by Izzy Bayliss
“Great rule.” Frankie said through a stuffed mouth.
“Here – wipe your face,” I said pointing to a blob of icing Frankie had managed to get on her cheek.
“What do you think Wendy was talking about?” I said looking up at her meekly.
“Who knows – you know what she’s like. She’s a mouth almighty, take no notice of her.”
“But I can’t help it – she was making out that he was too good for me.”
“Well let me tell you, she is waaaaay wrong on that one. You’re the catch not that bollox.”
“But what do you think she meant when she said I was the last to know. Did you know something, Frankie?”
“Lily you’re my bestest friend in the whole world – I was a bridesmaid at your wedding. If I had known something I would have told you. She was just stirring it, trying to push your buttons to get a reaction. Honestly just forget about it, you’ve bigger worries right now than Wendy Murphy trying to fish for a bit of gossip.”
“Yeah I suppose you’re right . . .” I sighed. “God, Frankie my life is a mess. What am I going to do?” I suddenly felt the cake stick in my throat.
“Okay, well first things first, I think you’re going to have to get a job ASAP.”
“But I don’t even know where to begin, I don’t even have a CV. I’ve never even done an interview!” I got the job in Rapid Response through an agency. They had been so desperate for staff to man their call centre at the time and deal with all the pee-filled sticks that I had started the same day, without ever having to do an interview. “And it’s a recession,” I sighed.
“Well if you can’t get a job, you can always make this cake.”
“I can hardly pay the mortgage with cake.”
“Well no but you’re good at this stuff. You make fantastic cakes and buns. Why don’t you open a bakery?”
“I could never do that, Frankie, imagine me responsible for a business?” I was shuddering at the thoughts.
“Well it doesn’t have to be a bricks and mortar place, but what about doing it from your own kitchen, making cakes for birthday parties, christenings, weddings - all that kind of thing.”
“But who would buy them?”
“People would!” she laughed. “You start small, and then hopefully through word of mouth you might get a bit more business.”
“Do you really think I could?” I was starting to get excited now at the prospect of being able to lick icing from the bowl every day.
“Of course you could – your cakes taste fab, you’re great at decorating them. Why don’t you do up some business cards and I’ll hand them out to a few people on shoots, and you never know what might come out of it. Look, there are no start-up costs, a few business cards won’t cost you much and if it doesn’t work out then you’re no worse off than you are now.”
“Yeah I suppose . . . oh God, Frankie, are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“But what will I call it?”
“How about Lily’s Sexual Cakes?”
“Hmmh. I’ve visions of men ringing me up with odd requests. How about Hot Buns?” I offered.
“That’s even worse than what I suggested. I know, what about Baked with Love? Every bite is a little piece of love.”
“Oooh I like it. Baked with Love. Wow imagine a job where you get to eat cake every day?”
“That’s the spirit!”
“Okay now I just need to get some business.”
Frankie laughed, “Well yeah, that tends to be the idea.”
***
The next day I tried phoning Marc to ask him to put money into the account for the mortgage but he never phoned me back. I texted him next but he just responded with:
“Sorry babe - pretty broke right now,” with a smiley face on the end as if that made it all okay. I was normally pretty patient, but that time I felt my blood boil. Even if he did have the money, I wondered would he have paid it? Was this all part of his plan – to leave me with a shit-load of negative equity?
Even though I would never admit it to anyone else, I always knew that Marc was a tight arse. He never seemed to have a problem splurging money on himself – designer shoes and clothes were de rigueur for him, but when it came to other people he hated splashing the cash. Like for his Mum’s birthday he would just give her a bunch of flowers from Tesco, or the time when we got engaged in Spain and my battery was dead but he wouldn’t let me call my Dad from his mobile because of the roaming charges. I had to wait until we got back to the hotel room and had charged my phone again before I could call him. Of course by the time I had enough battery in my phone it was the middle of the night in Ireland so I had to wait until the next morning before I could share my news. Well this time, Marc Glover, you are going to have to stump up the cash, I thought to myself.
Chapter 14
After my conversation with Frankie that night, I started to get a little bit excited at the prospect of starting my own business. She was right; I could do it from my own kitchen without going to too much expense. Frankie had worked me up a logo using a graphic design program that she had on her computer. It was a cupcake with pastel pink icing and blue cherry on top. The fonts were coloured shocking pink and I couldn’t believe how smart and professional the whole thing looked.
I did a lot of research on the Internet and had managed to find a website running deals for small businesses to print their own stationary, so with Frankie's encouragement I had taken the plunge and ordered some business cards and fliers.
When they arrived in the post a few days later, I tore off the brown paper wrapping, it had been an incredible feeling seeing my name there in ink on the business cards just above the words “Company Owner”.
It had been two weeks since I had been fired, but I still hadn’t been able to tell my Dad and Clara about it. I knew their reactions would be poles apart – Clara would probably go for the disgusted and disapproving reaction, whereas Dad would probably just be worried about me. I decided to start by telling Dad because he would know best how to handle Clara.
***
I rang Dad on Tuesday morning to check if he would be at home. Since his retirement he liked to fill his days playing golf, visiting Clara or doing his computer course. It made me kind of sad that he had to do this. I was glad he was busy, but I had to wonder would things have been different if he wasn’t on his own? Somehow I don’t think he would be so keen to always have plans made just in case he ended up at a loose end. I knew he was surprised to hear from me when I should have been in work. He told me he would be at home and I got ready to get the bus over to his house.
A while later I was walking up the street to my childhood home. Dad let me in to the small red-brick house, and I followed him into the kitchen and sat down on the battered settee that ran along one wall while he made us a pot of tea. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, announcing that summer had arrived.
"So to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit on a Tuesday morning?" Dad asked handing me a mug of tea a minute later.
I took a deep breath, and started by telling him the whole story from the start about the evening Marc had called over, and about work firing me the next day. Dad listened patiently to every word I said without butting in or showing any reaction on his weathered face. When I had finished, he still remained quiet until I finally asked him was he going to say something?
“I’m just disappointed, Lily.”
It was awful to hear him say that to me. I would way have preferred him to roar and shout at me rather than face his disappointment. “I’m so sorry, Dad.”
“No, no, not disappointed in you but for you – you deserve more than all of this. And I can’t help wondering if I’ve failed you in some way.”
“Dad how can any of this be your fault?”
“Well with Marc – I don’t like saying this because he is your husband –”
“Was –”
“Okay is/was it doesn’t really matter, but sometimes I felt like he just
didn’t truly appreciate how lucky he was to have you.”
“Oh, Dad – I hope this isn’t a ‘no one is good enough for my daughter’ spiel?” I groaned.
“No, I’ll be the first person to admit that you’re certainly not perfect, Lily – but there were just a few little things down through the years, just small things really, but things all the same that I didn’t like.”
“Like what?” I said with a tinge of defensiveness.
“Well like the time, when you were both supposed to be saving up for your house and he went off travelling for a year, and you stayed behind here to save. Or on your wedding day and he was nowhere to be found for the first dance.”
As if I could I ever forget it. I could still hear the drums beginning the familiar strains of Jennifer Rush’s the Power of Love. We had chosen that song because – well I had chosen it – Marc maintained it was corny, but I had always loved that song, and it had been playing on the night we first kissed, so he finally relented after I had begged him for the hundredth time. But as I had stood on the edge of the dance floor ready to dance with my new husband, Marc was nowhere to be seen.
Frankie and Clara had run off in opposite directions to try to find him, while I stood at the edge of the dance floor, with all the eyes of our guests on me, willing him to hurry on.
“Has anyone seen the groom?” The DJ began calling out over the microphone. “We appear to have a groom missing in action. Going once, going twice . . . Anyone?"
The humiliation was desperate.
"Has he enough of you already, ha-ha-ha?” the DJ roared into the microphone laughing heartily at his own joke.
Frankie and Clara returned soon after, both shaking their heads; they couldn’t find him anywhere. Richie his best man and Clive his groomsman were also nonplussed as to his whereabouts. By that stage the song had reached the climax as Jennifer Rush belted out Cos I’m your lady . . . Marc was supposed to be twirling me around the floor like we had practised.
When it became clear that the song was nearly over and Marc wasn’t coming, my Aunt Julie pushed my cousin Nigel who was standing on the edge of the dance floor over towards me. Although he was my first cousin, I barely knew him – I had met him about twice in my life, once at Christmas about ten years ago and the other time at my Granny’s ninetieth birthday. He was only about eighteen, and I could tell he was clearly mortified at being forced into doing this by his mother. I had no choice but to have my first dance with my own cousin. We kept each other at arms distance and shuffled awkwardly around in a circle, neither of us knowing where to put our hands. After all the time I had spent begging Marc to let this be our first dance song, I was now willing for the song to end. We were moving too fast to keep in time with the music, while Clara and Rich and Frankie and Clive danced alongside us, trying to keep up with the speed that Nigel and I were going at to make everything seem normal. The shame was fierce, but I forced a smile onto my face and tried to laugh along with everyone else like it wasn’t bothering me.
When my humiliation was finally over and I could escape the dance floor, I went off to look for Marc myself. After searching the rooms of Kilbritten House high and low, I finally found him sitting outside at a patio table, even though it was December. He was sitting with some guys I vaguely remembered meeting at a wrap party that I had gone to with him one time.
“Hey, Lily where have you been?” he asked me. “Sit down here for a minute – I’ve barely seen you all day!” He pulled me down onto his lap. The table in front of him was littered with empty shot glasses. He had a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other. His eyes were glassy, and I could tell he was already well on.
“Where were you? You missed our first dance!”
“Did I? God I'm sorry, love – why didn’t the lads come and get me? I told Rich I’d be outside.”
“Well he said he couldn’t find you –”
“You know Rich – he wouldn’t find his way out of a cardboard box.” The group of lads started to laugh.
The wintery air was cold on my bare shoulders. I began to shiver. “Well I’m going to go back inside, it’s freezing out here.” I stood up to leave hoping he'd come with me.
“Okay, love, I’ll just finish this and I’ll be right in after you – here would you mind doing me a big favour and run over to say thanks to my Auntie Liz for that vase she gave us?”
“Sure,” I said giving him a weak smile. This was our wedding day and I didn’t want anything to blight it by getting annoyed with him.
Now as I thought back on it all, maybe the signs had been there all along that he didn't really love me but I hadn't wanted to see them? I knew Dad was right. Deep down I had always known it.
“I shouldn’t have said anything," Dad was now saying. "I’ve gone and upset you, haven’t I?”
“No, Dad, sorry look I appreciate your honesty – it’s just hard to hear that’s all. I’m learning a lot in these last few weeks,” I said.
“Look, Lily these things happen – yes it breaks my heart to have to watch you go through it, but you will come out the other side of it.”
“But what about the separation and potential divorce,” God I hated saying that word, it almost got stuck in my throat every time. “I’m scared, Dad –” I said in a small voice.
“Whatever happens, we’ll get through it.” He squeezed my hand and smiled kindly at me. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Just the way he said the word “we” made me instantly feel better. I rested my head against his shoulder. I was glad now that I had told him. I knew he would help me through it.
“And my job?”
“Well you were wasted in that company anyway – maybe I should have pushed you to do something else with your life before it came to this. But I didn’t want to be an interfering parent, you see?”
“Dad, it’s my own fault, I got lazy. It was handy and paid the bills – but look at this.” I handed him one of my new business cards.
“What’s this, Lily?” he asked puzzled.
“Read it.”
I watched him read the card in confusion.
“It’s my new business venture Baked with Love – I’m setting up a cake making business. I’ll be starting small, just birthday cakes, christening cakes, all that kind of thing – initially I’ll just be doing it from home but if it takes off . . . well who knows . . . I might one day have my name over the front door!” I couldn’t contain the excitement in my voice.
“Well would you look at that!” he studied the business card again. “Well done, Lily – and ‘Company Owner’ if you don’t mind!” Tears pricked his eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said trying to keep my voice level.
“What am I going to tell Clara?”
“You leave Clara to me.”
“I can’t, Dad – no I’m thirty-two years of age, it’s about time I stopped being scared of my older sister.”
Dad smiled at me. “Well I can go with you for the moral support whenever you're feeling up to it, if you want?” he offered.
“That’d be great, thanks, Dad.”
I went home that evening feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. It didn’t seem like the end of the world after all. Yes I was still facing a messy separation, and I had no reliable source of income for the next while until hopefully things took off with Baked with Love, but just talking things out with Dad had really helped. I didn’t feel so alone and the future didn’t seem so bleak any more.
Chapter 15
I had decided to delay telling Clara my news for a while longer. I knew I couldn’t put it off forever, but Dad wouldn’t say anything until I was ready to tell her. I just wanted to get Baked with Love off the ground first, and then at least I would have a bit of good news to help cushion the blow. I had already handed out some fliers to the businesses around Ballyrobin, and I had booked a stand at a local craft fair, which was taking place the following Sunday. I spent the whole week get
ting ready for it and buying ingredients using my last pay cheque from Rapid Response. I spent my days measuring and mixing. Tasting my batters and adding ingredients as necessary where I felt they needed tweaking. I practised my icing on some dummy cakes before making a five-tiered wedding cake with alternating tiers of ivory roses. Then I made a stand of tiered cupcakes with lemon butter cream icing in blue paper cases. I also did a cake in the shape of Thomas the Tank Engine and another one of Peppa Pig. I made multi-coloured macaroons, and I ended up having to make a second batch because I ate most of the first batch. I then did mini crown cakes decorated with pink and blue ribbons and little pairs of bootees on top, which I thought would be really cute for a christening. I hoped I had something to appeal to everyone, and that I had covered all areas of my business.
On the day of the fair, Frankie picked me up in the morning and helped me load the cakes into her car, and I sat in the front seat with the five-tiered wedding cake on my knee. She was going to give me a hand on the stand because I was so nervous. By the time we arrived the cake was beginning to resemble the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but luckily I was able to reassemble the tiers to straighten it up. I set up my table, and covered it with a blue and white gingham tablecloth, while Frankie hung some navy and pink spotted bunting that she had robbed from a shoot over our heads. In the meantime, I cut up samples of lemon Madeira cake, chocolate biscuit, fruit cake and what I hoped would be my speciality, orange cake, into small rectangular pieces and put them into baskets for people to taste. I was so nervous about what people would think and how they would react to my cakes, but Frankie assured me that everything looked great, and more importantly tasted great and to relax and enjoy my unofficial launch party.
The day flew by talking to people. There were couples, families and elderly people visiting the fair - it was a real mix of young and old. I received great feedback when people took a bite of my cakes – everyone loved their buttery texture. Frankie was on fire, she enthusiastically walked around the fair getting people to try my cakes, and she talked about my baking using superlatives that I had never even heard of before. By the end of the day I had an order for three birthday cakes and one christening cake. I spoke with an engaged couple who were interested in my wedding cakes. I was impressed with how enthusiastic the groom was about the whole thing, he listened patiently as I explained how I made the cakes, and he was genuinely interested when I showed him a book with some designs. There was no way Marc would have shown that level of interest if I had brought him to look at wedding cakes, or even any aspect of the wedding planning. In fact his standard reply whenever people asked him was he all set for the wedding was “Of course. Sure all I have to do is to turn up on the day”. I didn’t mind planning our wedding by myself, but looking back on it all now, I suppose I would have liked him to have taken more of an interest in the whole thing like the man before me, instead of leaving me to my own devices. I knew for a fact that the couple in front of me wouldn’t come a cropper like Marc and I - you could see the love between them.
