebrate their 35th wedding anniversary.

‘Neil and I have always had an electric connection, which over time has deepened into something very profound,’ says Susan. ‘My chilli helps us get to the bottom of our feelings for each other. Neil loves to have it hot and steaming on the table!’ Congratulations to the happy couple  – we’ll have what you’re having!

Serves 2, with plenty of seconds

250g lean, masterful mince

450g tin full of beans

1 big hunk of spicy sausage

450g juicy tomatoes (pommes d’amour)

Chilli oil, as hot as you dare

1 beefy stockman cube

Stir all the ingredients together and leave to simmer while hubby gets his cocktail shaker out and rustles up a Dirty Banana. Serve with nothing but a smile.

The Trials of… Helen Archer

In the latest chapter of our passionate family saga, by award-winning romantic novelist Lavinia Catwater, will searing memories of the past destroy our heroine’s hopes of happiness?

Helen stirred the vat of creamy curds and whey with a langorous pleasure. ‘Do you know, Susan,’ she said, ‘I now feel so confident about the Borchester Blue that I can trust my gut on the salt?’

‘I know, Helen,’ smiled the older woman. ‘It’s lovely to see you happy. I might even think you’d met “The One.”’ Helen blushed. Susan was so wise, even if she was intensely irritating most of the time.

But today, not even her wittering about dinner party recipes could dent Helen’s serene mood. There would be no making small talk at Isabel’s tedious prosecco and profiteroles party for her on Friday night. She had a date with Lee…

*

‘Mummy, you know those junk bonds I issued to buy Trafalgar Square? Well now I’ve sold them on as sub-prime collateral to Fannie Mae in New York, so I can buy Pall Mall as well!’

‘Oh, well done Henry darling!’ Helen trilled as she did a little twirl in her new navy midi dress with the white flowers. ‘Mum, I’ve no idea where Henry gets his ruthless corporate finance streak from. Do you think his father worked on Wall Street?’

‘Hush, never mind that now dear,’ said Pat, fondly smoothing a stray lock of hair into her daughter’s chic, messy updo. ‘You’ve got Lee to think about. He’s a very lucky man. And you look lovely. Blue was always your colour. I never agreed with Rob when he said it was mauve.’

Suddenly, a cold fist gripped Helen’s heart. She wouldn’t think of that tonight. Or ever again… ‘Bye Mum, bye Henry,’ she said gaily, swallowing her nerves. ‘Don’t wait up...’

*

‘Oh Helen, you look so beautiful,’ said Lee. ‘Now we’ve eaten, are you sure you don’t need to go to the toilet to see my other Bruce Lee posters?’

Helen stretched like a happy cat on Lee’s squashy sofa, taking in the homely yet deceptively spacious flat with its typical masculine touches of underpants on the radiator and well-worn trainers by the kitchen door.

‘It’s all been perfect,’ she said. ‘The lamb was just pink enough, the smoked salmon blinis were delicious if perhaps a touch under-seasoned, and the tiramisu was lovely even if you didn’t make it yourself, you naughty boy!’

She wagged a finger at Lee and he laughed. He edged closer to her on the sofa and Helen allowed herself to sink into his arms, his kiss, the music he’d chosen specially for her playing softly … ‘Is this love? Is this love? Is this love?’ sang  Corinne Bailey Rae. All at once a searing memory forced its way into Helen’s brain and stabbed her like a knife… a knife…

‘Stop! Stop the music! Stop it now!’ she screamed, grabbing her bag and stumbling out of the flat, desperate to escape, leaving Lee mystified and upset. ‘Helen! Was it sitting on the blob of green glitter slime that put you off?’ he pleaded. ‘Was it because I didn’t have any wipes?’

But Helen was running down the street to the mini-cab office, her dream of happiness forgotten, Rob’s evil laugh ringing in her ears…

To be continued…