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

by Annette Hannah

  ‘Ah you look exhausted love, you have a little rest and I’ll go and make some tea.’

  Camilla tucked the book safely back in her bag, she felt so cosy in Edie’s living room; she had practically grown up there. She’d loved to play with the little animal ornaments on the top of the old-fashioned gas fire and recalled that underneath the shiny porcelain lion there was a little chip that nobody else knew about, from when she’d taken it outside to play and dropped it on the step. Luckily the whole thing hadn’t broken. She enjoyed watching Bertie play with his ball and Bella flew to her shoulder and played with her hair, which she had done since she was little. Camilla loved the ticklish sensation and felt totally relaxed.

  Her eyes began to close as she sunk into the couch. The old familiar sounds of Edie clanging the pans in the kitchen and preparing her speciality of boiled ribs and cabbage and lentil soup, which she cooked in the pressure cooker. Camilla had never liked the pressure cooker as it was so noisy, but the sound and the smell of the food that eventually permeated the air soothed her into a gentle sleep.

  She was eventually woken by the sound of a deep voice with a Canadian drawl and realised that Blake was at the door. She straightened herself up; she probably looked a right mess. She glanced at the ancient clock on the mantelpiece and was horrified. An hour and a half she’d been asleep for and was completely curled up on the sofa. She could see the Liver birds were back in their cage, Bella trilling to her reflection in the mirror and Bertie pecking at the seeds in their food bowl, his ball lying abandoned on the floor. They had more energy than she did and yet amazingly they were fifty years old.

  She pulled her own mirror out of her bag. Her hair was bedraggled after having been restyled by Bella and her eyes were bloodshot. Filled with embarrassment, she contemplated sneaking out of the living room window but thought the neighbours would think her odd, as would Blake if he happened to walk in while she had one leg in and one leg out. However, there was no way she could let the love of her life see her like this. It was bad enough that he thought she’d slept with Ged. A fresh wave of mortification swept through her at that thought. She also maintained, though, that she was well within her rights to have slept with anyone should she have wanted to.

  Her fight-or-flight reflex kicked in; maybe she should just stay and square up to him. She took another look in her mirror, caught sight of the sleep creases still on her face and shook her head; the window it was. She pulled at the metal loops at the bottom of it and managed to drag it open.

  She’d heard Blake go down the hall to the kitchen with Edie. He’d brought beautiful flowers by the sound of their conversation and she could now hear them on their way back to the living room. Shit, shit, shit, she thought, grabbed her bag, and sat on the window ledge her heart thudding in her chest so hard she could feel it in her ears. She kicked one leg out, ducked her head under the window and followed with her other leg. A trickle of sweat ran down her back as she heard the handle on the door being twisted. She shuffled her bum off the ledge and turned quickly to close the window when a flurry of feathers, swept under it and swore at her as he flew past.

  ‘Bertie. Nooooo,’ she screeched as she closed the window as quietly as possible. She could see Blake was now in the room, standing there looking out at her, his face equally as horrified as hers. She could just about make out him mouthing, ‘What the f—’

  Camilla quickly ducked down as she saw Auntie Edie burst into the room carrying a vase with a beautiful bouquet of colourful blooms in it; they lit up her face as though they were made of pure sunlight.

  ‘Camilla, will you look at what your man has brought me. There’s three more vases full out there.’ She stopped. ‘Now where’s she gone? Shall I put them on the windowsill or the mantelpiece?’

  ‘Mantelpiece,’ shouted Blake. He cleared his throat. ‘Sorry, I think they’ll look lovely on the mantelpiece. Sometimes the sun dries them out on the windowsill.’

  ‘Yes, I think you’re right. There, don’t they look beautiful?’

  Camilla could see Bertie pecking at the shingle on the path. She looked back at Blake, put her finger in front of her lips to shush him then gestured for him to come outside.

  ‘Ah, Camilla has just popped out to the van and she needs me to help with, erm, an engine problem. By the way I would love a coffee after all if you don’t mind. I won’t be long.’

  ‘Okay, love,’ called Edie as she traipsed back to the kitchen. ‘The ribs and cabbage won’t be long,’ she shouted over her shoulder.

  Bertie was strutting down the garden path, with Camilla hot on his tailfeathers, when Blake opened the door and closed it quietly behind him.

  ‘I’ve just grabbed this from Edie’s ironing pile,’ he said in a loud whisper as he unfolded a pillowcase in a snapping motion. He held it out front and to the side like a bullfighter. Camilla looked at him, puzzled but grateful for help. ‘I’ve also got this,’ he said, rolling the yellow ball around in his hand. ‘I figure if you distract him with the ball and I come chasing up behind with the pillowcase and throw it over his head, it should work a treat. What do you say?’

  ‘It’s worth a try,’ she whispered back, all thoughts of looking a mess having disappeared with this predicament.

  Camilla wanted to cry but knew she had to stay strong and get Bertie back in his cage. He’d never survive in the wild now, which was why Uncle Albert had rescued him and Bella in the first place. ‘Blake, I can’t lose Bertie. He and Bella are Auntie Edie’s pride and joy. Her husband gave them to her on their tenth wedding anniversary. They’re so, so precious to her.’

  ‘I know. Aren’t they about fifty years old?’

  ‘Yes. What are we going to do? It’ll break her heart to lose him.’ Camilla could feel her voice going wobbly as it caught in her throat.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get him back home before you know it. Here, show him this.’

  He gently threw the ball to her but she missed and as it bounced on the ground, Bertie squawked, ‘Piss off, Ref,’ and took off, spreading his wings like he’d never done before. He soared above them, a flash of colour across the sky. Camilla shrieked as he revelled in his new-found freedom, her hands clasped to her face, her stomach plunged to the earth.

  Blake ran his hands through his hair leaving it dishevelled, a look of hopelessness on his face. Bertie settled in a tall tree in one of the neighbour’s gardens pecking at the berries.

  ‘If you give me a leg-up, I reckon I could climb up that tree and reach him,’ said Camilla.

  ‘I don’t think so because there’s no low branches to climb up,’ Blake replied. ‘Although if you got on my shoulders, that might work.’

  Camilla contemplated it. She was absolutely mortified. The last time she was on his shoulders was in a hotel swimming pool in Greece and she was at least two stone lighter then. She looked at him then up at Bertie and knew she had no choice; she had to catch this bloody bird. They opened the door of the cupcake van so she could step up a little higherand Blake stooped down in the doorway. After a couple of attempts he finally swung her up onto his shoulders and made his way over to the tree. Camilla wobbled all over the place, shouting out every now and again as she tried to get used to the sensation of being up so high. Her hands clung tightly to his forehead and occasionally blocked his vision.

  ‘Left a bit, left a bit,’ she instructed. ‘No right, right.’ Blake shifted along as requested and handed her the pillowcase. ‘Okay come on, Bertie,’ she said before a kerfuffle of squawks and a few grey and red feathers floated in the air as Camilla once again failed to trap him.

  ‘Oh no, he’s taking off again. Look at him swooping and soaring; he’s having the time of his life.’

  ‘Having you on my shoulders is reminding me of us having the time of our lives on holiday, except we had a pool to play in then. Do you remember?’

  ‘Well that was a long time ago and we didn’t have a crisis on our hands then.’

  She felt guilty for snapping and complet
ely awkward talking to the top of his head, which was still trapped firmly between her thighs. ‘Erm I’m sorry but could you put me back down now please.’

  ‘Yes of course.’

  Blake backed up to the cupcake van and helped Camilla to step down to it. Every time Bertie swooped near them Blake tried to catch him with the pillowcase to the joyful sound of ‘Piss off, Ref,’ and ‘Come on, you reds,’ being repeatedly squawked at him.

  Camilla tried to catch her breath and get ready to catch him again when a mewing sound came from the sky.

  ‘Oh shit,’ said Blake. ‘It’s red kites – they’re birds of prey. There’s two of them. We’ve got to get him away from them or he won’t stand a chance. We need to tempt him with something.’

  Camilla racked her brains. The ball didn’t work but he did have a favourite toy parrot in the cage with a bell on it, he always came flying over for that but then by the time she went to get that it could be too late.

  ‘Wait, I remember now, he loves ice cream. He’s only allowed it once a year on his birthday, but he always went mad for it whenever he saw my ninety-nine from the ice cream van.’

  The call from the red kites had become more urgent and they were swooping for Bertie. Camilla jumped into the cupcake van and tore open a packet of ice cream cones she used for her cakes. Blake swore as Bertie came flying past squawking, ‘Penalty, penalty,’ and yet again managed to avoid the Egyptian cotton trap. Camilla’s hands were shaking as she swirled some vanilla buttercream onto the top of the cone and, for the pièce de résistance, she added the chocolate flake. She opened up the hatch and shouted to Bertie. She looked up and to her horror saw one of the predators hit him, which sent him spiralling through the air at breakneck speed.

  ‘Noooo, Bertie, here’s your ice cream,’ she shouted to the bundle of feathers that appeared lifeless as it hurtled towards the ground but suddenly sprang to life and flapped his wings again. She stretched out of the cupcake van holding the ice cream aloft and remembering something else he loved, she grabbed a handful of chopped nuts and threw them on the top. ‘And your nuts,’ she screeched as she saw the two massive birds swoop down to catch him.

  Bertie glided down to his favourite treat and landed on Camilla’s arm, which she quickly swept back into the cupcake van whilst Blake slammed the hatch shut. The noise of which scared the two tormentors off. Bertie pecked at the ice cream whilst eyeing up Camilla and wolf whistling. Blake joined them inside, both he and Camilla had to catch their breath before either of them could speak.

  ‘Thank you so much for helping. I would never have forgiven myself if anything had happened to Bertie and I don’t think Bella or Auntie Edie would have done either. Do you remember Uncle Albert telling us about the Liver birds’ statues in Liverpool and how Bella looks out to sea watching for the seamen to return home safely?’

  ‘That’s right, I do remember that. And Bertie looks out to the city, allegedly waiting for the pubs to open, but really to look after the seamen’s families. Uncle Albert told some great stories of when he worked on the docks.’

  ‘They are such a close link to Uncle Albert for Auntie Edie.’

  ‘Hey look, don’t worry about it. Bertie’s safe now. But am I allowed to ask why you climbed out of the window in the first place?’

  She blushed. ‘I’d really rather you didn’t.’ As she shook her head a strand of hair fell across her face and his hand instinctively moved towards her, causing her to draw in a sharp intake of breath. He hesitated and put his hand back down by his side whilst she tucked the hair behind her ear herself.

  He grinned at her and now that the crisis was almost over, she could appreciate again how sexy he was. She was lost in her thoughts when he spoke.

  ‘You literally look like you’ve been dragged through a tree backwards.’

  ‘Oi.’ She laughed, slapping him playfully on the arm.

  ‘I didn’t get a chance but I wanted to let you know how grateful I am that you got my mum’s recipe book back.’

  ‘Oh that’s okay, I didn’t think I’d find anything but then I realised the kitchen drawer wouldn’t open fully and there it was. I remember your mum’s baking very well especially her speciality that she always made us on our birthdays.’

  ‘Yes the choc chip sponge, always cooked in a loaf tin, that was my absolute favourite. Especially straight out of the oven.’

  ‘Mine too.’ Their eyes met and they smiled at their shared memory.

  Whilst Bertie was enjoying his fake ice cream Blake sneaked up behind him and threw the pillowcase over his head like a kidnap victim. It was like a comedy sketch as Blake wrestled with the wriggling bundle and headed back to the house. Camilla almost wet herself laughing with a mixture of relief and mirth.

  ‘We always did make a good team, didn’t we?’ he said. Her eyes once again found his and she nodded, unable to find the words to answer him. The past tense of his sentence had unsettled her, reminded her of what could have been and what she’d wished for once upon a time. The panic now being over left the awkward situation with Ged hanging over them like a weighted blanket and she didn’t quite know what to say to him. Blake had left Edie’s door on the catch, so they were able to let themselves back in. Camilla walked straight through to the kitchen allowing Blake to smuggle Bertie back into his cage. Edie was doing a crossword at the kitchen table.

  ‘Hello, love, is it all sorted now?’

  Camilla looked at her blankly.

  ‘The cupcake van – did he fix the engine?’

  ‘Oh yes, all fixed now,’ she exclaimed overenthusiastically.

  ‘Well now it’s time for your favourite dinner at mine. You do still love it, don’t you?’

  Camilla really did love it. It was wholesome and hearty, delicious, and tasted of her childhood. She had often sat in this very room with her mum and Edie enjoying this meal. The delicious aroma carried her back to carefree times.

  ‘Right, I’m going to set up the TV tables so, Camilla, can you please butter some bread for us. You’ll need to slice it first and, Blake, can you sort out that wine you’ve just brought please. The glasses are in the top cupboard.’ Edie went to the cupboard in the hallway and retrieved three mismatched foldaway TV tables that she set up, one at her favourite armchair and the other two next to each other at the two-seater sofa.

  Neither Camilla nor Blake spoke as they set about their duties. They wouldn’t have heard each other anyway as the pressure cooker was whistling away, filling the room with steam as it did so. Camilla wanted to joke with him that she had been to saunas with less steam than this but she couldn’t speak. She remembered the look of hurt on his face as she was saying goodbye to Ged and she knew what she would think in the same circumstances. She’d looked guilty as hell when he’d turned up at her house and she didn’t quite know how to convince him of her innocence without using the old clichéd words: ‘It’s not what it looks like!’ It shouldn’t even matter anyway because they weren’t in a relationship – well he was, just not with her.

  He had his back to her and was uncorking the wine. His dark hair curled round the nape of his neck and she wanted more than anything to wrap her fingers in it and pull his face close to hers so that she could feel the warmth of him. She longed to feel his lips touching hers, his beard scratching at her skin, those strong arms holding her like he used to. Ged was a cute young guy who was looking for fun and he could provide her with a pleasant distraction, but it was Blake’s arms she longed to be in. They had history. They were still growing up when they met and they grew together before circumstances pulled them apart so cruelly, each of them having no choice but to care for their parents.

  Their lives probably would have been so different now had they been able to stay together. In an alternate universe maybe they would have been married for eight years with the three children they always talked about having and the little home near the babbling brook. At least they had achieved one of those things; Camilla loved living in Cupcake Cottage and liked nothi
ng better than to sit at the bottom of the garden listening to the water trickle along. Weaving its way in and out of the rocks, each tiny drop seemingly insignificant on its own but as part of a greater entity, capable of etching a path through the solidity of stony ground.

  When she had been with Blake she felt part of a much greater being and as though the two of them could achieve anything. Her body reacted like memory foam whenever she saw him and was desperate to mould itself around his familiar contours. She was proud to be an independent woman and, so far, she’d achieved so much, but her life would unquestionably be so much better with him in it.

  The steam irritated her nose and she sneezed loudly over her shoulder whilst in the middle of slicing the bread, causing the knife to cut through her finger. She squealed and popped it straight into her mouth. Blake turned; his face full of concern for her injury.

  He took her hand and led her to the sink where he poured cold water over the cut; the blood turned the water slightly pink as it ran down the sink. He reached for some kitchen roll and dabbed at it. She bit her lip to try and stop the flutters that she felt in every part of her body, especially as his hair softly tickled her face as he looked down to her hand. He pressed the makeshift gauze firmly over the cut with his fingers and took her other hand, which he placed over the folded kitchen roll; a patch of blood was starting to appear through it.

  ‘Just press on this,’ he said firmly as he placed her fingers over the cut. He opened the pantry door and she could hear him moving things around in there. ‘Ah here it is,’ he said and walked out with the green first aid box. After finding the right-sized plaster he cleaned the cut with an antiseptic wipe, which caused Camilla to wince and made her knees turn to jelly. He then placed the plaster over the cut and smoothed it down gently; her skin tingled at his touch. Camilla dared to look up into his eyes but before his could meet hers, Edie burst into the kitchen to switch off the pressure cooker.

  ‘Why didn’t you turn this off instead of standing there looking dopily into each other’s eyes?’ She swiftly turned off the gas, heaved the pressure cooker over to the draining board, and proceeded to take the lid off. She moved quickly and retrieved three soup bowls from the oven, which she ladled the wonderful-smelling lentil broth into.