by Pamela Evans
‘I wasn’t suggesting it did,’ said Jane, amazed that he was still listening to her. It was a wonder he hadn’t taken umbrage and stormed out at the first sign of opposition. Maybe he was just too shocked by someone having the temerity to tell him the truth?
‘Sounds like it to me.’
‘I’m just pointing out one aspect of Mick’s background that might have contributed to the man he turned out to be, that’s all,’ said Jane with an air of finality because she thought enough had been said on the subject. She stood up. ‘Another cup of tea?’
‘No, thanks,’ said Wilf, also rising. ‘I’d better be getting off home or Rita will skin me alive when I get in.’
‘I’d like to see her try,’ said Jane, managing a smile.
‘Yeah, well . . . it’s just a figure of speech, innit?’ he said, grinning as though to indicate he wasn’t going to hold her comments against her.
‘Thanks for the fruit and veg,’ she said at the door. ‘I really do appreciate it.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Closing the door behind him, she found herself trembling from reaction at having spoken her mind, but pleased with herself too. What she’d said was long overdue. Over the years she had put up with Wilf Parker’s arrogance and pretended to be amused by his crude jokes and vulgarity because he was Mick’s father. As Mick’s wife she had had no identity of her own - she could see that now. In fact, she had been too devoted to him to want a mind of her own.
But having to fend for herself and her children had changed all that. Wilf would think twice before talking down to her again. She doubted he’d accept hospitality from her next time he called in case she said anything else he didn’t want to hear. Wilf Parker wasn’t used to a woman asserting herself when he was around!
When the weather improved Jane got busy in the garden. Chopping down knee-high vegetation with shears borrowed from Eddie, she discovered flat, grassy ground which she worked on with the mower she received as a joint birthday present from her father, Marie and Eddie. With garden tools on loan from Eddie and a book from the library about basic gardening, flower beds were freshly dug and plants put in; paths were swept and fences painted. She even learned how to deter slimy marauders from gorging themselves on her fresh young plants.
The children thrived in the fresh air and Shadow shot up and down the apple tree as though revitalised by the onset of spring. The sound of children at play filled the air. As the adjoining cottage was empty, Jane didn’t have to worry about their disturbing anyone with their high spirits. This was particularly useful when Marie and her family came to visit and all the children played in the garden.
The riverside was vibrant with new life too. Grassy banks were patched with daffodils and crocuses beneath the leafy willows. Gulls soared whitely against the light spring skies which were reflected on the sun-dappled river. Coming out of hibernation, pleasure craft cruised among the commercial river traffic and the rhythmic splash of oars could often be heard. Jane found walking along the riverside a joy.
She was on her way round to Marie’s place one afternoon when she saw a notice on the door of the community hall in one of the side streets between the river and Chiswick High Road. It was a handwritten announcement about a social group for mothers and pre-school children that was held there two afternoons a week for a very small fee.
Because it was within their means, Jane and Marie decided to give it a try, especially as Pip and Roy would still be at home for a year after the other two started school.
The group proved to be fun, providing plenty of new company for the children and shared interests between the mothers. Joy Goodall, who ran the group, had begun it when she found herself lonely at home with young children and missing the company of her work colleagues. A natural organiser with boundless energy who involved herself in many causes, it was obvious from Joy’s general demeanour and the fact that she had her own car that she was in a wealthier social class than Jane and Marie.
One afternoon she suggested that the group have some sort of event to raise funds to buy toys for the children to play with at the hall. A jumble sale was the most obvious solution and this was agreed upon unanimously. Jane said she had plenty of jumble but she wore it or used it. Instead she suggested a cake table and offered to organise one and make her contribution that way.
The jumble sale, with other attractions including a lucky dip and raffle prizes, took place one Saturday afternoon in the late-spring and was a huge success, Jane’s cake table being the star of the show. A lot of people, it seemed, wanted home-made cakes. She’d sold out within the first hour.
At the next group meeting, the main topic of conversation was the sale which had made them enough profit to buy a range of indoor toys.
‘I hope we have another one sometime soon,’ laughed Jane. ‘I thoroughly enjoyed organising the cake table. It was great fun.’
‘Yes, that was an outstanding success,’ agreed Joy. ‘It just proves people still love anything home-made, and with so many women going out to work these days, they don’t have the time to do it themselves. I was glad I bought something from you early because when I went back later the table was empty.’
‘I was amazed by the speed at which they disappeared, ’ agreed Jane.
‘That spicy apple cake was one you contributed yourself, wasn’t it, Jane?’ asked Joy.
She nodded. ‘Why, did it give you indigestion or something? ’
‘Far from it. It was absolutely mouthwatering. In fact, I want to talk to you about that after the meeting, so don’t rush off.’
‘Okay,’ said Jane, intrigued.
When they’d tidied all the chairs and cleared the hall, Joy took Jane aside and put a surprising proposition to her.
‘I was wondering if you could make me another one of those cakes, well . . . a couple actually if you could manage it? I’ve got guests coming for tea on Sunday and I’m not much of a cook myself. I can just about manage not to poison the family with my basic cooking, dinners and so on. But all our cakes are shop bought. If I could have something home-baked for Sunday, it would make it really special.’
Although Jane was flattered to be asked and wanted to do it, she looked doubtful, thinking about the cost of the ingredients.
‘Oh . . . are you too busy?’ said Joy, disappointed at her reaction.
‘It isn’t that . . .’ She bit her lip, feeling embarrassed.
‘I wouldn’t expect you to do it for nothing, of course,’ said Joy, catching on. ‘Naturally I would pay you.’
‘I have no idea what to charge,’ said Jane. ‘I only make cakes for the family.’
‘Well, that’s easily solved. Work out the cost of the ingredients and the gas or electricity, then add your time and expertise to that,’ Joy suggested. ‘And don’t be mean to yourself, either. I’m only too happy to pay a decent price for a quality product.’
Jane was thrilled with the idea of getting paid for doing something she enjoyed, and immediately planned to spend the few shillings she would make on a treat for the children.
‘You’d like two large cakes then?’
‘Yes, please, to make sure they each have a decent slice,’ Joy said. ‘And if there’s any left after the guests have gone, it won’t go begging, I can promise you that!’
‘Okay, you’re on.’
‘Wonderful.’
‘Do you want one spicy apple and one of another sort?’ asked Jane. ‘A sponge or a light fruit cake, perhaps ... and I’m told my chocolate cake is delicious.’
Joy thought about this.
‘No, two spicy apple, I think. It’s got such a special taste,’ she said. ‘I’ll try the others the next time.’
‘Fine.’ Jane’s thoughts were racing ahead. ‘Can you collect them from my place, though? Only I don’t have transport. I’ll have them ready for you on Saturday afternoon.’
‘Certainly, just let me have your address,’ said Joy, smiling.
‘Well, fancy that,’ said Jane to Marie
as they left the hall with the children. ‘I can’t believe anyone would actually want to pay me to make a cake for them.’
‘I can,’ said Marie. ‘I’m always telling you your cakes are fab . . . and that apple cake really is special.’
‘Let’s hope the ones I make for Joy are up to my usual standard.’
They were. In fact, when Jane saw Joy on Tuesday at the group meeting, she had another order for her. This time it was for four spicy apple cakes!
‘Not all for me this time,’ she explained. ‘My mother and sister and a friend were all smitten with them. Definitely a case of once tasted, never forgotten.’
Jane was astonished. The most she’d hoped for was a compliment. She hadn’t expected more orders.
‘Can you do them then?’ asked Joy.
‘I’ll be delighted.’
‘You’ll be setting up in business if this continues,’ said Marie.
‘I only wish I could,’ said Jane. ‘But it’ll probably just be a five-minute wonder.’
It wasn’t just a five-minute wonder. The orders snow-balled as word spread about Jane Parker’s delicious cakes, especially the spicy apple one. People even began to call at the cottage to place their orders. She was soon selling more than thirty cakes a week and was able to buy Davey a toy garage for his birthday to replace the one he’d had to leave behind when they’d left the house in Twickenham in such a hurry. She could even afford a tea party for him with his cousins and new friends he’d made at the playgroup.
After tea the children played in the garden under the apple tree in blossom. Watching them enjoy themselves from the kitchen window as she and Marie washed the dishes, Jane’s eyes misted with tears of joy. She had thought her children would never be happy again after their father left.
‘I might be able to use the apples from the tree for the apple cakes in the autumn if we get a decent crop and they’re the right kind,’ she remarked casually.
‘It’ll save you the cost of buying them anyway.’
‘Yes.’ Jane paused thoughtfully. ‘Actually, Marie, I’ve had a germ of an idea and I’d like to talk to you about it.’
‘Oh?’
‘Well, I think I can turn my cake-making hobby into a proper business.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, but I can’t just rely on word of mouth for orders. Not if I’m to make a living at it eventually.’
‘So?’
‘So I need to go out and sell.’
‘I agree, but how exactly?’
‘I’ve found out that you can rent a pitch for just Saturday at Southall market,’ she explained. ‘And I’d like to give it a try.’
‘A market, eh? That’s very brave of you.’
‘Yes, well, I thought I’d throw myself in at the deep end. It’s the only way I’m going to find out if there’s enough of a market for my cakes to build a proper business.’
‘True.’
‘I do need your help, though,’ said Jane. ‘Yours and Eddie’s.’
‘In what way?’
‘I need you to look after the children while I do the market,’ she said. ‘And I need Eddie to drive me to the market with the cakes.’
‘You know I’ll have the kids for you,’ said Marie. ‘And I’m sure Eddie will drive you there, so long as he isn’t working.’
‘I’d pay you.’
‘Don’t be silly . . .’
‘No, listen, Marie,’ she said ardently, emptying the bowl and drying her hands, ‘this isn’t like I’m ill or anything and you’re looking after the kids because of a crisis. This is business, and if I make a success of it I’ll need you to look after the children on a regular basis. ’Cause if Southall market goes well, I’d like to do Kingston on a Monday too, where you can also have a pitch just for one day. I wouldn’t want to leave the children on a daily basis but a few hours a couple of times a week won’t hurt them. And it isn’t as though they’d be with a stranger.’
‘You’ve certainly been doing your homework?’ Marie smiled.
‘That’s because I’m really serious.’
‘I’ve gathered that.’
‘Anyway, if I’m earning money, you’re entitled to be paid, and so is Eddie for taking me there. So let’s have no more talk of freebies, not when it comes to business.’
‘You’re the boss,’ said Marie jokingly. ‘But what happens if you don’t sell anything?’
‘Then I’ll have to pay you in stock.’ She grinned. ‘So let’s hope you’re not living on cakes for weeks afterwards! ’
‘I might have guessed it would be raining,’ said Jane to Eddie the following Saturday as they unloaded the cakes from the car at the market.
‘Shall I take you back home again, then?’ he said, teasing her.
‘Not on your life,’ she said. ‘I’d see this thing through if there was snow on the ground and a gale blowing.’
But she did feel very apprehensive when Eddie had gone home and she was standing by her stall in the pouring rain. The cellophane-wrapped cakes were sheltered by the awning but the general atmosphere was damp and miserable.
‘Talk about flamin’ June,’ said the woman on the clothes stall opposite.
‘Typical British summer,’ replied Jane, who was wearing a white ‘wet look’ raincoat over her summer dress.
‘Let’s hope it brightens up later on,’ said the woman, glancing at the heavy clouds.
‘I’m banking on it,’ said Jane. ‘I don’t want to take this lot home again. I can’t keep my stock for long like you can.’
‘If a drop of rain kept the punters away, we’d all have gone out of business long ago, with weather like ours,’ said the woman. ‘The crowds will be here later, rain or not.’
‘I do hope so,’ said Jane, heartened.
The woman, who was middle-aged and had a weatherbeaten face and dark hair poking out from under a scarlet headscarf, said her name was Rose. She’d been working the markets all her life, apparently. She and her husband travelled all over the country. She said he would be along later on to do a stint on the stall.
‘If your cakes taste as good as they look, you’ll do a roaring trade,’ she remarked. ‘I’ll have something off you myself later on, to eat with my coffee.’
Jane had made quite a variety. Jam sponges, chocolate cake with butter filling, fairy cakes she’d packed in cellophane bags of six, lemon madeira. But the largest number was of her spicy apple cake.
People passed by in macs, heads down against the rain, heading straight for the fruit and vegetable stalls without even giving Jane’s wares a second glance. They were only interested in essentials this morning. Perhaps it was too early in the day to think about cakes unless you were familiar with the products and bought regularly. The thought gave her an idea. Taking one of each of the large cakes, she cut them into small taster portions and arranged them on a plate at the front of the stall for people to try.
To let the punters know what was on offer, she called out. ‘Lovely home-made cakes . . . taste before you buy ... all freshly made . . .’
She felt a bit foolish at first but soon forgot her inhibitions when a woman stopped for a taste.
‘Ooh, this is really good,’ she said of the apple cake. ‘I’ll have one o’ those.’
The thrill of her first sale was like nectar to Jane, especially as others quickly followed.
‘Here, let’s have a taste,’ said Rose after noticing the sales gather momentum.
Jane gave her a piece of each one.
‘They’re all nice but that apple cake is really moreish. Give us one before they all go,’ she said, handing Jane her money.
By midday she had sold out of apple cake and by two o’clock everything else had gone. She would need to produce more for next week - a lot more, she thought excitedly.
She had finished so much earlier than expected, she had a couple of hours to kill before Eddie was due to collect her. But no sooner had she got all her trays and cloths ready to load into his car, prepared for
a long wait, than he appeared with Marie and all four children.
‘We thought we’d surprise you,’ said Marie. ‘Davey and Pip wanted to see their mummy at work. Seems we’re too late, though?’
‘Where are all the cakes?’ asked Davey.
‘All sold, love.’
‘None left for us?’ said Pip.
‘I’ll make something special for you tomorrow,’ Jane said, beaming. ‘In the meantime let’s find a cafe and I’ll buy you all something nice to celebrate my first day in business.’
‘Calm down, you lot!’ shouted Marie across the garden of Jane’s cottage to the four cousins who were squabbling about whose turn it was to go on the new swing, bought from Jane’s profits and erected by Eddie near the apple tree on which fruit was beginning to appear. Shadow was peering down through the foliage at all the excitement with a look of feline disdain.
‘They’re all really wound up about the swing,’ said Jane.
‘I’ll take it down again if you’re going to argue about it,’ threatened Eddie.
This produced instant quiet and they began taking it in turns.
‘I suppose it’s a bit late in the year to put a swing up, really,’ said Jane. ‘But they so wanted it, and they used to have such a lot of fun with the one we had in the garden at Maple Avenue.’
‘There’ll probably be quite a few nice days yet before winter sets in,’ said Marie. ‘Anyway, it’ll be there ready for the spring.’
It was late-afternoon on a glorious Saturday in early-September and Jane and Marie were sitting in the sunshine drinking tea. Children’s toys were dotted about on the lawn - bikes, scooters, a doll’s pram. Eddie had erected the swing while Jane had been out at the market. Later on, they were all going for supper in a burger bar, a treat for the children as Jane’s cake business was doing so well and this was the last weekend before Davey and Melanie started school.
‘This time next week Mel and Davey will be school-children, ’ remarked Marie.
‘Yes,’ agreed Jane wistfully. ‘And so a new era begins ...’