by Jenny Colgan
‘I think they’re all vegetarians,’ said Austin, draining his Fanta and spilling some on his shirt. Issy gulped and tried a tentative smile.
‘You’ve spilled some of your drink,’ she pointed out.
‘I know,’ said Austin, ‘but I look stupid when I use a straw.’
He leaned forward. Issy was conscious, suddenly, of how long his eyelashes were. Having his face so close to hers suddenly felt strange and intimate.
‘Look, I know those guys up there. They came to us on a campaign to make us do more ethical banking and then we pointed out to them that banking isn’t terribly ethical and that we couldn’t absolutely promise that some of our investments weren’t in the defence industry, seeing as it is, you know, Britain’s biggest industry, and they screamed and called us all fascists and stormed out and then called us back later and asked for a loan. And there were about sixteen of them too. Their business plan included the four-hour weekly meeting they have to make the co-operative fair. Apparently it frequently ends up in physical violence.’
Issy smiled weakly. Of course Austin was only trying to cheer her up – he would do this for anybody – but nonetheless it was definitely helping.
‘And don’t you worry a bit about “café solidarity”. They all hate each other’s guts on that street. Honestly, if one of the cafés burned down they’d be absolutely delighted. So don’t think they’re all going to gang up against you, they can’t even manage to gang up to clean their own toilet, as I noticed when I had to take Darny in there one day in an emergency. Does dreadful things to the digestion, too much vegan food.’
Issy laughed.
‘That’s better.’
‘You know,’ said Issy, ‘I’m not always like this. I actually used to be quite a fun person, before I got into the whole running-a-business thing.’
‘Are you sure?’ said Austin gravely. ‘Maybe you were even worse and this is you lightening up.’
Issy smiled again. ‘Oh yes, you’re totally right – I remember now. I was a goth and didn’t leave the house. And I listened to a lot of very serious music and sighed a lot like this.’
She sighed loudly. Austin sighed too.
‘So you thought you’d get into happy cakes …’ he said.
‘Which you never eat.’
‘For very sound reasons.’
‘And yes, this is me ecstatic now,’ said Issy.
‘ I knew it,’ he replied.
Issy really did feel better.
‘OK,’ said Austin, heaving another big sigh. ‘You’ve talked me into it. Give me one of your depressive cupcakes.’
‘Ha!’ said Issy. ‘No!’
‘What do you mean, no? I’m your banking adviser. Give me one immediately.’
‘No, because I can’t,’ said Issy, indicating the red-nosed, ruined faces of the morning drinkers lining the bar. ‘I handed them out when you went to the loo. They looked so hungry and they were so appreciative.’
Austin shook his head as they got up to leave, happily toasted by the line of poor old men along the bar.
‘You are a very soft touch, Miss Randall.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr Tyler.’
‘Don’t,’ said Austin suddenly and fiercely as he opened the door for her. He was shocked to find, suddenly, how much he wanted to … no, he mustn’t think that way. Really, he just so wanted Issy to succeed. That was it. She was a nice person with a nice café, and he really wanted things to start going right for her. And the wash of inexplicable tenderness that had come over him, looking at that lone tear roll down her pink cheek – that was just simple fellow feeling. Of course it was.
For her part, Issy looked up into his handsome, kind face and found herself slightly wishing that they could stay in the world’s grottiest, smelliest pub for a little longer.
‘Don’t what?’
‘Don’t be too nice, Issy. Not in business. Just assume everyone around you is as much of an arse as that woman was – whose name, you may be interested to know, is Rainbow Honeychurch, although her birth certificate says Joan Millson—’
‘I am quite interested to know that,’ added Issy.
‘—and you know, if you are going to survive, if this is going to work, Issy, you’ll just have to toughen up.’
Issy thought of the tired, discontented faces of the shopkeepers along the street and wondered if that was what they’d had to do: toughen up. Tough it out. Take the shit on board.
And Austin, even as he was saying the words, wondered if he meant them. Obviously Issy should toughen up – toughen up and fight for this business. But he wondered if she wasn’t a better, sweeter person the way she was.
‘I will,’ said Issy, with a worried look on her face.
‘Good,’ said Austin, shaking her small hand gravely. She smiled, and squeezed his hand back. Suddenly, neither of them wanted to be the first to take their hand away.
Fortunately Issy’s phone rang – it was the shop number; Pearl wanting to know where she was, no doubt – so she could, slightly flustered, move away first.
‘Um,’ she said. ‘But is it OK if I go the other way back to the café? Just this once? I don’t want them to start throwing things at me.’
‘You don’t,’ said Austin. ‘Their flapjacks are rock solid.’
Chapter Twelve
Brandy and Horlicks Get Well Cake
A good strong healing cake will make you feel better, like the time you were coming home from a terrible day at school and it was getting dark and you were cold in your blazer and you came round the end of your road and you saw the light on in your house and Marian was still there and she gave you a cuddle and something to eat and everything was much better. This cake tastes like that. It should not be too heavy, so it works well for invalids. Please send me a batch, Issy dear, so I can get out of this place.
8 oz butter, softened
4 oz caster sugar
5 eggs
½ tin sweetened condensed milk
8 oz Horlicks
8 oz plain flour
½ tsp vanilla extract
2 tbsp cognac
Grease the small square tin and line the base and sides with baking paper. Allow the baking paper to extend over the top by about an inch if using the shorter tin.
Beat the butter and sugar until pale and fluffy. Beat in the eggs, one by one, until well combined. Beat in the sweetened condensed milk until well mixed. Stir in Horlicks. Fold in flour. Finally stir in vanilla and cognac.
Pour the batter into the prepared tin (the batter will fill the tin to almost 90 per cent, but the cake will not rise up too much, so don’t worry, darling). Cover the top loosely with a piece of aluminium foil.
Steam over high heat for 30 minutes. Fill up with more hot water if the steamer is low on water after 30 minutes. Turn heat down to medium and steam for another 60 minutes, or until cooked (may steam for up to 4 hours in total if desired – this, according to wisdom, allows the cake to be kept for up to a month). Remember to replenish steamer with hot water whenever it is drying up.
Mrs Prescott the accountant was having strong words with Issy that week on cash flow. It was mid-April, and the weak evening sun was filtering through the basement blinds. Issy was dead tired, and couldn’t even remember where they kept the steamer. Her feet hurt from standing up all day serving a total of sixteen customers, and she’d let Pearl go early when she got a phone call from the nursery saying Louis was upset.
‘It’s those horrible kids,’ she’d said, cursing. ‘They just stare at him. Then they play stupid games he doesn’t know like Ring a Ring o’ bloody Roses so he can’t join in.’
Issy had wondered at this.
‘Stupid snobs,’ said Pearl.
‘Can’t he learn Ring a Ring o’ Roses?’ Issy said. ‘I’ll teach him if you like.’
‘That’s not the point,’ said Pearl. Her voice went quiet. ‘They’re calling him names.’
Issy was shocked. She had noticed that Louis was ling
ering longer and longer over his morning muffin, sitting on the counter singing sad little songs to himself. He didn’t fuss or throw tantrums, but his normal ebullience seemed to seep away the closer it got to nursery time.
Sometimes Issy picked him up, and he would cling to her like a little huddling cub, and then Issy didn’t want him to go to nursery either.
‘What kind of names?’ Issy asked, surprised by how furious she was.
Pearl’s voice started to choke. ‘Fatty bum-bum.’
Issy bit her lip. ‘Oh.’
‘What?’ said Pearl defensively. ‘There’s nothing wrong with him! He’s perfect! He’s a gorgeous, plump baby.’
‘He’ll be fine,’ said Issy. ‘He’s just settling in. Nursery’s a new world.’
But she’d let Pearl take the afternoon off anyway. It didn’t matter that they didn’t have many customers, or that many of their tables and chairs hardly got used; every day Pearl scrubbed out the toilets, made the tables shine and washed down the arms and legs of the chairs. The place gleamed like a new pin. Maybe that was the problem, Issy thought in an idle moment. Maybe people were scared to mess it up.
‘The thing is,’ said Mrs Prescott, ‘you have to watch your stock levels. Look what’s going out in ingredients. I know it’s not really my place to comment on how you run your business, but you’re making too much stock and as far as I can tell just throwing it away. Or giving it away.’
Issy looked down at her hands and mumbled, ‘I know. The thing is, my grandfather … my grandfather says if you do, kind of, good turns, and send things out in the world, then it will come back to you.’
‘Yes, well, it’s very difficult to account for good deeds,’ sniffed Mrs Prescott. ‘It’s quite hard to pay a mortgage from good deeds as well.’
Issy was still looking at her hands.
‘My grandfather was successful,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘He did all right.’
‘These are harder times, maybe,’ said Mrs Prescott. ‘People’s lives are faster, their memories are shorter, do you think?’
Issy shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I just want to run a good place, a nice place, that’s all.’
Mrs Prescott raised her eyebrows and didn’t say any more. She made a mental note to start looking for another client.
Pearl had got home that night upset enough before she saw him, sitting casually on her back step as if he’d merely forgotten his key. She felt, suddenly, Louis’s little paw start to tremble in her hand with excitement. Just as well he was still in nappies, he’d have peed his pants for sure about now. She knew that half of him wanted to run up to the man in glee, but he knew already that this would not please his mother. And also that sometimes he received a welcome, and presents and promises from this man, and sometimes he didn’t.
Pearl swallowed hard. It was only a matter of time before word got around that she was earning a wage, she supposed. She guessed he wanted some of it.
He was, she thought, regretfully, still such a handsome man. Louis got his sweet smile from her, but the rest of his beautiful face came from his dad; the long-fringed eyes and high cheekbones.
‘Hey there,’ said Ben, as if he hadn’t been completely off radar for the last five months, and missed Christmas.
Pearl gave him one of her looks. Louis was clutching tight to her hand.
‘Hey, little man!’ said Ben. ‘Look how big you’re getting!’
‘He’s big-boned,’ said Pearl reflexively.
‘He’s gorgeous,’ said Ben. ‘Come say hi to your dad, Lou.’
Of course it had started to rain. So what could Pearl do except invite him in for a cup of tea. Her mother was on the sofa, watching the early evening soaps. When she caught sight of Benjamin she simply raised her eyebrows and didn’t bother to greet him. Ben had said, ‘Hello, Mrs McGregor,’ in a slightly fake over-the-top fashion, but didn’t look too surprised when he didn’t receive a reply. Instead, he knelt down next to Louis, who was still struck completely dumb. He reached into his pocket. Pearl switched on the kettle in the little strip of kitchen in the corner of the room, watching the pair closely. She bit her lip. She had a speech prepared for Mr Benjamin Hunter, absolutely she did, for the next time she saw him. She had thought it over in her head and she had a lot to say – as did her friends – about his messing about, staying out late, sending her not a penny for Louis, even when he was working. And he had a good job too. She was going to give him a proper lecture about his responsibilities, to her, and to his boy, and tell him to grow the hell up, or stop bothering Louis.
Then she caught sight of Louis’s eyes, wide open in amazement and adoration, as his dad brought out of his pocket a bouncy ball.
‘Watch this,’ said Ben, and he bounced it hard off the cheap plastic linoleum. The ball bounced up, hit the low ceiling, came whooshing back down again and did this twice more. Louis erupted in a screaming giggle.
‘Do again, Daddy! Do again!’
Ben duly obliged, and within five minutes the ball was bouncing all over the tiny flat and Louis and Ben were rolling and tumbling after it, getting in the way of Pearl’s mother’s programmes and steady stream of cigarette smoke, and killing themselves laughing. Finally, they sat up, panting. Pearl was frying sausages.
‘Do you have enough of those for a hungry man?’ said Ben. He tickled Louis on the tummy. ‘Do you want your daddy to stay for tea, young man?’
‘Yesh! Yesh!’ hollered Louis. Pearl’s brow darkened.
‘Louis, go sit with your grandma. Ben, I want a word. Outside.’
Ben followed her out, lighting a cigarette as he went. Great, thought Pearl. Another brilliant role model for Louis.
They stood by the wall of the alleyway, Pearl avoiding the eyes of neighbours coming to and fro who could clearly see them both there.
‘You’re looking well,’ said Ben.
‘Stop it,’ said Pearl. ‘Stop it. You can’t … you can’t just walk in here after five months and pretend nothing has happened. You can’t. You can’t, Ben.’
She had lots more to say, but, strong as she was, Pearl could feel the words choking in her throat. Ben, however, let her finish – that wasn’t like him. Normally he was defensive, full of excuses.
Pearl pulled herself together, with some effort.
‘It’s not even about me,’ she said. ‘It’s not about me. I’m over it, Ben. I’m absolutely doing just fine. But for him … can’t you see how awful it is? Seeing you and getting all excited, then not seeing you again for ages? He doesn’t understand, Ben. He thinks it’s his fault that you leave, that he’s not good enough.’
She paused, then spoke quietly. ‘He is good enough, Ben. He’s wonderful. You’re missing it all.’
Ben sighed. ‘You know, I just … I just didn’t want to be tied down.’
‘Well, you should have thought of that before.’
‘Well, so should you,’ said Ben, with some justification, Pearl knew. He was just so handsome, so nice; he had a job, which was more than you could say for some of the men she met … She’d let herself be carried away. She couldn’t blame him for everything. On the other hand, that didn’t mean he could just zip in and out whenever he wanted.
‘I mean, I figure some of me is better than nothing, right?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Pearl. ‘Some of you on regular days … when he knows you’re coming … yes, that would be a wonderful thing for him.’
Ben scowled. ‘Well, I can’t always plan ahead that far.’
Why not? thought Pearl mutinously. She had to.
Ben finished his cigarette and crushed it out on the big wheelie bin.
‘So can I come back in or not?’
Pearl weighed up the alternatives in her head. To deny Louis the chance to spend some precious quality time with his father … versus teaching him a lesson Ben would probably ignore anyway. She sighed.
‘OK,’ she said.
Ben headed in the door. Brushing past her, he brusquely handed her an envelope
.
‘What’s this?’ she said, surprised. She fingered it. There was cash inside. Not much, but certainly enough to get Louis a new pair of trainers. Ben shrugged, embarrassed.
‘Your mum told me that place you’re working isn’t going to last the month. Figured you could do with it till your benefits come back on stream.’
Pearl stayed outside a second or two longer in amazement, clutching the envelope and listening to Louis doing tiger-roaring inside, till the sausages started to burn. God, even Ben knew the business was doomed.
‘What would you say,’ Austin was saying the following day, trying to finish off an email to his grandmother in Canada while also transporting a petulant Darny down the busy street. ‘What would you say your favourite things are right now, D?’ Darny thought about it for a bit.
‘Ancient martial arts secrets of ju-jitsu,’ he said finally. ‘And the Spanish Inquisition.’
Austin sighed. ‘Well, I can’t tell your grandmother that, can I? Can’t you think of something else?’
Darny thought some more, dragging his heels on the pavement.
‘Snowboarding.’
‘What do you mean, skiing? You’ve never been snowboarding.’
‘All the kids at school love snowboarding. They say it’s totally rad. So I suppose that’s the kind of thing you’d like me to like. So just say that, it hardly matters.’
Austin looked at him warily. Darny’s school was good, and the area they lived in had got markedly posher in the last few years. There were more and more children who had more than Darny, and the older he got, the more he was starting to notice.
‘You probably would like it,’ he said. ‘We should try it one year.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Darny. ‘One, you’d never take me, two, I’d hate it, and three, you have to wear moronic hats. Moronic,’ he said, enunciating clearly in case Austin had missed the point.