Caramel Hearts by E.R. Murray

butter
    Pinch of freshly ground nutmeg
    55g/2 oz candied peel
    115 g/4 oz caster sugar
    225 g/8 oz plump and juicy currants
    HOW TO MAKE THE MAGIC HAPPEN
    1. Pre-heat oven to 220 °C/425 °F/Gas mark 7.
    2. In a saucepan, mix the sugar and butter, and cook over a medium heat until it’s melted into liquid gold.
    3. Take off the heat, add currants, candied peel and nutmeg. Watch the currants swell and get a whiff of those smells!
    4. On a lightly floured surface, roll the pastry thinly and cut into rounds – approx. ¼ in./½ cm thickness and 4 in./10 cm diameter – but don’t worry too much, no one’s watching!
    5. Place a small spoonful of delicious filling into the centre of each pastry circle – be careful not to overfill.It’s tempting, but resist – otherwise they’ll burst open and burn.
    6. Dampen the edges of the pastry with a little cold water and draw the edges together over the fruit, pinching to seal.
    7. Turn the bundle of love over and press gently with a rolling pin to flatten the cakes. Snip a little “V” for “Victory” in the top with scissors.
    8. Place on a greased baking tray, brush with water and sprinkle with a little extra sugar – go on, spoil yourself!
    9. Bake in the oven for 15 minutes or until golden round the edges. Place on a wire rack and allow to cool. Travel back to simpler, happier times with every bite.

Chapter Thirteen
    You’re a Right Fat Pig
    The next morning, I slouch next to Harriet in the visitor waiting room. We haven’t spoken a word since we arrived and, from the look on Harriet’s face, I know she’s thinking the same: that she’d rather be anywhere else in the world than here.
    I hate this place. With a passion. It’s so over-the-top cheery and fake. It’s no wonder Mam isn’t getting better – places like this make you feel sick. They make you worry about not complying with the norms. It’s like they’re designed to alienate you, and that’s the last thing anyone needs. I also hate the weirdos that wait here – with their shifty glances and blank stares. We don’t belong here at all – Mam included. We should be at home, doing normal things as a family. Why can’t Mam just pull herself together and quit drinking – how hard can it be?
    Every time footsteps sound in the corridor, Harriet glances at the doorway. Each time it’s not Mam, she sighs. I can’t decide whether the noise signifies relief or disappointment, but it’s driving me nuts. I tangle small plaits into my hair, tugging so tightly that my scalp pinches, and I pull my knees up to my chest. Resting my feet on the chair cushions earns a disapproving look from Hatty, but I’m past caring.
    â€œShe’s obviously not coming,” I say, head between knees. “We’ve been waiting nearly half an hour. We should go.”
    â€œYou’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
    â€œSure. I could see what I need for the pastries I’m planning for later in the week.”
    â€œYou and your bloody cooking. Is that all you care about?”
    It’s like being hit in the face with a slab of fresh liver. I finally find something I really like doing, and all it does is get me into bother.
    â€œCan’t you see there are more important things going on – bigger things to worry about?” continues Hatty. “Mum’s stuck in here, and all you care about is bloody cake.”
    I know Harriet’s trying to keep her voice quiet so the others can’t hear, but it’s not working.
    â€œIt’s her own fault!” I say. “How is sitting around here helping, when she doesn’t even want to see us? You’re just jealous I’ve found something I like doing.”
    Harriet’s shoulders slope and her face darkens. I should leave it there, but I can’t stop my mouth from running away with itself.
    â€œThe only thing