Amuse bouche... Spooky bake

‘S o the guys in the office are bringing in stuff on

Halloween,” said George. “On Thursday.”

“Mm-hmm,” said Helen. “I know what Thursday is.” She didn’t look up from her iPad.

Thirty-seven years was long enough married to know that this was going to end up being her problem.

George had picked up the habit of starting sentences with ‘so’, from the same ‘guys’ who were bringing in the ‘stuff ’.

And, Helen understood, the guys weren’t all men. In fact, ‘the guys’ were the people whom George would once have referred to as ‘the girls in the office’, regardless of their age.

The stuff the guys in the office got up to often became Helen’s problem. George didn’t want to look like the oul’ fella who couldn’t keep up. So Helen helped him with the Friday baking offering every few weeks. Helped him meant baked on his behalf.

Helen really didn’t want to help this time. For one thing, Helen hated Halloween.

She didn’t used to. When the kids were small, she’d enjoyed the going around the road with them, and the apples and nuts and sweets and the few pence in the bottom of their pillowcase sacks from neighbours who’d forgotten Halloween and hadn’t got anything in for it.

No chance you could forget about Halloween these days. The boxes of small sweets on deals, lined up beside the tubs of Celebrations and Quality Street. Halloween seguing seamlessly into Christmas on the supermarket shelves.

And the sexy stuff. Helen did not like the sexy stuff. Halloween was for children, though the guys in the office would probably disagree.

“So the guys are bringing in food, is what I mean,” said George. “I know that’s what you mean,” said Helen.

“Halloween baking, kind of thing,” said George. “It seems sort of competitive.”

Of course it did, thought Helen. The guys were very competitive. There was a lot of novelty baking in the office, a lot of decoration and food dye. It tasted disgusting, apparently.

It was a contrary streak in her that sent in the classics with George every few weeks: lemon drizzle, an apple tart, the odd fruit cake. George said the guys loved them. Reminded them of their grannies, he said.

Helen cringed to think how George reacted to that.

“I could do a hollowed-out pumpkin filled with avocado dip, surrounded by carrot sticks,” said Helen.

“Jesus, really?” said George. “I saw it online,” said Helen.

“Online, perfect,” said George.

“And it’s vegan,” said Helen. “Oh, the guys will love that,” said George.

“They will,” said Helen.