But I Said Forever

by Jennifer Gilby Roberts

  “True,” I admit. “But how would I get it?”

  Lauren smiles nastily. “Leave that to me.”

  Chapter 20

  “How did it go?” I ask, the second Lauren gets home.

  Lauren fluffs up her hair. “Well, the good news is they have a vacancy. The bad news is, they want someone with experience and, unfortunately, I don’t have any.”

  “Oh.” I sink back onto the sofa. “So, that’s it, then.”

  “Hang on, hang on.” Lauren plops down beside me. “I don’t give up that easy. I stressed my acting experience and she seemed vaguely interested. So, I decided I needed to show her exactly what I could do. I stripped down to my underwear and grabbed the ruler off the desk and...”

  “Yes, thank you,” I say hastily. “I’d much prefer it if you left it there.”

  “Suit yourself. Anyway, she said she’ll think about it and if I haven’t heard anything by the end of tomorrow, I’m going to go to that costume shop in town and hire me a proper outfit and some better equipment and then go back. Trust me, I will get this job.”

  I shift awkwardly. “Lauren, as helpful as proof would be, I don’t expect you to do anything that’s going to make you uncomfortable to get it.”

  Lauren blinks twice. “Who said I was uncomfortable?”

  “Well, dressing up in leather and threatening people would make most people uncomfortable.”

  “Guess I’m not most people, then,” Lauren says, with a shrug. “I’m looking forward to it, actually. I haven’t done any acting in ages and the bad guys are always the most fun to play.”

  I carefully keep my expression neutral. “Well, that’s... good,” I say. “Excuse me, I’m just going to... check on James.”

  “Sure.”

  I hurry upstairs, wondering anew if I should ever have allowed this woman to take care of my son.

  I have a nagging feeling that Phillip’s mother was right about me treating my work as a hobby. Now that financial responsibility is firmly on my shoulders and I have to go, things have changed. The days feel longer and more draining and the menial nature of the work more significant. If I’m going to work for decades, I’m going to need something more engaging – more meaningful. I’d love for that to be cake decorating, but how do I even get started? An evening class surely isn’t enough training and I can’t afford the time or money a full-time course would require. I’ve signed up for the next workshop Hannah’s running, but…

  Of course, Hannah will know what I need to do. When I go to her class, I’ll ask - and then I can actually make some kind of career plan.

  A career. Me. I wonder what my 18-year-old self would think if she could see me now?

  Probably that I’d completely lost it, which just goes to show how much I didn’t understand back then.

  “B,” Abby asks shyly, “could I ask you a favour?”

  I pull myself out of my thoughts. “Of course. What?”

  “Well, me and Toby were going over the budgie for the wedding.”

  “Budget.”

  “Oh, yes. Well, everything costs so much and we don’t have that much money, so we were looking at ways to spend less and so… we were wondering if you and Zack could make our wedding cake?”

  That’s a favour? I’d love it.

  “Of course we could,” I say, then backtrack. “At least, I could definitely do the decorating. I can’t answer for Zack.”

  “Oh, goodie.” Abby gives a little skip. “I’m sure he’ll say yes if you have. Oh, it’s going to be so perfect. Zack showed me his photos of your haunted house cake and it looked amazing. I’ve got a picture of what I want and it’s gorgeous.”

  Goodness, I hope she hasn’t got too ambitious.

  “You know what, you two should go into business together! Oh, you’d make such beautiful cakes. Then you could get married and…”

  “What?” I look around quickly, but there’s no one to overhear except one of our regulars who I know is practically deaf. “Abby, Zack and I are not getting married. We’re not even together and we’re not going to be. I won’t even be getting divorced for ages and he… well, I have it on good authority that he might be getting back together with his ex-wife.”

  It’s stupid to feel so low about that. What’s so special about him? He’s just the only man I have regular contact with, so I’ve developed a silly crush. Being gorgeous, great with my son, supportive of my career and generally helpful is just… I don’t know how to finish that sentence.

  “No!” Abby’s eyes are wide. “I can’t believe it. He said that?”

  “Not him, but someone else who should know.”

  Abby looks disappointed. “Oh, I was sure you two would get together. I saw the spark between you right from the first day.”

  I can’t help but feel a bit shocked. “Abby, we were both married to other people.”

  “Oh, I know,” she says, “but when it’s true love, it always works out in the end.”

  She’s obviously still living in Disneyland.

  “Well, I’m in,” Lauren says, when she gets home that evening. She forces the front door shut against the howling wind. “It’s insane out there. I saw a dog get blown down the street.”

  “Wonderful,” I say, somewhat uncertainly. “Not about the dog, but… How long do you think it’ll take you to get the pictures?”

  She shrugs off her coat. “Hard to say. I’ve had a tour and it’s quite a big place. I don’t know who he goes to or what room they use, so that’s the first thing to find out.”

  “And then you’ll have to set up cameras there? Can you do that without getting caught?”

  Lauren shakes her head. “Honestly, Brittany, you’re so naïve. The cameras are already there.”

  I start. “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She grins wickedly. “Trust me, they’ll be taping everything that goes on in that house. Never know when it might come in handy. All I need to do is get my hands on the footage.”

  I rub my ring finger. “And you can do that? Without getting caught? Because I don’t want you getting into trouble...”

  Lauren waves off my concerns. “I don’t plan on going to jail for you,” she says. “Let me get the layout of the place sorted and then I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Okay.”

  The kitchen timer goes off and I jump up. “I need to get that.”

  “Sure.”

  I hurry into the kitchen and sort dinner. Wondering, not for the first time, if this spying mission wasn’t a really, really bad idea.

  Chapter 21

  I trail into the house on Thursday evening, longing to see James but praying for him to be cuddly and quiet because I’m shattered. I hang up my coat and hesitate when I see an unfamiliar men’s jacket hanging on the rack. Please tell me Lauren hasn’t brought someone home. Goodness only knows what type of man she’d go for - probably a professional skydiver or a member of the SAS.

  There are voices coming from the kitchen. Wait a minute, is that...?

  I push open the door and find Zack sitting at the table across from Lauren, two coffee cups between them. Something stabs me in the gut.

  He turns as I come in. “Hi,” he says, flashing me a devastating smile. “I just dropped by to see if there was anything else you needed doing around the house.”

  “I think we’re all set now, but thank you.”

  Lauren swings out of her seat and goes to the coffee pot. “Want a caffeine hit?”

  “Not that stuff.” I grab a can of energy drink instead.

  “I’ve been filling Zack in on the plan.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “What plan?”

  “The surveillance plan, obviously. He says he’ll help.”

  “Help?”

  “With getting the footage. He’s going to be a decoy.”

  My stomach clenches. “Lauren,” I say, as evenly as I can manage, “may I have a word in private?”

  She shrugs at Zack. “Sure,” she says, and f
ollows me back into the lounge.

  “You told him?!” I hiss, as soon as the door’s closed.

  “I needed another player.”

  “Lauren, I have to work with this man. I don’t want my colleagues knowing my private business.”

  Lauren’s brow creases. “Why not?”

  I swear this woman has no inhibitions at all. What kind of parents does she have? Probably a sex therapist and a porn star.

  “Because it’s embarrassing.”

  “Why? It’s not you who’s paying to get tied up.”

  “I...” I give up. “I just don’t want people knowing. Can you please accept that?”

  “Sure.”

  “And I certainly don’t want my friends involved in whatever you’re planning. Especially when it’s sounding riskier by the day.”

  “It’ll be right, you’ll see.”

  “I really don’t think you should do it,” I say, biting my lip. “I’m really grateful for your efforts, but I can’t have people getting into trouble over me. I don’t need to get divorced now. I’ll just wait five years.”

  Lauren snorts. “That’s barmy. Look, I have a mate who does this stuff all the time and we’ve planned out the whole thing. I only need Zack to play a tiny little cameo role.”

  “No.”

  “C’mon...”

  “No!”

  “All he’s going to do is register as a client and provide a distraction so I can get into the office. They won’t even know he’s involved. Though I told him you’d pay his membership fee. I figured that’s the least you could do.”

  I resist the temptation to curl up into a ball and sob. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

  “I never have yet. Come back in and we’ll talk.”

  She pulls me bodily back into the kitchen. I stumble slightly as I cross the threshold.

  “Everything fine?” Zack asks.

  I avoid his eyes. “Zack, you don’t need to get involved in this. I’m sorry you’ve even had to hear about it.”

  “I’ve heard worse, don’t worry, and I’d like to help if I can. Lauren’s explained the plan to me and it sounds simple enough.”

  I look from one to the other. My protests are useless, aren’t they?

  “Just don’t get caught,” I say, finally daring to look at him. “If the slightest thing goes wrong, forget the plan and run.”

  “Boring,” Lauren says. “Now, Zack, what I need you to do is this...”

  A week later, I know instinctively that the plan is going ahead. One, because Thursday is Zack’s day off. Two, because Lauren is up before me without complaining about the early hour or downing litres of Hot Lava Java coffee. I tried one cup of that and had heart palpitations all morning. She has no right to be alive.

  I spend the day dropping things, giving people the wrong change and calling the regulars by each other’s names. Fortunately, they think it’s funny. I can’t eat a thing and, by the time I get home, I feel sick with hunger and nerves. I have to force myself to walk up the path, get my keys out and open the front door. I tiptoe into the lounge, hardly daring to breathe.

  Lauren is sitting on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, painting her fingernails in stripes, the tip of her tongue poking out the side of her mouth. I sit down beside her.

  A minute ticks by while I wring my hands and wait for her to report back.

  “Well?” I ask, when I can bear it no longer. “What happened?”

  “Hit a snag, had to postpone.”

  My breath comes out in a whoosh and I sag back into the sofa. “What kind of snag?”

  “You said you didn’t want to know the details.”

  “That’s right.” I close my eyes briefly. “A fixable snag?”

  “They’re all fixable. It’ll take a bit of thought, but then we’ll try again.”

  I honestly don’t think I can take another day of this, but trying to call it off would be pointless. It would be like trying to separate my sister and chocolate.

  “By the way,” Lauren says, “I’ve got a job interview, so I’m going to London tomorrow. Can I borrow that posh handbag you’re hiding in the back of your wardrobe?”

  I take a few hours out that night to go to a workshop at Hannah’s bakehouse. It’s housed in the bottom half of an uninspiring unit on a grey industrial estate, but the inside is a bright, warm commercial kitchen with huge pictures of glorious cakes all over the walls. Three other women and I consume a lot of tea and produce sugar roses with varying degrees of mutation. I concentrate so hard I actually have a headache by the end of the class, but it’s worth it just to shut out real life for a bit. I’m rather proud of the result.

  “Good work,” Hannah says, as I wrap my rose carefully in tissue paper and place it into the tub I’ve brought with me. “You obviously listened carefully to my instructions.”

  “It’s been wonderful,” I say, beaming at her. “I love this so much. I hope I can come and do more classes here.”

  “We’d be glad to see you. By the way, are you on Pinterest? I like to post photos from these classes on there.”

  “Yes. I already follow your boards.”

  “Excellent, I’ll find you. I like to keep tabs on what our past students are doing.”

  I look at my feet. “I actually wanted to ask you about getting into cake design,” I say. “Professionally, that is. I work in a bakery at the moment and I do a bit of basic decorating, but it’s a small place and there isn’t much opportunity to develop. Would I need to go to university?”

  Hannah shakes her head. “The best route is an apprenticeship, but there aren’t many of those available. There are qualifications you can take, but most people learn at home. It’s the skills that matter, not how you get them. Keep improving, build a portfolio, enter local competitions, connect with other cake designers, maybe do some work experience if you can afford the time off. Get some commissions from family and friends and work up from there. That’s how most people get started.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “I don’t know if anyone I know wants a cake made, but I’ll ask.”

  “Do. Tell everyone you meet that you make cakes, get some business cards made up and leave them all over the place and build it up as a sideline. It’ll take time and hard work, mind, but that’s probably your best bet. At least, if you can stand working for yourself - and most cake designers do. Places like ours with a shop and a staff are the minority.”

  Work for myself? Goodness, I was intimidated enough about becoming an employee. I can’t imagine finding the courage to quit that and go out on my own, even if the idea appealed - which it doesn’t. It would be awfully hard to go back to being home all day with no one to talk to, and having to market myself all the time to find work sounds horrible.

  Though it will probably take me years before it’s even an option.

  “I’ll do that,” I say, smiling at her. “Thank you for all your help and a wonderful class. I’m so glad I met you.”

  “Aw shucks,” she says. “You’re going to make me blush.”

  “You don’t know anyone who wants a cake made, do you?” I ask Zack the next day. Then I laugh at myself. “Silly question. If you did, they’d ask you.”

  “Funny you should ask that,” he says. “My nephew’s birthday is coming up and he’s dead set on a dinosaur cake. Now the cake part I can do, but actually making it look like a dinosaur is a lot more challenging. Especially since he’s a picky little sod. I’d be glad of some help if you’re up for it.”

  “Absolutely.”

  He gives me a sideways glance. “Thinking of going into business?”

  I blush. “Sort of. I went to an extra class and asked the teacher how to start a career. She advised developing it as a side business.”

  “Good advice. There’s no money in this cake, I’m afraid, since I do them for free, but I do get offered paid work now and again and I’ll gladly share the business.”

  I beam at him. “Thanks!”

&n
bsp; “No problem,” he says, smiling back. “I think it’s great you’re going to make a go of this.”

  “I don’t know whether I can ask strangers for business, but I’m going to try with people I know. As much as I can with a son to take care of.”

  “Must be hard.”

  “Yes.” I look down at my hands. “I feel guilty. At the moment, I do most of my work when he’s in bed, but he won’t always sleep so much and if I take on more work it’s bound to become a problem.”

  “My parents struggled with that a lot while we were growing up. They were running their own business and it took up a lot of hours, but they made sure we got their full attention when we were together. I think they did fine, all things considered. I don’t remember feeling neglected.”

  “There were two of them, though.”

  “True, but the advantage of James being so young is that he won’t remember life being any different.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  Even so, I worry that he’ll feel the lack of a father. Phillip has hardly spent any time with him so far, but perhaps he would have when James was older. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over the fear that I’ve deprived him by leaving.

  “Anyway, I have to clean myself up,” Zack says, taking off his apron. “I’m going out for lunch.”

  “Somewhere nice?”

  “Just a café. Melissa asked me to meet her so we could talk.”

  “Oh,” I say, wishing those words had no effect on me. I force a smile. “Well, have fun.”

  Chapter 22

  One night the week after, I get home late thanks to the bus and find James in a foul mood. I quickly dump the cake Zack’s made for his nephew on the lounge table and take him upstairs to bed.

  He’s a nightmare to settle. I read and sing and rock, but he continues to scream and I struggle to find the patience to deal with it. My desire to work on the cake is pulling against my duty to my son. The struggle between what I want to do and what I have to do is never ending, but it’s all the rougher now I have multiple responsibilities. I don’t know about “juggling” - it feels more like I’m the rope in a tug of war.