by Jenny Colgan
Austin shook his head. It sounded horrible. Then he glanced at the name at the bottom of the paper and shut his eyes in dismay. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. But there it was. Graeme Denton.
Austin lowered the paper in total shock. Surely not? Surely not Issy’s Graeme. But, of course, it was. Graeme. Which meant, as he had clearly seen at the birthday party, Issy and Graeme. Together.
So they must have planned the whole thing. This must be their little scheme. Posh up the area with a little cupcake shop then cash in on it. It was, he had to admit, very clever. The cachet would certainly add value to the properties. Then the two of them would scarf the profits and move on and do it somewhere else. Unbelievable. He was almost impressed. He glanced at the architect’s plans enclosed with the applications. There it was; a great big gate across the entrance to Pear Tree Court. Making it a private road. Blocking off that lovely little courtyard and the tree from everyone else. Austin remembered it just a few weeks ago, with the fairy lights in the tree and Felipe playing his violin. It had seemed such a happy place. He wondered how they’d managed to persuade the ironmonger to move. Well, people as ruthless as that … He supposed they’d stop at nothing.
He couldn’t help remembering, though, how eager, how keen Issy had seemed about her business; how hard she’d worked, how convincing she’d been. He’d been completely taken in. She must think he was a fucking idiot.
Austin realized he was pacing the room. This was stupid. Stupid. She was someone who’d needed a bank loan, and was well on the way to paying it back, and now they needed another and had good security and backing. It was a simple business proposition, and one that technically he’d support. Graeme’s company was a respectable one, and raising money from a local bank rather than a City titan made good practical sense for everyone, and would definitely impress the planners.
But he couldn’t believe his instincts about Issy had been so far off base. It made him doubt himself completely. She wasn’t what he’d thought at all, not a tiny bit of it. Amazing.
‘OK, so that’s Amelia, Celia, Ophelia, Jack 1, Jack 2, Jack 3, Jacob, Joshua 1, Joshua 2, Oliver 1 and Oliver 2,’ said Issy, counting from her list. ‘Harry can’t come.’
‘Harry gaw chin pox,’ said Louis. Pearl rolled their eyes. That meant they’d almost certainly all have it in a week.
‘Get ice cream chin pox,’ Louis told Issy importantly.
‘Well, when you have chicken pox, you will get frozen yoghurt,’ said Issy, planting a kiss on his head.
‘Iss ogurt,’ said Louis. Outside it was a glorious day, and Issy and Louis had already had a long game of running round the tree. Pearl looked on. Issy had told her everything that had happened. She thought it was for the best. Graeme had seemed such a petulant man. And when children came along, you didn’t want two infants to deal with.
She let her thoughts flicker briefly to Ben. But people could change. She was sure of it. Of course they did. Boys grew up. Became men. Did what men were supposed to do. But still, in Issy’s case, she thought it was probably for the best.
Pearl set her jaw. And even without Ben – she glanced over at Issy tickling Louis on the tummy – sometimes you took your family where you could get it. Still. She heaved a sigh. That nice scruffy young man from the bank. Yes, he was a little zany, but there was a real man. There was a man who knew how to look after his family.
‘OK!’ said Issy, spotting the first 4×4 pulling up on Albion Road and a slightly nervous, beautifully groomed young mother emerge, with a spotless child in a button-down shirt and chinos clutching a large gift. Louis dashed out to meet them.
‘Jack! Ayo, Jack!’
‘Hahyo, Louis!’ hollered Jack. Louis looked at the gift expectantly.
‘Give the present to Louis,’ said the mother briskly. Jack looked at the present. Louis looked at the present.
‘Hand it over now, Jack,’ said the mother, slightly tight-jawed. ‘Remember this is Louis’s birthday.’
‘Mah bifday,’ said Jack, burying his head in the present.
‘It’s not your birthday, Jack,’ said the mother. ‘Hand it over please.’
‘Mah bifday.’
‘Iss mah birfday!’ chimed in Louis. Jack’s lip wobbled. Issy and Pearl dashed out.
‘Hello, hello,’ said Pearl. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’
‘Look what I’ve got for you,’ said Issy, leaning down next to Jack and Louis with two tiny pinnies. ‘Do you want to be a top chef and come and make cakes?’
‘Going to eat cakes?’ said Jack suspiciously.
‘Yes we are! We’re going to make our own cakes then eat them,’ said Issy.
Jack reluctantly allowed himself to be taken by the hand, as other children started to arrive behind him. But not just children: Mrs Hanowitz was there, dressed up in a smart purple hat; then three builders, who’d brought their own children; Mira and Elise, of course; Des, the estate agent, and Jamie; the young students who were meant to be working on their theses but had obviously got off with each other instead; two firemen and Zac, Helena and Ashok.
‘Louis invited you?’ said Issy, delighted to see them. Ashok and Helena were entwined in each other’s arms.
‘He certainly did,’ said Helena. ‘We bought him a doctor’s kit. It’s a real doctor’s kit with all the sharp bits taken out.’
‘I thought the NHS was underfunded,’ said Issy, turning on the coffee machine. They’d pushed all the tables together so there was a long workbench, and as soon as everyone was here and Oliver had stopped crying in the corner and his mother stopped telling him off for crying in a corner, they were going to start.
Graeme had woken up at 5am that morning, sat bolt upright, then lain staring at the ceiling, feeling his heart race. What was he thinking? What had he done? This was a disaster. An absolute disaster. How had he let Issy break up with him already? She could do whatever she liked once the deal was done.
He cancelled his squash game; the idea of having to trade quips with Rob about how sexy or moose-like the girls passing in the gym were seemed just too much to face. Maybe he’d go for a run instead, get it out of his system.
He returned to the flat, sweating – partly from his run, partly from sheer nerves. There was a message in his inbox. It was from the bank where they’d put in for a loan, asking him to go in for a meeting on Monday. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, they were going to say yes too. Of course they were. You spend half your life trying to get things done when nothing moves and everyone is bloody slow, then the one thing you don’t want to happen gets done in the blink of an eye. Graeme was moving towards the shower when he saw something that made his blood run cold. The bottom of the email … Where did he know that name from?
Austin Tyler.
He shook his head. Fuck. It was that lanky friend of Issy’s. The same guy. God, obviously it was meant to be confidential but … he’d been at her birthday party, he’d seen him. If they were mates … If Austin had read the application, he would almost certainly tell Issy about it. He did her banking, didn’t he? It would be weird if he didn’t ask her about it. And if she found out from someone other than him … Graeme’s blood ran cold. She wouldn’t like it. Not one little bit. And the consequences for him, for them, for his job, if Issy didn’t like it …
Graeme showered in double-quick time then threw on the first clothes he came to – very unlike him – and ran to the car.
‘OK!’ said Issy, once everyone finally had a coffee. There were people squeezed against the back walls. It was ridiculous in here. Even Louis’s nursery minders had come, and Issy couldn’t believe that after having the children all day for five days the staff would voluntarily come out on a Saturday, but here they were. It was nice when you thought about it. A really lovely nursery. The other mothers had spotted it too and were asking themselves why they hadn’t thought to invite the nursery staff. It smacked of favouritism, they sniffed.
Pearl sniffed back in their general direction. Of course it was favouritism. Wh
o wouldn’t want her radiant Louis over Oliver, who had now wet his pants and the floor and whose mother was almost as close to hysteria as he was. She looked around. There was one person missing.
‘OK,’ said Issy, and everyone settled down. She even turned down the ear-splitting volume of Louis’s favourite party hits tape, which included ‘Cotton-Eye Joe’ nine times on a loop.
‘Now, first of all, has everyone washed their hands?’
‘Ye-es,’ chorused the little ones, although the amount of snot on show definitely made it appear as if the cakes would be more than moist enough.
‘Well, first we take the flour …’
Tosser, thought Graeme to himself, as a white van refused to let him cut in coming over the Westway. This was a totally bloody ridiculous journey right across London every day, nobody in their right mind would commute this. The traffic was horrific, and the sunny weather meant everyone was out on the streets, wandering across pedestrian crossings or hanging about on street corners, cluttering the place up. He was in a hurry, goddammit.
‘Austin!’
‘No.’
‘I want to go to the party!’
‘I said no.’
‘I’ve been totally good.’
‘You shot me with an arrow.’
‘I’m going on my own,’ said Darny. ‘You can’t stop me. I’m ten.’
Darny sat down and started lacing up his shoes. This could take a while, but even so. Austin didn’t know what to do if Darny insisted. He’d never physically admonished his younger brother, never, not even once, not even the time Darny had held his wallet over the toilet and emptied it in slowly, card by card, while staring right at him. And it was true: Darny had been behaving absolutely fine, or at least no worse than normal, and didn’t deserve punishment. But Austin just didn’t want to see Issy right now. He was cross; he felt let down and hoodwinked, even though he realized he had no right to feel that way. She’d never promised him anything. But she had taken a tiny corner of the area he’d grown up in, an area he loved, and she’d made it lovely; put flowers in the square, and a coloured canopy over the windows, and pretty little tables. It was a nice place to be, to go; to see other people enjoying some peace and quiet, or a good chat, over a slice of absolutely heavenly cherry pie. And now she was closing up shop; shutting it all off, for the sake of a few measly quid. He was totally not in the mood for a children’s party. They weren’t going.
He was jerked out of his reverie by a slamming door.
‘Now,’ said Issy. ‘This is the tricky part. Could the mummies help with the eggs, please?’
‘Nooo!’ said a dozen little voices simultaneously. ‘Do it self!’ The mothers swapped looks. Issy raised her eyebrows.
‘Well, I did bring along lots of extra eggs. How about we get another mummy to help you? All the mummies move one child along.’
Sure enough, the toddlers were happy to be helped by someone who wasn’t their mother. Issy took note of this and filed it away for future reference. A ray of sun beamed through the windows and lit up a happy tableau: the adults, chatting and making friends around the periphery of the shop, and in a row the little boys and girls, focusing intently on their wooden spoons and mixing bowls. At the top of the table, wearing a special chef’s birthday hat, was Louis, banging happily and commenting on everyone else’s work – ‘Veh good, Alice. Gooh cake’ – like the café authority which, Issy supposed, he probably was by now.
Kate’s twins were trying to make identical cakes by mixing them at the same time, and Kate was splitting them up and making a mess of them overhead, while saying in a piercing voice, ‘Of course, we would be baking cakes in our own kitchens by now if we didn’t have such lazy, useless builders.’
‘Speak for yourself, love,’ said the head builder, who had his own three-year-old mixing away like a demon right next to the twins. Seraphina leaned up and gave the little boy a kiss. Kate’s mouth fell open. If her eyebrows could have moved they would have shot up. Then Jane came round the boy’s other side and leaned up to kiss his cheek.
‘I yuv you too, Ned,’ she said, and the builder beamed complacently as Kate pretended to stare out of the window at something new and interesting.
‘Achilles darling,’ came a trilling voice from behind the counter. ‘Stand up straight! Good posture is the key to good health.’
Little Achilles’ shoulders went rigid, but he didn’t turn round. Issy patted him on the head as she went past. Hermia was standing shyly to one side.
‘Hello, darling,’ said Issy, crouching down. ‘How’s school?’
‘She’s doing wonderfully!’ came Caroline’s booming voice. ‘They’re thinking about putting her in the gifted and talented programme. And she’s doing marvellously on the flute!’
‘Really,’ said Issy. ‘I was terrible at music. Clever you!’
The little girl beckoned Issy down to her level and whispered in her ear, ‘I’m terrible too.’
‘That’s OK,’ said Issy. ‘There’s lots of other things to do. Don’t worry about it. Would you like to make a cake too? I bet you’ll be good at that.’
Hermia smiled gladly and, standing next to Elise, rolled up her sleeves cheerfully.
Issy moved on to make sure everyone had something to drink. Deep inside, listening to the clink of cups and the chatter of conversation and the squeaks and snuffles of the children, she suddenly felt a sensation of great peace; of accomplishment; of something created with her bare hands out of nothing. I made this, she thought to herself. Suddenly she felt almost teary with happiness; she wanted to hug Pearl, Helena, everyone who’d helped her make this a reality, given her the privilege of earning money by getting herself covered in flour for a three-year-old’s birthday party.
‘Very good mixing, everyone,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘Very good.’
Darny burst into the shop, pink in the face, partly from running and partly from crossing the road without waiting for Austin, who was going to go absolutely nuts. Darny was counting on him not wanting to go nuts in front of all the people in here. He might save it for later, but being Austin, he might also forget all about it. It was a risk worth taking.
‘Hello, Louis,’ he announced cheerfully.
‘Dahnee!’ said Louis adoringly, and not pausing to wipe the cake mixture off himself, he threw himself on Darny, covering Darny’s already dirty shirt with flour.
‘Happy birthday,’ said Darny. ‘I brought you my best bow and arrow.’
He solemnly handed it over.
‘Yay!’ said Louis. Pearl and Issy exchanged glances.
‘I’ll just put that somewhere safe,’ said Pearl, deftly lifting it from Louis’s fingers and sticking it on the fruit-tea shelf well out of reach.
‘Hello, Darny,’ said Issy, welcomingly. ‘Do you want to bake?’
‘Yeah, all right,’ said Darny.
‘OK then,’ said Issy. ‘Where’s your brother?’
Darny stared at the ground.
‘Um, he’s coming …’
Just as Issy was about to question him further, the doorbell tinged. Austin entered, his face pink.
‘What did I say to you?’
Theatrically, Darny turned round and indicated the room full of people. At the sound of Austin’s raised voice, Oliver curled himself back up into a ball and started to cry again.
‘OK, outside,’ said Austin, looking stressed.
‘Oh, can’t he stay?’ said Issy, without thinking. ‘We’re just doing some baking …’
Austin looked at her. It was almost impossible to believe. Here she was, in a flowery pinny, her cheeks pink, her eyes sparkling, with a bunch of rug rats, baking cupcakes. She didn’t look anything like an evil property developer. He tore his gaze away.
‘I told him he couldn’t come,’ Austin muttered, feeling disgruntled, with everyone’s eyes upon him.
‘I vite mah fren Dahnee to mah pahtee,’ came a small voice from down by his knees. Austin glanced down. Oh great, this was all he needed
. No one could refuse Louis anything.
‘Is mah birfday. I free, not five!’ said Louis. ‘Not five, no,’ he said again wonderingly, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. Then he added, ‘Dahnee give me bown arrs.’
Austin blinked while he translated this. Then he glanced at Darny in some surprise.
‘Did you give him that bow and arrow?’ he asked in surprise.
Darny shrugged his shoulders. ‘He’s my friend, innit.’
‘Don’t say innit,’ said Austin automatically. ‘Well, well done. Good. That was good.’
‘Does that mean he can stay?’ said Caroline from behind the counter. ‘Oh good. Hello, Austin darling, can I get you anything?’
Darny skipped off to the end of the long tables where Pearl was helping everyone spoon their cake mix into the cupcake baking cases.
‘Now you guys are going out to play Ring a Ring o’ Roses round the tree,’ she was explaining, ‘and when you’ve finished the games and come in again, the cakes will be ready.’
‘Yay!’ yelled the little ones.
‘No thanks,’ said Austin, then reconsidered. ‘Yes, get me a latte. Last chance of a decent cup of coffee for a while.’
Issy was surprised by how jolted she was when he said this.
‘Why?’ she said. ‘Going somewhere?’
Austin stared at her. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You are.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Issy, conscious that down the other end of the table one of the children had dropped their cake mix and Oliver was licking it up like a dog. She felt for Oliver’s mother.
She refocused. ‘You mean, you’re not going anywhere?’
That was such a relief. Why did she feel it was such a relief? And why was Austin staring at her like that? It was a strange look, full of curiosity, but also something a little like contempt. She stared back at him. It was odd, she thought, how little she’d noticed him when they first met – beyond seeing how scruffy he was, but she’d rather got used to that. Whereas now, when he looked a little fierce, she noticed what she’d missed: he was gorgeous. Not man-in-a-razor-blade-advert gorgeous, like Graeme, all sharp lines, Action Man jaw and perfectly gelled hair. Gorgeous in an open, honest, kind, smiling way, with a wide forehead, those shrewd grey eyes always narrowed as if thinking of a private joke; the wide, dimpled grin; the tousled, schoolboy hair. Funny how one didn’t notice these things always, not at first. Well, there you go. No wonder she wanted – had wanted, she told herself firmly – to kiss him at her party.