Now Signora Carvallio had taught Lucy how to make pizzas the Italian way, Lucy could not stop making pizzas!
Each time, she would set out the ingredients for the pizza dough – flour, olive oil, yeast and honey – and then she would start to cook, whilst day-dreaming that she was cooking in a beautiful Italian farmhouse in the Tuscan hills. And everytime she would hear Signora Carvallio’s voice in her ears, ’Now Lucy, like an artist, you are free to create!’
It had been another busy day at the cafe. The chocolate brownies had become famous throughout the village, and people were queuing up to get a table! Jasmine was sat at the kitchen table counting the days takings, whilst Lucy was making pizza for them to eat in front of the television later that evening.
‘I can’t believe you are doing more cooking,’ said Jasmine, kicking off her shoes. ‘I am exhausted. And if I see another chocolate brownie, I’ll scream. Mind you, the customers love them. Ben and Andrew had four each. Once we’ve paid my mum for all the ingredients, we’ll have made almost £41 profit today! That’s a record!’
‘Why don’t we change the menu in the cafe,’ asked Lucy, kneading the ball of dough in front of her. ‘We’ve been serving soup and cakes for ages now. Perhaps we ought to try something different?’
Jasmine pulled a face. ‘Why would we want to change things when we are doing so well? Oh hang on! You wouldn’t be thinking about pizzas by any chance?’
‘Well, perhaps,’ laughed Lucy, ’But what’s wrong with pizzas! They are delicious.’
‘Your pizzas are amazing,’ Jasmine explained. ‘But they are no good for our cafe. We won’t make enough profit. We don’t have many tables, and there’s only me, you and mum to make the food and serve. We need food that you can make in advance. Pizzas take too long to cook, and take too long for people to eat.’
An hour later, the pizzas were ready. Lucy carried them into the front room.
‘Yours is the one with chilli, creme fraiche and bacon,’ said Lucy, handing a delicious looking pizza to Jazzy’s mum.
‘Thank you Lucy!’ Jazzy’s mum sank her teeth into the pizza. ‘Gosh, this is delicious. This is better than any takeway pizza!’
‘Takeaway pizza!’ shouted Jasmine, jumping up. ‘That’s what we’ll do. We’ll have a takeaway pizza night! People can ring in their orders and then come and collect their homemade pizza, to eat at home! Everyone loves pizzas. We’ll make a fortune!’
‘Oh that’s a good idea,’ said Jazzy’s mum.
‘It was my idea!’ gasped Lucy.
‘Whatever!’ shouted Jasmine. ‘Come on, we’ve got planning to do.’
The next week the girls distributed leaflets to their friends at school, telling them that Friday night would be pizza night! Included on the leaflet was a list of toppings, and the telephone number to ring. Homemade pizza and a pot of homemade coleslaw would cost just £5. A bargain!
Friday came and Lucy and Jasmine spent the hours after school cooking. They make a big pan of tomato sauce, while Jazzy’s mum made the coleslaw. They ended up moving all the towels out of the airing cupboard to make room for the bowls of pizza dough, that needed somewhere warm to rise. By five o’clock, they were all ready for their first orders.
But half an hour later, the phone had not rung. Not even once.
‘Maybe its a bit too early,’ suggested Lucy. ‘Oh no, what if everyone wants their pizzas all at once, at seven o’clock. We won’t be able to cope – it’ll be a nightmare.’
By six o’clock, still no one had rung. Lucy was really worried. Jasmine was just cross.
‘This is outrageous,’ she stormed. ‘All those people who said they would be ordering! Ben and Andrew said they wanted two each! They are going to be in so much trouble when I…’
At that moment, the telephone rang. ‘At last!’ declared Jasmine, as her mum went to answer it. ‘Okay, Lucy – get ready to make your first takeaway pizza!’
Mum came back into the kitchen. ‘Lucy, its for you. Its Miss Morrell – your cookery teacher.’
‘Not Smelly Morrelly!’ shrieked Jasmine, and then wished she hadn’t said this quite so loud!
Lucy took the phone. ‘Er – hello Miss Morrell.’
Miss Morrell sounded even more stern on the telephone. ‘Lucy – would I be correct in assuming that you were running some kind of takeaway pizza business this evening?’
Lucy nodded and then remembered she was on the telephone. ‘Yes,’ she stammered.
‘Would I also be correct in assuming that you have had no customers?’
‘Yes,’ said Lucy surprised. Did Miss Morrell know everything?
‘I think I may able to explain your predicament. The reason you have had no customers, is that on your carefully designed leaflet, you have printed the wrong telephone number. Your telephone number ends 374. You have printed 371. This is my telephone number.’
‘Oh,’ groaned Lucy.
‘Oh, indeed. So Lucy, the happy news is that you have the following orders. Five cheese and tomato, one olive and mushroom, two chilli and bacon, and four pepperoni, pineapple and chilli sauce – that last disgusting concoction being at the request of Ben Stavely and Andrew Woods.’ Miss Morrells stopped talking for a moment. ‘Are you writing this down, Lucy.’
Lucy felt too embarrassed to even think of writing. This was even worse than spilling flour over her work station at school. ‘I’m so sorry Miss Morrell. I really am.’
‘Oh, Lucy. Think nothing of it.’ Miss Morrell was laughing. ’Once I realised what was going on, I’ve really quite enjoyed taking the calls. There’s nothing on the television! You get on with cooking the pizzas and I’ll phone you again, if I get anymore orders.’
The rest of the evening passed by in a flash. Five minutes after Miss Morrell telephoned, people started turning up to collect their pizzas. Jasmine had to explain there had been an unavoidable delay, and gave them free drinks to apologise. Eventually the girls caught up with the orders, and became experts at wrapping the hot pizzas in foil and putting the coleslaw into plastic pots super quick. Miss Morrell kept ringing through the orders and Ben and Andrew wanted to know if coleslaw was compulsary, but after they’d tried it, came back for another pot!
At half past nine, the last call came through from Miss Morrell. ‘Anchovy and olive, please with capers if you have them,’ she said.
‘No problem,’ said Lucy, writing the order down. ‘Did they leave their name?’
‘This one is for me, Lucy. I’ve been waiting to try one of these famous pizzas all evening. I’ll be along in ten minutes!’
‘Great!’ laughed Lucy. ‘I’ll make sure its extra specially good. And there’ll be no charge!’