Christmas At The Cupcake Cafe

by Jenny Colgan

  ‘Bring wine,’ repeated Helena. ‘I’ve suddenly decided to stop breastfeeding. Bring LOTS of wine.’

  Helena had, Issy noticed blearily, actually tidied away some of the children’s toys and clothes that normally littered the flat in anticipation of her arrival. This was almost more worrying really; that she would go to so much trouble.

  ‘I also went out and got some gin,’ said Helena. ‘I think gin too. And tonic, obviously. Or perhaps martinis, what do you think?’

  ‘When’s the last time you had a drink?’ asked Issy.

  ‘Two years ago.’

  ‘No martinis, please,’ said Issy. ‘Especially not for you; you’ll fall out the window by five past seven.’

  They sat down, whilst Chadani Imelda methodically emptied Issy’s handbag of lipstick, change, tampons, and, heartbreakingly, a napkin from the New York City Cupcake Store. Issy picked it up and made to blow her nose on it.

  ‘If I called this number,’ she said, indicating the 212 dial code, ‘he’d probably be there right now. It’s only afternoon there.’

  ‘Hush,’ said Helena. ‘Hush.’

  She poured them both enormous glasses of Sauvignon Blanc.

  ‘Now,’ she said. ‘You. Fantastic person. Him. Total delight. How the hell did you get yourselves into this mess, and how are you going to get out, you utter bloody blithering idiots?’

  After Issy had explained – she could hardly bear to think about that last night, both of them lying there, totally alone in their hugely luxurious bed – Helena took a large slurp of her wine and let out a long sigh.

  ‘Phew,’ she said. Then, ‘Well.’

  ‘So I’m meant to give up my whole life and everything I’ve ever worked for for some guy?’ said Issy, re-pouring.

  ‘Well, it’s not “some guy”, is it?’ said Helena. ‘It’s Austin.’

  ‘AW-IN,’ said Chadani Imelda, looking so like her mother even Issy couldn’t help smiling.

  ‘Why can’t the two of you just talk it through?’

  ‘We can’t,’ sighed Issy. ‘This is a huge, huge deal they’re offering him. Whereas the way things are in London, he might not even have a job for much longer. He doesn’t feel he can turn it down for me. And I don’t think I can destroy the Cupcake Café for him. Which makes me think …’ At this, Issy started to cry huge, racking, choking sobs, ‘… which means we can’t love each other enough.’

  Helena shook her head. ‘You do. Of course you do. But you’re human beings, and it’s not a movie. You can’t just dump everything and run off into the sunset. Life gets in the way. There’s love and then there’s things that are practical. You both have responsibilities. You have employees who rely on you, and he has Darny to look after.’

  ‘Nobody ever looks after me,’ said Issy.

  ‘Well, that’s just self-pitying bollocks,’ said Helena. ‘And completely unfair given how much time we all gave up to help you open that stupid café in the first place.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Issy. ‘Sorry about that.’

  She sighed and drank more wine.

  ‘I was so happy, though, Leens. I thought I was tired and a bit stressed out and always super-busy and up at the crack of dawn and everything with the café, but … actually, when I think about it, I had everything.’

  ‘That’s the ludicrous thing about happiness,’ said Helena. ‘You never know you’re going through it at the time.’

  Chadani Imelda hit her mother on the leg, rather hard.

  ‘Apparently these are the happiest days of my life.’

  ‘Oh yes, we’re in our prime,’ said Issy.

  ‘I’ll consider myself in my prime when I stop getting spots,’ said Helena.

  ‘And my heart broken,’ said Issy.

  ‘And eating fish fingers.’

  ‘And learn self-control,’ said Issy, pouring them both another glass.

  ‘Bottoms up!’ said Helena.

  ‘You haven’t even compared me to some kid that’s getting its leg chopped off yet, like you used to when you worked in the hospital,’ said Issy.

  ‘Oh GOD, I am SO HAPPY WITHOUT A JOB AND NO SENSE OF PURPOSE OR DIRECTION IN MY LIFE!’ shouted Helena, startling Chadani, who nonetheless burst out into giggles too.

  ‘Ha, you girls sound happy,’ said Ashok, opening the door to the sounds of hysterical laughter.

  Issy and Helena looked at one another, then burst out laughing again. They only stopped when Issy accidentally burst into tears. Helena swallowed, then realised how drunk she was.

  ‘Jet lag,’ she tried to explain, but it didn’t come out quite right.

  Ashok came over and kissed her. He was slightly perturbed by all the empty bottles, but he hadn’t heard Helena laugh like that in a long time, and Chadani seemed quiet for once, so perhaps on balance it was a pretty good thing.

  ‘Hello, Issy,’ he said. His face lit up. ‘Did you …’

  ‘Bring you some cakes? I know, I know, that’s all I’m good for …’

  ‘ASHOK!’ Helena tried to whisper, but she wasn’t used to the booze and couldn’t keep her voice down. ‘Be sensitive! Issy’s just split up with Austin!’

  ‘Not officially,’ said Issy.

  Ashok picked up Chadani, who had cruised her way towards him, and gave her a huge cuddle and a kiss.

  ‘This is not possible,’ he said sternly. ‘You have not split up. You cannot. It is unacceptable to me.’

  ‘I should have tried saying that,’ said Issy, gulping.

  ‘So. What was it? Something ridiculous? And small? Did he tell another woman she looked nice? Did he not buy you a thoughtful present for your birthday? Men are not always perfect, you know.’

  ‘Are you diagnosing our relationship?’ said Issy.

  ‘Sometimes it is useful to take a dispassionate view,’ said Ashok.

  ‘Oh, it is definitely dispassionate,’ said Issy. ‘It definitely definitely is that. He has a job in America. I have a job here. He has to move to America to do his amazing job there, otherwise he’ll probably lose the one he has here. I have a quasi-successful business running on a long lease that employs three people but can’t manage without me. What’s the outlook, Doctor?’

  ‘Well, one of you will have to move,’ said Ashok stubbornly, nuzzling Chadani’s neck. ‘Look at this. This is happiness. You deserve happiness.’

  Helena snorted loudly. ‘Happiness and lots and lots of stinky laundry.’

  Chadani giggled and squirmed in her father’s arms, and Issy wanted to cry again.

  ‘Well, I can’t and he can’t,’ she said. ‘This isn’t north and south London. This is real life, with real choices and real consequences, and we both figured the sooner we faced up to that the better.’

  ‘There is always a way,’ frowned Ashok.

  ‘Well, yes,’ said Issy. ‘If I wait five billion years, the tectonic plates will eventually fuse together and I’ll be able to cycle over to his apartment …’

  She was off again. Ashok patted her on the shoulder and Helena rushed up with more wine and some tissues.

  ‘I’ve got a great idea,’ she said. ‘Let’s have a wonderful Christmas, all together. A big party, here.’

  ‘Here?’ sniffed Issy.

  Helena looked innocent. ‘I just thought it would be lovely to get everyone together at Christmas time. Chadani’s aunties could all squeeze in, and you could see if Pearl and Louis want to come, and—’

  ‘Not everyone would fit in here,’ said Issy.

  ‘But think how wonderful it would be, all together,’ said Helena. ‘So happy, such a great way to take your mind off everything.’

  ‘But you don’t have a big enough table!’ said Issy.

  ‘Oh, so we don’t,’ said Helena. ‘If only we knew of somewhere nearby with great big ovens and loads of tables …’

  ‘I’m not cooking Christmas lunch for six thousand people,’ said Issy.

  ‘Just think of how wonderful it would be to be surrounded by the people who care for you and
love you,’ said Helena relentlessly.

  ‘Care for me enough to banish me to the kitchen for the whole of Christmas Day?’ said Issy.

  ‘OK,’ said Helena. ‘Was just an idea. What were you planning on doing?’

  ‘At the moment,’ said Issy. ‘I couldn’t feel less in a goodwill-to-all-men state of mind.’

  Pearl was on a half-day the next day, and she felt like she desperately needed it. She left early, rather guiltily ignoring Issy’s red-rimmed eyes, a combination of jet lag, crying and an ill advised nightcap. She needed the time off and could make it back before Louis got out of school.

  Doti caught up with her at the bus stop.

  ‘Well, hello there,’ he said, with his customary twinkle. ‘How are things with you?’

  ‘Not bad,’ said Pearl. She was pleased, but still a bit cross with him for slavering all over Maya. It had felt insensitive.

  ‘Christmas shopping?’

  ‘I might be.’

  ‘I was just heading into town myself. Maybe I’ll wait for the bus with you.’

  ‘If you like,’ said Pearl.

  ‘So, Maya’s worked out well for you? I thought she might.’

  ‘She is a hard worker,’ agreed Pearl.

  ‘Have you met Rachida? They’re a lovely couple.’

  ‘You knew she lived with a woman?’

  ‘Of course I did; they’re on my round. Don’t get much past the postman, you know.’

  ‘Why were you all over her, then?’

  Doti looked confused. ‘What do you mean? I really wanted her to get that job, she needed it desperately.’

  ‘I thought you … I thought you fancied her,’ mumbled Pearl, feeling her face grow hot. Where the hell was that bloody bus?

  Doti burst out laughing. ‘A skinny little thing like that? Not likely,’ he said. He looked slyly up at Pearl under his thick black eyelashes. ‘I like something a bit more … womanly,’ he said.

  There was a silence.

  ‘There,’ he said, finally, kicking the heel of his black postman boot against the pavement. ‘I said it.’

  Pearl’s heart was fluttering in her chest and she found it hard to get her breath. Her emotions fought with each other inside herself; she had an almost overwhelming desire – and it would be so, so terribly simple – to extend her right hand, just a few centimetres, to meet his left, just there, his large, strong, worker’s hand, holding on fiercely to the uncomfortable bus shelter bench. She gazed at his hand, and then her own, and his eyes followed her gaze.

  Then she remembered the sound of a little boy crying, triumphantly, ‘DADDY!’ Ben parading Louis round the sitting room on his shoulders like he was a football trophy or a crown; the two of them playing kung fu and breaking her mother’s prized horse statuette; Louis laughing, laughing, laughing.

  Her knuckles tightened involuntarily, and she froze.

  ‘I can’t,’ she said, in a voice barely above a whisper. ‘It’s … it’s complicated.’

  Doti nodded. ‘Sure is,’ he said.

  Then he stood up, just as the 73 rounded the corner.

  ‘I am actually going into town,’ he said, in a much more conversational tone of voice. ‘I wasn’t just looking for an excuse. So can I still come … just as a friend? As a normal person?’

  Pearl smiled at him, touched. ‘You will never be a normal person to me.’

  It was fun, in the end. Pearl hadn’t realised it would be; pottering around John Lewis, buying a cheap little horse statuette for her mother to replace the one the boys had broken; and walking up to Primark to buy some underpants with monsters on them so hopefully they would appear to Louis more of a gift and less of a basic necessity. All the way they looked at the beautifully dressed windows of the posh shops, filled with expensive goods, but Pearl, watching the sullen faces of the thin blondes passing in and out of them, wasn’t sure they were having as good a time as she was, and she could barely afford anything. Doti asked her advice on buying make-up for his grown-up daughter – he and his wife had separated years before, when she had taken a job in a nightclub almost comically unsuited to his hours and ended up having an affair with a bouncer, for which Doti did his very best not to blame her, which Pearl appreciated, even if she thought his ex-wife patently mad. Then he insisted on treating her to coffee at Patisserie Valerie, down on Regent Street, having once overheard her say how much she liked it. Pearl was as touched by the fact that he had remembered as she was by the treat itself.

  They walked down past Hamleys, the huge toy shop. As usual, there was an enormous crowd of people, children and adults alike, gathered to see the wonderful window display – this year it was a huge snowy fair-ground scene, with a real rotating wheel and carousel rides for the toys below. Outside a Santa Claus was ringing a bell, and several pirates and princesses were blowing bubbles to attract passers-by.

  It was the first time Pearl had felt a pang all afternoon. Right by the main door, under a seasonal coating of white cotton wool, all lit up with fairy lights – there it was. The monster garage, with the monster mechanics and the monster trucks going up and down the special lift. She smiled at it and shook her head.

  ‘Are you thinking about that for the little man?’ asked Doti.

  ‘Oh, no, no, he gets far too many treats,’ said Pearl, fiercely and quickly. She was never, ever going to admit to anyone what she could and couldn’t afford.

  Doti stayed in town, and Pearl just made it back in time to hide all the little parcels before the door of the café flew open and Louis ran in.

  ‘MAMMA! Oh, no.’ He stopped himself. ‘MUM!’

  ‘You don’t call me Mum,’ said Pearl indignantly. ‘I’m your mamma.’

  ‘Noooo,’ said Louis, shaking his head crossly. ‘That’s what babies say. I’m not a baby. You’re my mum.’

  Behind him Big Louis stood nodding gravely at this sad fact of the world.

  ‘I don’t want to be Mum. I want to be Mamma. Or Mummy, at a pinch, if you want to sound like those namby-pamby kids you go to school with.’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Louis.

  ‘Louis Kmbota McGregor, don’t you ever say whatever to me ever again!’ said Pearl, horrified. Issy looked up and laughed. It was the first thing that had made her smile all day.

  Louis looked half terrified, half proud of himself for inducing such a reaction. He glanced at Issy, who beckoned him over.

  ‘When you say “whatever”,’ she said, ‘you have to make your fingers into a “W”, like this …’

  ‘Issy, you stop that right now,’ said Pearl in a warning voice. ‘Louis, that is not allowed, do you understand me?’

  Issy and Louis made the ‘W’ sign at each other, then both chortled heartily.

  ‘Dear Santa Claus,’ said Pearl, writing out an imaginary letter, ‘I am terribly sorry, but Louis Kmbota McGregor has been very badly behaved this year, and—’

  ‘NOOOOO!’ shrieked Louis in sudden terror, charging over and hurling himself into his mother’s arms, and showering her with kisses. ‘I’m sorry, Mamma. I’m sorry. Sorry, Santa. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I think I’m coming round to Christmas,’ observed Pearl.

  ‘I’m not,’ said Issy. ‘I’m closing up early today.’

  There was a massive groan from the customers in the café.

  ‘Shouldn’t you all be out getting stocious drunk for Christmas anyway?’ she asked.

  ‘The cake is soaking up the stocious drunkness from last night,’ shouted someone from the back, and a few people vehemently agreed.

  ‘Oh, all right,’ said Issy. ‘I may leave you all to help yourselves.’

  ‘Yay!’ said the crowd.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Maya, yawning but appearing efficiently at Issy’s elbow with a cup of coffee. ‘I can handle it.’

  Caroline ostentatiously tidied away the white jacket in a dry-cleaning bag. ‘Hardly a thank you,’ she sniffed out loud. Issy turned to her. She knew why Caroline was in such a filthy mood.

 
‘So, Caroline, what are your plans for Christmas?’

  ‘I am going to go through Richard’s old address book and fuck all his friends in alphabetical order,’ said Caroline brightly. ‘Why?’

  Caroline had been blinking very tightly all day and Issy had caught sight of a solicitor’s letter in her pocket. She guessed it wasn’t good news, as Caroline was being even more of a pain in the arse than usual.

  ‘Only I thought,’ said Issy, ploughing on. ‘Well, I’m going to be here …’

  ‘Alone?’ said Caroline sharply. Issy didn’t answer. She didn’t see why she shouldn’t pull rank once in a while, in the case of major insubordination.

  ‘… and Helena and Ashok wanted to have some family around, so I was thinking I might hold a little Christmas dinner here, in the café.’

  Caroline didn’t say anything. Issy knew that if she hadn’t wanted to be included, she would have said something very sarcastic.

  ‘Would you like to join us?’ Issy asked gently.

  Caroline shrugged. ‘Don’t think I’ll be doing the sodding clearing up,’ she said, blinking rapidly.

  ‘No clearing up, no coming,’ said Issy. ‘It’ll have to be all hands on deck. But it’ll be fun. Pearl?’

  Pearl wrinkled her nose. Normally they just went to church and sat in front of the telly. But it might be more fun here for Louis, with Ashok’s little cousins running about the place …

  ‘I’d have to bring my mum,’ she said. ‘I can’t leave her on her own on Christmas Day.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Issy.

  ‘And I don’t know how we’d get here without buses or anything …’

  ‘Oh, I’ll pick you up in the Range Rover,’ said Caroline. ‘I won’t be doing much else in the morning.’ She remembered herself. ‘Of course it’s great to be alone on Christmas morning. I’m going to have a bit of a spa day, some real “me” time.’ Suddenly she burst into tears.

  As Issy comforted Caroline, Pearl thought about Ben. She hadn’t decided whether to ask him for Christmas. Well, that was what she told herself. She still didn’t like thinking about where he’d got that bloody monster garage for Louis. But if she wanted to keep things civil – and she did, she did – she’d have to pretend that it was from a job, and that she hadn’t noticed her maintenance had dried up. She’d tackle him again in the new year. She thought that he thought she made more money than he did, or that she somehow didn’t mind paying for everything. She sighed. Everything did feel bloody unfair sometimes.