NINEMrs. Voycey’s tea-party went off as tea-parties do. Home-made scones were partaken of, and home-made quince preserve offered with modest pride.
‘My dear mother’s recipe. A lovely colour, isn’t it? It reminds me of that deep red dress of yours, Rietta. But what I would like to know is how to keep the pale green colour of the fruit as they do in Portugal. I stayed out there for a month when I was a girl, and they made a most delicious quince cheese which they called marmalada, the colour of green grapes and turned out of a jelly-mould. You ate it in slabs, and it was crystallized all over the top—quite terribly good. But I never met anyone who could tell me how it was done. The minute I boil quinces with sugar they behave like traffic lights—first they go amber, and then they go red.’
