The Cosy Little Cupcake Van: A deliciously feel-good romance

by Annette Hannah

  ‘That is one of the most amazing things I think I’ve ever seen. So what’s in the other nozzle?’

  ‘I’ll show you.’ She smiled, picked up a vanilla sponge and swirled the topping perfectly onto the cake, placed it on the counter next to the other one and added a candied orange to it. ‘It’s chocolate orange flavour. So which one do you fancy?’

  ‘That’s my favourite so I’ll take that one, if that’s okay. I mean they all take my fancy; in fact everything in this van takes my fancy, but—’ He heard a shout from his van as some more stallholders wanted a drink. ‘Oh I’d better get over there to this impatient lot. I’ll catch you later yeah, and I’ll make sure I send all my customers over to you for one of these?’ He raised his cupcake and made his way over to his van.

  She covered her face with her hand to hide her blushes; he had made her a little hot under the collar and she could feel little bluebirds twittering away in her stomach.

  The next couple of hours passed in a blur as customers and stallholders were bowled over by her delicious and inventive cupcakes. She’d had business cards made and left a little pile of them on the counter, which she’d had to top up on numerous occasions. In amongst the succession of customers she heard her name being called and leaning out of the hatch she looked over at Ged and saw him pointing to his blackboard. On one side he had the prices of his drinks and on the other he’d drawn a big arrow pointing to her van with the word ‘Amazing’ written on it and a picture of a cupcake drawn in coloured chalk. He put his thumbs up to her and she laughed at him and shouted thanks. He mimed the action of drinking coffee to her so she nodded and shouted, ‘Yes please.’

  She returned the favour by cupping one hand and then mimicking a swirl on top of it with the other. He put both thumbs up to her again and within three minutes had appeared at her hatch with a steaming cappuccino in a paper cup. I take it you were telling me to stir it well,’ he joked as he repeated the action she had done with her hands.

  ‘I’ve never had to do an impression of a cupcake before.’ She giggled. ‘So what’s it to be this time, Christmas tree or gingerbread spiced?’

  He put his elbow on the counter and rested his chin on his hand. ‘Why don’t you surprise me?’ He looked deep into her eyes before closing his and opening his mouth a little. She gulped down a mouthful of air and quickly grabbed a chocolate sponge and topped it with the Christmas tree icing and placed the little glittery sugar star on top.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ she asked.

  ‘Go ahead, just do it,’ he replied.

  She slowly peeled off the paper wrapper and held the cake to his mouth. He took a big bite and she managed to get the buttercream on his cheeks and on her fingers. She squealed at the mess she was making of him.

  ‘Oh that’s got to be the Christmas tree one, for sure.’

  She pulled out some wet wipes from a container and handed him a couple.

  ‘I’m sorry, I was just playing with you. Are you all right?’ He looked genuinely concerned.

  ‘Y…yes I’m fine,’ she stammered. He was having a strange effect on her. He was flirtatious and cheeky, and he made her laugh.

  ‘A few of us normally go out for a drink after the market. Do you fancy coming? It’s just to the pub round the corner.’ She wanted to say no and just go home and snuggle down. But then she realised she’d been doing that most nights so to shake herself up a bit she agreed to go with him just for one. He smiled a cheery smile at her and jogged back over to his van where he had more customers waiting for him. Camilla was pleased to see she had more customers too and served them swiftly.

  Later on just as she was about to close up she saw a familiar face appear at the hatch.

  ‘Auntie Edie, you made it. How lovely.’ She grabbed the old lady’s hand and held it in both of hers affectionately. ‘Ooh your hands are cold. Now what can I get you: pumpkin spice, chocolate orange or a vanilla or chocolate?’

  ‘Ooh I’ll have a chocolate orange please, dear. Anyway you’ll never guess what.’ She was interrupted by the next customer who had a wailing child in her arms.

  ‘Oh dear. What’s happened?’ Camilla soothed. She turned to Edie. ‘Sorry, Auntie Edie, you go and get comfortable on the chair over there and I’ll bring your cupcake over.’ Edie seemed pleased to take the weight off her feet and snapped up the chair quickly as one customer was leaving and another lady was eyeing it up.

  ‘I’m so sorry, she’s just dropped her cupcake,’ said the mum. ‘And it’s obviously the end of the world. So could I please have another one?’ She held a five-pound note out to Camilla whilst rocking the child up and down in an attempt to make her smile again.

  Camilla gestured with her hand for her to keep the money and looking at the green buttercream around the little girl’s mouth, she said, ‘Now let me guess, I think you had a Christmas tree cupcake. Is that right?’

  The little girl nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, the remnants of the cry caught in her throat. ‘Yes please,’ coaxed the mum.

  ‘Yes pweeze,’ repeated the little girl.

  Camilla swirled the green buttercream onto the cake, added the glittery star and held it up to the little girl who reached over with both hands to take it.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ said the mum. ‘You’ve really saved the day.’

  Camilla smiled and waved goodbye then slid the shutter window closed and prepared Edie’s cupcake. She placed it in one of her little personalised boxes and climbed out of the van, walked around it and over to Edie. She could see the back of a dark-haired man handing her a hot drink and talking to her.

  Edie looked round. ‘Ah here she is now,’ she said.

  The man turned, his eyes met hers, locked. Her stomach lurched and she froze on the spot. She could vaguely hear the music from the carousel playing nearby, the hubbub of a hundred conversations around her. His eyes, those flecks of hazel surrounded by darker brown, seemed to search hers for a sign of how she felt about seeing him again. His hair so dark and sexy the way it curled around his collar and occasionally caught on his eyelashes as he blinked. She remembered the feel of his thick dark hair between her fingers as she had grasped it in ecstasy; she blushed at the thought. It was still the same but maybe a bit shorter. She had to stop herself from reaching out and touching it. He had a beard now too; he’d always tried to grow one but had only ever managed a little patchy fuzz. She wasn’t really a fan of beards but it made him look even more of a man than he had before, if that were possible.

  ‘Cami, hi, it’s good to see you.’ His voice, thicker, more mature, the Canadian drawl more pronounced, did things to her insides, awoke memories within her that had been hidden away for so long. She could visualise the red ribbon on her gift box of memories slowly unravelling in her mind.

  ‘Blake popped round again to see how I was and to see if you had got his message. I was on my way here so he kindly offered to bring me to save me getting the bus,’ Edie explained.

  ‘Oh, that was nice of you,’ Camilla replied, her throat dry.

  ‘It was no trouble,’ he said, ‘though the parking was a bugger so I dropped Edie off here to save her legs and I’m at the far end of the car park.’

  Camilla pretended to fold her arms but really she was pinching her underarm to check whether she was awake. She didn’t know what to say to this man who had been her everything at one time and whilst his presence was having the exact same effect on her body as he always had, which was completely unnerving, she had to persuade herself to slow down. After all, they were practically strangers.

  ‘I was so sorry to hear about your mom. She was such a lovely lady.’

  Her heart jolted at the mention of her mum. ‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘As I’m sure you know from your dad, the pain never goes away.’

  He nodded in sympathy.

  ‘How’s your mum?’

  He looked down. ‘Ah, she died a couple of years after my dad actually. She pretty much gave up after we lost him.�
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  Camilla’s hand flew to her chest. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She touched his forearm and even through his coat she could feel how taut it was; he was solid. Electricity flooded her body. He put his hand on hers; the softness of his touch turned her knees to molten chocolate. She looked into his eyes and saw her own pain reflected there.

  ‘Thank you. At least I can hope that they are together again now,’ he said.

  Camilla nodded. ‘That’s a lovely thought. I really loved your mum and dad.’

  ‘And they loved you too, as did…well you know.’ He looked at the ground and shifted, his foot kicking an imaginary stone. ‘Listen, I was wondering whether we could…that is if you wanted to…if we could maybe get together for a catch-up sometime?’ He looked up to meet her eyes once more.

  Her insides were dancing around doing a jig but she daren’t let it show on the outside. She was far too nervous to actually smile at him.

  ‘How about tonight or is that too…’

  ‘Oh no, sorry, I can’t make tonight, I’m afraid.’ She interrupted in a panic. A thought entered her head loudly. Her conscience screamed at her: “Ask him about his wife! He has a wife, you know.” She couldn’t bring herself to ask him. It seemed more awkward. He was probably only asking her to meet up as friends anyway and surely if she asked him about his wife it would look like she had romantic intentions towards him. She couldn’t even see if he was wearing a wedding ring because he had thick gloves on. She was torn but then thankfully Edie, having just eaten the last of her cupcake and wiping her mouth on a napkin, helped her out.

  ‘It will do you good, Camilla, to get out and about again.’

  ‘Maybe a coffee or something sometime,’ he suggested. ‘Call me please; you’ve got my number haven’t you?’

  She instinctively patted her coat pocket where she had put the piece of paper with his number on. It had been burning a hole in it ever since she’d put it there. It had already etched itself into her brain as she had read it so many times and now knew the number off by heart. She felt overwhelmed by shyness. This man knew everything about her once upon a time but now they were virtually strangers. She nodded to him and stared deep into his eyes. ‘Yes, I will.’

  She was jolted out of her dream-like state by a northern Irish accent behind her. ‘So, cupcake queen, are you ready? Do you wanna hand with putting these tables and chairs away?’ Ged had started collapsing the chairs that Edie wasn’t sitting on and then closed down the other table too.

  ‘Oh, right yes, thank you. Sorry, is it that time already?’ She felt flustered. She hadn’t even noticed that the other stalls were closing, and it was getting dark already.

  Blake was eyeing up Ged, obviously trying to work out what his relationship was with Camilla.

  Camilla turned to Edie. ‘Will you be all right getting home, Auntie Edie?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll be fine, thank you. Blake is going to run me back aren’t you, dear. And it’s not often I get an offer like that from a handsome Canadian.’ She rubbed her hands together and blew on them. ‘I wish I’d remembered my gloves. My arthritis is playing up today.’ She slowly pulled herself up out of her seat, groaning as she did so, her bones clicking noisily in various places. Ged returned from putting the tables and chairs in the back of the cupcake van.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to Camilla. ‘I didn’t realise these were friends of yours. I thought they were just ordinary customers.’

  ‘Oh no, we all go way back,’ she replied, pointing to each of them as she said their names. ‘This is Ged and this is my Auntie Edie and Blake.’ Saying his name again out loud in a matter of days seemed so alien to her and yet it had been the name that fell so easily off her tongue once upon a time. The name she had uttered far more than any other name in her life. She used to get gentle butterflies in her tummy when saying it but now her whole insides were flipping over and over.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Ged, shaking Blake’s hand.

  ‘You too,’ said Blake, unsmiling.

  Camilla kissed and hugged Auntie Edie goodbye and allowed Blake to brush the gentlest of kisses against her cheek. His beard was soft and ticklish. Her eyes closed involuntary. He smelt the same, a comforting blend of warmth and musk, which allowed her mind to drift back to those happy times. But all too soon he was gone. As he walked away he pulled his gloves off with his teeth and offered them to Edie, stopping to help her put them on. Camilla’s heart plunged through her stomach as she caught the glint of gold on the third finger of his left hand. With a sunken heart she knew then that she wouldn’t be calling him.

  Ged had told her to follow his van, so she drove out behind him, ready to meet all the other stallholders in the pub.

  Chapter 16

  The car park of The Unicorn looked like another farmers’ market, as most of the stallholders had parked up their vans. Camilla pulled up behind Ged whilst he was helping another van to park up by gesturing to them how much space they had. Camilla was admiring the pub sign, which had a picture of a unicorn on it with a wonderfully coloured mane and a matching tail. The words The Unicorn were written underneath it in gold lettering, which matched the unicorn’s glittery horn.

  ‘That has to be the prettiest pub sign I’ve ever seen,’ she said when Ged joined her. ‘You know I’ve never seen this pub ever and yet I’ve been to the garden centre lots of times.’

  ‘Ah yes, it’s a hidden gem isn’t it. The line of fir trees was planted many years ago by the owner of Flowerpots as it’s all their land but I don’t know if they realised how tall they’d grow, so this little area called Flowerpot Lane is completely concealed from view from that busy road.’

  They walked into the pub and were immediately drawn in to the excitable ambience that was in the air. Chatter and laughter filled the traditionally oak-panelled room whilst the friendly bar staff tried to keep up with the demands of the thirsty customers. Because most of them were driving there was a large demand for hot chocolate and a non-alcoholic mulled wine, which filled the room with the smell of blackberry and cinnamon. Christmas decorations were swathed from beams and across the large open fireplace. Orange slices and frosted pine cones hung on invisible fishing wire in the windows and candles flickered in glass jars on tables and windowsills. It felt to Camilla as though she had just stepped into a magical world like something out of Harry Potter.

  She ordered an alcohol-free mulled wine. Ged ordered a beer and led her over to a friendly group, some of whom she recognised from earlier in the day. She would have loved to have had a wander round the market but there simply hadn’t been enough time. She recognised Frank, the farmer who provided her with the free-range eggs she used in her cakes and he waved to her from across the room. Ged introduced her to a jovial man called Stan who apparently produced the best cheese in the whole of the UK.

  ‘Here try some of that, love.’ He pointed to the board on the table, which had a variety of cheeses cut into little samples with cocktails sticks in them. She tried a white cheese with cranberries and she hoped her expression told Stan how delicious she’d found it. She then noticed that the other stallholders had brought some leftovers in to share too and was able to try scrumptious home-made sausage and apple rolls in golden puff pastry and pasties boasting of locally sourced ingredients. Fudge and coconut ice samples sat temptingly on long thin trays and gingerbread men lay alongside cinnamon stars.

  ‘Won’t be a sec.’ She motioned to Ged and headed for the door. Ged raised his glass of amber liquid to her in acknowledgement. A couple of minutes later, carrying a box with six of her cupcakes in, she arrived back in the pub bringing a whirl of cold air in with her. ‘I was saving these for my friend back at the B&B but I can always make more,’ she confided to Ged. She reached for a clean knife on the table and carefully cut each cupcake into quarters so there was enough to go around. Soon the only evidence that any had ever been there was a smear of buttercream on an empty box and the sound of people admiring them. At least three people asked her for a busin
ess card and Angie from the hot dog stall asked her if she could make big celebration cakes as she needed one in a month’s time.

  She hesitated before answering; her heart beating rapidly. She still didn’t know if she was ready to take on the pressure of being responsible for such an important part of a celebration. After all the cake was usually the centrepiece of any party.

  ‘I used to but I haven’t in a while. Also I don’t have my diary with me so I’m not sure whether I can fit that in at the moment. But if it’s cupcakes you want then I can certainly oblige,’ she replied, hoping not to appear rude.

  Ged waited until they were on their own again and motioned for her to sit with him on a comfy padded bench.

  ‘So you’re staying in a B&B. Are you just passing through this area then?’

  Her face reddened; her eyes searched the bottom of her glass. ‘No I’ve been staying there for a little while as I’m…I guess you could say, between homes at the moment.’

  ‘Oh no, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to pry. I’m not usually nosy but I had to stay in a B&B once as I went through a difficult time and ended up homeless for a while.’

  Camilla felt able to look him in the eye. A flash of sadness swept over his face but it quickly dissipated as he asked her if she’d like another drink. She opted for another non-alcoholic mulled wine as the scent of it hung heavy in the air and added to the Christmassy warmth about the place. When he returned with the drinks she was staring into the embers of the open fire, enjoying the sound of it crackling cosily.

  ‘Where do you live now?’ Camilla asked him as she curled her hands around the warm glass and inhaled the blackberry and cinnamon aroma.

  He took a sip of his shandy and licked the froth from his upper lip. ‘About half an hour away from here in a place called Witchett. It’s near the M1 so I can get to pretty much anywhere in the country, as I try to do as many of these fairs as possible. I’ll always be a bit of a drifter, I guess, as I’ve never really had proper roots anywhere.’ He gazed into the fire watching the flames leap and curl around the logs in there. Bits of white-hot ash fell out onto the hearth. ‘I was much younger when I became homeless. To cut a long story short my da left my ma with four kids and she eventually took up with another loser who didn’t want me around. Ya see he saw me as competition and he wanted to be the man of the house. So at fourteen I ended up on the streets of Belfast and eventually managed to get to London.