Meet Me at the Cupcake Café

by Jenny Colgan

  ‘Unbelievable,’ said Austin, turning round. ‘Forget the coffee, er …’

  ‘Caroline!’ trilled Caroline.

  ‘Yeah, whatever. Darny, I’ll be back to pick you up in an hour. Meet me outside.’

  Darny waved vaguely, as excited as the three-year-olds by the enormous oven Pearl was leading them down to see, with many dire warnings as to what would happen if they so much as wiggled a finger near it.

  ‘That man,’ breathed Caroline by Issy’s left ear as Austin moved towards the door, ‘is unbelievably hot. Smoking hot.’

  ‘Smoking hot?’ said Issy, cross. ‘Have you been watching those shows about cougars again? Cougars aren’t real, you know.’

  ‘I’m not a cougar!’ said Caroline, sounding hurt. ‘I’m a modern woman who knows what she wants. And when it comes down to it, he’s still a banker. You know, for introducing at dinner parties.’

  ‘Well, you seem to have it all worked out,’ said Issy absent-mindedly, trying to figure out why Austin was so upset. Could it be because he’d seen her with Graeme? Her ego couldn’t help being a little excited by the idea; that he actually did like her, that it wasn’t just a drunken flirt at a birthday party. But if that was the case, what should she do? She couldn’t avoid him for ever.

  As she was thinking this, the door was pushed open, almost into Austin’s face. He had to jump back. Graeme didn’t give him as much as a second glance as he stormed into the café.

  Graeme looked around in consternation. Who were all these people? Normally there was nobody here on a Saturday afternoon. He looked at Issy, who looked horrified to see him. Austin found himself trapped between the door and a crocodile of tiny children in aprons, who were now being shepherded out into the sunshine by Pearl and the postie, en route to playing Ring a Ring o’ Roses around the tree. Seeing Issy with children, reminded Graeme of his mission. Then he caught sight of Austin.

  ‘You,’ he said.

  Austin shoved the door closed. ‘Our meeting’s not till Monday,’ he said quietly.

  ‘What meeting?’ said Issy. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Austin turned to Issy. The entire room was watching what was happening intently.

  ‘You know,’ he said. ‘The meeting on Monday. When you come to borrow money for the development.’

  ‘What development? What the hell are you talking about?’

  Austin stared at her for a long time. Issy felt panicky and confused.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘You mean you don’t know?’

  ‘I don’t know. Do I have to start throwing cakes at people to get some answers round here?’

  Austin looked back at Graeme. This man was even more of an arsehole than he’d taken him for. Unbelievable. He shook his head.

  ‘You haven’t told her?’

  ‘Told me what?’

  There was silence in the café.

  ‘Um,’ said Graeme, ‘can we go somewhere quiet and discuss it?’

  ‘Discuss what?’ said Issy. She found she was shaking. Graeme looked so strange – both men did. ‘Tell me here. Tell me now. What is it?’

  Graeme rubbed the back of his hair, nervously. It stuck up. It normally did, unless he used quite a lot of taming gel. He didn’t know Issy liked it better that way.

  ‘Uh, Issy. Actually, it’s great news. For us. We’ve been granted planning permission to turn Pear Tree Court into apartments!’

  ‘What do you mean, “us”?’ said Issy, her blood running cold. ‘There’s no “us’’.’

  ‘Well, you, me, Kalinga Deniki, you know,’ said Graeme, hurrying his words. ‘This whole space is going to be an amazing flagship development for Stoke Newington.’

  ‘We don’t want a flagship development,’ said someone at the back. ‘We want a café.’

  Issy stepped closer to Graeme. ‘You mean you were thinking of doing something that involves … closing the café? Without telling me?’

  ‘But listen, sweetie,’ said Graeme, leaning in close and giving her the special crinkle-eyed intense look that always made the temps work extra hours for him. He spoke quietly so the rest of the café couldn’t hear, though Austin caught the gist of it. ‘Listen. I thought you and I could do the deal together. We were so good together, we could be again. We can make a lot of money. Buy a bigger house of our own. And you won’t have to get up at six in the morning any more, or spend all night doing paperwork, or haggling with suppliers, or getting yelled at by that accountancy woman. Huh?’

  Issy looked up at him. ‘But …’ she said. ‘But …’

  ‘You’ve done such a great job here, it’s going to give us real financial independence. Really set us up. Then you can work on something much easier, huh?’

  Issy gazed at him, half disbelieving, half furious. Not with Graeme – he was a shark; this was what he did. With herself. For staying with him as long as she had; for letting this snake into her life; for stupidly believing that he could change; that the man she had met – sharp, selfish, attractive, not interested in commitment – would suddenly turn into the man she wanted him to be, just by her blindly wishing for it to be so. After all, how would that happen? It didn’t make any sense. She was such a total idiot. Such a cretin.

  ‘But you can’t!’ she said suddenly. ‘I have a lease! I rent this place.’

  Graeme looked regretful. ‘Mr Barstow … he’s more than happy to sell out to us. We’ve already spoken. You’re nearly at the end of your six months.’

  ‘And you’d have to get planning—’

  ‘That’s already in process. It’s not exactly an area of outstanding natural beauty.’

  ‘It bloody is!’ said Issy. Infuriatingly, she felt tears sparking in her eyes and a huge lump in her throat; outside the window, the children were laughing and playing round their beloved, stumpy, twisty, unbeautiful tree.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ said Graeme, desperately. ‘This is for us! I was doing it for us, darling! We could still work it out.’

  Issy glared at him.

  ‘But … but don’t you see? I love getting up at six am. I love doing the paperwork. I even love that old cow Mrs Prescott. And why? Because it’s mine, that’s why. Not yours, not somebody else’s and not bloody Kalinga Deniki’s.’

  ‘It’s not yours,’ said Graeme softly. ‘It’s the bank’s.’

  At this Issy turned to Austin. He held out his hands towards her and was shocked to see the rage in her face.

  ‘You knew about this?’ she yelled at him. ‘You knew and you never told me?’

  ‘I thought you knew!’ protested Austin, taken aback by her fury. ‘I thought it was your little plan all along! To tart up this joint then flog it to some naff City boys!’

  At this, something inside Issy cracked. She didn’t know how much longer she could dam the flood of tears.

  ‘You thought I would do that?’ she said, all anger gone and pure sadness taking its place. ‘You thought I would do that.’

  Now it was Austin’s turn to feel awful. He should have trusted his instincts after all. He stepped towards her.

  ‘Stay away from me,’ Issy yelled. ‘Stay away from me. Both of you. Go. Get out. Get out of here.’

  Austin and Graeme shot each other a glance of mutual loathing, and Austin hung back to let the shorter man leave first.

  ‘Hang on!’ Issy shouted suddenly. ‘How long … how long have I got?’

  Graeme shrugged. Dumpy, blushing Issy, plucked out of the bloody typing pool, for fuck’s sake – that she dared to say he wasn’t enough for her … Bloody cow. How dare she dump him. How dare she get in the way of his plans. He suddenly felt coldly furious that she would cross him like this.

  ‘Planning goes up tomorrow,’ he said. ‘You’ve got a month.’

  The café went silent, as the oven pinged. Louis’s cakes were ready.

  Pearl looked at the tears flooding down Issy’s face and the crowd of concerned well-wishers around her as she ushered the littlies back in and decided it
was time for the emergency white wine to be deployed, licence or no licence. Two of the mums, excited to be caught up in such a drama, sorted out the children’s cakes, which they could decorate, as soon as they cooled a little, with blue or pink icing, hundreds and thousands and tiny silver balls. There were also bowls set out of chopped fruit, sesame seeds, carrot sticks, hummus and twiglets. Caroline had managed this side of the catering ‘as a gift to darling Louis’. Louis had given her one of his Hard Stares when he’d seen what was on offer. They were keeping it all to one side.

  Pearl and Helena bundled Issy downstairs.

  ‘Are you all right?’ said Pearl, worriedly.

  ‘That snake,’ shouted Issy. ‘I’ll kill him. I’ll sort him out. We’ll establish a fighting fund! We’ll start a leafleting campaign! I’ll bury him! You’ll help, won’t you, Helena? You’ll get on it with us?’

  Issy turned to Helena, who was suddenly looking rather distracted and biting her lip, having left Ashok behind upstairs. Issy explained everything again. She started to cry a little as she did so, particularly at the point where she talked about Austin thinking she’d done it on purpose. Pearl was shaking her head.

  ‘I mean,’ Issy protested, ‘they can’t do that. They can’t just march in here, can they? Can he?’

  Pearl shrugged. ‘Well, it belongs to Mr Barstow.’

  ‘You’ll find another property,’ said Helena.

  ‘Not like this,’ said Issy, looking round at the immaculate storeroom, the tiny view of the cobbles in the street; her beautiful, perfect oven. ‘It won’t be like this.’

  ‘It might be better,’ said Helena. ‘Get somewhere bigger. You know you can do it. Maybe it’s time to expand. They’re queueing out the doors here now.’

  Issy stuck out her bottom lip. ‘But I’m happy here. And it’s the principle of the thing.’

  Helena snorted. ‘Well, it’s not like you ever listened to me when I told you what a shit Graeme is.’

  ‘I know,’ said Issy. ‘I know. Why do I never listen to you?’

  ‘I do not know.’

  ‘She doesn’t listen to me either,’ said Pearl. Helena lifted her chin meaningfully.

  ‘And I want to show him,’ said Issy. ‘I want to show him that you can’t just buy and sell people when it suits you. You can’t just tell people to up and leave. Oh,’ she said, ‘Lena. Are you sure you’re all right with us all living together for a while longer? This could take a bit of unravelling.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Helena, looking uncharacteristically nervous, ‘no, I think we really are going to have to move.’

  ‘Why?’

  Helena seemed nervous and excited and full of anticipation, and she glanced up the stairwell for Ashok.

  ‘Well,’ she began, ‘it’s been a bit quicker than we’d have planned, but …’

  Issy stared at her, completely confused. Pearl was delighted and guessed immediately.

  ‘A baby!’

  Helena nodded, looking demure for the first time in her life. It was going to take some getting used to, she thought.

  Issy summoned up every reserve of courage, every tiny brave part of her. She almost made it. Her lips almost made it into the smile she so wanted to give; that Helena so deserved. But at the very end, her strength deserted her. Her throat clogged up and her eyes stung.

  ‘Con—’ she stuttered. Then, suddenly, she was in floods of tears. She had nothing, and Helena had everything. It felt so hard, so unfair.

  ‘Oh Issy … what? I’m so sorry, I thought you’d be pleased,’ said Helena, dashing to her friend. ‘Oh darling. Sorry. We’ll need to find a new place, of course, but you won’t be on your own … It was an accident but we’re both delighted, but …’

  ‘Oh, dear Lena,’ said Issy, ‘you know, I am absolutely thrilled for you.’ And the girls hugged again.

  ‘Course you are,’ said Helena. ‘You’re going to be the best godmother ever. Teach it to bake.’

  ‘You’ll be able to deliver the baby yourselves!’ said Issy. ‘Oh God, someone get me a tissue.’

  A mum appeared at the top of the stairs.

  ‘Um, shall we sing “Happy Birthday”?’

  ‘My baby!’ said Pearl. ‘I’m coming, I’m coming.’

  As Issy emerged from the cellar to join in a rousing chorus for Louis, who beamed, then looked at his three candles and said, ‘Wan faive candles,’ and Pearl shone with pride at her little boy, only three and he knew how to count, she was surrounded by a sea of people, commiserating about the shop, offering support and threatening to write to planning, or host a sit-in, or boycott the estate agents. (Issy wasn’t sure how helpful that one would be.) It was overwhelming.

  ‘Thanks, everyone,’ Pearl said finally, addressing the room. ‘We will – well, we don’t know what we can do but we will try everything, I promise, to keep the café open. And now, let’s enjoy Louis’s party!’

  And she turned up the music again and watched the children dance around, sticky oblivious faces filled with happiness, Louis at the centre of it all. She didn’t want this to go either. This wasn’t just a job. This was their lives now. She needed it.

  It was utter torture for Issy to last until the final child had been sent home with a bouncing ball and an extra piece of cake in a bag; to politely wave goodbye to clients and friends and thank them for their concern; to collect the debris and clean up the mess; to pack away all of Caroline’s uneaten snacks for Berlioz. She scarcely knew how to endure it. But what had to come next was worse. Pearl saw her face.

  ‘Must you go now?’ she asked Issy. ‘Darling, it isn’t going to change if you pick your stuff up later.’

  ‘No,’ said Issy. She felt like she had a huge hole in her stomach, tangled up and cramped and filled with anxiety. ‘No. If I leave it at Graeme’s, I’ll just have it in front of me to dread. I’ll have to do it fast. Just get in. There’s hardly anything there anyway. He was always a bit tight with cupboard space. Needed a lot of room for his hair gel.’

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ said Pearl. They looked at Louis, who was happily exploring his presents on the floor.

  ‘You know,’ said Pearl, ‘I wouldn’t change a thing about my life, not a tiny little thing. But sometimes … well, I would say it is probably easier breaking up before. Rather than after. If you know what I mean.’

  Issy nodded her head slowly.

  ‘But Pearl … I’m thirty-two. Thirty-two. What if that was my last chance to have a baby? If I have to go and work somewhere else now … how will I ever meet anyone? If I’m stuck in someone’s back kitchen, working for a chain … I can’t build it up again, Pearl. I can’t. This place took everything I have.’

  ‘Course you can,’ Pearl urged her. ‘You’ve done all the hard stuff. Made all the mistakes. The next one will be a breeze. And thirty-two is nothing these days. Of course you’ll meet someone. What about that handsome banking adviser? I reckon he’d be a far better fit for you.’

  ‘Austin?’ Issy’s face tightened suddenly. ‘That I can’t believe. I can’t believe he thought I was behind all this, that I’d sell out in five minutes. I thought he liked me.’

  ‘He does like you,’ said Pearl. ‘There you go. Of course you’ll meet someone. I know things seem a little bleak now …’

  They looked at each other. Then, stupidly, they both started to laugh. Issy got a little hysterical, tears standing in her eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ she gasped when she could catch her breath. ‘You could say a little bleak.’

  ‘Oh, you know what I mean,’ protested Pearl.

  ‘Yes, just a bit of a bad day.’

  Pearl laughed more. ‘There have been better days.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Issy. ‘My last cervical smear was more fun than this.’

  Louis wobbled up to them, wanting to know what all the laughter was about. Issy looked at him ruefully.

  ‘Hello, pumpkin.’

  Louis stretched his hands out to his mother.

  ‘Best birfday,’ he
said proudly. ‘Louis best birfday.’ Then he went a little quieter. ‘Weah Daddy, Mummy?’

  Ben, in the end, hadn’t shown. Pearl’s face was completely impassive.

  Graeme’s flat had no windows facing the street, so Issy had no way of knowing whether he was in or not, short of ringing the intercom, and she had no intention of talking to him unless it was absolutely necessary. She swallowed hard, unwilling to get out of the taxi.

  ‘All right, love?’ asked the cabbie, and she nearly confided in him there and then, but stepped out nonetheless. The heat had mostly gone out of the day, but it was mild enough for just a cardigan.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, reflecting that this was the last time she would ever get out here. Surely he’d have gone out. It was Saturday night after all. He’d be out with his mates, having a few beers, trying to pull someone new in a nightclub, probably. Laughing it off, talking about being free at last, and how much money he was going to make with this new deal. She swallowed hard. He didn’t give a shit about her. He never had. It had always been about the money for him, always. He’d strung her along like an idiot, and she’d fallen for it completely.

  She was so convinced he would be having a wonderful time in a cocktail bar, pulling a blonde right at that very minute, that Issy wasn’t at all expecting to see Graeme when she entered the dimly lit hallway. In fact, she nearly missed him. He was sitting in his fake Le Corbusier armchair, in his dressing gown – Issy hadn’t known he owned a dressing gown – glass in hand, staring out of the window at the minimalist courtyard garden nobody ever visited. He started when she entered, but didn’t turn his head. Issy stood there. Her heart was thumping painfully.