‘She wasn’t a contestant, Mr Bentley. She didn’t enter with her amazing puddings because she couldn’t afford the entry fee. She’s a single mum with girl-next-door looks and a hard luck tale to rival most. Her Yorkshire puddings are to die for,’ Albert hoped since he hadn’t even seen one yet, ‘and you will be throwing away a marketing dream come true if you don’t come inside and meet her.’
A little more than forty minutes later, which was how long it took to pick Rosie up off the floor and send her to fetch the batter she made hours ago, find an oven and get some oil smoking hot, Rosie produced the tastiest looking Yorkshire puddings Albert had ever laid eyes on.
Ethan Bentley had indulged the old man and the young woman because he thought of himself, above all else, as a man of the people and he didn’t want to be seen to be rude. He did little to hide his impatience and desire to leave though. That is until the tray of Yorkshire puddings appeared.
She made a dozen using the muffin pan with the dent in the bottom and tipped them out onto a handy plate Gary found. Then Gary, Albert, and Rosie waited with bated breath to see what the supermarket millionaire would say.
Rex didn’t even wag his tail when the tasty-smelling puddings arrived. He wasn’t feeling great and had vowed to never touch another Yorkshire pudding so long as he lived.
‘They have a good rise,’ Ethan remarked objectively. ‘And good colour,’ he added when no one else spoke. Having scrutinised them visually for long enough, he picked one up and tore it into two pieces. ‘Good consistency too,’ he commented, pursing his lips and frowning. There really was only one test left. Into his mouth went one half of the Yorkshire pudding, and with three people watching him the self-made millionaire chewed and thought and chewed.
Once he’d swallowed and thought for a few seconds more, he popped the second half into his mouth and repeated the process.
After about another minute of silence, he looked at Rosie. ‘How big is your factory?’ he asked.
Rosie snorted a laugh. ‘I don’t even have a job. There is no factory. Just my granny’s recipe.’
That gave Ethan something to think about, but after a couple of seconds he said, ‘If I built you a factory, how many could you make a day?’
Rosie had never needed to consider such concepts before but faced with the challenge now she shook her head. ‘I don’t think making these in a factory will work, Mr Bentley.’
Albert’s jaw fell open. Ethan Bentley was offering to solve all her money worries. Not just now but forever, and she was telling him it wouldn’t work. There’s integrity for you, he thought, but he wanted to bonk something off the top of her skull.
Ethan Bentley nodded his head. ‘I see.’
However, Rosie wasn’t finished. ‘I think the mistake the mass-produced Yorkshire pudding people make is in believing they can give people as good a product at home after it has been frozen. Frozen Yorkshire puddings just aren’t the same.’
Ethan wasn’t following her line of thinking. ‘I’m sorry, what are you saying?’
‘I think you need to sell batter, Mr Bentley. If you want to give people the high-end Yorkshire pudding experience, you can’t just do what other supermarkets are doing but better, you need to rethink the whole thing. Sell the customers a batter kit they can bake themselves at home. That would be innovative and get a better product to the customer.’
Ethan Bentley saw the truth of it and his face lit up like a pinball machine hitting the winning score. Smiling at Rosie while Gary bounced Teddy on his knee, he said, ‘Rosie, you are going to make a lot of money.’
There was shaking of hands, and a tear from Rosie who couldn’t believe the change of luck. Albert felt good about himself, and Gary was mostly in awe of all his father had achieved.
A few moments later, they got up to leave. The event was over, their time in York almost done, but as Rex got slowly to his feet, he spotted the cat.
Fluffikins was under a table just a couple of yards away from where he hissed at the dog. ‘Eat something, mutt? You look like a paperweight.’
Rex considered his options, and his promise to eat the cat if he ever saw him again. He knew it wouldn’t do to go back on his threat but feeling like he might willingly take some Syrup of Ipecac, he sniggered at the cat instead, and followed his human back out into the night.
Where Next?
At York train station the next morning Albert and Gary were waiting for his train to arrive. It would zoom south at a surprising speed, delivering Gary back into London almost exactly two hours after setting off.
‘Arbroath next, isn’t it?’ Gary tried to confirm after checking his memory.
‘It’s supposed to be,’ Albert replied. ‘I might go to Cumbria instead.’
Gary raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, why’s that?’
Albert grimaced, unsure what to admit and what to keep secret. When his kids were growing up, he employed a policy of being honest with them about everything. It had stood him well in life, and he chose to continue following it now. ‘There was a break in at the sausage factory a few weeks ago and a man went missing.’
Gary had to frown. ‘Wait. There was a break in, and the thieves stole a person?’
Albert rolled his eyes. ‘No, dummy. There was a break in, and a load of equipment was stolen. A person working there just happened to go missing at exactly the same time.
