Gabe hesitated. Under any other circumstances he’d love to have Sam by his side but not with Ryan lurking, having her in front of the audience, facing them, staring into the faces. He was scared that she’d find out why Ryan was there while they were in the middle of the demonstration. Gabe needed to get to him first so he could find out why he’d turned up at all.

She obviously took his hesitation for lack of confidence in her. ‘It’s not my thing. I’ve no experience. I can’t do the banter and I won’t do it how you do, but people have come to see you and I know the recipe after you talked to me about it, and so why not?’

Gabe’s heart thumped. She was right, it was the perfect solution and how could he say no?

‘Are you sure?’

‘I wouldn’t have suggested it if not. Can you park your massive cheffy ego and get out there on stage?’

‘Well, as you’ve put it so nicely.’ He flashed her a smile. ‘Come on, let’s rock the house.’

A few minutes later, after the fastest briefing ever, they both walked back on stage together to loud applause. Gabe scanned the faces, but there was no sign of Ryan.

‘So, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for your patience. The fantastic St John Ambulance volunteers have patched me up and I still have all my fingers.’

There were groans of horror and laughter from the audience.

‘However, it’s going to tricky to do the prep with a bandaged hand so a brilliant chef who some of you know from Stargazey Pie has generously offered to help me out. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a big hand – no pun intended – to my impromptu assistant for the session, Porthmellow’s own, Samphire Lovell!’

The cheers were way louder than they had been when he’d been introduced on his own. There were a few calls from locals, but everyone seemed to relax, ready to enjoy the double act.

Sam took a little bow and held up a veg parer. ‘Thanks, Gabe, but let’s get one thing straight.’ She brandished the knife. ‘As you can’t be trusted with sharp objects, I think it’s better if you’re my assistant.’

The audience laughed.

‘I’m in no position to argue with that.’ He gave a little bow. ‘So what do you want me to do, chef?’

Gabe forced himself to smile as he fetched some herbs from the end of the counter. It wasn’t easy with his gammy hand. At least the audience was happy but he was bricking it. At any moment he expected Sam to freeze midway through chopping veg, and run from the stage in pursuit of her brother.