by Sue Watson
‘I finally got a text from Anouska last night, she seems fine and made me feel so much better about everything,’ Tamsin announced after selling a huge amount of gingerbread and cupcakes to the ladies and taking several big Christmas orders from them. She was smiling, and leaning against the counter.
My stomach lurched. I’d never trusted Anouska and the fact she only texted and never called kind of confirmed that for me. I was convinced she’d simply been pumping Tamsin for information about her money and her marriage to take back to the other ‘Real Housewives of Chantray Lane.’
I didn’t want to spoil Tamsin’s happiness. Anouska might be a good friend, but I’d seen the way she looked at Simon when we were last at one of Tamsin’s candlelit suppers – and it had irritated me. So I kept quiet and just agreed that it was great they were back in touch.
The following morning Tamsin appeared in the bakery at seven a.m. in top to toe glowing in midnight blue Gucci. This was her first day delivering with Gabe and she had that old spring in her step.
‘Looking good. You’re back girlfriend,’ I said, offering up my hand in a high five.
She waggled her arm a bit, not sure quite what to do and giggled like a schoolgirl.
‘Don’t leave her hanging,’ Gabe laughed. He and I had filled the van and he was waiting, arms folded, by the door, like her driver (it might have been quicker if Tamsin had helped us load, but – baby steps). I noticed a look pass between them and wondered if my sister’s new-found glow had something to do with Gabe’s presence.
Tamsin disappeared to put her lipstick on and I followed Gabe outside into the early morning white-out.
‘I’m so grateful for this, Gabe,’ I said, leaning on the back of his truck. ‘I’ll pay you once we get... sorted.’ He was rolling another fag and waiting for Tamsin.
‘I don’t mind at all, Sam, I don’t want the petrol money, I’m doin it for Tammy... about time someone treated her right.’
I saw the look in his eyes as he pulled on his cigarette; there was something almost mystical about Gabe. Tamsin said he’d arrived in the snow like an angel (which was a bit of theatrical licence because he’d been hanging around since late Autumn) and she was right – he had that faraway look and I wondered if he actually had genuine feelings for Tamsin and wasn’t quite the player we all thought he was.
* * *
With deliveries now back on thanks to Tamsin and Gabe, I was feeling much more positive about the The White Angel Bakery’s future. Tamsin was so on board with everything and despite being irritating and in my face at times, I really appreciated all her help and decided to show her my appreciation the only way I could.
‘So I have been thinking about... the bakery, and your situation – and Christmas and I just wonder if the answer is in front of us,’ I said, when she returned from deliveries later that day.
She gave a puzzled look. ‘The mere mention of Christmas sends a jolt of spiky tinsel through my veins Sam,’ she sighed. ‘I had planned so much, booked caterers, venues, guests. Now it’s all cancelled, and most of the time I can cope, but there are moments when I am overwhelmed by it all and just can’t face what has happened to me.’
‘I know – and I just think that you deserve more, you deserve a purpose and a future and we should embrace the fact we’ve been thrown together in adversity. Why don’t you come into the business with me... we can be partners. What do you think?’
I thought Tamsin was going to cry. Her eyes filled up and she hugged me so tight it almost hurt.
‘Sam I would love that.’
‘Okay, let’s shake on it. But I think we need to talk about parameters,’ I said, giving her a look.
She nodded eagerly, like a little girl who’d just been told if she was good Santa would come.
‘I am the boss in the kitchen... but I just think your talents for organising and PR will be invaluable – oh but you still have to do deliveries indefinitely,’ I added, before she got carried away and started employing staff.
‘Yes of course,’ her eyes were twinkling. ‘I adore being here and helping out and I’d love to think that I could keep doing that. The bakery is a sanctuary to me... but Sam, how can I be a partner? I have no money.’
‘You don’t need money to join me in the family business - you’re family,’ I said. Now get the kettle on – you’re also the tea girl.
18
Desperate Housewives and Cheshire’s Chattering Classes
Tamsin
The deliveries went well with Gabe, he drove safely, (only touched my knee once, and sadly I think that was unintentional) and we were back at the bakery by eleven. I have to admit I was a tad disappointed when he pulled up outside and just said he’d see me same time tomorrow. As I climbed out of the truck and waved coquettishly, he set off into the whiteness and my heart flopped a little into the snow.
The last time we’d been alone together he’d pushed me face down into designer cushions and given me a questionable but skilled and delicious massage. Now it was like we were back to the beginning, he being polite almost monosyllabic and me being vaguely in charge and keeping my silk pants on throughout.
‘Did he try anything on?’ Sam asked as soon as I walked in. We knew what a tart he was and I was almost embarrassed to admit he didn’t.
‘What’s wrong with me, Sam? He’s had every desperate housewife in Cheshire – rumour has it he even had Mrs Robinson who teaches Jacob – and let’s face it, she’s no porn star.’
Sam just laughed. ‘I think you should give it time. Perhaps he thinks you’re better than a quick one up against the trellis?’
‘Oh I do hope not,’ I laughed. ‘I was looking forward to that trellis.’ I surprised myself these days, I was becoming quite vulgar, but Sam thought I was hilarious.
* * *
Later that day I asked Mrs J if she fancied a last hurrah at the house. ‘There’s still some stuff to take and we can dust all the furniture while we’re there and Heddon and Hall said they’d come and collect it later,’ I explained.
Mrs J was up for it. She said she’d had enough cupcakes to last a lifetime and longed to clean something that wasn’t covered in jam or lubricants. I think she was referring to cooking oil, but I didn’t ask just in case – who knew what Mrs J had seen on her cleaning journey through the bedrooms of the chattering classes of Cheshire?
Sam gave me the afternoon off and we grabbed a lift off ‘our Lawrence’, who didn’t say one word as he drove us the ten minutes to my old place. He didn’t even say hello or goodbye, he didn’t need to, his wife spoke for both of them, and ended every sentence with ‘didn’t you, Lawrence?’ I sat in the back and wondered if he was dead and she’d just propped him up against the steering wheel, his foot resting on the accelerator. Mrs J would never have noticed his lack of response and just continued to talk until we got there.
Once inside my old home, I stood in the hall, waiting for homesickness to fall over me like a veil. I’d felt so unmoved last time I visited, but I was numb then from everything that had happened - surely this time I would feel something? I gazed at my lovely film star stairs, ran my hands along the perfect Farrow and Ball-painted walls and waited. Nothing. I still felt nothing. It was a very beautiful house but it didn’t fill me with longing as I imagined it would. The pale grey ‘Elephant’s Breath’ walls weren’t as stunning as I’d remembered. They whispered to me of a time in my life when I was very unhappy and very alone.
I turned to the Christmas tree, still here, dressed in white, waiting like Miss Havisham for her groom to arrive. I breathed in the scent of pine forests, hoping for that Christmas hit. I waited, I looked – I breathed in only sadness for what might have been.
Wandering through the empty rooms, I tried to dig deep and find some good times... they were in here somewhere, weren’t they? I wasn’t unhappy all the time. I thought of the parties in the big room, family birthdays at the kitchen table, cosy, suppers straight from the Aga. Then I remembered one of the parties –
it was Christmas and Simon had come home late, I was stressed, the caterers had let me down and so had my hair. I looked and felt dreadful with a cold and while everyone laughed and drank and glittered around me I just sneezed and wanted to go to bed. Simon had been vile to me and I had no idea why – I don’t remember much about that party except the fact that no one could find Simon when I fainted.
But yes there were some great times in this family kitchen, I thought, walking through my bespoke clotted cream nirvana. The children were small when we’d moved here so there had been lots of birthdays, some parties on the lawn with balloons and a children’s entertainer. Then Mrs J would make pizzas and we’d have amazing birthday cakes shaped like castles, tanks and fairy tale princesses. But as hard as I tried to recollect, I couldn’t remember one of the kids’ parties where Simon had been present.
And those cosy kitchen suppers I’d seen in middle class homes on TV that I’d try to recreate? Simon would turn up late from work, say he’d already eaten and there’d be a row about it. He’d end up storming off to bed and I’d sit on my own, playing with a seafood linguine and finishing off the wine.
I realised then – Simon had left me long before that night. Our marriage had broken up years before and I had just been too busy worrying about interior colour schemes and the latest handbag to notice... or perhaps that was why I obsessed about those things? Because there was nothing else.
I made a cup of tea for me and Mrs J. I saw Mimi’s picture glow on my phone for the third time that afternoon. When would she get the message that however low I was in the Real Housewife hierarchy, I could never be friends with a lucky lap dancer. I turned my phone off, but as I poured boiling water on the tea bags, I thought about how awful it must have been for Mimi never to be accepted into Chantray Lane. I was getting a taste of that now and it was so horrible I wondered how I could continue to do the same to Mimi... yet at the back of my mind I wondered if I could trust her. Had Anouska and Phaedra finally accepted Mimi and asked her to find out what was happening with me? I couldn’t believe that my old friends didn’t want to know what I was doing, how I was feeling, even if only to discuss with everyone else.
That day at the house, I’d felt nothing – but I went back to the bakery and I felt arms around me.
From the moment I walked into the little shop, it felt like a cosy sanctuary from the big cold world. It made me realise I had to stop haunting my old house like a ghost returning to the empty rooms, re-living the past. It was time to let it go.
‘This is our future now,’ Sam had said. ‘We can make all our dreams come true in this place of bricks and mortar... and love and cake.’
I was touched, this had been my sister’s dream and now she was sharing it all with me, and for the first time in my life I felt like I belonged.
By asking me to be her partner in the bakery Sam had given me a future and I was determined to embrace it and forget about the past. My kids had flown the nest (along with my husband) and though I had very little, I was actually happy in the present, and I wasn’t sure I ever had been before. I wasn’t lusting after the latest season’s clothes, the newest kitchen gadget, the most fabulous holiday. I just enjoyed helping Sam, I loved the warm scent of cinnamon, vanilla and contentment that permeated the air around me - and for the first time in a long time I felt useful. Spending time with Gabe was good for my soul too and in his own way he made me feel desired. The awkwardness of the first few deliveries had settled into something more flirty and each morning I’d climb in his cab and he’d tell me I was hot and I’d say it was my age and we’d laugh. I loved to watch him lifting the huge trays of cakes with ease and waltzing to the door or entrance and imagine what it would be like to sleep with him. Sam said I should be more upfront, but I didn’t consider it ladylike to proposition him to a quick one in a truck full of festive patisserie. So we just continued to tease each other and flirt and I would glance discreetly at his denim thighs as he drove, but despite us having great fun and a frisson fizzling between us, he never once leaped on me or suggested we do anything inappropriate in his truck. To my deep disappointment.
19
Fairy Lights and Frosty Windows
Sam
We worked incredibly hard over the next few days – Christmas orders were coming in and we virtually lived by the big oven, making tea, chatting, looking at recipes, laughing at silly things that only sisters can share.
Since Tamsin had been pulling her weight and helping out our relationship had definitely improved. She now had a purpose, a future and it was good for her. Spending time with Gabe seemed to suit her too. According to Tamsin nothing had happened between them, but he was a good influence on her. Gabe kept her grounded and stopped her from taking herself too seriously, which had been one of her worst flaws.
We had a routine of putting on the kettle at midnight, making a pot of tea and sitting by the fairy lights to have a break together while baking for the next day. It felt so Christmassy just sitting by the window, looking out onto the snowy white square framed by white fairy lights and frosty windows.
‘I’ve never known it snow for so long,’ I sighed, sipping my tea.
‘It started when the bailiffs came,’ she said.
It had all seemed so unreal since then, so many changes. It was like the snow had brought with it an ending but also a new beginning.
‘God, it feels like months ago, but it’s only two weeks. What do you miss?’ I asked.
‘Nothing,’ She said, without hesitation.
‘Really? But what about Simon and your friends?’
‘I don’t miss any of them. Simon’s called the kids, he’s been trying to call me too. He left messages saying he wants me back, we were meant to be together.’
I was surprised. ‘You wouldn’t go back with him would you?’ I asked.
‘No... he doesn’t want me and I don’t want him. He’s just panicking I’ll take him for everything he’s got in a divorce – but he doesn’t have anything,’ she laughed. I don’t miss him, but I miss the early days together when we’d first met and we were both so vital and enthusiastic, our whole future laid out before us.’
‘Yeah... I remember that with Steve. But I’ve had to remind myself that’s all it is – a memory, a lovely memory to add to the photo album in your head. Take it out, look at it – but don’t let it hold you back.’
I heard myself and smiled. I should start practising what I preached – it made perfect sense for both of us to leave our pasts behind, not to forget, but to face them and move forward.
I was just thinking about this when my phone rang, it was a number I didn’t know and when I answered a voice said, ‘Hi this is Tamsin’s friend, Mimi.’
‘Oh, hi Mimi,’ I looked at Tamsin, who had a puzzled expression on her face. ‘Tamsin’s not with me right now – but I’ll get her to call you,’ I said. ‘She’d love to hear from you I’m sure.’
I came off the phone and Tamsin looked cross.
‘Look, she just wants to find out if you can make it to her party. She’s worried about you – she hasn’t seen or heard from you and she says she misses you.’
‘Really? She didn’t want to gossip about my situation? Didn’t ask how much we owed? Or the phone number of my favourite caterer?’
‘No Tam, she’s what normal people call a friend... and I think she genuinely cares about your welfare.’
Tamsin seemed surprised and even a little flattered.
‘She was a lap dancer, you know,’ she said, almost to herself.
‘So what? I did a bit of dancing when I worked in Spain.’
Tamsin clutched the worktops like she’d been stabbed – the diva was never far away.
‘I didn’t take my clothes off, but I danced with men, lured them to the bar and got them to buy drinks.’
‘Why?’
‘I was paid by the club to do it. I stood outside the club with leaflets and flirted and guys spent their money – it’s not quite the same, but it wasn’t a
ny better than lap dancing.’
‘Oh my God, Sam.’ She looked at me warily. ‘Is there anything else you want to share.’
‘Apart from my time as a prostitute in Berlin and a drug addict in Amsterdam?’
‘I take it that’s a joke?’
I nodded.
‘So all this time, I’ve been blackballing Mimi from every social event while welcoming my sister, the bar room dancer?’
I nodded.
We looked at each other for a few seconds, then she started laughing and I joined in and before long we were holding on to each other, tears of laughter rolling down our cheeks.
‘I told you, Tam, you should never judge a book by its cover... you don’t know everyone’s story – even mine. Have some humility... Mimi was a lap dancer, not a murderer.’
She was still laughing. ‘Give me her number – I’d better give her a call. I’ll tell her my sister’s looking for a lap dancing partner – you two could start your own act.’
