1978
The Home Economics block seemed unusually quiet as Mel approached having taken the register to the office. As she reached her classroom she overheard two teachers talking.
“I’d be in with a better chance of getting the Head of Department job if I was more innovative.” Mel recognised the voice of Mrs Bateman, her cookery teacher.
“They’re in the lecture theatre,” Mrs Walters said to Mel. “Have you signed in the late book?”
“Mel’s not late,” Mrs Bateman said lightly, “she takes the register. Come along with me now. We’re watching a film on Food Poisoning.”
As much as Mel loved to cook, it was a pleasant change to watch a film. The lights were dimmed and she could pretend she was one of the group rather than on the periphery. She’d only moved to the area a few months ago and was new to the school. It was tough to join in the Fifth Year.
Because Mel often helped in the pub kitchen, where her parents were landlords, the brewery had sent her on a health and safety course with her mum. She realised she knew quite a bit about food poisoning already.
She fiddled with the hem of her cookery apron. This too set her apart from the others. They’d all made their aprons in the First Year during their needlework lessons. When Mel joined the school, she had to stay late a couple of evenings in order to make her cookery apron. Each year group had a different colour and you embroidered your initials, so there was no getting out of making one or wearing someone’s hand-me-downs.
Her Year Group’s colour was marigold and where hers looked fresh and bright everyone else’s was worn and faded after many washes. But at least hers was a good fit. Jennifer Taylor was the tallest in their class and her little pinny now looked ridiculously small.
Mel didn’t put her hand up to answer the questions after the film but she was confident she knew all the answers. She wouldn’t make any friends if she came across as a know-it-all.
“Those of you who are staying on for the sixth form may want to be considered for the role of Head Girl. I have application forms if any of you want to put yourself forward and even if you’re not sure, you can talk to me after the lesson.”
Mel already had her career path mapped out. She was going to do Catering at The Technical College and eventually run her own pub. There was no need for sixth form for her.
They spent the rest of the morning’s lesson making marmalade. Mel was last to finish as she’d been helping Paula who was always a bit slower than the rest.
“Mrs Bateman?” Mel began just as she was leaving the classroom. Mrs Bateman instantly reached for an application form and waved it in Mel’s direction.
“Oh no, I don’t need one of them but I, I had a thought…” Mel didn’t want to admit she’d been listening to their conversation, “I was just wondering if you were interested in the new oven we’ve got at the pub? It’s called a Microwave.”
“I’ve heard about them,” Mrs Bateman said with interest. “Are they any good?”
“They’re quick,” Mel replied. “If you’re ever near the Rose and Crown, I can show you how it works.”
“Could I bring the whole class?” Mrs Bateman asked.
“Our kitchen’s not that big,” Mel told her. “But the microwave’s only about the size of a telly. I could ask mum to give me a lift to school and bring it in.”
“Doesn’t it need to be installed?”
“No, you just plug it in, like a kettle.”
“Are they difficult to use?” Mrs Bateman sounded a little doubtful.
“Not at all. In fact I can show you how we heat things up and what I cook in it.”
“Well, in that case, that would be wonderful. Let me know what your mum says?”
“It’ll be fine, I’m sure,” Mel said confidently, “Although best if it’s back by lunchtime.”
Mel’s mother agreed to drop off the microwave for the following week’s lesson. It was only then Mel realised it was she, and not Mrs Bateman who would be doing the demonstration. Mel knew she could do it. How many times had she watched Fanny Craddock on the television?
“Are you going to choose a friend to be your assistant?” her mum asked.
“I haven’t made any friends yet,” Mel admitted.
“It’ll take a bit of time love,” Mum said and gave her a comforting hug.
The next day she went to see Mrs Bateman to run through her ideas.
“That looks organised,” Mrs Bateman said. “If you leave that recipe with me I’ll prepare the ingredients. I’m warning you that if this goes well, I’ll have to invite you to repeat it for the teachers. Not one of them has used a Microwave but a lot of us are interested in learning how.”
“So,” Mel began, remembering not to speak too quickly, “if you just want to heat something up, like this pre-cooked Cornish pasty, you just put it in for ninety seconds and it’ll be hot and ready to eat. It’s really that quick!”
Mel slipped the pasty out of its wrapper, on to a small plate and turned the dial.
While it was cooking, she relayed a little anecdote which she hoped would make them laugh.
“When we first had it, Mum and I tried all sorts of things. Once I used a ready-made steak and kidney pie. A pie and a pint goes down well in the pub at lunchtimes. Well, I popped it in, just for one minute, as I didn’t want to overdo it, but all of a sudden, sparks flew and I thought I’d blown it up! My Dad rushed in from the bar to see what all the noise was about. You see, I’d put the pie in, with its foil tray and that was the problem. So, never use foil or tins in a microwave – a glass Pyrex dish is fine or Tupperware.”
“Did it taste alright?” one of her classmates asked. “The pie I mean.”
“Yeah, it was fine. Dad ate it.” Mel told her. “I was so relieved I hadn’t broken it, but at least I learnt my lesson!”
“Is there anything else you can’t put in a microwave?” asked another pupil and Mel saw Mrs Bateman smile. Sometimes the class were really quiet and the girls didn’t ask questions, but then they’d had one or two really boring lessons, like how to iron a shirt or how to change a plug. It was OK when they got a chance to do it themselves, but sitting and listening wasn’t much fun.
“So far, the worst thing was when I heated up a bowl of tomato soup and forgot to cover it. It splattered everywhere and took me ages to clean afterwards. I always cover things now, just in case.”
Mel looked round at her classmates, they seemed to be quite interested in what she was saying, so she reached in her carrier bag for the small bunch of grapes.
“Don’t tell my mum,” She said, “But another landlady said she’d heated up a pudding for her husband. It was a tin of fruit cocktail with custard on top. The custard had gone cold, so she put it in the microwave and said it exploded!”
Mel looked at the bunch of grapes and asked for a volunteer, Jennifer Taylor’s hand shot up, and Mel handed over the grapes.
“Can you choose the biggest, juiciest grape?” Mel asked. She daren’t look in Mrs Bateman’s direction.
Jennifer did as she was asked and Mel got her to place it on the glass tray in the centre of the microwave. Within seconds it had exploded! The girls cheered. Mel quickly wiped away the mess and was thankful she couldn’t smell burning. It was only then she realised she might have set off the Fire Bell and they’d all have to shiver out on the playground until they were allowed back in.
“I wouldn’t risk a whole bunch, and anyway, why would anyone want hot grapes?” Mel told them and got another laugh.
“Can you cook in it too?” one of the girls asked.
“You can,” Mel explained but couldn’t help making a face. “It’s not as good as a proper oven. It doesn’t brown things, so sausages look raw but this suet pudding is OK. We serve it on Sundays as an alternative to apple pie or crumble.”
Mrs Bateman had a tray of all the ingredients Mel would need. It was all prepared in little glass dishes with the recipe, should she need it. She wanted to giggle at the thought of Mrs Bateman acting like Johnnie Cradock helping his wife in the television kitchen.
It only took a matter of minutes for Mel to mix the ingredients and cook it in the microwave.
She drizzled some golden syrup over the suet pudding and handed it round for everyone to taste. It looked a bit pale and she wondered if custard or jam would have been better?
Mel enjoyed demonstrating and was amazed the whole class listened to what she had to say. They even clapped at the end!
“Delicious!” Penny said and that was enough to give it the Royal seal of approval, as far as 5A was concerned.
“Shall I save you a seat in the canteen?” Penny asked at the end of the lesson just as Mel was carrying the microwave back to her mum’s car.
“Great. Thanks. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“See, you do have friends!” Mel’s mum said.
The following day Mrs Bateman’s classroom door said ‘Head of Department’. She handed Mel a personal thank you card and an application form for Head Girl.
“Thanks but I told you, I’m going to college.”
“It’s your choice, but I think you’d make an excellent teacher. You’re always so patient with Paula and we all enjoyed your demo.”
“Thank you,” Mel said graciously taking the form. “But won’t they choose someone who’s always been at this school? No one knows much about me.”
“On the contrary, you are proving to be a very valuable asset to the school and we don’t want to lose you. All the teachers get to vote and I can promise you Mrs Walters and I, along with your form teacher are all behind you. Go for it!”
Mel thought a lot about filling in the Head Girl form but decided it wasn’t for her. Even if she had made friends, she’d rather be at the technical college than stay on at school for another two years.
Instead, Mel agreed to do a demo for a few of the teachers who were interested in getting a microwave of their own one day. She’d leave out the grapes though.
At the end, Mrs Bateman helped clear up the school kitchen. “I used to work at the tech,” she told Mel. “In those days, the students had a half day, such as Wednesday afternoon off. I think that’s still the case. Perhaps you’d like to come and work one afternoon a week as a Home Economics Technician? We can pay you, although it won’t be much but I’m sure it’ll look good on your reference when you’re applying to become a landlady yourself.”
This time, Mel didn’t have to think at all, “That’s a deal, Mrs Bateman. I’ll just have to pass all my O Levels and CSEs first!”
About the author
Sarah Swatridge writes short stories for women’s magazines worldwide. She now has a collection of twenty uplifting short stories called Feel-Good Stories along with her large print novels available in libraries and online. Visit www.sarahswatridge.co.uk and sign up to her monthly one page newsletter.
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