Chapter 5
I was coming home after an evening of working late, and jazz music trickled down the steps to the flat. When I got upstairs, I found Amber sitting at a stool in the kitchen, stirring some cake mixture.
‘Hey, there,’ I said, calling out to her. She smiled and turned down the volume on the iPod dock. ‘What are you making?’
‘Chocolate and raspberry torte,’ she said. ‘Fancy some when it’s finished?’
‘God yes,’ I said, settling down on the sofa. ‘Thank you.’
‘How was work?’ Amber asked.
‘OK,’ I said. After I’d sorted Emma’s expenses – a muddle of receipts and scrawled notes that she needed changed into cash ‘urgently’, Josh and I had stayed talking through potential locations.
‘I’ve flagged up a brilliant place to film with the locations department and I’m really hoping they’ll choose it. A country manor down in Sussex.’
‘Sounds interesting.’ She paused for a moment. ‘You know, Hazel, I’m sorry about—’ Amber glanced down. ‘One of the other assistants mentioned something the other day. About how Tim’s job . . . Well, how you have been due a promotion for a while.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said. ‘It’s hardly your fault.’
‘No, but it doesn’t seem right. It really doesn’t. I can see how much everyone there respects you and your work.’
‘This stuff happens,’ I said, ‘It’s starting to dawn on me that maybe, in spite of what she’s said, it kind of suits Emma having me where I am.’
‘She seems to rely on you a lot.’
‘She’s been going through a difficult time.’ And it had been going on for nearly a year, I thought. I didn’t want to dwell on the topic much longer. I wanted to try and stay positive about it all. ‘How are you settling in, anyway?’
‘It’s good,’ Amber said. ‘In some ways not that different really, given that Tim and I have been working together for years. People seem nice. Money’s crap, of course, but nothing new there.’
‘Yep. And there are perks, obviously . . .’ I said, the same thing I’d been saying to myself since I started.
‘Yes. Of course,’ Amber said.
‘But it would be nice not to have to get Value orange juice once in a while, maybe splash out on a top that wasn’t from H&M?’
‘Exactly.’ She nodded, laughing. ‘And sometimes I wonder if it might be fun to do something else, on the side. Talking of that, how’s the wedding planning going?’
Amber had caught me more than once, the glow of my iPad still strong at two or three in the morning as I scoped out venues and dresses for Lila’s wedding. Even with the late notice, I’d found a couple of really interesting places where ceremonies could be conducted – the one my heart was set on was the ballet school where she’d first had dance lessons. I was waiting to hear back from them on availability.
‘I’m sure you’ll do a brilliant job,’ Amber said, taking the wooden spoon from the mixture and passing it to me. I dipped my finger into the remaining mixture and tasted it – indulgent and sweet, with layers of flavour. Pretty near perfect. I nodded my approval. I thought of what she’d just said and felt the sudden weight of responsibility.
‘Thank you. I’m hopeful I can give her and Ollie the wedding they want. But that doesn’t mean I’m not terrified, obviously.’
Amber smiled warmly, and I started to laugh. As I did, I felt the tension that had been building up over the past week start to slip away. And the flat – maybe, just maybe, it was starting to feel like home again.
The following Friday night, I went around for dinner at Ollie and Lila’s mews house, a short walk from my place, down the main street and then onto a cobbled alleyway. I knocked on the door and Lila ushered me inside. Ollie’s place had always been nice, even when Ollie was living there with his best friend – and soon to be best man, Eliot, and the only real furniture they had was a black faux-leather sofa. But with Lila’s decorative touches, it had turned into a beautiful, stylish home. Lila had decorated the living room with black and white prints of her favourite ballets and musicals, and cornflowers in antique apothecary bottles on the window sills and open shelving added a splash of colour.
Ollie dished up sea bass with a mango and watercress salad. ‘Here you go, Hazel. Thanks for stepping in and saving us, by the way.’
‘It’s a pleasure,’ I said, with a smile.
Lila passed me the guest list to look over. ‘Here are the people we want to invite.’
‘This is final?’ I asked them, taking a sip of cool white wine as my eyes drifted over the long list of names.
‘Oh, and the other side too,’ Lila said, pointing to the paper.
I flipped it over to see another half-page of names.
‘It’s practically final, yes.’ Ollie said. ‘Eliot you know, right?’
I nodded. I’d met Ollie’s best man a couple of times, and he happened to work at the same city bank as Ben. I still found it slightly mind-boggling, how a city could be so big, and so small at once.
‘Well he and his fiancée Gemma will be on the top table too. You said you might want to add a couple of people, didn’t you, Lila?’
‘I’m thinking about it,’ she said. ‘Rehearsals have just brought me really close to a couple of the other dancers, Raoul and Adele, and I think I’d like to invite them, if we have space, plus ones for both.’
I tore my attention away from the extremely long list, and working out what I was going to do about it, for a moment.
‘So things are going well with the show?’ I asked.
‘There’s such a friendly atmosphere,’ Lila enthused, ‘and the director knows how to get the best from everyone.’
‘Great. Right, so I’ll pencil in Raoul and Adele, and then in terms of what you’ve already got, that’s, erm . . .’ I did a quick mental calculation, then scribbled down the result. ‘One hundred and sixty adults and twenty children.’ I shook my head. ‘This isn’t good. None of the venues on my shortlist will fit that many people.’
‘One hundred and sixty?’ Lila gawped. ‘I didn’t realise it was that many.’
Ollie turned to her. ‘We said we didn’t even want a big wedding.’
‘I know,’ she agreed. ‘And we don’t. Perhaps I should have added up as we went along. God, how did it come to that many?’
‘Well, you’ve given Mum and Dad plus eight, and there are all of Grandma Joyce’s neighbours on here too.’
‘Maybe cut that back a bit,’ Lila said. ‘I must have been in a really generous mood when I wrote that.’
‘We were a couple of glasses of wine down, I think,’ Ollie added.
‘And you’ve got Brandy and Graham, from the village library. Do you really need them there?’
‘They’ve known us since we were tiny,’ Lila protested. ‘I mean how could I not . . .’
‘And the optician?’
‘I’ve always liked him.’ She smiled.
I went through the list with my pencil, drawing a thick line through the names of anyone I felt didn’t absolutely have to be there. Lila reached out a hand to stop me but I shooed her away. This was a cruel-to-be-kind moment, if ever I saw one.
‘Last thing. Is Ben going to use his plus one?’ I asked tentatively.
‘I don’t know if he’s even coming himself, yet,’ Lila said, looking hurt.
‘OK. Well, we’ll deal with that one later. We can pare this down a lot with just the people we’ve already discussed.’
‘Oh God, though,’ Lila said, her brow creased with concern. ‘We’re bound to upset someone.’
‘They’ll understand. It’s for the greater good,’ I told her. ‘I’ve seen your budget and it’s not going to stretch to this, not even if you have it in the community centre.’
‘We’re not doing that,’ Lila said, horrified.
‘Of course we’re not.’
‘One hundred and ten,’ I said proudly, passing the list to them. Lila and Ollie read thro
ugh it, nodding and sharing the occasional anxious look.
‘I’m happy if you are,’ Ollie said, looking at Lila.
‘Just take it,’ Lila said, passing it back. ‘Don’t let me look at it again. It’s got to be all about quick decisions, I know that.’
‘Brilliant,’ I said, with satisfaction. ‘Can I show you the invites now?’
‘Yes, please,’ Lila said, the smile returning to her lips.
I took one last glance at the list before putting it away and a name jumped out at me. I don’t know how I’d missed it the first time.
My breath caught, and my chest felt tight.
Then a trace of hope rose up in me filling my lungs with light – that damned hope that stopped me drawing a line under the whole messy thing.
Sam was on the list.
‘You’re inviting Sam?’ I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
‘ We were planning to ask him to the evening do,’ Lila said. ‘Is that awkward? We don’t have to, I mean, if it would make you feel uncomfortable.’
‘No,’ I reassured her.
‘Why, who’s Sam?’ Ollie asked, his interest piqued.
‘No one,’ I said quietly.
‘Hazel’s best friend from home,’ Lila said. ‘ We saw him from a distance when we were back in Bidcombe. She made a pass at him last Christmas—’
‘LILA,’ I snapped, furious.
‘Sorry, that came out wrong,’ Lila said.
Ollie held his hands up, embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry I asked. Forget I mentioned it.’
Silence fell, and Lila glanced down, her cheeks flushed.
‘It was a long time ago,’ I explained to Ollie. ‘And I’m sure – if we do see each other at the wedding – everything will be completely back to normal. It was one drunken moment, that’s all.’
Lila’s gaze met mine, urging me to accept her unspoken apology.
‘ We don’t have to invite him,’ she said. ‘ We really don’t. It’s just . . . I’ve known him a long time, but I guess only through you.’
‘Of course he should come,’ I said. ‘Can I put this away now?’ I held the list up. ‘No more changes?’
‘Sure,’ Ollie nodded.
I put it away in my wedding folder. Next to it was a collage of different cake ideas. ‘How about we talk about something altogether more interesting? The cake. Or should I say cakes – because it always seems strange to me that on such an important day you’d only celebrate with one.’
Ollie smiled. ‘Now, I’ve had a few ideas about this.’
Chapter 6
I glanced at the space I’d allocated in my diary for today, Sunday: Wedding Cake day.
I made some breakfast and sat at the kitchen table with my French toast, fruit and coffee, browsing the websites of the country’s most highly respected wedding bakers. Traditional tiered cakes vied for my attention alongside rich, indulgent gateaux, minimalist macaroon towers and delicate, delectable-looking French tarts and pastries. Cakes were the make or break element in a wedding, as far as I was concerned – they had the power to turn a day from great into absolutely unforgettable. Then I looked at some of the prices, and my happy helium balloon leaked a little air.
‘I could do that,’ Amber said, reading over my shoulder. ‘That one would be fairly easy.’
She jabbed her finger at the screen, pointing to a layered chocolate and raspberry cake, laden with forest fruits.
I looked up at her. ‘I didn’t realise you were awake already. Do you want some French toast? I can whip up some more, if you’d like.’
‘No – don’t worry. I’ve already had breakfast,’ she said. ‘But I’m serious, Hazel. This is for your sister’s wedding, right? They shouldn’t throw their money away on that stuff. They all just whack on an extra fifty per cent when you mention the word wedding, and you don’t get anything for it. I could make her an incredible cake. Actually so could you, come to think of it.’
Now Amber mentioned it, perhaps it was worth considering. I’d just had confirmation that the ballet school had availability in August, for the date Lila and Ollie wanted. The only down point was that the elegant venue was going to eat into Lila and Ollie’s savings considerably. But there were cutbacks we could make elsewhere, and perhaps this was one of them.
‘Fancy a Sunday bake-off?’ I dared Amber. ‘We could both give it our best shot and then I’ll invite Lila and Ollie around to taste?’
‘You’re on,’ Amber said.
Amber chose a disco playlist on her iPod and pulled her dark hair up into a ponytail, pushing her glasses up her nose. ‘Right, H. Are you ready?’
I did up the straps on my apron and double-checked the equipment I had on the kitchen counter. Pablo leapt up onto the kitchen counter and I moved him off, scolding him gently.
‘We’ve got two hours, start to finish, right?’ I asked.
‘That’s right.’
‘OK, ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.’
‘Car Wash’ played out from the speakers and Amber and I got to work, whisking and scooping, stirring and scraping. We worked beside each other, and although we were barely talking, it was relaxed and companionable. It wasn’t living with my sister – and it never would be. But I was starting, in small ways, to enjoy it. Incidentally, that did not mean I was going to let her win. No way.
I tried to resist the temptation to look over at what she was doing, but sometimes it proved too much. She seemed to be doing something incredibly complicated with meringue and one of those caramel-gold sugar cages over blueberries.
I’d gone for a light lemon and poppyseed, and the more I looked at it, rising gently in the oven, the more convinced I was that I’d made totally the wrong choice. I’d opted for something that my sister might feasibly take a bite of but it just wasn’t celebratory enough. It said Tuesday, Thursday, not – the Biggest and Best Day of your Life. When I got it out of the oven my faith was restored a tiny bit, as my nostrils met with the sweet, enticing aroma. Perhaps something could be simple, but be special too.
I put the cake on a wire rack to cool, standing back for a moment to get some perspective on my effort.
‘Ta-da,’ Amber said quietly, smiling as she pointed to her cake.
I turned and took in her creation – swirls of meringue meeting glazed berries, linked with delicate wires of spun sugar, tier on tier. It was a dream of a wedding cake. It was a vision.
‘Amber,’ I said. ‘I think you’ve just knocked this one out of the park.’
By the time Lila and Ollie arrived I was entirely sure my cake didn’t stand a chance next to Amber’s creation. Hers wasn’t just a cake – it was art.
‘I’m afraid Amber’s pipped you to the post,’ Ollie said, licking his spoon.
‘Yours was delicious, too, Hazel,’ my sister said, ‘but I agree with Ollie – Amber, you’ve got a real talent for this.’
My pride was taking a bit of a hit. Baking was something I’d always considered myself pretty OK at. I hadn’t expected to be baking Lila and Ollie’s wedding cake – that was always going to be out of my league – but it was my thing. Now Amber was better than me at it, a lot better.
‘Where did you learn to bake like this?’ Ollie asked politely, reading my mind. Amber and I had talked about all sorts of things at work and yet, strangely never this. I’d assumed she was self-taught, like me.
‘I have to admit I’ve had a bit of an advantage,’ she said. ‘My mum runs a cake shop. She trained me up.’
‘Now you tell me,’ I said, turning to her with a smile.
‘I know. Naughty of me really,’ she said. ‘But I was in the mood for a bake-off and I didn’t want you backing out.’
‘Where’s the shop?’ Lila asked.
‘In Sherbourne, near my family home. I grew up with ovens full of delicious baking smells, and last-minute panics as Mum got cakes ready.’
I saw a flicker of concern pass over my sister’s face, and the corners of her mouth turned down.
‘Don
’t worry, Lila.’ I reassured her. ‘That won’t happen with you.’
‘Of course it won’t.’ Amber said, confidently. ‘It’s all in the planning.’
Ollie and Lila looked at each other and appeared to silently agree on something, in that telepathic way they’d developed. That communication that was meant to be exclusive to twins and yet she now seemed to have with him.
‘Would you do it, Amber?’ Lila said. ‘Would you be able to make our cake? We’d love it if you could.’
Someone once told me that the best business-people are the ones who are willing to take on staff who are more gifted than they are. Who can put their pride aside. I reminded myself of that. Having Amber on the team could be the best thing that ever happened for Lila’s wedding.
Amber looked at me, gauging my reaction.
‘Of course you should do it,’ I said.
Amber smiled broadly. ‘Great!’
Chapter 7
On Monday, back in the office, Amber and I laid out the remainder of the cake samples in the kitchen at work. Word rapidly got around and people drifted up from their desks, taking slices and stopping to chat as the kettle boiled.
‘This is incredible,’ Josh said, taking a slice of lemon drizzle.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Glad you like it.’
‘You two have something here, I think.’
‘Thank you.’
‘If I were planning a wedding . . .’ He let the sentence trail off.
‘Are you?’
‘No,’ he said hurriedly. ‘I mean well, maybe some day. If my family get their way.’
‘Well. Bear us in mind,’ I said. ‘Although by the time that happens I’m confident you won’t be able to afford us.’
‘A little bit to the left,’ Emma said, watching as I accessorised the set for Christmas at the Manor later that day. ‘Nope – back to the right.’
I took a breath and moved the candlestick back where I had put it in the first place. As I did so, I felt someone looking at me and glanced up to meet Josh’s eye. He was standing over by the doorway, and smiled, giving a quick wink of solidarity as I followed Emma’s increasingly inconsistent instructions.
The Winter Wedding Page 5
