When An Accident Prone No One Marries A Celebrity There Will Be Chaos...

Chapter 4

“Are you sure you can manage this?” Ollie asks me sceptically. I’m standing in the kitchen surrounded by cook books and ingredients and cooking utensils while Ollie is stood on the other side of the room eyeing up the mess I am making, (I haven’t even started cooking yet!) “Of course I am,” I reply defiantly studying what appears to be a whisk… I think. It can’t be that hard to cook a three course meal, can it? People do it all the time, I’ll be absolutely fine! “But you don’t have to cook. I know this company that would come over, cook it for us, serve it and wash up. I could ring them now if you want,” he continues.

“But I want to cook myself to create a good impression. This is the first time our parents are meeting. This is really important and I want to cook. Is this a whisk?” I ask quickly on the end of my insistence. “You’ve met my parents! They loved you! You don’t need to impress them and yes that is a whisk,” Ollie reminds me.

“I know but I just think it will be nicer if I cook for everyone, more homely,” I reply.

“If you’re sure…,” he concludes unsurely.

“Ollie I’m not completely hopeless, I can cook,” I inform him indignantly.

“Really?” he asks me raising his eyebrows and smiling.

“Oh, get out of my kitchen asshole,” I snap jokingly pushing him out the door.

Right I can do this. Ollie is going to have to eat some humble pie when I create the most delicious three course dinner there ever was. Okay, first thing’s first: dessert. Chocolate mousse that’s easy enough to make! Step number one: separate the eggs. Easy peasy lemon squeezy! I grab the box of eggs crack one open and slosh the yolk backwards and forwards trying to get rid of the whites, with my brow furrowed in concentration. But the egg white drips onto my hand making it slippy and I end up dropping the egg causing not only the yolk but a lot of shell to mix with the whites. That’s fine I’ve got plenty of eggs I’ll just try again.

Ten minutes later every single egg is laying broken in a horrible gooey mess in the bottom of the bowl. “OLLIE?” I shout cautiously. A few seconds later he pokes his head through the kitchen door.

“What?” he asks me.

“You couldn’t possibly pop down to the supermarket to get me more eggs?” I inquire.

“Why what happened to the…,” he stops mid sentence as he catches a glimpse of the eggy mess collected in a bowl. “What the hell is that meant to be?” he asks picking up the bowl and swirling the horrible mixture around. “I just had a little problem separating the eggs that’s all,” I snap back defensively. He just laughs. “I can cook!” I insist defiantly.

“I beg to differ,” he laughs holding up the bowl of goo. I glare at him in fury but I can’t hold back the laughter to be fair he has a point. A small smile creeps across my lips. “Okay I’ll get you the eggs,” he eventually replies.

“Thank you,” I say as he dumps the egg goo down the sink.

“Probably best if we didn’t feed our parents that,” he jokes gesturing to the gloop slowly disappearing down the drain.

An hour and a half later I have actually managed to prepare a three course meal, (French onion soup complete with the little cheesy toast island followed by duck a l’orange and chocolate mousse to finish,) and I even had time to dash upstairs to make myself look presentable. Okay, Ollie did have to separate the eggs for me. He also had to cut the onions as my eyes were so watered up I almost chopped my fingers off, luckily Ollie intervened. But now after slaving away I can relax to my lovely meal. All I have to worry about now is getting my parents to get along with Ollie’s parents.

I am staring in admiration of my wonderful, perfect, three course dinner happily cooking paying particular attention to the soup gently simmering away when the doorbell goes. Ollie’s still upstairs getting ready so I holler, “I’ll get it,” in the vague direction of the staircase whilst untying the apron I brought myself especially for tonight, (it was an impulse buy. I actually don’t know why I suddenly decided I needed an apron but I have one now.) With a deep breath I throw open the door. “Hi come on in. Poppy I’ll take that coat, would you like me to hang yours up too Andy?” I ask Ollie’s parents. This is going a lot more smoothly than the last time I met them. Somehow I managed to trip over the doorstep and almost knocked over Poppy’s vase which she has owned for twenty one years. I neatly hang up their coats and then go to get them some drinks. I hunt down the right bottle of wine while I hear Ollie descend the stairs and greet his parents then the door bell goes again. I rush to the door again and haul it open. “Izzie sweetheart how are you? I read your column again it was very funny. I even went to show Julie across the road and she almost fell over in laughter,” Mum declares proudly on her way through the door.

“Thanks Mum,” I reply cheerily.

“Oh sweetie I forgot just how beautiful this house is. Isn’t it gorgeous Michael?” Mum suddenly asks my Dad. “It’s very nice,” he mumbles back in reply.

“Why don’t you two go into the lounge with Ollie and his parents while I get everyone drinks?” I suggest ushering them in the direction of the lounge. Here we go. What if our parents don’t get on? That’s pretty disastrous, right? What if they get into a huge fight right in the middle of the wedding ceremony? What would we do at Christmas? I shake my head clear of the thoughts and focus on the wine. I enter the living room with the first two glasses and to my dismay everyone is sat in complete silence. I come back with another two glasses and there’s still silence. I come back with Ollie and my glasses and there is still silence. Oh no.

After five minutes of a strained silence with only a few trivial remarks to fill it I hastily suggest we start dinner. I quickly pass around the bowls of soup and at least the process of eating is making the silence a tiny bit less awkward. No one has said anything in the last two minutes and I feel like tearing my hair out. I can’t last a whole evening of this! Let alone a whole life time of family get-togethers. I flash Ollie a secretive look of despair which he responds with an agreeing head nod of worry. But I think Ollie’s Mum caught our exchange as she suddenly burst into life. “So where do you two live?” she asks my parents politely.

“Oh just outside the city in a suburb estate called Oak Hill,” Mum answers.

“Andy isn’t that where Charlotte and her husband live?” Poppy asks.

“Oh of course we know Charlotte she lives at the bottom of our street,” my mum declares happily. Suddenly our Dads sink into a conversation about golf or something as our Mums begin gossiping about people they somehow both know. “Can I just say what a wonderful young man you have brought up,” my mum comments warmly looking at Ollie.  

“Thank you and Izzie is such a lovely girl. I was over the moon when Ollie introduced us to her and when they announced they were engaged…,”

“I couldn’t even contain the squeals of joy!” my mum laughs along with Poppy who nods along in agreement. Ollie and I look at each other in bemusement shrug our shoulders and then involve ourselves in the conversations.

Somehow after the initial disaster the evening was a success. Mum has made a friend for life in Poppy who went on to spend the rest of the night giggling with joy. Andy has somehow managed to involve my Dad in a conversation lasting the entire night which was nothing short of a miracle. Dad hardly ever speaks to people he doesn’t know for prolonged periods of time but he happily chatted away all night. To top it all off my cooking went down as a success and Ollie most certainly did have to eat humble pie. I think I’ll let it go in about a week… until then I will remind him of my trial against adversity at every chance I get! I can cook thank you very much Mr. Daniels.