by Izzy Bayliss
“Hey, don’t get too far ahead of yourself, let’s take one day at a time,” Frankie soothed. “First things first though, you need to tell Sam –”
I nodded. “I know.”
“Call him, he might surprise you.”
“I doubt it.”
We were interrupted by the curtain being pulled back. “Visiting hours aren’t until six o’clock, what are you doing here?” a stern nurse said to Frankie. “It’s important that our patients get their rest.”
“I’m sorry, I’m going now,” she said contritely. She bent over and planted a kiss on my forehead. “Try and get some sleep. And remember, call Sam.”
* * *
I was discharged from hospital the following morning. They told me to start taking folic acid and to book in with my GP for my antenatal care. Dad was holding the fort in Baked with Love, so Frankie collected me from the hospital.
“So did you tell Sam yet?” she said when we were stopped at a red light.
“Not yet,” I said, looking out the window.
“Well, shouldn’t you tell him sooner rather than later?”
“I guess . . .”
“Lily, you need to tell him –”
“I will!” My tone was impatient. I wished she would stop pestering me about it.
We fell silent as we drove through the Dublin traffic. Frankie turned right onto the quays heading towards her apartment.
“Actually, Frankie, can you drop me off at work?”
She looked at me incredulously. “Please say you’re joking?”
“What?”
“No way, Lily! You heard what the doctor said – you have to take it easy for the rest of the week!”
“I just want to see that the place is okay – I promise I’ll only stay for a few minutes.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“What?” I said.
“Your Dad is well able to manage. I know you, once you get your foot in the door, I won’t be able get you out of there again. Baked with Love is fine, you on the other hand need to rest!”
When we got home, I was wiped out. I wasn’t sure if it was the concussion or a pregnancy symptom or the shock of discovering that I was pregnant or maybe it was a combination of all three.
Frankie placed a blanket over me as I sat on the sofa with my legs curled up underneath me watching a repeat of A Place in the Sun. She handed me a cup of tea and a slice of dry toast. It was all I could stomach. I was still feeling quite nauseous, but at least now I had a reason for it.
“It’s morning time in New York, why don’t you give him a ring now?” she said after a while.
“Could you just leave it please, Frankie?” I snapped, pulling my blanket tightly around me.
“All right then!” she said, getting huffy back with me. “But you can’t put it off forever.”
CHAPTER 34
The next morning I listened from bed as Frankie got ready for work, and as soon as I heard the slam of the door, I got out after her and headed straight into the shower. When I was finished, I suddenly felt a wave of nausea assail me. I reached the toilet just in time to spill my guts into the bowl. Beads of sweat broke out across my forehead as I sat on the cool tiles afterwards. It was like my body was suddenly waking up to the fact that it was pregnant and was now going into full-on symptom mode. When I started to feel a bit better, I dressed and headed for my bakery.
“Lily, what the hell are you doing here?” Dad said as soon as I came in through the door.
“I’m going to work, what does it look like?” I said, walking past him and hanging my apron over my neck.
“But I thought you were told to rest –”
“I feel fine and there’s no point in me sitting around in Frankie’s place all day, I only end up feeling worse about everything.”
“But you can’t go against what the doctor said, Lily, that’s just madness!”
“I’m pregnant not incapacitated! Anyway, I’m better off in here, keeping busy. It helps take my mind off everything.”
“Well, if you say so . . .” He was reluctant.
“I’m telling you, Dad, I’m fine.”
“Well, take it easy, no heavy lifting, do you hear me? And if you feel in any way funny, you sit down straight away, okay?”
“Yes, Dad, now stop fussing,” I said, groaning.
I saw Dad had loaded the ovens with scones which was one job taken care of so I decided that now would be a good time to try out my new cronut recipe. I had been dying to give it a whirl since I came home from New York. It was a complex, time-consuming recipe with lots of steps that had to be done properly or the pastry wouldn’t come out right, but I needed something challenging to take my mind off the mess that was my life. I mixed the yeast, milk, butter, salt, and flour together until the dough came together. Then after I had chilled it, I began the lamination process. I rolled the pastry out and generously slathered butter all over it. I was so engrossed in the sequence of folding, chilling, and turning the pastry to perfect the lamination that suddenly I seemed to forget about my worries. Baking really was therapy for the soul.
I came home that evening and I flung my bag down on Frankie’s sofa. She had called to tell me that she was going along to some wrap party so she wouldn’t be home. I had lied to her and told her that I had stayed in bed all day. To be honest, I was relieved that she was going to be late home. She had been continuously hounding me about telling Sam, so I was glad to avoid her for one night. I walked over, pulled back the glass door leading out to the balcony, and went outside into the cool night air. I breathed deeply into my lungs. I didn’t feel good. I was weary from the day and the stress of worrying about how I was going to tell Sam. I rested my elbows on the railing and looked at the city lights, stretching out for miles before me. I was sick of adulting. I was sick of trying to hold everything together by a string only to have it all fall apart anyway. I wanted to fly away to a desert island where no stress or demands could find me. Or a nunnery would work too. One of those enclosed orders where you lived amongst other nuns and you had to take a vow of silence. My whole life was a disaster. A big, huge disaster and I didn’t know where to turn. The tears started to spill down my face. I was going to be doing this on my own, and I was so scared.
CHAPTER 35
Baked with Love was busy the next morning, there always seemed to be a queue. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t complaining but it was so unexpected. It was usually just myself and Dad looking at each other for hours on end, but today we were kept on our toes. My cronuts, which I had added onto the chalkboard menu that morning, were proving to be a big draw. I had hovered over them after I removed them from the fryer, waiting for them to cool on the wire rack. As soon as I could taste them without the risk of burning myself, I had lifted one up and bit down into the sugary dough, sending a shower of thick flakes cascading onto my lap. I was met with the nicest surprise on the inside: the pastry was lighter than air – it literally melted in my mouth. Then came the pièce de résistance when the tip of my tongue exploded as the flavour of the rosewater ganache filling hit my taste buds. I had barely swallowed it when suddenly my stomach began turning in that familiar way that I had so quickly grown used to and I had to run to the bathroom just in time to throw up into the bowl. When I was finished, I sat up and wiped the beads of sweat from my brow. I wanted to cry; I had been looking forward to sampling them all morning. This damn morning sickness was killing me. I would open the fridge and the smell would make me heave. Or I suddenly seemed to have an aversion to the smell of nutmeg and couldn’t stand to use it my recipes. How was I meant to get through the day working with food if I was like this?
“There’s a delivery here for you to sign,” Dad said to me just as I was coming out of the bathroom. “Sick again?” he asked when he saw my ghostlike face.
I nodded. “This is hell.”
“You’ll start feeling better in a few weeks, wait and see.”
I went back out to the front and the man presented
me with a docket to sign. I took it from him and had just begun signing for it when he said, “Lily – it is you?”
I looked up at his face, it was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Then suddenly it clicked. “Oh my God, Piotr!”
Piotr was the homeless man who used to sit begging outside the supermarket in Ballyrobin. He was originally a Polish migrant who had come to Ireland to work in the building trade during the Celtic Tiger, but when the property market crashed, he had been scattered amongst the debris of the fallout. I used to buy him a hot drink or sandwich whenever I saw him, but now that I had left Ballyrobin, I didn’t see him anymore. I had often wondered what way his life had turned out, but judging by his appearance today, things had worked out pretty well for him.
“How’ve you been? You look great!” I gushed.
“I got job, Lily. Now I have house. I have girlfriend –”
“I’m so happy for you!”
He looked at the delivery label and saw the package was addressed to me. “This is your café?”
I nodded. “It sure is.”
“I think we both have success,” Piotr said, grinning at me. “I am happy I see you, I want to say thank you, you were always so kind to me. When you sit on the street nobody looks at you, but you talked to me and I say thank you.”
I began to blush. “Will you stay and have a coffee?”
“No, I go now, I have twenty-six more deliveries today and my girlfriend, Ana, no like me late home.”
“Well, it’s been so lovely to see you.”
After he had left, I couldn’t help but feel a little cheered up. I was so pleased that his life had worked out okay. It put my own problems into perspective, no matter what happened I had a roof over my head and a job that I loved. There were people facing far greater battles than I ever would.
I got back to work and was shocked when all my cronuts had sold out before lunchtime. I thought I had had enough to last the day and even then have some left over for Father Joe. I would need to put them on the menu more often if they were going to be this much of a success.
We were just taking a breather after a mental lunchtime when two young girls came in the door. One was wearing black leggings and an army green bomber jacket over it. The other wore a crop top over jeans. They flicked their hair back and forth, then the girl in the crop top pouted while her friend held up her phone and took a photo of her. Then they switched over. Then they both leaned in and got a selfie together. I looked at them in amusement, and eventually they ordered two lattes. No food. They sat down on the sofa with their heads buried in their phones not talking to each other.
I didn’t think much of it until we had a group of teenage girls come in later. They were still in their school uniforms, but their faces were immaculately made up with sculpted eyebrows and contoured cheekbones and they all had long manes of carefully styled hair. I thought it was odd because we never had teenagers in unless they were with their parents. At first I presumed they had heard about the cronuts and wanted to taste the new craze, but when they didn’t even ask for them and instead just ordered coffees, I was confused.
That night I came in the door from Baked with Love in an exhausted and sticky mess. I wearily flopped down onto Frankie’s sofa.
“How was your day?” she asked when she came home later. She had been angry when I had confessed that I had returned to work, but she knew that she was wasting her breath by continuing to bang on about it.
“Busy, for once. I made cronuts and they all sold out before lunch!”
“You see? Word of mouth is catching on! So, did you call Sam yet?”
I shook my head. Frankie was like a broken record. Every time she saw me she asked the same thing.
“No time like the present.” She handed me the phone.
I passed it back to her. “Just leave it, Frankie.”
“You can’t put it off forever, Lily.”
I ignored her and continued to stare at the TV screen.
“Here I got you this,” she said in a softer voice as she handed me a paper bag.
I took it from her and looked inside and saw there was a book. I lifted it out and looked at the cover. It was a week-by-week guide to pregnancy.
“Oh my God . . .” I said. “Thanks, Frankie . . . ” I was shocked. Even though she kept hassling me about telling Sam, she really was being so supportive. Suddenly I felt a swell of gratitude for my friend. “I’m sorry for being such a moody cow lately.”
“Hey, you can’t help it, it’s your hormones – you’re producing more oestrogen and progesterone now – I’ve already read up on it for you.”
I couldn’t help but crack a smile.
“You’re going to be a great mum, Lily,” she said softly.
This set me off, and soon fat tears coursed down my cheeks.
“Oh, Frankie,” I cried, “I don’t want to do this alone.”
“You’re not doing this alone, you have me, remember?”
I nodded. “But I can’t believe I will be somebody’s mother. I don’t feel responsible enough to mind another person.”
She handed me a tissue, and I wiped my eyes and blew my nose.
“You’ll get there, wait and see, once you hold that baby in your arms I bet you any money that those mothering instincts will just kick in.” She reached over and squeezed my hand.
“How do you know?”
“Well, I read up on it . . .”
Even though I felt utterly miserable, I couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm.
“I’m exhausted, I think I’m going to have an early night,” I said after a while.
“Well, you are growing an entire other person, it’s bound to knacker you.”
“I want to say thanks, Frankie. You literally have been amazing. I couldn’t do this without you.”
She began to blush and she wouldn’t meet my eye. “I think the hormones are making you soppy now.”
I went into the bedroom and changed into my pyjamas. As I looked at my reflection in the mirror, my stomach was so bloated. Although never in my life had I a flat stomach, it was definitely a lot bigger than usual. I ran my hands over it and it was rock hard. My breasts were swollen too. I was sure people were going to start thinking that I was eating all the cakes I made in Baked with Love.
I collapsed in a heap on the bed. My feet were throbbing from running around all day, and my head was pounding with stress. I lifted up the book that Frankie had given me and started to leaf through the pages. I was stunned to learn that even though the embryo was still quite tadpoley-looking at this stage, there was a lot already taking place inside my body. It was fascinating to see what nature could do. I placed my hands on my stomach and tried to imagine what was going on inside there, and for the first time since I had learned that I was pregnant, I allowed myself to think about my baby’s future. I thought of the hopes, dreams, and possibilities that I had for my child and how, no matter what happened, this baby and I were connected together for life.
CHAPTER 36
It was a cold January day and a gust of icy wind rushed through the door whenever it opened. Inside it was cosy, though, with the stove on and the smell of the salted caramel brownies that had just come out of the oven scenting the air. They were divine; when you bit into them, the soft sponge yielded, oozing warm caramel out through the centre. The sharpness of the salt was perfectly complemented by the sweetness of the filling. The taste stayed with you long after the final bite. I knew they wouldn’t last too long.
“It smells heavenly in here,” Claire said, pushing Ellie over towards the counter. She looked at the plate of steaming brownies. “Oooh, I’ll have one of those please, Lily, we’re celebrating!”
“Oh, what’s the occasion?”
“Ellie slept through the night for the first time!”
“Well done, Ellie,” I said, bending down to her pram. “Aren’t you a clever girl?” She beamed a smile that would melt the coldest of hearts and I saw that she had cut two teeth sinc
e I had last seen her.
“You go get settled over there and I’ll bring these over for you.”
Claire wheeled the pram over to a chair; her usual spot on the sofa was taken up by an elderly couple. I watched as Ellie curled her little body upwards with her fists held out at each side of her when her mum lifted her out of her pram. I couldn’t believe I was going to have one of them. It was so hard to imagine that I was going to be the one reaching for muslin cloths and cleaning up spew or rubbing a tiny back to bring up wind.
If there was one upside in all of this mayhem in my life, it was that things were slowly starting to improve with the bakery. Once again we had had a hectic morning. Things would enter my head and I would scramble to do them before something else that needed to be done would jump in there too and I would have to add it on to my mental checklist. It seemed to have happened overnight. I was at a loss as to why it had occurred so suddenly, but over the last few days we were starting to get busier and busier. I noticed we seemed to be getting lots of young, glamorous girls through the door. They all had big heads of hair extensions, carefully contoured faces and wore impossibly high heels. At first, I had thought it was what I had termed “the cronut effect” but these girls never ordered food. And I knew it couldn’t have been from the leaflets I had dropped into the offices either because they were all schoolgirls. I was starting to grow hopeful that maybe word of mouth had finally started to spread. Whatever it was, I was relieved – finally, I could see a future for my bakery.
The lunchtime rush had just quieted down in favour of the slower pace of the afternoon, when Clara breezed in the door with the two boys on either side of her.
