Mollie Cinnamon Is Not a Cupcake

by Sarah Webb

  “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Oh, and happy Valentine’s Day, darling,” she gushes. “Did you get any cards?”

  “Just one from Nan.”

  “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to send you one. Hang on a second.” When she comes back on the line, her voice is flatter. “I’m exhausted, to be honest, Mollie Mops. Utterly worn out. Can’t wait to have a good old flop in my hotel later.”

  “You can always have a rest in the posh hotel in Dublin,” I say. “The Merrion, isn’t it? I looked at the website. It has a spa and everything. Or will you be too busy with your new boyfriend?”

  Flora goes silent. Then she says, “Nan! I’ll kill her. I wanted to tell you about Julian myself. It’s early days, you see. But I’m glad you know now. And guess what he gave me for Valentine’s Day? A whopping big bottle of Chanel No. 5. I got quite a shock. It’s very expensive.”

  “He must really like you.”

  She giggles. “I think he does. Hang on…” There’s a noise in the background and more mumbled conversation. “Sorry, darling, our taxi’s just arrived. I’ll have to run in a second. Tell me quickly what you’ve been up to.”

  “I’ve been trying to save the Songbird Cafe. Developers want to knock it down and build a hotel instead so we’re organizing a campaign.” I tell her the plan.

  “Lovely,” she says, a little absently – she’s clearly not listening to me. “That reminds me. Lucas, that’s the cameraman, do you know what he’s done, the darling boy? He’s only gone and put together a whole load of clips of me from the dailies – and set them to music. Little bits of film of me smiling and laughing and making all sorts of funny mistakes. It’s adorable. Must have taken him ages.”

  “When did he give it to you?”

  “He emailed the file to me first thing this morning.”

  “For Valentine’s Day?”

  She giggles again. “Oh, no, darling.” She pauses for a moment. “The email was a bit flowery. He included a poem about treading on dreams or something.”

  “‘Tread softly because you tread on my dreams,’” I say. “It’s Yeats. We did it at school.”

  “Yes! That’s it. Aren’t you the brainbox, Mollie Mops?”

  “Flora! It’s definitely for Valentine’s Day. He obviously likes you too. What’s Julian going to say?”

  “I’m hardly going to tell him. Anyway, must run. Big day today. Kiss, kiss. Adiós. Isn’t that what they say in France?”

  “Au revoir,” I say. “And, Flora, you know your Dublin trip? Do you think there’s any way—?”

  But she’s already gone.

  I put the phone down, feeling low. Flora didn’t say a word about coming to see me on Little Bird, and she rang off before I got the chance to ask her about it. When she’s in love, it’s as if I don’t exist.

  At six o’clock, Nan switches on the news and we wait for Flora’s piece. It seems to take for ever to come on. There’s world news about strikes and uprisings, then national news about milk quotas (whatever they are) and upcoming elections. After an ad break there’s the local news and then finally – Flora! She’s standing in front of Notre-Dame Cathedral. I recognize it from the guidebook I was reading in the library at school. Its pale stone walls and flying buttresses are lit up with pink and blue lights and it looks spectacular.

  Flora’s wearing a white coat I don’t recognize and a matching white beret. She looks amazing. Seeing her in the flesh makes me realize how much I miss her. She’s right there, so close I could reach out and touch her. But if I did, all I’d feel is the smooth screen of Nan’s big telly.

  Flora walks towards one of the lock bridges. Its sides are covered with shiny metal padlocks. “This is Flora Cinnamon, reporting live from the Pont de l’Archevêché beside Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris, where sweethearts are celebrating their love this Valentine’s Day.” She says all this to camera while walking across the bridge. That must be hard, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. She seems really comfortable and not at all nervous. I look at her hands – no, not shaking a bit. Halfway across, she stops beside a man and a woman. “Miriam, you are from Slovakia and, Pat, you’re Irish. Tell us what you’re doing in Paris today.”

  “Celebrating our five-year wedding anniversary,” the pretty blonde woman says. She looks up at her husband. “Pat engraved our initials on the lock himself.” She holds up a shiny brass padlock.

  “So you’re a bit of an old romantic, Pat?” Flora asks him.

  “Miriam brings it out in me,” he says with a grin. “She’s the best.” He kisses his wife on the cheek and she beams.

  Flora turns back to the camera. “Couples travel here from all over the world to attach a specially engraved lock to the bridge. Miriam and Pat, would you like to do the honours?”

  They clip their lock to the thick tapestry of love locks already on the railings while Flora looks on. The locks must make the bridge weigh a ton! She turns to the camera again. “This is Flora Cinnamon, sending you all Valentine’s greetings from Paris. Buonanotte.” She presses her earpiece against her ear and giggles. “Sorry, I meant bonne nuit.”

  As soon as the news switches back to the RTÉ studio, Nan turns off the telly and says, “Wasn’t she great? You must be so proud of her.”

  “She was brilliant,” I say. “And she didn’t seem nervous at all. Apart from the bit at the end when she said good night in Italian instead of French.” I imagine Lauren and Chloe laughing at Flora’s mistake and my stomach clenches.

  Nan smiles. “But she made a great recovery. Your mum’s a natural on camera. And this travel show’s going to make her a household name.”

  “She’s going to be famous, you mean?” I hadn’t really thought of that.

  “Yes, I expect so. In Ireland, anyway.”

  Great – she’ll be busier than ever. Just what I need! I know I should be pleased for Flora, but it’s hard. I wish she’d make time for me and listen to me for a change. I wish I could talk to her about how I feel. How can I make her understand how much I need her? She may not be perfect, but she’s the only mum I have.

  “How did your phone call go earlier?” Nan asks, as if she can tell something’s wrong.

  “OK. We didn’t get much time to talk.”

  “You miss her a lot, don’t you?”

  I nod, not trusting myself to talk without my voice cracking.

  “Go and email her, pet. Tell her all the things you wanted to say, but didn’t get the chance to. Tell her how much you miss her. She might change her mind about coming to Little Bird if she realizes how much you’d love to see her. It’s worth a try.”

  Sent: Thursday 14 February 18:30

  From: molliemops@irelandmail.ie

  To: floracinnamon21@gmail.ie

  Subject: You were amazing on the news

  Hello Big TV Star,

  You were awesome! I would have gone all tongue-tied and fallen into the Seine or something. You rocked it, Flora! Nan says you’re a natural and that you’re going to be famous soon. I think she’s right.

  There’s something I didn’t get to say to you on the phone earlier. I miss you so much. I know it’s a big ask, but can’t you come to Little Bird to see me when you’re back in Dublin? Nan might be able to bring me to the mainland, if that suits you better. I could even get the bus up to Dublin for the day. Please, Flora? I really want to see you. I feel like you’re off travelling and doing all these cool things and you’ve kind of forgotten about me. I know it’s silly, but I can’t help how I feel. Please can I see you? PLEASE!

  Love you,

  Mollie XXX

  Chapter 15

  When I wake up the following morning, the curtain is slightly open and a ray of sunlight is shining on the painting of Red Moll. Still half asleep, I think it’s Granny Ellen in the picture for a second. Then I lie in bed for a while, thinking about Granny Ellen and then about Flora. I wonder if she has read my email yet. I get up to see.

  Nan’s laptop is on my de
sk so I log into my email. Yes! A reply. That was quick. I click on it, feeling excited.

  Sent: 15 February 1:05

  From: floracinnamon21@gmail.ie

  To: molliemops@irelandmail.ie

  Subject: A quick note from a tired presenter…

  Hi Mollie Mops,

  Thank you, darling. I was so happy it went well. Even Julian said it was good and it takes a lot to impress him. He teased me about the “buonanotte” thing, said it was a silly mistake and I guess he’s right. But Lucas told me not to mind Julian one bit. He said viewers aren’t bothered by slip-ups. They like presenters they can relate to, like me. He’s a real doll, Lucas.

  Now about coming to visit… I’m so sorry, Mopsy. I did talk to Julian about squeezing in a trip to Little Bird, but it just isn’t possible. I really, really want to see you, but it’s all too tight. Julian has our time carefully mapped out. He’s very organized that way. We only have one day to ourselves and then it’s back to the studio for editing.

  I’ll ring you when I’m in Dublin, though, promise, and we’ll have a nice long chat. And I’ll be back in no time. The next few weeks will fly by. You’ll see.

  Is everything OK with Nan? I hope this isn’t all too much for her. I know she was worried about having you – in fact, I had to practically beg her to take you in. You are being good, aren’t you?

  I’ll buy you something cool in Rome. What do you fancy? And if I buy myself the lush Prada sunglasses I’ve been swooning over, you can have my old Gucci pair with the cute gold arms. What do you think? I know you love them.

  Better run! Filming up the Eiffel Tower today.

  Love, love, love,

  Flora XXX

  P. S. Miss you too, darling!

  “Morning, Mollie.” Nan is standing in her favourite place − with her back to the Aga, warming her bum – when I walk into the kitchen.

  “Morning.” The table is all set for breakfast, with delicious-looking breakfast muffins, but even that doesn’t lift my mood.

  “What has your mum said now?” Nan asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The long face. I’m guessing it has something to do with Flora. She’s not coming to see you, is she?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Nan sighs. “I’m going to have a word with her, pet, remind her of her responsibilities. That girl needs a good shake sometimes.”

  “Don’t bother! You told me to email her, tell her how I felt. Well, I did what you said and it didn’t make any difference. All she thinks about is her stupid career and her stupid new boyfriend. She doesn’t listen to a word anyone else says.”

  “I know it must seem that way, but it’s not true. Come here to me.” She reaches out to give me a hug, but I dodge her arms.

  “You’re just as bad. Flora told me the truth about having to beg you to let me stay. I know you don’t want me here, so I’ll try to keep out of your way. If I had somewhere else to go, I would. But I don’t.”

  “Mollie—” I’m out of the front door before she gets the chance to say anything else.

  Nan follows me. “Please don’t run off again. Yes, I had reservations about having you to stay. But it’s not for the reasons you think. I love having you here.”

  I pick up speed, but she’s not giving up.

  “Mollie, please come back!” Nan runs after me. “I need to explain.”

  “Leave me alone! I hate you all!”

  “Mollie!” she calls after me. “Mollie!”

  I ignore her and sprint down the lane and onto the road. I don’t stop until I’m at the gate that leads to Red Moll’s castle.

  I check behind me to make sure Nan isn’t following. She’ll definitely look for me in the cafe, so I climb over the gate and walk towards the castle. I’m completely fed up – with Flora and with Nan. Lauren was right – no one wants me. And it hurts. My eyes sting with tears. It’s like when I first arrived all over again. Except it’s not, not really.

  I stare down at the roof of the Songbird and think about how kind Alanna’s been to me. Nan too, if I’m being honest. Even if she didn’t want me here in the beginning, she’s always made me feel welcome.

  I think about my new friends, Sunny and Landy. When I first got to the island, I hated Landy for laughing at me and making me feel like a complete outsider. But things are different now – it’s almost like I belong.

  I shouldn’t have shouted at Nan. I have to go back and talk to her, tell her I’m sorry.

  I get an awful fright when I find Nan halfway down the lane, collapsed on the ground. Her eyes are closed and she’s clutching her chest. I’ve never seen anyone look so grey and sick.

  “Nan!” I cry. “Nan!” I crouch down beside her and shake her gently, but there’s no response. Has she had a heart attack? Oh no! It’s all my fault. If I’d stayed and listened to what she had to say instead of running off, she wouldn’t have dashed after me.

  My hands shaking, I pull out my mobile and find Landy’s number, praying that he picks up. It rings several times. Answer, I beg. Please answer.

  “Hey, Mollie, what’s up? You’re lucky you caught me. I’m on my way to maths class.”

  “It’s Nan,” I say in a rush. “She’s unconscious. I don’t know what’s happened. Help me, please. She won’t wake up.”

  “It’s going to be all right, Mollser. Stay with her. I’ll ring Dad. He’ll know what to do. Where are you?”

  After I tell him, he rings off with another, “It’ll be OK.”

  Nan stirs a little and moans.

  Tears prick my eyes as I put my arms around Nan. “Please get better,” I murmur. “Please, Nan.”

  Chapter 16

  Bat’s jeep comes racing up the lane, sending dust and small stones flying. He stops and then jumps out of the driver’s seat.

  “How’s Nan doing, Mollie?” he says, sprinting towards us.

  “Not great,” I say. “I think she’s finding it hard to breathe.”

  Bat hunkers down and looks at Nan. He strokes her head gently. “Hang in there, Nan. Help’s on the way.”

  Nan’s eyelids flutter, but she doesn’t open them. At least she seems able to hear him.

  “The helicopter will be here in about twenty minutes with paramedics on board,” Bat tells me. “There’s no hospital on the island. We’re lucky − it was already in the air on a training session. Do you have any idea what happened?”

  I open my mouth to tell him, but there’s a lump in my throat and I can’t speak. I swallow. I’ll have to talk to the paramedics soon so I may as well get it over with. I take a deep breath.

  “We had a fight,” I admit. “She was running after me. I got as far as Red Moll’s castle, then I turned back. I found her here, on the ground. Is it her heart?”

  “From the look of things, I’d say yes. Nan’s had heart problems for a while. These things happen, Mollie. Don’t blame yourself. What’s important now is that we get Nan treated. The helicopter will land in the campsite and I’ll bring the paramedics here in the jeep. Then, if they can move her, they’ll take Nan to the hospital on the mainland.”

  “Can I go with her?” I say.

  “I don’t think they’ll let you travel in the helicopter. If that’s the case, I’ll drive you there myself. Nan has always been very kind to me. And us islanders stick together.”

  Bat’s right about me not being allowed to travel with Nan in the helicopter. The paramedics say they’ll be faster without me and that every minute is critical.

  The paramedics are kind but businesslike. When I tell them what happened – that Nan was running after me and collapsed – they don’t blink. They just ask medical questions. How long was she lying there for? Is she on any medication?

  “Yes,” I tell them, suddenly remembering. “Blockers or something. Does that make sense? For her … her…” I try to think of the word. “Angina.”

  “Beta blockers,” one of them says. “Thanks. That’s really helpful.”


  They carefully put Nan onto a stretcher and then carry her to the helicopter. It takes off, whipping grass clippings and dead leaves into the air. I watch until it’s a speck in the sky and I can’t hear the whirring of the blades any more.

  Then Bat says, “We should ring your mum. Do you have her number?”

  Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? I pull out my mobile, but then I stop for a second. I’m still angry about Flora’s Dublin email. Then I think about how serious this is − Nan is on her way to hospital – and I quickly find her number. It goes straight to messages.

  “Flora,” I say. “Nan’s being airlifted to hospital. It’s her heart.” Then I pause, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. If Nan’s in hospital and I can’t get through to Flora, what happens to me? I can’t stay in Nan’s house on my own. I’m completely alone. And then I feel guilty for thinking about myself when Nan’s so sick. “Can you ring me, Flora? As soon as you get this?” I end the call and turn to Bat. “She’s not answering.”

  “I’m sure she’ll ring you back soon. Now, the next ferry isn’t until five. Would you like to wait at our house?”

  I shake my head because I realize I’m not on my own any more. There’s somewhere I can always go. “Can you take me to the Songbird Cafe?”

  When we arrive, Alanna is standing just inside the doorway, as if she’s expecting us. She’s twisting one of her apron strings around her hand.

  “I heard a helicopter,” she says immediately.

  I’m so relieved to see her that I start to cry. Alanna gives me a hug. “It’s OK, Mollie,” she says gently, stroking my head. “What’s happened, Bat? Is it Nan?”