Elodie’s POV
I frown at the consistency of the mixture in the bowl, which is more slop than dough. Murphy glances over my shoulder, his brow furrowing in confusion.
'It . . . doesn't look like the pictures,' he mumbles uncertainly, tilting his head slightly as if that might help turn the disaster into something we can form into shortbread.
Callie moves next to us, eyeing the mixture curiously.
'Mummy,' she states, 'that doesn't look like when we make shortbread.'
I try to smother my smile as I shake my head. 'No, it doesn't, does it,' I agree.
'I don't understand, I followed what my program told me . . .' Murphy sighs, rubbing his hand over his face.
'Let me see.' I take his phone from him hand, reading over the list of instructions, and my stomach sinks at the ratio glaring back at
