Confetti & Cake

by Laurel Remington

  The studio door opens again. I feel shaky with nerves as Dad walks in, tall and straight in a pair of tan trousers and a blue shirt. And behind him is another man – shorter, but with every inch the same authority. He’s wearing a black suit and a white shirt, but his tie is loose around his neck.

  Dad steps back, standing next to Producer Poppy. I notice him reach out and brush her hand. But that’s all I notice about them, because all eyes are drawn to the other man. Emory Kruffs MP. Down on one knee. And Mum, kicking off her shoes, running over to him.

  ‘Camera one!’ someone whispers.

  ‘Claire,’ Em-K says, his voice hoarse with emotion. ‘A little bird told me that in your heart of hearts, you still want to marry me. That you had some things to come to terms with, and then there was the stress of the wedding. And I guess that if I’m honest, I was kind of scared too. But at the end of the day, I want to be with you. For ever.’

  ‘I . . . I . . .’ Mum stammers. I don’t remember her ever being speechless before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

  ‘That little bird also told me that you might be open to doing something really crazy – like eloping. Getting married on a beach, in a summer dress and flip-flops.’

  The flip-flops materialize from Annie’s hand at Mum’s feet. She steps into them.

  ‘And, of course, with the most beautiful wedding feast anyone could ever imagine.’ Em-K’s smile seems to light up the whole room. He takes Mum’s hand, and the glowing bubble extends around her as well.

  ‘So maybe I haven’t exactly got a beach, but I can tell you that in the studio next door, there’s some sand and a nice sunny backdrop. There’s also a vicar, and some of your best friends.’

  Tears flow down Mum’s face, but fortunately, it seems the make-up lady used waterproof mascara.

  ‘So I know this is kind of short notice, but Claire, will you run away with me? Elope? It will just be us, the children, a few friends, The Secret Cooking Club . . . and a national TV audience.’

  ‘Oh Emory! How fabulous!’

  They start to kiss, and things go kind of blurry as my own eyes fill with tears. Emory leads her off to the side. Mum’s crying, and gripping his hand, and they’re talking to each other – the most important thing of all, I think.

  The stage crew comes in and rearranges the walls so that the kitchen studio and the sound-stage next door are made into one big open space. Dad stands at the back while Producer Poppy and Assistant Annie get on with the million tasks of sorting out lighting and camera angles, and the wedding cake is moved forwards into the shot; the vicar says a few words, and my friends and I all gather round. ‘Quick, get the champagne and canapés ready!’ I direct. Gretchen and Naya take charge and make sure the food gets moved to the right place.

  I feel wobbly on my feet and overcome with emotion. Everyone is busy and no one seems to notice as I slip out of the back door of the studio to the corridor to catch my breath. I lean against the wall feeling happy, and scared and bubbly with adrenaline. The door opens again and Nick comes out. It hardly seems possible, but my heart speeds up even faster.

  ‘You OK, Scarlett?’ he says. ‘It’s all happening, isn’t it?’

  I look at him for a long second – his wavy brown hair, almond-shaped brown eyes, the face that launched a thousand crushes, now etched with concern – for me. And then I start to laugh. Great gulping laughter that makes it hard to breathe, and shakes my whole body. The concern on his face turns to alarm, and then, a second later, he’s laughing too. And then almost before I realize it, he’s put his arms around me, and he’s stopped laughing. His hair falls over his eyes and he pushes it back nervously. And then, he brushes his lips against mine. And I stop laughing, lift my chin and press my lips to his. I try to relax and then start enjoying it – my first proper kiss!

  And I’m not even embarrassed when the studio door opens again and Assistant Annie sticks her head out and announces that everything’s ready – well, not too embarrassed anyway.

  And Nick and I slowly come apart and my head feels like it’s shimmering like light on water.

  ‘So I guess you are my girlfriend.’ Nick laughs breathlessly (and I can’t believe he can even talk at all).

  ‘I guess so,’ I squeak. I allow him to lead me by the hand back inside the studio. My friends are standing around the stage in a group. I can’t stop grinning and I’m sure that what’s happened is written all over my face. But most of them don’t even seem to notice that Nick and I have just returned. Only Violet comes up next to me, giving me a sly smile. ‘There you are,’ she whispers. ‘We thought you’d been “bridesmaid-napped”.’

  My whole face is glowing as I smile back at her. ‘Something like that.’

  One of the stage hands comes around and passes us each a small plastic bag filled with confetti – tiny bows and hearts made of silver and white paper. The producer gives a signal to the cameraman.

  I stand in between Kelsie and Violet as we all join hands, and Mum scrunches her toes in the sand, her face shining with the love – and drama – of it all. And she and Em-K say their vows, and then are pronounced ‘husband and wife’. They kiss each other in a way that makes me blush to the roots of my hair, and hyper-aware of Nick standing behind me. And when the happy couple turn to face us, we all cheer and whoop and throw clouds of confetti, showering them with shimmering bows and hearts and good wishes. I feel so happy, and full of hope for the future – both my family’s and my own. I turn my head slightly to smile at Nick, still feeling flushed at the memory of the kiss. And as I’m turning back, I notice Dad slip out of the back of the studio, his eyes downcast. And I feel a little sad too.

  ‘Scarlett?’

  I turn back. Mum’s holding out her hand for me to join her. Swallowing hard, I push my nerves aside and go and join her and Em-K and Kelsie on the ‘beach’. The four of us hug each other – so tightly that it takes my breath away. A tear rolls down my cheek and Mum brushes it off with her finger, and kisses me on the forehead. ‘You even wore lavender for me,’ she says, beaming.

  ‘I tried – this was the best I could do.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ she says, ‘for all of this.’

  I just hug her more tightly. The spotlights are on us, and the cameras, and I think about how the wedding may not have been exactly what Mum planned, but is definitely something she’ll talk about and remember for ever. I see the love that’s crinkled into Em-K’s serious-looking brow, and I feel the joy and the pride as all my friends start talking at once and go over to start serving the food. And I know that it’s OK to feel happy and sad, because this moment marks both the end of something, and a new beginning – not just for them, but for us.

  And as I go over to rejoin my friends and help with the food and the cake, the lights pan over me, warm and bright like the morning sun. Violet waves me over to help her pass out the plates for the cake. As I join her, she takes my hand and squeezes it tightly. ‘You did it, Scarlett,’ she whispers. ‘It’s wonderful.’

  ‘We did it,’ I whisper back with a grin. ‘And yeah, it really is.’

  Epilogue: Wedding belles

  Two days after the wedding, the door goes in.

  Em-K and Mum have both taken the week off, and they’ve arranged to move their honeymoon forward because, of course, the wedding was sooner than anyone expected. While they’re away, Kelsie’s going to stay with Dad at his flat, and I’m going to stay with Violet. But even though everything has changed, for a few days at least, things are almost the same as they were.

  For one thing, Kelsie and I still have school. When I go down to the kitchen in the morning, Em-K is there, making coffee for Mum, who’s having a lie-in. It isn’t even that weird to see him there, wearing a bathrobe that Mum gave him for Valentine’s Day, over a T-shirt and PJ bottoms.

  OK, to be honest, it is a little weird.

  As the coffee burbles away in the machine, I try to act normal. Treacle rubs against my leg, and I reach down to pat
him. I make some toast and pour myself a glass of orange juice. Em-K gets out a tray to bring Mum breakfast, and as we’re both trying not to get into each other’s way (without seeming that we’re avoiding each other) I end up bumping right into him, the cat squawking underfoot.

  ‘OK then!’ he says. We both start laughing.

  ‘Why don’t you let me make breakfast?’ I offer.

  ‘I’ve got a little extra time.’

  ‘Actually,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you have a seat? I was just about to make some eggs.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  He reaches out and takes my arms. A smile lights up his face. ‘It’s the least I can do, Scarlett. To say thank you for what you did. You’ve made me the happiest man alive.’

  ‘Whoa!’ I say. ‘Shouldn’t you be saying that to Mum?’

  His face goes pink. ‘Was it very awful?’

  ‘Terrible!’

  We both start laughing again.

  There are footsteps overhead and then on the stairs. A moment later, Kelsie comes into the kitchen, followed by Mum.

  ‘Everything OK?’ Mum asks. Her eyes are shiny and her skin, usually dull and pasty in the morning, seems to glow. She looks happy.

  I look at Em-K. His smile stretches from ear to ear. He looks at me and winks.

  ‘Things are great,’ I say. ‘You two sit down and Em-K and I will finish making breakfast.’

  ‘OK,’ she says. She and Kelsie both sit down and I lay the table for four – or try to. There’s a pile of bills and papers taking up one whole place, and the table is small for four people anyway.

  ‘This is cosy,’ Em-K says as he serves the eggs and buttered toast and I pour everyone glasses of orange juice. His eyes flick over to the jagged hole in the wall. ‘Maybe you could give me the number of the builder later on, Claire,’ he says. ‘Unless you want to phone.’

  ‘Oh that.’ Mum waves a hand lazily. Her sparkly engagement ring catches the light, next to the thin platinum band that Em-K put on her finger during the wedding. ‘You go ahead.’

  ‘And are we knocking out the whole wall or putting in a door?’

  For a moment, a spark of panic shoots up my spine. An awful lot has happened in the last forty-eight hours, and while we’re all still running on adrenaline, it’s going to take a while to adjust, surely . . .

  Mum reaches over and puts her hand on top of mine. ‘Just a door, I think. Assuming that’s OK with everyone.’

  I smile at her, feeling a rush of love. ‘Thanks,’ I mouth so softly that no one hears it but her.

  One month later

  9 June

  OK so I’m kind of scared to mention this, but tonight’s the night. ‘Wedding Belles Episode Five – Confetti and Cake’ is premiering on ITV3 at eight o’clock. They asked me if I wanted to watch it in advance, but I said no. I’ve got some friends coming over and we’ll sit around and watch it together. My dad’s coming round too. He’s going to cook up a big pot of spaghetti for everyone, and the rest of us are doing garlic bread, salad, and tiramisu for dessert. But right now, I feel so nervous, I don’t know how I can possibly eat.

  I guess in the end, it doesn’t matter whether I look silly, or like a deer in the headlights in front of the camera. The main thing is that we made a lovely wedding feast for my mum and Em-K, and that one month on, things are going pretty well. It’s not even weird. OK, maybe a little weird – but I’ll get there.

  Before the whole wedding thing even started, I wished I had a recipe for dealing with all the changes in my life. But the last few months have taught me that as long as I’m using the best ingredients – friends, family, love, truth and self-belief – then no matter what happens I can handle it.

  So tonight, all I can do is be brave. (And keep hold of the remote in case I need to turn the TV off in a hurry!)

  The Little Cook xx

  I hit post and run downstairs just as the doorbell rings. Dad’s already in the kitchen making a huge pot of spaghetti, so it must be someone else, arriving early. Or else maybe it’s Mum and Em-K – they went out to the shops to pick up a few last-minute things. And we’ll all be having dinner together, just like in the dream I had that now seems a lifetime ago. But they wouldn’t have rung the bell . . .

  I go to the door and fling it open.

  ‘Surprise!’ My heart jolts from the sound – they’re all here! All my friends, and ‘co-stars’ of tonight’s show. Nick and Violet, Fraser and Naya, Gretchen and Alison, Annabel Greene . . . standing outside the door each carrying something in their arms. Cupcakes, loaves of bread, salad, a big pink bowl of popcorn. I grin from ear to ear and feel the nerves and excitement course through my body. This, after all, is our night.

  ‘We thought we’d come early to help with supper,’ Naya says.

  ‘And bring some extra food in case we want to watch the show more than once.’ Nick leans in and gives me a kiss on cheek.

  ‘Come in!’ I stand aside, my knees a little bit wobbly. ‘I’m so glad you’re here!’

  I usher them in to the front room and everyone sits down on the extra chairs and beanbags that Kelsie and I have set out. Fraser and Nick run to the kitchen to get some more plates and bowls. And the rest of us chat and pass around the popcorn, and trickle into the kitchen to help.

  A while later, when everything’s ready, we all sit down around the table. Mum is at one end, with Em-K at the other. Dad and I are across from each other in the middle. Everyone else is filling in the gaps on either side. There’s an energy in the room as everyone talks and laughs, and Nick and Fraser carry the TV into the room. Treacle is beside himself, jumping from lap to lap and purring, in heaven from so many people to give him attention.

  The food is delicious, and even though I’m nervous, I still manage to eat a helping and a half. And a few minutes before eight, I tap my spoon on the edge of my glass of orange squash and gradually the room falls silent.

  This time, even though everyone’s looking at me, I don’t feel my normal stage fright – not too much, anyway. ‘I’d like to propose a toast,’ I say. ‘To friends, old and new.’ My eyes sweep down the table, pausing on the face of each and every person here – the people I love. ‘And, of course,’ I add, ‘to The Secret Cooking Club!’

  ‘To friends!’

  ‘To The Secret Cooking Club!’ Everyone is chorusing and clinking glasses.

  ‘To the bride and groom!’ Dad adds, lifting his glass.

  ‘To my two dads!’ Kelsie yells out.

  ‘Two minutes to eight,’ Nick says. From his place at the table next to Dad, he hands me the remote control.

  ‘It’s time, Scarlett,’ he says.

  It’s time.

  Violet jumps out of her chair and runs over to the light switch. ‘Is everybody ready?’ She dims the lights to a low amber.

  ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’ I point the remote, and switch on the television.

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to say thank you to all the young readers out there who love cooking and baking – you are the continuing inspiration behind The Secret Cooking Club books. This year, I’ve had the privilege to meet and talk to some of you at school events, and I’ve enjoyed every moment and learnt so much! I’d also like to thank the teachers, parents and librarians who have also given me encouragement to write this book, and the staff at St Hilary’s School who let me be a judge for their real-life charity bake-off. Next, I’d like to mention the people at Chicken House who are true champions of new writers and have been so helpful and supportive to me in building my career as an author. Also, thanks to my agent, Anna Power, and my writing group – Ronan Winters, Chris King, Francisco Gochez, David Speakman and Lucy Beresford, who have helped me to remain positive during some of the challenges I’ve faced this year.

  And most of all, I’d like to thank my family – my parents, Suzanne and Bruce, Monica Yeo, my partner, Ian, and especially my three lovely daughters: Eve, Rose and Grace. You give meaning to my life and make it all worthwhile.


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