‘Thanks,’ I squeak once he’s finished. I grab another apron and take it into the office, where Cara is now spinning on the chair. ‘How would you like to bake some fairy cakes?’
‘Yes!’ Cara jumps up from the chair, wobbling both from the momentum of the chair and the fact she’s only wearing one heeled shoe. She retrieves the other from under the desk and clip-clops over to the kitchen. I tie the apron around her waist, winding the tie-strings around her middle a couple of times like Gran used to do when I was little. Caleb asks me about The Sweetest Kiss, clarifying the details, and I answer as I gather ingredients and equipment on the counter. Once he has all the information he needs, Caleb goes off to the office while Cara and I get to work, weighing and whisking and tasting the batter on the tips of our little fingers before we spoon it into the metallic pink bun cases we’ve set out in the baking tray.
‘What do we do now?’ Cara asks as I close the oven door.
‘We have to wait for them to bake, but it shouldn’t take too long.’ I grab my cat-shaped timer and set it for ten minutes. ‘Shall we go and see what your daddy’s up to?’
Cara nods so we make our way over into the office, Cara with a strange waddle due to the too-long apron and the plastic dressing-up shoes. She flings herself into Caleb’s side, wrapping her arms around his middle. Smiling, Caleb pulls her in close and kisses the top of her head.
‘How are you getting on?’ I ask, perching on a nearby sack.
‘It’s a bit rough,’ Caleb warns before he turns the screen so I can see his newly designed flyer. ‘But what do you think?’
‘I think it’s perfect,’ I say – and I really mean it. In less than half an hour, Caleb has put together a simple but cute poster. There are cupcakes, hearts and little Cupids in the background, plus text with all the information needed. ‘It’s so much better than mine.’
‘That goes without saying,’ Caleb teases, so I grab a stack of registration forms from the tray on my desk and thwack him on the head, which Cara thinks is hilarious. Caleb raises his hands. ‘All right, all right, I surrender. Your design is far superior to mine.’
‘I think I hit you too hard,’ I say, rubbing his head. His hair feels good. I must stop this. And I will, in a couple of seconds.
‘How are the fairy cakes coming along?’ Caleb says when I finally snatch my fingers away from his locks.
‘They’re going to be so yummy,’ Cara says. ‘Maddie says we’re going to put gloopy icing sugar on the top and lots and lots of different-coloured sprinkles.’ She wriggles her fingers to demonstrate the falling sprinkles.
‘That does sound yummy,’ Caleb says, rubbing his tummy. ‘I hope I get to eat one too.’
Cara scrunches up her nose. ‘Maybe one. Can we take one home for Mummy and Pete?’ Pete, I’ve heard from Birdie, is the new partner of Caleb’s ex. When Caleb and Celine first broke up, they were on pretty good terms and shared custody of Cara, but as soon as Pete came on the scene, Caleb became superfluous to Celine’s vision of a happy family and she made access as difficult as she could. And she could make it pretty damn difficult, as they had no formal arrangement in place. Caleb was fobbed off, access was cancelled at the last minute, and days and weeks could pass between visits. In the end, Caleb had no choice but to take his ex to court. Luckily, his cousin is a fantastic solicitor and a few weeks ago Caleb was granted joint custody of Cara.
‘Of course you can,’ Caleb says. ‘I’m sure they’d love one.’ I’m surprised by Caleb’s response. If it were me, I’d be bitter. I’d hate my ex and her new partner, but Caleb’s tone hasn’t changed at all. He’s either an extremely forgiving person or an Oscar-worthy actor.
‘If that’s okay with Maddie,’ Caleb says. ‘We don’t want to steal all her fairy cakes, do we?’
‘It’s fine by me,’ I say. If Caleb can be so generous, so can I.
Once the cat-shaped timer goes off, I take the cakes from the oven, showing Cara how we test them with a skewer to see if they’re ready. While they cool, we make the icing, which Cara decides should be pink.
‘Good choice,’ I say, grabbing the food colouring. We drizzle the icing onto the cooled cakes and sprinkle the hundreds and thousands on top, watching as the fairy cakes come to life with colour. Caleb helps with the decorating, wearing a nautical-inspired apron, which is the most masculine apron I own. When the cakes are finished, I nip up to the flat for a bottle of wine, pouring a small glass for Caleb and I, and a glass of juice for Cara, which we settle down in the teashop to enjoy with a fairy cake or two.
‘This was fun,’ Caleb says as he and Cara get ready to leave with a plastic tub of leftover cakes.
‘It really was,’ I say. ‘You and Cara are welcome to bake with me any time. And thank you for sorting the flyer out. I’ll pop round to the printers tomorrow and get the ball rolling with the promotion.’
‘It was my pleasure.’ Caleb, quite unexpectedly, leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. He straightens, looking as shocked as I am. ‘I’ll, er, take these into school tomorrow.’ He holds up the registration forms I’ve passed on in the hope he can entice his colleagues – the males one in particular – into signing up for The Sweetest Kiss.
‘Thanks. I appreciate all your help.’
Caleb nods and part of me thinks – or hopes, rather – that he’ll stoop down for another kiss. He doesn’t and I find that I’m disappointed as I wave the pair off.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Leaving the teashop in Mags’s capable hands, I head to the printers to make use of their same-day service, returning with boxes of Caleb’s wonderful flyers as well as some larger posters with the same design. The teashop is still quiet, so I pop out again, dropping off flyers to be displayed in as many places as I can think of, from local community centres, the library and supermarket community boards to hairdressers, coffee shops and pubs. Victoria arrives for an afternoon shift, so I head out again, this time taking Nicky for company as she doesn’t have any clients for the next couple of hours.
‘Where to next?’ Nicky asks as we leave the senior centre where I’ve just interrupted a bingo session to tell the group of pensioners about The Sweetest Kiss. Through Dad and Birdie, I’ve been reminded that you’re never too old for dating and I don’t think we should rule out anyone. Besides, the teashop setting is ideal for the more mature participants and nobody seemed to mind the distraction from their game. Quite the opposite, in fact.
‘I’m fed up of bloody bingo,’ one of the ladies told me as she grasped hold of a flyer. ‘I’d much rather find myself a gentleman friend to entertain me.’ She winked at me and asked if she could take a few more flyers to distribute at the sheltered accommodation where she lived.
‘We haven’t tried this pub yet,’ I say as Nicky and I near the doors. We’ve popped into dozens of pubs this afternoon, as though we’re taking part in a dry pub crawl, and most have been happy to display our flyer for their single customers. My feet are aching from the trek, but if I want The Sweetest Kiss – and the teashop – to be a success, I have to put some serious work in. I learned the hard way with the summer party that if I want customers, I’m going to have to go out and find them. So I’ve upped my game with the social media side, tweeting, Instagramming and updating our Facebook page daily (which, it turns out, is a lot of fun and I’ve clocked up more hours than I can count engaging with potential customers), but I have to physically spread the word too.
The landlady of the pub takes a handful of flyers, promising to place them strategically around the premises, keeping the rest on the end of the bar in case any of her customers want to take one away with them.
‘I might give this a go myself,’ she says, taking a good look at the stack of flyers in her hand. ‘I’ve tried speed dating before, but it didn’t get me anywhere. At least this way, I’ll be satisfied with cake if nothing else.’
‘We have a special algorithm to create the groups,’ I tell her. ‘To give you a better chance of finding a match.’
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The algorithm is, in fact, me, sitting in the office and comparing the answers to our questionnaires. So far, I’m doing well in setting up a group of like-minded women for our first event – I just need to find the like-minded men to pair them with.
‘We need more men,’ I say as we emerge from the pub.
Nicky gives me a wry look. ‘Tell me about it.’
I nudge her playfully. ‘I meant for The Sweetest Kiss.’
‘Why not try a few gyms?’ She points across the road to a Victorian building converted into a modern gym. ‘Most of the blokes who use gyms are single – they stop bothering once they’ve snagged a mate.’
I’m not entirely convinced Nicky’s theory is true, but I’m willing to give it a go. We cross the road and head inside the brightly lit reception area. The guy behind the desk asks us to swipe our membership cards, but I hold up a flyer instead.
‘We’re not actually members,’ I tell him, before explaining about The Sweetest Kiss and asking if it would be possible for us to display a flyer or two around the gym. He takes a flyer, frowning down at it.
‘We’re a gym,’ he eventually says, frowning at me instead. ‘We don’t usually promote cakes. We’re all about healthy eating and fitness.’
Nicky leans against the counter, making sure her cleavage is in full view. You know Nicky is serious when she gets the ladies out. ‘But you’ll make an exception for us, right?’
I’m hopeful as he eyes the goods on offer for a moment, but in the end he shakes his head. ‘I’m afraid not. It goes against our ethos. Sorry.’
‘Never mind.’ I pluck the flyer from his fingers and add it back into my pile.
‘Fancy going for a drink tonight?’ he asks Nicky as she pushes herself away from the counter, tugging her top back into place.
‘I’m afraid not,’ she calls over her shoulder as we leave. ‘It goes against my ethos.’
We end up in the Star Inn again after work that evening, and this time I make more of an effort with my outfit. It’s a Friday night and I want to relive the excitement I used to have at the prospect of getting dressed up and heading out with friends. I have a clingy gold dress with three-quarter-length sleeves from my partying days, which I team with a pair of thick, black tights and super-high heels.
‘Wow, look at you,’ Victoria says when I step out of my bedroom and into the living room. The girls – Victoria, Mags and Nicky – have gathered at my place to get ready and it feels like my life pre-Joel. There’s music blaring, wine flowing and so much laughter I’m half-tempted to suggest we stay here as we’re having so much fun. But no, I’m going out. I haven’t spent the best part of an hour straightening my hair so that it pours silkily down my back and applying the perfect smoky-eyed make-up to sit on my sofa. Okay, Nicky did all the hard work for me, but still …
‘What a minx,’ Mags says with a low whistle.
Nicky throws her arms around me. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
I laugh off Nicky’s words, but I’m proud of myself too. I didn’t realise quite how much I’d shut myself off since Penny and Joel, but I feel freer now as I emerge from my self-imposed exile from the world. I’m ready to live my life again.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Victoria says as I top up our glasses with the remainder of the wine. ‘But I invited Neal to join us.’
I catch the grin sliding onto Nicky’s face. She doesn’t mind at all, obviously.
‘The more the merrier,’ I say, wishing I’d thought to invite Caleb. He’s only ever seen me wearing my jeans or a sundress, and usually with a flour-sprinkled apron on for good measure, and I’d quite like him to see this Maddie. The happy Maddie. The let’s-get-drunk-and-dance-to-cheesy-music Maddie.
‘He said he’d meet us at the pub,’ Victoria says and for one joyful moment, I think she’s talking about Caleb. But then I remember it’s Neal she’s invited and I drop onto the arm of the sofa with a heavy sigh.
‘Shall we get going before I fall asleep on your sofa?’ Mags asks. ‘I’m not used to going out on a Friday night. I’m usually in my pyjamas by now.’ Like me, Mags has made an effort tonight and is wearing a red wrap-around dress that accentuates her curves. If Owen could see her now, he’d self-combust.
‘What are you doing?’ Nicky asks when I pick up a stack of flyers on my way out of the flat. ‘It’s Friday night. You’re supposed to be letting your hair down, not working.’
‘She works too hard,’ Mags says, sharing a disproving look with Nicky as she passes.
‘I’m not working,’ I tell them. ‘I’m just going to ask if we can leave these in the pub. It’ll take me thirty seconds, tops. There’s a pool match on tonight and it’s supposed to be busier.’
We troop down the stairs and make the short walk to the Star Inn. It is indeed more lively, with the area around the pool table packed with bodies. Young, male bodies who are all hopefully on the hunt for a date.
‘I’ll get the first round in,’ I volunteer. With flyers in hand, I approach the barman, ordering our drinks before launching into my well-rehearsed request. Half-distracted with fulfilling our order, he agrees, telling me to pop the flyers on the end of the bar.
‘Do you think you could pass them out?’ I ask, using my most persuasive voice, my eyes travelling to the pool table.
‘I’ll take one,’ one of the blokes sitting at the bar says. I saw him and his mate, who is leaning over to peer at the flyer too, the last time I was here. In fact, it was one of these blokes who mentioned the pool matches and their popularity.
‘It’s a new dating service,’ I tell him. ‘It’s like speed dating but with cake. I’m running my first event next week.’
‘Do I get to date you if I sign up?’ the balding one asks with a wink.
‘Nah, you don’t want to date this great lump,’ the hairy one tells me, thrusting his thumb towards his mate. ‘Date me. I’ll treat you right.’
‘And I wouldn’t?’
The hairy one turns to his mate, performs an elaborate eye-roll before turning back to me. ‘Harvey – that’s this lump, right here …’ he thrusts his thumb at his mate again ‘… once took a girl to the pictures … and made her pay. For their tickets, for the popcorn, the lot.’
‘Hey, that was an accident!’ Harvey cries. ‘I forgot my wallet. I’d have paid her back if she hadn’t run a mile, refusing to go anywhere near me again.’
‘I’ve never made a lass pay for anything,’ Harvey’s friend tells me. ‘I know how to treat a lady.’
‘How many times have you been married, Des?’ Harvey asks. He holds up three fingers when his mate fails to answer. ‘And they’ve all come to their senses and divorced him.’
‘Through no fault of mine. I treated those women like queens.’
‘You must have been doing something wrong,’ Harvey mutters.
His friend scowls at him. ‘I heard that.’
Harvey shrugs. ‘The truth hurts sometimes.’
‘And so does a thump to the gob.’
I decide to step in when a fist is raised. ‘Actually, I can’t date either of you. I’m spoken for.’ It’s a lie, but if it prevents a sovereign ring-filled fist from meeting Harvey’s teeth, it’s justifiable.
‘Makes sense, I suppose,’ Harvey says. ‘Cracking lass like you.’ He shakes his head. ‘If only I were ten years younger.’
‘Ten years?’ Des splutters. ‘Try twenty, you deluded old sod.’
‘That your fella then?’ Harvey asks, ignoring the jibe. He nods towards our table, where Neal is now sitting. He must have slipped in during Harvey and Des’s spat.
‘He’s just a friend,’ I say before grabbing the barman’s attention and adding a pint to my order.
‘A friend, eh?’ Harvey sighs and shakes his head. ‘I wish I had friends that look like you. I wouldn’t have to sit with this miserable tosser then, listening to his woes.’
‘You could always go home to your wife,’ Des says. He catches Harvey’s eye and they both burst out laug
hing.
‘I don’t know why you don’t just try the X Factor or The Voice,’ Nicky is saying when I eventually escape from Des and Harvey with the drinks. With a bit of coaxing from my beer-gutted friends, the barman has agreed to pass the flyers out among the pool players when he next goes to collect the glasses.
Victoria shrugs. ‘I did suggest it to Nathan, actually, but he was always against it. He was a bit of snob about it all and thought it was beneath us.’
‘What a knob,’ Neal says and Victoria picks up the bottle of lager I’ve just set down on a tray to clink against the pint Neal is now holding. ‘And speaking of knobs, I’ve invited Caleb to join us. We had a laugh last time and I’m sure he’d like to see you all again.’
Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I’m sure Neal looks directly at me when he says this. My cheeks are pretty sure this is the case and burst into flames, just in case.
‘Why do blokes do that?’ Nicky asks. ‘I’d never call Maddie a cow or a bitch, but you guys seem to thinks it’s funny to insult each other.’
Neal shrugs. ‘It’s just how we’re wired, I suppose.’
Nicky makes a pfft noise. ‘Wired to be mean?’
‘Or wired with a sense of humour?’ Neal shrugs. ‘As long as it’s not you I’m calling a knob, what does it matter?’
‘It doesn’t matter to me,’ Nicky says haughtily. ‘I just don’t get it.’
Victoria leans in close to me and whispers, ‘What’s up with Nicky today? PMT or something?’
I pray Nicky hasn’t overheard, or all hell will break loose. I chance a peek at Nicky, but she’s still debating the nature of men with Neal and hasn’t heard a peep. Phew.
‘Maybe,’ I say with a shrug, refusing to commit either way for health and safety reasons. ‘It’s probably best not to ask her though.’
‘Duh.’ Victoria rolls her eyes. ‘I don’t have a death wish.’
The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts Page 17
