by Jenny Colgan
Graeme looked at him as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
‘But we’ve got planning,’ he said sullenly. ‘So it obviously is in the interests of the community.’
‘The bank doesn’t think so,’ said Austin, mentally crossing his fingers and hoping the bank never got to hear of him turning down an absolutely sound investment. ‘I’m sorry. We’re going to continue to hold on to the mortgages as they stand.’
Graeme stared at him for a long time.
‘What the hell is this?’ he burst out suddenly. ‘Are you just trying to screw with me? Got the hots for my girlfriend or something?’
Austin tried to look as if he’d never heard of such a thing.
‘Not at all,’ he said, as if offended. ‘It’s just bank policy, that’s all. I’m sorry, you must understand. In the current financial climate …’
Graeme leaned over. ‘Do. Not,’ he enunciated very slowly, ‘Tell. Me. About. The current financial climate.’
‘Of course, sir,’ said Austin. There was a silence. Austin didn’t want to break it. Graeme lifted up his hands.
‘So you’re telling me I’m not going to get this loan here.’
‘That’s right, sir.’
‘That I’d have to bring in another bank and pay them commission to take on and untangle all your stupid loans which have probably been packaged in with some bunch of junk and sold up some untraceable river somewhere?’
‘Yup.’
Graeme stood up.
‘This is bullshit. Bullshit.’
‘Also, I’ve heard there’s actually quite a lot of late opposition to the planning. Enough that might even make them go back on their decision.’
‘They can’t do that.’
‘Planning officers can do whatever they like.’
Graeme was turning pink with fury.
‘I’ll get the money, you know. You’ll see. Then you’ll look the fricking idiot in front of your bosses.’
Austin reflected that he did already, and was surprised to find he wasn’t too fussed. Maybe it didn’t always matter what your bosses thought, he figured. He wondered who had taught him that.
Graeme eyed Austin one more time before he left.
‘She’d never go for you, you know,’ he sneered. ‘You’re not her type.’
Well, neither are you, thought Austin mildly, as he filed the paperwork in the bin. But he felt a tugging sadness in his heart.
There was no time for that, however. He grabbed the phone and dialled the number he had in front of him on the desk. He sent his instructions through as soon as he was connected. A chorus of swearing reached him from the other end. Then a pause, and a sigh, and a barked command that he had fifteen minutes to stop arsing around and go back to spending time on serious businesses.
Then he had to make the other call. He used the bank phone to call Issy’s mobile. She’d have to pick up now. Fingers crossed.
His heart racing, he tapped in the numbers … numbers he realized he’d actually memorized. What an idiot he was. Issy picked up straight away.
‘Hello?’ she said, her voice sounding unsure and nervous.
‘Issy!’ said Austin, his voice coming out rather strangulated. ‘Um, don’t hang up, please. Look, I know you’re angry and stuff, and I know, and I think I rather slightly fucked that up, but I think … I think I might be able to do something. For the café, I mean, not you. Obviously. But I think … argh. I don’t have time for this. Listen. You have to go out on to the street right now.’
‘But I can’t,’ said Issy, panic in her voice.
She had hardly recognized the old man on the bed; he was a wraith. Her beloved grandfather; so strong, his huge hands pushing and kneading and moulding great lumps of dough; so delicate when shaping a sugar rose, or intricate when cutting a long line of Battenburg. He had been, truly, mother and father to her; always there when she needed him; a safe haven.
Yet now, at her lowest ebb, when Issy felt her dreams about to slip through her fingers, he was powerless. As he lay on the bed while she told him her story, his eyes had widened, and Issy felt a terrifying clutch of guilt around her heart as he tried to sit up.
‘No, Gramps, don’t,’ she’d insisted, in anguish. ‘Please. Please don’t. It’s going to be fine.’
‘You can do it, sweetheart,’ her gramps was saying, but his breathing was ragged and laboured, his eyes rheumy and bloodshot, his face an awful grey.
‘Please, Gramps.’ Issy rang the bell for the nurse, holding on to her grandfather with all her might, trying to calm him down. Keavie came in, took one look at him and her normally stolid face grew intent and she immediately called for back-up; two men came in with an oxygen cylinder and struggled to get a mask over his face.
‘I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,’ Issy was saying, as they worked on without her. That was when her mobile rang, and Keavie ushered her outside while they fought to stabilize him.
Issy went back into the room after Austin had hung up, terror clawing at her, but Gramps was there, with the mask on, his breathing much quietened.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Issy in a rush. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
‘Hush,’ said Keavie. ‘It wasn’t you. He’s been having these episodes.’
She held Issy’s arm very tightly, and pulled her round until they were face to face.
‘You have to realize, Issy,’ she said, speaking kindly but firmly. It was a voice Issy had heard Helena using when she had to pass on bad news. ‘This is normal. This is part of the process.’
Issy stifled a sob, then went and held Gramps’s hand. The colour had come back to his cheeks and he was able to take his mask off.
‘Who was that on the phone? Was it your mother?’
‘Uh no,’ said Issy. ‘It was … it was the bank. They think they know a way to save the café, but it had to be done right then and there, and I’m sure they missed it …’
Issy felt her grandfather’s pressure on her hand grow extremely strong.
‘You go!’ he said, sternly. ‘You go and save that café right now! Right now! I mean it, Isabel! You go and you fight for your business.’
‘I’m not leaving you,’ said Issy.
‘You bloody are,’ said Grampa Joe. ‘Keavie, you tell her.’
And he let go of her hand and turned his face to the wall.
‘Go!’
‘Will it really save your café?’ said Keavie. ‘With all those lovely cakes?’
Issy shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It’s probably too late.’
‘Go!’ said Keavie. ‘Go!’
Issy tore down the road to the station, and for once, just for once, the world and London Transport were on her side, and the stopping train that would let her out at Blackhorse Road was right there waiting for her. She flung herself on board and phoned Austin.
‘I’m stalling it,’ said Austin grimly, not wanting to let on how much danger he’d just put himself in. ‘Be as quick as you can.’
‘I’m doing that.’
‘How’s … how’s your grampa?’
‘Well, he’s well enough to be cross with me,’ said Issy.
‘That’s something,’ said Austin.
‘We’re coming into the station.’
‘Run like the wind! Whatever he offers you, take it! One year, two years, whatever it is!’
Issy raced the beautiful new shiny double-deckers sidling down Albion Road. Linda was in one, she saw, sitting on the top deck. She waved, and Linda waved back excitedly. Then, right in front of her, a huge black car drew to a halt. She glanced at it. Could this be what Austin meant? The tinted windows made it impossible to see in, but very slowly the back window came down. Issy bent over, squinting in the bright sunlight.
‘You! Girl with the cakes! Give me a cake!’ came a gruff voice. Issy automatically passed over the powdered honey-blossom she still had in her hand. Mr Barstow took it in his fat paw, and for a few seconds all she could hear was contented chewing. Then he looked o
ut at her, wearing large black sunglasses.
‘I hear the developers are having some trouble getting the money,’ he said. ‘Well, I can’t be buggered with that. Give me my money. Here. Sign.’
He passed her over a contract. It was an increase in rent – but not an impossible one. And it was an increase in the lease, to eighteen months. Eighteen months! Her heart leapt. It wouldn’t make it hers, but it would be enough time, surely, to get on more of a secure footing. And if they did well … perhaps, at the end of eighteen months, even she might be happy to look for bigger premises. Unless …
‘Stay here,’ she said, then dashed across the courtyard, pinny flying, and pounded on the ironmonger’s door. She dragged him over to the car.
‘Him too,’ she said, pushing him up front. ‘I’ll sign for him too. Or he can sign for me.’
Mr Barstow sighed and lit a cigarette.
‘I can’t stay here,’ protested Chester. ‘It’s over for me.’
‘No,’ said Issy. ‘Don’t you see? I can take over the ironmonger’s too. We need room to expand, look.’ She gestured at The Cupcake Café, a queue spilling out into the warm square full of hungry, laughing customers, all anxious to stock up on Issy’s sweet treats in case they got taken away.
‘I’ve already had four more bookings for children’s parties. And I could accept more gift stuff if I had more space. If we take both …’ She lowered her voice. ‘I suspect we’d need a nightwatchman. Seeing as we haven’t got a security gate. Someone who could keep an eye on the premises at night. Of course, it wouldn’t pay very well …’
Chester scribbled on the paperwork excitedly. And ten seconds later, they were standing on the pavement, watching the sleek black car pull away into the thickening traffic, staring at each other in disbelief.
‘No more hiding,’ said Issy. ‘How about that?’
‘Your grandad was right about you,’ said the old man.
‘Eeek!’ screamed Issy suddenly, as she realized what had just happened. She ran into the café. ‘Pearl! We’re safe! We’re safe!’
Pearl’s eyes widened. ‘What do you mean?’
Issy brandished the contracts. ‘We’ve got an extension! Graeme didn’t get his loan.’
Pearl stopped what she was doing, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.
‘You are joking.’
Issy shook her head. ‘Eighteen months. We’ve got eighteen months.’
Pearl had worked so hard to keep from Issy how much this job had meant to her. How hard it would be to find something else; how loath she was to pull Louis out of that nursery where he was so happy – and even, she reluctantly admitted, popular. The worry and the expectation of disaster had built up in her for so long that she simply sat down on the stool behind the counter and burst into tears.
‘And,’ said Issy, ‘we’re going to expand! We’re going to take on the ironmonger’s! You’re going to head up the other part of the Cupcake Café, where we make special gifts and do catering and all that. Bit of a promotion.’
Pearl wiped her eyes with one of the candy-striped tea towels.
‘I can’t believe I’ve got so attached to a stupid job,’ she said, shaking her head. Issy looked around at the slightly confused-looking customers. Caroline stepped forward.
‘I knew you’d do it,’ she said. ‘And I can stay! I can stay! Thank God, I don’t know how I’d have coped with only three bathrooms. Thank Christ.’
The three women hugged. Issy finally looked up.
‘Sorry, everyone,’ she said. ‘We thought we were going to have to close. But I’ve just found out we don’t.’
There were smiles of pleasure up and down the queue.
‘So, I think this means … I’ve always wanted to say this …’ said Issy, taking a deep breath, with Pearl and Caroline’s arms around her—
‘Cupcakes on the house!!’
It was almost worth it, Austin thought, for the admiration on Janet’s face alone. Almost.
‘I’ve seen him off for now,’ he said. ‘Won’t last of course. He’ll just regroup elsewhere and come back stronger than ever. That’s how cockroaches work.’
‘You did a good thing,’ said Janet. She frowned. ‘Give me the paperwork. I’ll try and smooth it with the bosses. And now go and make five hundred really amazing investments to distract their attention.’
‘Not right now,’ said Austin. ‘I am full of adrenalin and manliness. I’m going to get Darny out from school for lunch and we are going to the park to do roaring.’
‘I’ll tell that to your twelve o’clock, shall I?’ said Janet affectionately.
‘Yes please,’ said Austin.
He’d been surprised Issy hadn’t rung him back, but then, well, maybe not really. She was just out of a relationship and had had a narrow escape with her business, and was probably celebrating in the café or figuring things out or … well, she’d made it quite clear she wanted nothing to do with him. So. Well. Never mind. He bought sandwiches and crisps from the corner shop and popped his head into the school to pick up his boy.
Sometimes, he thought, all the aggro, all the yelling, the persuading, the restrictions to his social life and his sex life; the ongoing fug of his plans … sometimes, all of it was vindicated by the delighted face of a ten-year-old boy when he sees his big brother surprising him with lunch in the park. Darny’s smile reached his sticky-out ears.
‘Auusssttttiiinnnn!’
‘Come on then, you mucker. Your big brother, by the way, is a total hero.’
‘Are you a goodie?’
‘Yes.’
‘Mr Tyler, can I have a word?’ said the headteacher as he was leaving.
‘Not quite at the moment,’ said Austin. ‘Soon?’
Kirsty watched him as he left the school. She had decided, when she’d seen him, to take her courage in both hands, ask him out once and for all. But he seemed so edgy and distracted and she reckoned it had better wait until afterwards.
‘After lunch?’ she said.
‘Sure,’ said Austin, noticing that as well as being a teacher, she was actually rather attractive. Maybe it was time to look for a nice woman who liked him, and didn’t go out with dickwads. Maybe, if he was never going to get the woman he really wanted, he could start dating again. One day. Maybe.
‘But now we have some lions to kill. By stabbing them in the heart, then we’ll take out the heart, then we’ll burn the heart on a fire then we’ll eat the—’
‘Out, Darny. Out.’ Kirsty watched him cross the playground.
Austin took off his jacket and loosened his already badly knotted tie in the hot sunshine. It was a glorious day. Clissold Park had ice-cream vans stationed like sentries at the gates and chattering families, sunbathing office workers and happy old people getting some heat in their bones. Darny and Austin followed the stream through the gates. Just as they reached them, however, Austin heard someone calling his name.
‘Austin! Austin!’
He turned round. It was Issy, pink in the face, carrying a large box.
‘You look very red,’ said Austin.
Issy closed her eyes. This was such a stupid idea. And of course she was blushing again. She was probably covered in sweat too. This was really daft. She followed them into the park. Darny had come straight up to her and taken her hand. She squeezed it, needing the reassurance.
‘I like it,’ said Austin. ‘Red suits you.’
He wanted to kick himself for saying something so stupid. They stared at one another for a bit. Nervous, Austin turned his attention to the box. ‘Are those for me? Because you know I can’t take—’
‘Shut up,’ said Issy. ‘I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I can’t … anyway, they’re not for you to eat, they’re for Darny. And they didn’t come out right anyway, they’re a mess, and …’
Without even thinking about it, without even looking at them, Austin took the box in his hands and hurled it with all his might. It flew from his long fingers straight into
a copse of nearby trees. The pink of the ribbon streamed against the bright blue of the sky and the green of the trees, but the box did not burst.
‘Darny,’ said Austin, ‘that was a huge box of cakes. Go find it and they’re all yours.’
Darny shot off like a bullet from a gun.
Issy looked after him in consternation. ‘Those were my cakes! With a message on them!’
Austin took her hands suddenly, urgently, feeling that he didn’t have much time.
‘You can make more cakes. But Issy, if you want to send me a message … please, please, just tell me what it is.’
Issy felt the warm, firm pressure of his hands on hers; found herself staring up into his strong, handsome face. And suddenly, suddenly, for almost the first time in her life, she felt the nerves desert her. She felt calm, and at peace. She didn’t worry about what he was thinking, or how she looked, or how she was doing, or what other people thought. She was conscious of nothing other than her absolute and present desire to be held by this man. She took one deep breath and closed her eyes, as Austin tilted her face up towards his, and she gave herself up entirely to his fierce and perfect kiss, in the middle of a busy park, in the middle of a busy day, in the middle of one of the busiest cities in the world.
‘Me sick?’ came an angry-sounding voice from somewhere far away. ‘Why are you sick? Who’s sick?’
Reluctantly, and both more than a little pink and sweaty, Austin and Issy jumped apart. Darny was standing there looking puzzled.
‘That’s what your cakes said.’
He held up the battered and bruised box, with the remnants of five cakes inside, one missing. He’d arranged the letters to spell M-E S-I-K.
‘Is that the message you wanted me to get?’ said Austin.
‘Uh, not quite,’ said Issy, feeling dizzy and light-headed and thinking she was about to faint.
‘OK,’ said Austin, smiling broadly. ‘OK, Darny. We are going to have lunch, then five minutes of lions, and then Issy and I have some business to attend to, OK?’