The Cosy Little Cupcake Van: A deliciously feel-good romance

by Annette Hannah

  In the kitchen they could hear the siren for the level crossing and that meant that a train was imminent. Lucy had shown her where all the named pre-ordered meals were for the commuters who would soon start arriving home from London. They were served in one of the windows that made up the serving hatch directly onto the station platform. The other window was for new orders being taken. Lucy continued to look after the seated customers.

  A few hours later Camilla felt exhausted yet revitalised at the same time. She was sharing a coffee with Lucy.

  ‘That was amazing,’ she said as she dipped a chocolate hobnob into her cappuccino. ‘I hadn’t realised how busy this place had got. I love it and it’s just so cosy in here.’

  Lucy snapped her biscuit in half before dunking. ‘It is cosy and I love nothing more than sitting here on my own and doing my paperwork, especially upstairs where I can people-watch but they can’t see me.’ She kicked her shoes off and put her feet up on the seat opposite her and snuggled down into her reclaimed train seat.

  ‘I was scared to start work here because I wasn’t sure if I could face people. I feel humiliated in some ways, but thankfully I didn’t see anyone I knew today.’

  Lucy squeezed her hand gently. ‘You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. You can always hold your head up high. It’s that despicable swear word who should feel ashamed.’

  Camilla was grateful for the support and for the first time she didn’t cry when thinking about the situation she was in. She picked another biscuit up from the plate and joined Lucy by putting her feet up and having a well-earned rest.

  Chapter 5

  The long autumn evenings flew by as Camilla adjusted to her new life. The hours she worked at the Signal Box Café provided her with enough money to stay at Kitty’s Abode and to start putting a little bit away to save for more long-term living arrangements. Volunteering two days a week at the cattery had also given her a real sense of purpose and she couldn’t believe how therapeutic it was. She had laughed with Carrie over a Baileys hot chocolate after a particularly long but completely satisfactory day.

  ‘I love the fact that I can go into the cattery with not a scrap of make-up on, some scruffy old leggings and an old jumper and those cats just love me anyway.’

  Carrie agreed. ‘Give me cats over humans any day, apart from my Jim of course.’ She chuckled as he’d just walked in and mocked offence at what he’d heard.

  ‘I love the fact that we get to spend at least half an hour with them in their run just to cuddle and stroke them.’

  ‘That’s why we’re so popular; we’re an award-winning cattery.’

  ‘Well deserved too,’ added Camilla, yawning and stretching her arms. ‘I’m off to bed then. I’m exhausted.’

  The next day at the Signal Box Café, Camilla came to realise just how well thought of she was. One man in particular called Ron had recognised Camilla straight away.

  ‘Hello, love, how are you?’ he asked as she came to take his order.

  ‘Hi, Ron, I’m good thanks. How are you? Is this your grandson?’ She nodded and smiled at the boy who looked about ten years old.

  ‘Yes.’ He ruffled the boy’s hair good-naturedly. ‘And we’ve got another on the way. You know my Becky got married last year? Well, she’s due next month.’

  ‘Oh that’s lovely news. Congratulations, Ron.’

  He smiled, shook his head and scratched his beard. ‘I always felt so bad that I couldn’t pay you for her cake that time. D’you remember the dealership was going under? I tried to cancel it, but you made it for us anyway. You were so kind to us.’ He nudged his grandson. ‘See this lady – she’s got a heart of gold.’ ‘Oh, that was nothing, honestly. I enjoyed making it.’ She blushed.

  ‘It was very much appreciated, I can tell you.’ He held up the menu. ‘We’ll both have the moussaka, please. It smells delicious. I’ll have a beer and me-laddo will have a glass of home-made lemonade, thanks.’

  Camilla jotted down the order and made her way to the kitchen. She felt a warm glow inside. It was nice to feel appreciated like that. She remembered how upset Ron had been at having to cancel many of the special extras for his daughter’s wedding and it had tugged at her heartstrings to see how broken he was.

  When she returned to the table with their meals she smiled as Ron’s grandson was excitedly retrieving their drinks from the little train that had delivered them.

  She placed the steaming plates in front of them; Ron tucked his napkin in the top of his jumper and gestured for his grandson to do the same. Camilla was about to walk away when Ron spoke.

  ‘Are you still driving that little pink Fiat 500 around, Camilla? I used to always see you delivering your cakes here, there and everywhere but it’s just occurred to me I haven’t seen it, nor you, for ages.’ He blew on his moussaka before putting the fork in his mouth. He nodded approvingly.

  Her cheeks flushed again. ‘Erm no, I haven’t got it anymore.’

  ‘Oh what are you driving now then?’ He was too busy looking down at his next forkful to notice her discomfort.

  ‘I’m not driving anything at the moment; I suppose you could say I’m between cars.’ She could hardly tell him that she’d lost the car because she couldn’t manage the repayments.

  ‘Oh that’s a shame,’ said Ron still completely oblivious to her embarrassment. ‘So how do you deliver your lovely cakes now then?’

  ‘Well that’s not a problem because I’m no longer making them.’

  ‘Oh no, the world will be a sadder place without your baking skills; in fact I was going to ask you to make the christening cake, which I will pay double for to make up for last time.’

  ‘No sorry, that will be impossible for me because…’ She considered whether to tell him she was between homes as well but thought better of it. ‘Let’s just say I haven’t got any premises.’

  She scuttled off to the kitchen with burning cheeks. The look of concern and pity was too much to bear. She shouldn’t have blurted her private business out to all and sundry but she’d felt as though she’d been put on the spot and couldn’t help it. The part that upset her the most is that she had almost called herself homeless and in a nutshell that’s what she was. She was homeless and carless and motherless and broke.

  Lucy had seen her rush past so had followed her into the kitchen.

  ‘Are you okay, Camilla? What’s happened?’

  Camilla had splashed cold water on her face and was drying it with a napkin.

  She sniffed and put her hand on her friend’s arm. ‘I’m fine, sorry – just had to face up to a home truth or should I say homeless truth and now that I’ve said it out loud I need to learn to accept it. But don’t you worry; I’m still looking for that beautiful blue sky you promised me. I’ve just got to fight my way through a little bit more of this nasty grey cloud.’

  Lucy hugged her. ‘You’re so much stronger now than you were a month ago and next month you’ll be stronger still. Let’s just take this one step at a time. You can stay in the kitchen if you like as there’s a train due in a couple of minutes so lots of hungry customers who don’t have much time for chit-chat.’ She gave her a quick squeeze and picked up the next order to be taken back into the dining room. Camilla nodded to her, her eyes shiny with unshed tears; she was getting better now at not crying at every little thing. As the door swished open, she could see Ron waving her over.

  ‘I’ve got this, don’t worry,’ said Lucy, heading over to him.

  The train whizzed past the window and she knew the next couple of hours would also thankfully pass in a blur.

  Chapter 6

  Camilla’s face lit up the next day when she read a text from Lucy asking if she would mind looking after Jackson that afternoon as he had an inset day and she had to go to meet a couple whose wedding she was planning.

  Camilla loved the idea and picked up some comics and sweets for him on the way round to Railway Cottage, which was just opposite the café. She lifted the knocker up and before she could
bang it back down on the shiny black door, it swung open and a harassed-looking Lucy barged out of the house, the phone jammed between her ear and shoulder as she tried to reassure a nervous bride that everything would be all right. She opened the door to her little battered red Mini, made an apologetic face to Camilla and handed her a note and a bunch of keys. Just before driving off she wound her window down.

  ‘Thank you so much, Camilla. You’re a life saver. I hope you don’t mind helping but if it’s too much then don’t worry. I’ll do it when I get back.’

  Camilla watched the little car drive off and went inside Railway Cottage. Jackson was lying on the floor watching telly with his dog Baxter.

  ‘Hi, Jackson,’ she said lightly. He didn’t hear her as the telly was too loud. ‘Hi, Jackson, I’m here.’ Jackson jumped up to hug her and Baxter excitedly pounced around her, his tail smacking against the sofa.

  ‘Mum said that’s for you,’ said Jackson pointing to the side table where Lucy had placed a cup of coffee and a plate with assorted biscuits on. ‘I think she said that I could have some of them too.’

  ‘Well I couldn’t possibly eat all of them myself, could I?’ She laughed and handed him the comics and sweets.

  ‘Oh wow, thank you,’ he said and sat next to her on the settee.

  ‘You’re very welcome. Now do you think we are allowed to give Baxter a biscuit?’ She found it hard to nibble on hers whilst Baxter sat to attention at her feet, his brown eyes gazing lovingly and hopefully at her.

  ‘Just one and that’s all, Baxter,’ said Jackson, shaking his finger at the dog in a very grown-up way, obviously mimicking his mum. Camilla gave the dog a biscuit, which he gobbled up in no time, scattering crumbs all over the carpet, and then nudging her feet out of the way so he could get at every last one. Camilla sat back in comfort to enjoy her coffee and opened the note from Lucy; her heart fluttered nervously as she read it.

  ‘It says here that you have a cake bake sale tomorrow in school, Jackson.’

  He looked up from his comic. ‘Yes and everyone will be so jealous because I’ve got Camilla Cupcake to help me make mine. I mean Mum makes nice cakes; well what I mean is they taste nice but they sometimes just look a bit funny. She tried to do Union Jack ones for me once but they just looked like red and blue blobs on white icing. They were good if you closed your eyes though.’ He demonstrated by eating a biscuit with his eyes tightly shut whilst saying ‘mmmmm.’

  Camilla reasoned with herself and tried to calm down the sickly feeling in her stomach that suffering with anxiety had left her with. Sometimes even the most trivial of things seemed overwhelming and massive but this was just teaching a ten-year-old boy how to bake a few cupcakes. She wasn’t going to be judged on them. She took a deep breath.

  ‘Okay, come on then, let’s do this. Apparently your mum has put all the ingredients in the Signal Box Café’s kitchen as she said there’ll be more room for us to work there. They put Baxter in his bed with his cuddly toy kitten and headed the few yards to the café.

  The Signal Box Café door whooshed open and they headed straight for the kitchen. Jackson had brought a speaker and put some music on whilst they worked. Lucy had pretty much filled up half of the counter with the packets of ingredients and just seeing the familiar branding made Camilla’s heart flutter. This was the perfect place to whip up some cakes.

  ‘Right first things first, Jackson, let’s wash our hands.’ She got the water to a pleasant temperature and they both washed their hands under the stream as it poured from the tap. Camilla dabbed a few of the soapy suds onto Jackson’s nose and made him giggle, then it was her turn to giggle as he pulled a funny face, crossing his eyes so he could see the end of his nose.

  They put on aprons and she rolled up Jackson’s sleeves for him. The simple action brought her mind swiftly back to the past and memories of her mum rolling Camilla’s sleeves up for her as they prepared to do their favourite thing together: baking cakes.

  Soon the air was filled with clouds of flour, icing sugar and the sweet smells of vanilla and cocoa. Camilla had found a huge bowl and a smaller one for Jackson and she worked slowly at first, allowing him to follow every step she made. As they came to the flour she could hear her mum’s voice in her mind and she repeated her words to Jackson.

  ‘Now when you add the flour we must be very gentle and we swap our wooden spoon for a metal spoon.’ She waited whilst Jackson got the metal spoons from the drawer and then continued as his eyes looked up to her eagerly, through flour-coated glasses, awaiting her next instruction. ‘And now we have to fold the mixture in gently so if you do it like this in a figure-of-eight motion then we can make sure all of the flour is mixed in evenly.’ Slowly but surely Jackson followed her instructions, his tongue poking out as he concentrated.

  ‘Why do we have to fold it like this?’ he asked, ever inquisitive.

  ‘That’s a very good question and I have a very good answer. You see when we beat the other mixture furiously that was ensuring that lots of air goes into the cake and that helps it rise but if we beat the flour in too then it would get heavier, release all of the air and we’d be left with a very sunken cake. Oh my goodness, Jackson, I think I got a bit carried away here and I don’t think we have enough cupcake cases for all this mixture.’

  Jackson’s eyes lit up. He stopped spooning his mixture into the cases and looked at her hopefully. ‘Does that mean we can lick the bowl?’

  She laughed. ‘As yummy as that seems I think you would have a sickly tummy if you ate that much cake mixture. Now how many have we got?’ Jackson counted them using his cake-mix-laden spoon to point at each one.

  ‘Thirty-six,’ he replied.

  ‘Oh, I did get carried away; let’s have a look in here.’ She searched through the cupboards until she located some round cake tins. ‘Ah this should do it. Jackson, can you grease these for me?’ She smiled at his puzzled face and tore off a strip of greaseproof paper, smothered it in the margarine and rubbed it on the inside of the tin. ‘There you go. It’s as easy as that.’ Jackson took over the important job and Camilla put the first three sheets of cupcakes into the oven and set the timer. Right then let’s make a couple of sandwich cakes too. Have you ever had chocolate marble cake?’

  He shook his head. ‘No but I have got marbles back at home.’

  She laughed as his willpower finally gave in and he licked his chocolatey spoon.

  ‘Well now we need a clean spoon but it’s okay – here you can use this, and we are going to stir all my vanilla cake mix into your chocolate one and it will be so yummy.’ She held the bowl for him whilst he used the spatula to scrape out the mixture, ensuring he left enough in the bowl for him to eat. ‘That’s it. Now fold it in again using the figure of eight and you’ll see the chocolate will make a lovely pattern.’ They filled the tins and placed them in the other oven and whilst Camilla began to fill the washing-up bowl with dishes, Jackson got on with his favourite part of cake making: licking the bowl. Camilla couldn’t resist having a spoonful herself. It was delicious, first vanilla and then a burst of chocolatey heaven. It tasted like childhood, happiness and feeling safe in her mother’s arms, just the two of them against the world. That’s how it had always been. She could still feel her mum’s love around her, as strange as that may seem, but that devastating feeling of loss still left her hollow inside.

  Before long the kitchen was filled with the smell of fresh baking, she’d cleaned up the pots and they’d taken the cupcakes out. Then her mum’s voice echoed in her words to Jackson.

  ‘So you just press very gently and if the sponge bounces back then you’ll know that they’re done, you see.’ Jackson prodded a little too hard and his sponge had no chance of bouncing back.

  He giggled through a cloud of icing sugar as they made the buttercream. He was licking the air. ‘I can taste it. Why can’t the air always taste like this?’ he joked.

  ‘It used to for me,’ she said dolefully. The timer went for the sandwich cakes.

/>   ‘I’ll get it.’ Jackson ran to the oven and put on the oven gloves, then as carefully as he’d been shown he retrieved the cakes. ‘I’ve got a good idea,’ he shouted, his glasses steamed up from the heat of the oven. ‘They’re always asking for cakes for the raffle so maybe we could raffle this one.’

  ‘That’s a great idea, Jackson. Now let’s get piping.’ She showed Jackson how to pipe roses on the top of each cake and they added some sprinkles on top. Then she piped the sandwich cake, starting with chocolate buttercream roses at the top and gradually blending into vanilla.

  Jackson clapped as he saw the cakes all laid out in little rows. ‘These are the best cakes I’ve ever seen. Normally I only take twelve in and this time there are so many. I think these will raise lots of money for the school.’

  ‘I hope so because you’ve worked really hard on these cakes and you’ve done a brilliant job. Now how about we finish the washing up and then do the most important job that’s involved in cake making.’

  ‘What’s that?’ he asked as he carried the dirty bowls to the sink, scraping the last of the icing out with his finger and licking it.

  ‘The taste test of course. I already know which one I’m having – that great big chocolatey one over there.’

  As they sat sharing cupcakes, biting into the soft melt-in-the-mouth buttercream and then the light moist chocolate sponge, they drifted into a blissful cake-eating heaven.

  ‘Camilla,’ said Jackson, chocolate buttercream almost up his nose, ‘next time would you show me how to make little men out of icing like you did on Mum’s wedding cake? I don’t mean wedding people; I mean like Spider-Man?’