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*Chapter 12 *

Angel Baking

“I suppose I can get your Gran to bring some more,” Mum suggested.
“It is for a good cause,” I mentioned.
“I wish you’d ask before promising stuff,” mater sighed.
“Sorry.”
Well how was I to know she’d got the mincemeat earmarked for her own bakeathon?
“Get on with you, you back for dinner?”
“Probably not,” I suggested – let’s face it, Tatort and Therese cooking, it’s a no brainer really.

There was of course plenty of snow on the ground still so instead of taking the Schauff I was on foot, the supplies in Mum’s wicker basket.
“See you later.”
“Be careful.”
“I will.”
Famous last words, I nearly landed on my bum twice before I got down to the road!
“I’m fine, honest!”

“Sheesh, Gab, you’ve brought the cold in with you,” Con chimed a few minutes later.
“Yeah, it’s not exactly warm out there,” I noted.
“Coffee?”
It’s at least forty minutes since I’ve had a cup.
“Thought you’d never ask,” I grinned back as I followed my BF up to the apartment.

“You want this oven?” Herr Thesing requested from the kitchen door.
“Oops, yes please, Papa.”
“Okay, I’ve left you a tray of eggs on the side, you know where the flour is?”
“Yes, Papa,” Con allowed rolling her eyes, “come on, Gab.”

“Looks disgusting,” Con opined after opening and sniffing the big jar of mincemeat.
“You’re supposed to eat it not look at it,” I observed.
“If you say so,” she shrugged as she screwed the lid back on, “so how many are we making?”

Mum, when pressed, suggested that the amount of filling we have would make something like two hundred and fifty mince pies – that’s a lot of pastry! Having the use of the bakery’s facilities we can at least make stuff in bigger volume so I started breaking eggs whilst Con prepared the baking trays. It would actually be the pie trays that would be restricting us, they don’t use any in the bakery, Therese has one but thankfully Mum found four, we can cook the cases in batches of thirty.

“Last lot,” I sighed, pushing the last pieces of pastry into the baking tray.
“That was a marathon,” Con agreed, “what are they for?”
‘They’ were a tray of tartlet cases which we’d be having later.
“I thought we could have them with coffee later.”
“Always thinking of your stomach, Gaby Bond!”
“Your point being?”
Con just shook her head.

We hadn’t been idle between batches of baking, flat baking trays were full of now filled and topped pies ready to be finished. All in all we’d been at it for over three hours and I was bushed – and we’ve got another hour to do, I hope our efforts are appreciated.
“Dad said he’ll do the Stollen and Nurnburger mixes, we’ll just have to make the loaves.”
“That’ll save a lot of time.”
This baking lark takes longer than you think!
“How are you girls getting on?” Tomas, Herr Thesing enquired joining us.
“The last cases are in,” I told him, “then they all go back in to finish, should be done in two batches.”
“Therese has started dinner, how long shall I tell her?”
I checked the clock, “Five o’clock?”

It was nearer ten past when made our way upstairs, there was still a bit of washing down to do but the pies were all stacked and stored. The tartlets for our own consumption had come out really well, instead of a solid lid I was a bit artistic and made a lattice top with a drizzle of icing as a finishing touch. The smell of something good wafted down the stairs, you can get quite an appetite doing all this baking.

Dinner with the Thesings is always excellent and this evening was no different. Veal schnitzel is a rare delicacy and served with a mixed bean salad, potato wedges and a cheesy sauce it hit the spot. As did the mince tartlets, a generous blob of squirty cream didn’t detract from the exotic dessert.

By the time we’d eaten and me and Con had cleared up, Tatort’s opening titles were already running. Okay, I know, it’s pretty sad, it’s not like there’s a brilliant plot or anything but I’m hooked. This week they were looking for a missing child who eventually was found unharmed and oblivious to the search after riding the U-bahn all day – like I said—not exactly high action plots.

“It’s snowing again,” Therese mentioned from the window.
“Great,” I sighed, “I probably should head home.”
“Huh! Leave me to clear up,” Con mentioned.
“Oh sugar, I forgot about that.” (They had already cleared up – ‘By the time me and Con had cleared up...’)
“’S’all right, I’ll do it, you need to get home while you can.”
“I’ll stay and help.”
“You’ll do no such thing, Gaby,” Tomas instructed, “now off home!”
“Okay.”

“You gonna be alright?” Con asked as I pulled my hat down against the swirling flakes.
“Yeah, it’s only round the corner, get inside, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Tomorrow, nite!”
“Tschuss!” I allowed giving a wave.

The fresh snow was falling in those huge flakes that quickly coat you, by the end of the square my coat was covered and several had landed on my face, coating my lashes before melting in rivulets down my face. It wasn’t late, half eight I think, but the village was silent, cars coated in a second layer of snow transformed into amorphous lumps, the streetlights struggling to give even a small pool of light. Schloss Bond was just visible at the end of the village, the low path lighting just visible as tiny pricks of light in the grey swirling darkness.

“Lock the door, Gab,” Dad called from the lounge.
“’Kay.”
I pulled my boots off and hung my coat in the laundry before going through to the lounge.
“It’s snowing again,” I offered.
“Mand came back early when it started,” Dad advised.
“She in her room?”
“Said she was feeling a bit off,” pater supplied.
“Get everything done?” Mum enquired.
“The mince pies, we’ve still got the Stollen and stuff to do.”
“You gonna get it all done?” Dad queried.
“Herr Thesing’s going to make the mixtures for us which will save a bunch of time.”
“Make sure to thank him.”
“Yes, Mum.”
“You got all your homework done?”
“Yes of course, er oh sugar, I forgot Herr Ansbacher’s family tree thing.”
“Best get to it then kiddo, don’t be up too late.”
“Try not to; see you in the morning, nite!”
I gave them each a peck on the cheek and headed upstairs.

“You awake, Mand?” I queried through her door.
“Yeah, ‘s open.”
I pushed the door open, Mand was sat on her bed reading.
“You alright, Dad said you were ill.”
“If you call the Visitor being ill, just a bit off.”
“Er right,” I’m not good at this stuff, “so how did the painting go?”
“The lads had pretty much done it all, we were just doing some twiddly bits. What about you guys, get the baking done?”
“Two hundred and fifty mince pies.”
“So that’s yours, how many did you make for the stall?”
“Ha de ha.”
“It still snowing?”
“Yeah, it must be a good twenty centimetres deep.”
“Can’t remember having more than a thin dusting back home.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “we had quite a bit here last year but it doesn’t usually hang around for long.”
“Not looking forward to the trip to school if it’s still here in the morning.”
“You and Jules might escape but us locals won’t.”
“You can ski there,” she suggested.
“Don’t give Dad ideas!”

“Anna’s finished the lads’ costumes,” Steff told us as we sipped at our coffee in Thesing’s.
“Great,” Brid allowed, “the furniture’s all done.”
“We’ve got most of the cooking done,” I told them.
“We should finish Mittwoch,” Con added.
“When do we collect the costumes?” Nena asked our seamstresses.
“We don’t,” Pia advised.
“Don’t? Something the matter with them?” Con queried.
“No they’re brill,” Steff enthused, “they want us to go to the shop to get ready, in case anything needs adjusting.”
“We gonna have time?” I put in.
“We can do it in shifts I guess,” Nena suggested.
“Gab, can you let the lads know?” Steff requested.
“Why me?”
“She’s still in denial,” Brid mentioned.
“She’ll come round,” Pia proposed.
“What?”
“Just do it, Gab,” Con stated.
“But you don’t need to do tongues in the cafeteria this time,” Steff added.
I'll not be allowed to forget that in a hurry will I?

Maddy Bell 10.02.16