‘She’s already raised the bulk of it by selling her flat in London, so she only needs about another twenty thousand … and I did offer,’ he confessed, ‘but she turned me down, because she knew by then I’d only just won enough to set myself up in my own business. She told me not to try anonymously donating it either, because she’d guess it was me and give it back.’
‘She’s certainly got your measure in a short space of time,’ Sarah said admiringly. ‘I like the sound of her.’
‘Yes, and she’s much more your type than Aimee ever was,’ David agreed. ‘I can’t imagine why she ever agreed to marry you. Unless it’s like Sarah says, that it was just to pay her dad back for getting engaged to his PA.’
‘Oh, once she was the wrong side of forty she probably found good-looking straight single men willing to settle down were thin on the ground. I expect panic had set in by the time Jago proposed and that was part of it too,’ Sarah said airily.
‘I keep telling you, she’s younger than me,’ Jago protested.
‘No way: you only had to look at her knees.’
‘Her knees?’
‘Baggy, saggy knees.’
‘She has the longest legs in the world …’ Jago sighed reminiscently. ‘I can’t say I noticed her knees. And gee, thanks for the confidence boost, by the way.’
Still, it was true that he hadn’t been able to believe his luck when the tall, elegant, beautiful, sophisticated Aimee had accepted his proposal … which actually he would never have had the courage to make if she hadn’t prompted him into it.
‘You’re a good-looking guy, don’t get me wrong,’ Sarah said kindly, ‘but you had absolutely nothing in common.’
‘I know,’ he said humbly.
‘All that late night partying followed by the early starts for work ran you ragged and made your friends worry about you,’ David said.
‘And while we’re speaking of the devil who wore Prada,’ Sarah said, ‘you had a phone call when you were out. She’s back.’
‘Who’s back?’ Jago demanded, startled.
‘Aimee.’
‘Aimee? Aimee’s back in the UK?’
‘Yes, she’s been back a while, but she’s only just tracked you down. I expect she heard about our winnings,’ David said drily.
‘Her new stepmother uses the salon and she told me weeks ago that Aimee was back. She’s pregnant, too, because she didn’t want to have her hair coloured, in case it harmed the baby.’
‘Aimee’s pregnant?’ Jago exclaimed.
‘No, you idiot, it’s her new young stepmother who’s pregnant.’
‘Right …’ He looked at his friends. ‘You both knew all this time she was back and didn’t tell me?’
‘You said you were over her and wanted a fresh new start in a different part of the country,’ Sarah pointed out. ‘Anyway, she’s bad news.’
‘Yes, we didn’t want her messing you around again,’ David said.
‘I think I’m old enough to decide for myself,’ Jago said with dignity. ‘And of course I’m over her … Anyway, I expect she just wants to get back in touch to be friends.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Sarah said acerbically, but Jago wasn’t listening. He’d thought he was over her, and his friends were probably right that breaking up had been a good idea, but still … knowing she was back unsettled him.
‘Did she leave a number? Or did you give her my mobile number?’
‘Neither, because we were a bit busy at the time. You were having an extended lunch, if you recall?’
‘Oh, yes … Did she say anything else?’
‘Something about things not working out with that bloke she chased off after to Dubai, so I expect she’s been dumped and now you’ve won all that money you’re a much more interesting prospect.’
‘You’re such a cynic,’ Jago said. ‘But I can’t believe you didn’t even get her number.’
‘She said she’d ring you again and why the interest? Didn’t you just tell us you were over her?’
‘I am over her,’ Jago insisted, though he suspected that a few embers of his love still smouldered deep in his heart and might just reignite at the sight of her.
In the late afternoon, just as they were clearing up the shop ready to close, the phone in the back room rang and Sarah stuck her head in the door and said it was for Jago.
He went past her into the back room and returned ten minutes later looking sheepish.
David and Sarah exchanged glances.
‘Don’t tell me,’ David said, ‘it was Aimee again. She really doesn’t let the grass grow under her feet, does she? So, what happened to the new life with what’s-his-face in Dubai?’
‘She said she knew it was a mistake almost the minute she got there and Dubai was a tricky place if you weren’t married – and he certainly didn’t want to get married. And she missed me.’
‘Not enough to look for you as soon as she got back,’ Sarah put in.
‘She didn’t know I’d left London and it took her a while to track me down,’ Jago explained.
‘Your post is being forwarded on, and anyone at Gilligan’s could have given her your new mobile number as well as the one for this place,’ David said.
‘Yes, someone at Gilligan’s did give her our number eventually, but they were a bit reluctant.’
‘Considering that after she took off we all ate your wedding cake and commiserated with you, it’s hardly surprising,’ David said drily. ‘And she could have asked Sarah in the salon.’
‘She did come in, but I expect she’d forgotten about me,’ Sarah said mendaciously, crossing the fingers of both hands behind her back.
‘I think she was nervous about contacting me in case I was still mad at her, but it’s like I told you: she just wanted to say she was sorry about what happened and she hoped we could be friends now she was back.’
‘I’ll bet she did,’ Sarah said. ‘I suppose whoever she spoke to at Gilligan’s told her you’d won the lottery?’
‘No, not until I mentioned it, so it was a complete surprise to her – she’d wondered what we were doing up here. I explained about helping you set up the Happy Macaroon and then that I was going to start my own wedding croquembouche business.’
David flipped the closed sign over on the door and lowered the window blind.
‘And how did she take that?’ he asked, turning.
‘She thought it was a great idea and she’d love to meet up with me to hear all about my plans. Only that won’t be for a while, because she can’t leave town at the moment and I haven’t got time to go down there.’
‘Thank heaven for small mercies,’ muttered Sarah, starting to cash up the till.
‘I’m not stupid enough to fall for her twice over,’ Jago said with dignity. But still, it had shaken him to hear her soft, contrite and honeyed voice.
‘Good, because she’s like Julia Roberts in that Runaway Bride film and she’d just keep dumping you for a better option,’ Sarah said frankly.
‘That’s a bit harsh,’ he said, wincing, but her words dispelled a little of the enchantment that Aimee had managed to cast over him again.
‘We’re only saying these things because we’re your friends and we don’t want you to go through the whole thing twice,’ David said.
‘I know.’ Jago sighed, and then smiled wryly. ‘Maybe I’ve watched too many romantic comedy films where it’s all turned out right in the end.’
‘It will turn out right in the end,’ Sarah assured him. ‘Only not with Aimee Calthrop. She belongs in an entirely different kind of film.’
Luckily she didn’t say exactly which kind, but mention of romantic films had made Jago remember his earlier conversation with Cally and gave his thoughts a different direction.
‘You know I was telling you about Cally trying to raise money to take her little girl to America for that life-saving operation? Well, I’ve just had an idea for how we could help …’
Chapter 10: Sweet Perfection
Later
, while Stella was still asleep, having gone down for her nap so late, and I was doing a little research on the history of madeleines (I thought I might get a long piece for my ‘Diaries’ page, as well as a quick and easy recipe for ‘Tea & Cake’ out of it), my phone buzzed and it was Jago.
‘We’ve just closed the shop, so I’ve emailed you the madeleine recipe I mentioned.’
‘Oh, great – thanks,’ I said gratefully. ‘Funnily enough, I was just doing a bit of research into them.’
‘I hope I’m not disturbing you?’
‘No, not at all. My mother’s working in her studio and Stella’s still asleep, so I thought I’d make a start. She was so tired she only managed to take one bite out of the gingerbread pig, but she’s still holding it.’
‘It’s strange how many children love gingerbread,’ he commented, then added, ‘I just got my third wedding croquembouche order.’
‘Oh, well done!’
‘They want it to be flanked by two of David’s white and pink macaroon pyramids too, so expense no object.’
‘I can imagine how good that would look at a wedding reception. You know, I think your croquembouche business is going to be a huge success.’
‘I hope you’re right, but maybe it will because, David’s has taken off so well, and macaroons are another expensive luxury.’
‘People are prepared to pay for a special cake for a wedding,’ I assured him. Then I added tentatively, ‘Are you all right? Only you sound a bit … I don’t know – stressed?’
‘Knocked for six, more like,’ he confessed ruefully. ‘Aimee, my ex, just rang me at the bakery. Things didn’t work out with the other bloke and she’s back. In fact, she’s been home for a while and my friends knew and didn’t tell me.’
‘I suppose they were just trying to protect you,’ I suggested.
‘So they said, but they needn’t have bothered because she only wanted to say sorry and to be friends.’
‘Right,’ I said, though I thought I detected a hint of uncertainty in his voice. ‘Well, that’ll be lovely then, won’t it?’ I added, with a brisk cheerfulness I didn’t feel, because my heart had suddenly sunk like an undercooked sponge at the possibility that he might be snatched back to London by the horrible-sounding but glamorous Aimee when I’d only just got to know him.
When Stella was in bed that night, and Ma off in the garden room watching old Agatha Christie films, I made some madeleines to Jago’s genuine French recipe, which were delicious, and then started to write the articles.
The ‘Tea & Cake’ one was quick and easy.
Here’s a simple recipe for madeleines, those wonderful little buttery French biscuits, usually baked in deep shell-shaped moulds. Perfect with coffee at elevenses, but a lovely treat at any time …
But the other one took time, and I finally finished around midnight, when even Toto and Moses had gone to bed, both in the same basket. They seemed to have buried the hatchet and while I’d been typing at the kitchen table I’d seen Moses give Toto a very thorough washing, especially around the ears.
I’m not sure that Toto exactly appreciated it, going by the long-suffering expression on his furry face, but it’s surprising what you’ll put up with from your friends.
The house had long been silent except for the clicking of my fingers on the keyboard and the ticking of the clock, and although I offered to let Toto into the garden, he didn’t even bother opening both eyes. Mind you, I caught him crawling through the cat flap earlier in the day, so if he has cracked that, then he can let himself in and out whenever he wants to.
I looked in on Stella on my way to bed and she was fast asleep, hugging Bun. His plush is a bit worn and I’d sewn my mobile phone number onto the sole of one foot, after we once left him behind on a park bench and had to dash back to find him, luckily still there.
Stella looked angelic, a sleeping cherub, dimly illuminated by the faint light from her nightlight, which was one of those porcelain ones like a toadstool with a little mouse family inside. She had added one or two of her fuzzy toy mice to the scenario too, I noticed.
I looked down at her, so small and delicate that she reminded me of those old stories of fairy children exchanged with ordinary ones at birth – but if she had been, they weren’t having her back.
The next day Hal popped round to stretch a canvas for Ma. It seemed like a very un-gardener-like thing to be doing.
‘Hal spends a lot of time here, doesn’t he?’ I said tentatively to Ma later.
‘I suppose he does, but it’s evenings and weekends, mostly. Some of the Winter’s End gardeners work Saturdays overtime, especially when the place is open to the public, but Hal says he’d rather take things a bit easier at his time of life.’
‘What about his family?’
‘He’s a widower and his daughter married a New Zealander, so he’s only seen the grandchildren twice in eight years, when they came over here. He won’t fly, he’s scared. I’ve told him he should go on one of these courses to get over it.’
‘That’s a coincidence: Jago’s parents moved to New Zealand when they took early retirement – his older brother lives there. He didn’t say a lot about them, though. It’s a small world.’
‘It is if you fly, as I keep telling Hal.’
‘He keeps your garden this side of total jungle,’ I said.
‘He does that, and I don’t mind him about: he doesn’t fuss me.’
This didn’t sound to me as if there was any big romance going on there, just an odd friendship of opposites. Jago and I, on the other hand, were clearly destined to be friends because we were so very similar … unless Awful Aimee lured him back to London again, of course.
I texted him that the madeleine recipe came out perfectly, and to thank him again, but he replied not to mention it because he always loved to talk cake.
Aimee
Aimee Calthrop pondered her phone call to Jago, and the surprising comfort it had given her to hear his soft, mellow voice. I could get him back, if I wanted him, she told herself.
In retrospect, it had been such a big mistake to dump a handsome, kind man who adored her … But then, he’d earned peanuts at Gilligan’s and seemed to have no aspirations to do anything other than bake cakes.
Cold feet had set in, which was part of the reason she’d run off to Dubai just before the wedding. But Vann Hamden had seemed a lot less enthusiastic about her arrival when he met her at the airport than he’d been during their brief affair in London, and positively blanched when she tried to kiss him.
They didn’t do that kind of thing in public over there, he’d explained, and immorality was a big no-no, so he was too afraid it would affect his business to step out of line.
Dubai had to be the most boring place on earth: no one seemed interested in having her organise their parties for them and, in any case, she wasn’t part of the fashionable in-crowd there. She couldn’t even shop, because Daddy, who’d liked Jago, had been so cross with her that he’d stopped her allowance. So she spent her days drinking too much (privately; that was also frowned on) and sunbathing none too wisely, between Vann’s visits, and when he said things weren’t working out too well and suggested he buy her a plane ticket home, she accepted the offer.
The whole fiasco was really Daddy’s fault. It was his sudden decision to marry his young PA that had made her nudge Jago into proposing in the first place. And now her place had been taken by a new baby girl for Daddy to dote on just as he’d once doted on her …
He refused to reinstate her allowance, too, saying that since she was in her forties it was time she was earning a proper living, which was another nasty shock, because she’d been totally in denial about her age for so long that she’d forgotten what it really was. So what with that and the realisation that she was never going to oust the two new contenders for her father’s affections (and wallet), she’d plunged into a bit of a panic.
He’d finally relented to the point where he agreed to pay her a reduced allowance for six m
onths while she got on her feet, but her friends and the party crowd had moved on in her absence and now she was struggling to pick up the threads of her old life. She was out of touch … and suddenly starting to feel old.
When someone told her the rumour about the big lottery win at Gilligan’s, she wondered … and even tried pumping that snotty, red-headed fiancée of Jago’s friend David, while she was having her hair done, but got nowhere. Sarah had pretended she had no idea what Aimee was talking about and then insinuated that her hair extensions were giving her a bald spot on the crown, which had to be a foul lie.
She wished she knew just how much he’d won on the lottery … No one at Gilligan’s had been prepared to tell her – in fact, they’d been really reluctant even to give her his new contact details. Maybe that meant it had been squillions? She certainly hoped so!
She tried ringing him again, but still couldn’t get hold of him on his mobile, because he must have been so flustered at hearing her voice that he’d given her the number wrongly. She thought that was a good sign, but it was annoying that the shop number now rang through to voice mail and that friend of his was quite probably wiping her messages as fast as she left them …
Chapter 11: Flaky
On Monday morning I was up so early again that the sky was still a deep blueberry with only the tiniest hint of single cream seeping into the east. The sparse streetlights of Sticklepond glimmered like tired fireflies below me and were answered by the sharp, minute diamond sparkle of a star overhead.
Twinkle, twinkle … I thought of next Christmas and how much I hoped that Stella would be running round, fit and well and excited about Santa’s bumper crop of presents for a special little girl …
That sky made me want to try out blueberry fairy cakes, but apart from the fact I didn’t have any blueberries, I’d got up expressly to have a giant baking session for the new articles, so I got on with that. I’d produced Eccles cakes, Chorley cakes and even a few Sad cakes, before anyone other than Toto and Moses was awake, and I added a recipe to my ‘Cake Diaries’ outline.
Wish Upon a Star Page 8
