by Clare Lydon
I laughed. “I’m sure they’re going to be a big hit.”
Amisha was like an angel sent from baking heaven. She’d arrived at our door two years ago as a client for one of our advanced decorating classes, and had never truly left. After that first class, she stayed behind and we’d chatted over a coffee. She loved baking and asked if we needed any help. At that point, we didn’t. She’d kept in touch popping in every so often to let us know she was still available, and six months down the line I’d asked her to help with a weekend class. Now she was a freelance member of staff. She’d taken her first solo class about six months ago and had been a big hit, but she was equally happy to be my number two when needed. Like today.
Amisha was only five foot, but what she lacked in height, she more than made up for in enthusiasm. It was infectious, and she could eulogise about cake for hours. She’d applied to the ‘Great British Bake Off’ three times with no success. If she did ever get on, I was sure the great British public would fall in love with her instantly. Plus, for the amount of cake she made and ate, she was surprisingly slim. I assumed it was her nervous energy. Amisha never sat still.
“I can’t wait to see their faces. I love it when they realise what the cupcakes are. Plus, you know me, I love a good hen party.” Amisha put the cupcakes on the side, before grabbing two mugs from the cupboard as the coffee began to drip through.
“This is a mega hen party. Fourteen guests. That’s a whole lot of organisation for some poor sap.” I folded my arms across my chest. “They wanted to bring 20 hens, but I told them we couldn’t accommodate that.” I sucked on my top lip. “Which only makes it even more brilliant that Kerry is investing in the business. Soon we won’t have to turn down the bigger groups. All that’s needed is to find that elusive location for a better and bigger Cake Heaven.”
Gemma was already on the case, registering interest with agents and scouring auction brochures. She had left some options on the side yesterday, but I hadn’t had a chance to study them yet, to see if the locations worked. Ensuring our clients could find Cake Heaven easily was key, so it had to be within striking distance of good transport links and have ample parking. We didn’t want to spend half our day directing people and waiting for them to turn up. Even with the advent of smartphones and GPS, it still amazed me how many people couldn’t follow a basic map.
The edges of Amisha’s mouth turned downwards. “But I love it here. It’s such a quaint location.”
“I agree. We might yet keep this and get another location, who knows? But if we had bigger premises, we could have more and bigger classes.”
Cake Heaven sat at the end of a residential street, on a site that had been converted from old garages. It was surrounded by a handful of shops, including The Bristol Bakery, run by one of my best friends, Rob — he of the husband and twins fame. The space was homely and in a hip Bristol neighbourhood, but there was no chance of expanding. Hence our dilemma.
“How come the hen party decided to come anyhow if we couldn’t fit them all in?”
I pushed myself off the workbench and took the mug of coffee Amisha handed me. “Not sure. I’m guessing some of them decided they could live without knowing how to bake cupcakes? Whatever, we’ve still got a whole load of eager bakers turning up today. I just hope there’s not too much drama and they haven’t all slept with each other.”
Amisha sucked in a breath. “You can’t say that. Have you slept with all your queer friends?”
“Only half of them.” I gave her a wink. “Joking.” I paused. “Plus, I’m allowed to say that; I’m a lesbian.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” She was smiling as she spoke. “I’m sure it’s going to be a great day.”
I rubbed my hands together. “I am, too. Plus, a lesbian hen do means I’ll have to crack out my lesbian jokes 101. Did you put the fizz in the fridge?” For our hen parties, we treated the guests to cake and fizz at the end of the day. We also recommended a local restaurant for their meal afterwards, giving them money-off vouchers. It was a win-win for the local economy and for them.
Amisha nodded. “I did, so we’re all set. Let me just grab the pastries from Rob for our welcome coffee, and then I’ll start setting up the cups.”
“Perfect.”
Chapter 8
If we were in any doubt about who the bride was, it was crystal clear when she walked through our doors half an hour later wearing a sparkly tiara. Her name was Brianna, and the hens were insistent on chanting her name at every opportunity, despite the fact it was only 9:45 am.
“Brianna! Brianna! Brianna!”
On the up side, Brianna appeared relaxed and not about to burst into tears about her future wife, which I was grateful for. More importantly, I didn’t know a single person, mainly due to the fact they were from London. I gave up a silent prayer of thanks to the lesbian goddesses, who were clearly smiling down on me.
After taking everyone’s coats and getting them sat behind their benches, we loaded the ladies up with coffee and pastries, which made them inordinately pleased. It was like nobody had ever given them coffee and pastries before. I was chatting to the chief bridesmaid, Helen — I guessed this was her role because she was wearing a T-shirt that said Chief Bridesmaid. Helen had an undercut and a fringe that fell into her eyes. She also had a nose ring, which I applauded. I’d tried one in my twenties, but quickly taken it out when I realised I couldn’t blow my nose without snot escaping through it. Helen clearly had the nose ring thing mastered.
“Helen, sorry to interrupt.” Amisha came up to us, and she really did look sorry. She was the sweetest person alive. “I was just wondering if we have more people coming? Only you booked for 14, but we’ve only got 10?”
Helen had a mouthful of pain au raisin and nodded, waving her phone in her right hand. “There’s another car coming, but they had issues. They’re going to be here but they might be cutting it fine. They said to go ahead without them. Let me text them again.” She set about doing just that.
I crooked my mouth. I didn’t need the class interrupted, but then again, I didn’t want to make an issue of it. This group were spending a good chunk of money with us today, and I wanted to make their experience perfect so they’d tell all their friends. Along with Instagram, word of mouth was our biggest source of business. “If you could find out, that’d be great. I’d rather wait until we’re all here to start, so if we have to pour another cup of coffee, that’s no problem.”
But Helen’s face broke into a smile. “They’ve just pulled into the city centre, so they should be here very soon. Their sat nav drove them the wrong way.” She looked down into her empty mug. “But I wouldn’t say no to another coffee.”
Amisha grabbed the mug off her. “Coming right up.”
“Can you tell them to park in the car park at the end of the road and not on the street. Cars get towed all the time here.” Gemma had been towed three times, much to her chagrin.
Helen nodded, then sent a text. “Done,” she replied.
The women were all in their 30s, apart from someone I assumed was the bride’s mother or aunt. It was her who was currently waving her arms around in an excited manner and proclaiming that being here was “just like Bake Off!” We got that a lot.
“Right ladies!” I clapped my hands to get the group’s attention. Even with only ten hens in the room, the volume was already ratcheted right up. It was only going to get louder as the day went on. “This is your final call to go to the loo and if anyone needs any more drinks, put your hand up and Amisha and I will assist you. Once the last few stragglers arrive, it’ll be time to get baking!”
True to Helen’s ETA, the doors to the studio sprang open around ten minutes later, and four women all kitted out in the regulation bridal T-shirt that proclaimed ‘Team Brianna!’ walked in. I was in the kitchen when I heard the cheer and came out into the main space. But when I saw who one of the women was, I stopped in my tracks. Because there, smile paused at half-beam when she saw me, was Maddie.
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As I laid eyes on her, every muscle I had froze, and all my blood stilled. The only thing moving was the expanding bubble of fear in my throat, threatening to rise up and choke me. Damn it, what the hell was she doing here in my workplace, my town? She had no right.
However, ever the consummate professional, I reminded myself this wasn’t about me. This was about the bride and her day, and Helen who’d flung a ton of money our way to make this day special. I was going to make sure that happened. I’d done a drama class at uni, and now was the time to dip in and gather all those skills. I was going to need them, of that I was sure.
I stepped forward to greet them. “Welcome, ladies!” I checked my watch, before glancing back up, avoiding Maddie’s stare at all costs. “You’ve got ten minutes to grab a pastry and a coffee, and then I hope you’re ready to get cupcaking!” I gave them a broad grin and rubbed my hands together, ignoring the insistent thud of my heart in my chest.
The universe was clearly determined to play tricks on me today, and I had no idea why.
The three other newbies trooped past me, showing miles of white teeth and yards of glossy hair. Plus, they all smelled delicious. Women usually did. Walking around this space was like going into a perfume department, with everyone fresh and ready for the day. I knew that soon, those smells would be overtaken with the aromas of baking.
But it wasn’t cake I was thinking about as Maddie drew up beside me, a pained look on her face. “We meet again.” She had the good grace to look awkward at least. “I know you told me you were into baking, but I didn’t put two and two together.”
“And I didn’t expect you to turn up to a baking class.” Maddie’s culinary skills when we were together had extended to buttering toast.
She swept her gaze around the room, before turning it back to me. “I didn’t have much choice. But this is impressive, Jus. You’ve even got branded aprons. I think you were underselling yourself when we last met.”
“I wasn’t trying to impress you.” I swallowed down the lump in my throat.
“I know.” Maddie glanced at me. Her cheekbones were still as angular as ever. People often thought Maddie could contour like a demon. They didn’t know what I knew: that she just had naturally gorgeous cheekbones.
I took a deep breath. I had a class to teach and cakes to bake. Today, Maddie was just another baker. Nothing more.
Maddie’s lips curled into an awkward smile.
Lips I’d tasted numerous times. Emotions long forgotten began to stir. I blinked, trying to erase my thoughts.
“I better get ready — we’ve got cakes to bake.” I gave her a look. “Are you any good at baking these days?”
She quirked her mouth into that smile I used to love. I didn’t go weak at the knees; it just took me back to a different time in my life. A time when things had felt far simpler.
“You do remember what a disaster I was in the kitchen?”
It was a question that didn’t need an answer. “Things might have changed since then. I was hardly Mary Berry.”
“But you enjoyed it, you were always creative. Let’s just say me and my Just Eat app are on very good terms.”
I put a hand on my hip. “Get yourself a coffee, get your apron on and prepare to get floury.”
“It’s my only mission today.” She squeezed past me, her body rubbing up against mine in a way it really didn’t need to. Or was that just my imagination? Whatever, a frisson of something scampered up my backbone and landed on top of my diaphragm, causing my mind to freeze and my body to shiver.
Maddie caught my eye and gave me a half-smile, her cheeks colouring. Had she felt it, too?
I glanced around the room. The trick to making today work was to keep Maddie and I as far apart as possible, and not to let on to Amisha that I’d not only slept with her, I’d given her nearly four years of my life. And it had all started because of that damn mouth.
Chapter 9
Brianna’s hen party was no different from any other: the floor was still covered in glitter. We’d just waved the bride and her party off to the pub, and Amisha had stepped out to get a birthday card for her mum before the shops shut.
I was wiping down one of the benches when a knock on the still-open front door made me look up.
Maddie. Wearing her show-stopping smile and looking pristine. As if she hadn’t been working with flour for the past few hours.
“Hey.” She walked over to me, her familiar long stride making something in my stomach wobble low down. Was it weird to remember the way she walked? Even ten years on, every facet of her was still tattooed on my soul. I smiled, although I was pretty sure it didn’t reach my eyes. After a day of teaching, tiredness was curling around my bones.
“Can I help?”
I stopped wiping. “Shouldn’t you be at the pub? You’re on a hen weekend in case you hadn’t noticed.”
She shrugged. “They won’t miss me for a while. They’re currently ordering porn star martinis and I know where that leads. I’ll let them get a head start and I can catch up later. Plus, I wanted to come back and let you know I really enjoyed today. You’re good at this. Not that I’m surprised. You always were a go-getter.” She swept her hand through the air. “And this proves you’ve got it. Your own business. Impressive.”
I decided to take her compliment at face value. “Thanks.” I pointed at the aprons scattered around the benches. “If you want to help, you can gather up all those and put them in a pile by the door.”
Maddie nodded, then did as she was told.
“How did you find the class? As someone who’s not a baker? I’m always intrigued to know.”
She looked up, her grey gaze settling on my face. It was strangely comforting and familiar. As if the intervening years had never happened. “You’ve got a very easy style that made it a snap for even a novice like me. Plus, you put humour into it, which always helps. The vagina cupcakes are going to live long in my memory and my taste buds. A vanilla-flavoured labia is the stuff of lesbian dreams.”
I let out a snort of laughter. “I’m just catering to the crowd.” As predicted, the vagina cupcakes served with prosecco had caused gales of laughter and a photo-storm. I still thought eating cupcakes with flowers on top was preferable to eating one with a vagina on it. Maybe that’s why I was still single.
“If I have to do penis ones for straight hen parties, I decided I’d do vagina ones for lesbians. Plus, who doesn’t want to lick their tongue through a buttercream vulva?”
As soon as it came out of my mouth, I gave myself a mental kick in the shins. The last thing I wanted to be accused of was flirting. I pulled my shoulders back and stood taller, as if reasserting my original intentions. I hoped it worked. The way Maddie’s eyes were sparkling when I looked back at her, I wasn’t sure it had. Or had they been lit up the whole time?
“I can’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I was proud of our business, and Maddie had pressed the right button. My Maddie resolve was softening like the President butter we used in our buttercream icing.
Maddie dumped the aprons by the door, then stood on the opposite side of the bench I was wiping down.
“You can put those cupcakes in the fridge if you want to make yourself useful.” I indicated the boxes from today, which were still standing on the worktops. “They should still be good for you to collect when you’ve got a massive hangover tomorrow.”
She shook her head as she walked towards them. “I hope they’re not going to make me do shots.”
I thought back to all the times I’d tried to make Maddie do shots at university. They were never her forte, and she’d always suffered the next morning. By around year three, she’d committed to avoiding shots, and all her friends knew the drill.
“How do you know the bride?”
She shut the fridge door and came to stand back near me. Her nearness caused the fair hairs on the back of my head to stand on end.
“I
t’s complicated. I used to go out with her intended, but it was a long time ago and it wasn’t for long.”
I raised a delicate eyebrow. “You’ve shagged the other bride?”
“If it makes it any better, I don’t actually recall doing it. You know those times when the sex was so drunken and so long ago, your memory does you a favour and scrubs it from your brain? Well, Amy was one of them.”
“So what you’re saying is Brianna’s getting a drunken shag as a wife?” Poor Brianna, she seemed lovely.
“Not anymore. Amy has a drink problem, and now she doesn’t touch a drop. Hence she’s not here on this hen do; not really her scene. I imagine she’s a fantastic sober shag, although I don’t really like to think about it too much.”
“Do you know any of the other women?”
She nodded. “They’re a huge part of my past. I partied hard with most of them back in the day. All except Bri’s mum, of course. It’s good to see them, but hen parties aren’t really my style.” She paused. “Plus, I’m not such a party girl anymore. When I got settled in London, I stopped going out so much. And now I’m living here, I’m throwing myself into my work. I’d love to get a dog eventually and settle down.”
I stared at her features, so familiar and yet so alien. When we meet people from our past, we often think we know them because we remember things. But I didn’t know Maddie at all anymore. I knew she didn’t like shots, but everything else might have changed. Tastes in food, films, politics, clothes. People were always morphing and changing, and Maddie was almost a stranger to me now.
Almost.
“Anything else I can do while you’re clearing up?”
I cocked my head. “If you really want to help, you could take all the blades off the mixers and put them in the sink over there.” I pointed towards the industrial-sized stainless steel sinks on the back wall. “Just make sure the mixers are unplugged. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for any terrible injuries to your hands.”