by Izzy Bayliss
CHAPTER 21
The next morning I headed into the bakery breathing in the cool morning air of the city deep into my lungs. It was my favourite time of the day, everything was calm, still, and sleepy, and I could be alone with my thoughts before the demands of the day took over. I stopped to let a beeping van reverse into a street before going on again. A jogger passed me in long, elegant strides, puffing white clouds into the air in front of him.
Baked with Love looked so pretty bathed in the low winter sun. It was going to be a glorious December day. I set to work loading up the ovens.
Dad came in soon after and began turning out the scones to cool on the wire rack.
“So, have you come back down to Earth yet?” Dad asked. “I hope you don’t mind that I told a few of your aunts and uncles and some of my friends in the golf club. They’re all thrilled for you!”
“At least somebody is!” I said, thinking back to Clara’s reaction the day before.
“Never mind what Clara said, you know what she’s like.”
“You think at this stage I’d be used to her, but she still manages to shock me sometimes.”
“Well, I’m delighted for you both, Lily. I think you and Sam will be very happy together.”
“He called me last night; he’s really excited.”
Dad cocked his head to the side and looked at me quizzically. “And you are too, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Of course . . .”
“Lily, I’m long enough in the tooth to know when something’s up. Come on, spit it out –”
“Oh, Dad,” I sighed, collapsing down onto a chair. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t how you’re supposed to feel after the man you love asks you to marry him –”
“I’ll make us a cuppa,” he said calmly. He busied himself making two mugs of tea before sliding one across the small table towards me when he was finished. “There, get that into you,” he said. “Now are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“I just don’t know, Dad . . .” I said, clasping the mug between my hands. “I mean, I should be excited – I have just got engaged, so I don’t know why I’m not. When Marc proposed, I couldn’t sleep for weeks afterwards just thinking about it all. I was so excited!”
“Sure, I remember it well. I thought you’d taken leave of your senses completely!” He smiled kindly at me.
“But I don’t know . . . I just don’t feel the same way this time.”
“Well, you’re probably a bit more cautious now after everything that happened with Marc. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“But what if that means that Sam is not the one for me, Dad?” I blurted. “I don’t want to have another marriage go down the toilet!”
“Hey now, Lily, you and Sam are great together. It’s just nerves – sure that’s normal after everything you’ve been through with Marc. You’ve a lot going on with the business too, you’re probably just feeling a bit . . . overwhelmed.”
“Do you think, Dad?”
“I know, Lily. Now come on, we’re going to have hungry customers coming through the door in five minutes. Let’s get a move on.”
I stood up from the table and started to get on with the day. Soon I was so busy immersed in the work that I loved that I wasn’t fretting about Sam.
CHAPTER 22
The next few weeks went by in a blur of Christmas preparations. I did everything I could to inject a bit of festive atmosphere into Baked with Love. I lit the stove first thing every morning so that it was always cosy and inviting. I had strewn Christmas decorations across the ceiling. I had used tinned snow to make it look as though the windows were frosted. I made little cake pops in the shape of reindeer heads or star-shaped mince pies, but nothing I did seemed to make a difference. It was so disheartening. Business was still far too slow. Some days, it seemed like it was picking up but other days, especially if the weather was bad, it felt practically empty. The new Starbucks had opened, and every time I passed by, it seemed to be thronged. It was full of cool, young hipsters clicking away on laptops. It made me wonder if maybe I had got my business model all wrong? Maybe people didn’t want somewhere to go and relax. Maybe they didn’t want somewhere homely; maybe they just wanted the convenience of getting their coffee quickly and being able to get some work done in peace. Maybe nobody cared about lovingly crafted pastries. But then when I thought of my small band of loyal customers, people like Mabel and her granddaughter Lottie - I knew they loved this place almost as much as I did. They had become regulars and Mabel and Dad seemed to have struck up a friendship. Every time they came in, while Lottie was dreamily swirling a chocolate spoon through warm milk and biting down on a honey cookie, he would stop by the table and they would have a little chat.
Sam was almost halfway through the secondment now so it seemed like the worst was over us. We both missed each other like crazy but I still felt a sense of anxiety whenever he mentioned the wedding though. I had hoped that after a few weeks of being engaged that I would have grown used to the idea, maybe started to feel excitement about planning a wedding, but every time somebody mentioned the “w” word to me, my heart started racing and I would feel a pain deep in the centre of my chest like the weight of the world was compressed against it. All I could think about was my last engagement – Sam’s proposal had dredged up so many memories and it hurt as much reliving them today as it did when Marc had left me. I was sure I loved him, but I just couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. All I knew was that this feeling wasn’t right.
Sam wouldn’t be able to make it home for Christmas. I had been so disappointed when he had told me. He and Jane had to be back in the office the day after Christmas day so he wouldn’t have any time off. Jane had invited him over to spend Christmas day with her and her partner Lisa who was flying in for Christmas, so at least he wouldn’t be alone. I still cringed every time I thought about how I had accused Sam of sleeping with her.
I was going to spend Christmas at Clara’s house and I was already dreading it. I knew she would waste no time getting a dig in at me about the fact that Baked with Love was struggling, and I was in no humour for her antics.
I was just taking the batch of gingerbread men out of the oven when Clara blustered in through the kitchen door. I had decided to run gingerbread-decorating workshops in the run-up to Christmas and today was the first day. I thought children might enjoy them and it would give the parents a chance to have a hot mug of coffee and maybe a little treat in peace. I had pots of icing, bowls of chocolate chips and jellies to decorate the face, and Smarties to use for the buttons. I was a bundle of nerves wondering if anyone would turn up. I had printed up fliers and put signs in the window. I hoped it might encourage the mothers I saw walking past pushing their buggies with their Starbucks coffees to go to take a chance on Baked with Love. Mabel had taken a stack of fliers with her the last time she was in and promised she’d hand them out at Lottie’s music class.
“Hi Clara, how’re things?” I asked setting the tray down. I noticed that her face was red and her eyes pink. Her usually perfect blow-dried hair hung limply around her face. Dad followed quickly in behind her. “What is it? Are the kids okay?” I said, taking in her disheveled appearance.
She nodded before convulsing into tears. Dad’s face creased in worry. I quickly ushered her to sit down on a chair.
“Oh, Lily –” she sobbed.
“I’ll make tea,” Dad said.
“Tea isn’t going to fix this, Dad!” Clara wailed.
“Clara, please tell me what’s going on!” I was beginning to panic. Clara never lost her composure.
She looked up at me, her eyes full of hurt and despair. “It’s Tom – he’s having an affair!”
I’m embarrassed to say that I laughed. I know it wasn’t the most appropriate reaction to my sister telling me that her husband was having an affair, but Clara had this all wrong. Tom was the least likely man to have an affair.
�
��Now, come on, Clara, I really don’t think that’s true – Tom loves you,” I said, coming over and putting my arm around her.
She shook her head. “I found the proof, Lily – with my own eyes. I found underwear in our bed when I came home from the PTA meeting last night.”
My hands flew up to my mouth. This sounded chillingly familiar. I had found Marc in bed with Nadia, but Tom wasn’t like Marc, Tom was well . . . Tom.
“Oh, Clara – no! Are you sure they’re not yours?”
Dad looked mortified. “I’ll . . . eh . . . just keep an eye out here,” he said eager to escape the kitchen.
“Please, Lily,” she spat. “I have taste – these were hideous – red . . . polyester – awful things that would be liable to give you a fungal infection down there. He’s been working late too. I suppose I’ve just been so busy with the boys and helping you out here that I wasn’t paying him as much attention as I should have been so he decided to run off into the arms of another woman.” Her whole body crumpled as more tears spilled down her face.
“Oh, Clara, I’m sorry.” I didn’t think now was the time to point out that it was only for one day that she helped me out in Baked with Love.
“I can’t believe he would do it in our house – in our own bed of all places! Oh, it’s just disgusting.” She dissolved into tears again. I found a paper napkin and handed it to her to dry her eyes.
“Have you confronted him?”
She shook her head. “It’s just been such a shock – I need time to gather myself together before I do anything. I need to work out what my next move will be.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the napkin.
It sounded as though she was playing a game of chess rather than dealing with her husband’s infidelity.
“You need to talk to him, Clara, find out exactly what happened.” I remembered how hurt I had felt when I had found Marc in bed with Nadia, I was reeling with the shock and I wasn’t thinking straight for months afterwards, but her situation was different to mine – they had two children together. Clara was angry now, but playing games wasn’t going to help anyone. She needed to be honest with Tom and perhaps they could work things out for the sake of Jacob and Joshua.
“Tom is a wealthy man, very wealthy. He’s also clever. I’ve read about these sorts of men, they have money squirrelled away in places you wouldn’t believe – offshore accounts, share options, you name it, they have it. They have their exit strategy all planned. Well, I’m going to be one step ahead of him. I’m not going to go rushing in and give all my cards away, no, I’m going to play the long game. I’m going to do some surveillance on him first –” she paused and raised her head to look me straight in the eye, “and then I’m going to ruin him.” I actually felt frightened for Tom. Clara would make a formidable opponent. I would never, ever cross her.
“Oh, Clara, just take it one step at a time. You have two children together. You need to talk to him first and hear his side of the story.”
“There is only one side in this story – mine. I’ve given Tom everything – I’ve sacrificed my career, I have put all my energy into raising our two boys as wonderful human beings. I run a lovely home, I cook nutritious food for us all, and this is how he repays me? He has taken my best years and traded them in for a bit of jiggy with some slapper who should know better. The boys need to be provided for; I have to do it for them.”
“But things might get really nasty if you go snooping through Tom’s affairs. If this is the end, you don’t want to have an acrimonious break-up; it’ll be awful for you and Tom but even worse for the boys. You need to work it out with him first - see if you can salvage your marriage . . . go to counselling. It doesn’t have to be over –”
“Oh yes, it does - nobody deceives me.”
“So what’s your next step?”
“I’ve already hired a forensic accountant to investigate his transactions.”
“Be careful, Clara,” I warned. “This could get really messy.”
She pursed her lips together. “As the saying goes ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,’ and Tom will rue the day he ever crossed me.”
CHAPTER 23
Clara was a woman on a mission; she forensically checked Tom’s phone records and then scoured his home office for clues. When that turned up nothing, she looked for bills for a second phone. She even searched his car to see if she could find evidence of his affair.
Her accountant had reported back on Tom’s finances, which turned up a very large sum of money sequestered in an account in the Bahamas that Clara hadn’t known about. This she reckoned was proof that he was living a double life; it was all the evidence she needed. I had asked her whether she was going to confront him now that she had unrooted his finances, but she had looked at me with a glint of madness in her eyes.
“Oh no, Lily,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve only just begun. By the time I’m done, Tom will wish he had never looked twice at the red-knickered tramp!”
Dad and I still couldn’t believe Tom would do something like that – this was Tom we were talking about – the most mild-mannered, patient man in Ireland. In fact, he always seemed kind of afraid of Clara. I couldn’t even imagine where he would have got the balls to conduct an extramarital relationship. Dad had asked Clara several times if she was sure they were knickers she had found and not a bit that had fallen off one of the Christmas garlands that were lavishly draped around her house. I thought that was a stretch myself, but I knew what Dad meant, Tom was the last person I would have expected to have an affair, but it just shows – it’s always the ones that you least suspect.
It was three days before Christmas and I was standing at the coffee machine as it hissed air into the milk when a voice from behind me said, “Surprise!”
I swung around and could not believe it when I saw Sam was standing there in front of me.
“Oh my God!” I said, throwing down the jug. “How did you get here?”
“It’s been so hard not to tell you, but I wanted it to be a surprise. Did you really think I’d let you spend Christmas without me?”
“Oh, Sam! This is just amazing.” Tears filled my eyes and I ran around from behind the counter and flung my arms around his neck. “Come into the kitchen.”
We ran in and embraced again. I needed to touch him to make sure he really was here and that it wasn’t just a dream. Dad’s head swung around from bench. “Sam? What the hell are you doing here?” he said, grinning. He walked over and clapped him on the back. “Welcome home!”
“Christmas isn’t Christmas without the people we love,” Sam said, beaming at me.
“You auld romantic you!” Dad said. “So how long will you be here for?”
“I leave again on the twenty-eighth, but I’m not even going to think about that now.”
“I just can’t believe you’re here!” I said, squeezing him.
Just then the oven beeped. “Hang on a sec,” I said, peeling myself off him and sticking on some oven gloves. “I’d better take these out now or they’ll burn. They’re for the workshop later.”
Soon the air was filled with the festive aroma of ginger. As I whizzed around the kitchen busily prepping for the workshop, I kept stopping to stare at him, afraid he was going to disappear again. Sam chatted excitedly about all the things we could do now that we would be spending Christmas together.
“Sorry, can I get into that cupboard behind you there?”
He stepped to the side out of my way.
“Thanks,” I said. “Actually, I need to get into this one now.” He moved aside again.
“I’m getting in your way, aren’t I?”
“No, of course not,” I lied. “I wish I didn’t have to work,” I sighed and laid my head against his chest. It felt so good to have him physically here.
“Hey, don’t worry,” he said, wrapping me into his arms. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to just drop everything and hang out with me. I’ve some shopping to do anyway.”
“W
ell, once I close the doors of this place on Christmas Eve, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” I reached up and planted a kiss on his lips. “We’re going to have the best Christmas ever!”
CHAPTER 24
After Dad had gone home that evening, I went into the kitchen and made up the mixtures for the following day’s bakes. I tried to work as fast as I could but it was still after nine when I finally got home. I hopped on my bike and hurried home through the city streets, excited to know that instead of going back to an empty apartment, Sam would be waiting for me.
When I came through the door, the hearty smell of a rich casserole greeted me and music was playing softly. The lights were dimmed, and the table was set for two. Tea lights flicked inside their glass holders where Sam had scattered them around the room. “This is gorgeous, Sam. The food smells divine!” I said, getting the rich smell of whatever was bubbling on the hob.
“It’s coq au vin.”
“Mmmh!”
“You’re worth it, fiancée.” He handed me a glass of champagne, and we clinked glasses and sat down.
“It’s so nice not to be coming home to a cold, empty apartment,” I said as he wrapped his arms around me.
“So how was your day?”
“Well, I had a few more kids at the gingerbread workshop today so I guess word of mouth is spreading . . . slowly.” I sighed heavily. I had been hoping to get between fifteen and twenty children at each class, but I was a long way off. I knew these things took time to catch on. But how much time? It seemed I was giving it my all and everything I did to try and bring customers in through the door never really took off.
