The Christmas Cake Cafe: A Brilliantly Funny Feel Good Christmas Read Kindle Edition

by Sue Watson

  Ella couldn’t stop crying, and I realised that sitting here with the TV showing images of people stuck in the snow wasn’t helping either of us. I had to be positive. There was nothing I could do physically, but the longer time went on, the more concerned I was that Ella might decide to go and look for him. Jon in a blizzard was one thing, but his twelve-year-old daughter out there exposed to the cold and the danger was quite another.

  ‘Do you know what I do when I’m upset or worried?’ I suddenly said.

  She shook her head.

  ‘I bake a cake… or two… or three.’

  ‘That’s what Dad does,’ she said, a half-smile emerging through the tears.

  ‘Does he really? Well then, he’ll understand when he walks in to find several cakes in the oven,’ I said and laughed. It was a hollow laugh, but I think I got away with it. ‘Thing is, Ella, I don’t know where the ingredients and the pots and pans are – could you, would you mind… helping me?’ This was a long shot. Yes, I did use baking as therapy, but I was doing it on this occasion to take Ella’s mind off the fact her father had gone out of the house two hours ago and hadn’t come back.

  ‘I’m not baking a stupid cake with my dad out there,’ she snapped, now back to her old self. I could see where she was coming from though, so I abandoned the flour and the whole pretence of making a jolly cake to cheer us up and called Jody from the bedroom.

  ‘I’m just ringing to say Happy Christmas and carry on without me tomorrow because the roads are blocked and Jon’s missing – so I could be here until Boxing Day, or worse still, the rest of my life,’ I said.

  ‘Oh my God, Jon’s missing? And you’re snowbound with the evil munchkin,’ she gasped.

  ‘Yes, but I’m hoping Jon’s just doing his Good Samaritan act in the snow, and I hate to tempt fate, but a few minutes ago I’m sure I felt a slight thawing regarding the daughter from Hell.’

  ‘Really? Or is it perhaps that your expectations are so low even if she catches your eye by mistake, you think she’s calling you “Mummy”,’ she said.

  ‘Mmmm, probably.’

  ‘Well, if you ask me, you needed a dose of reality with Hell Girl. Most of the time kids just aren’t that cute – and it’s about time you realised that motherhood isn’t all about girls in blue dresses and whiskers on kittens.’

  ‘Nice analogy – I agree, it is less Sound of Music, more Bride of Chucky. She keeps rolling her eyes and giving me filthy looks. I suggested baking a cake, but she looked at me like I’d just urinated on the carpet.’

  ‘I thought you’d done your research. You said you knew everything about teenagers,’ she said, laughing.

  ‘I did – but she’s so difficult! I daren’t mention Facebook, which apparently is only acceptable in old people’s care homes these days – it’s all about snappychat and “what’s up” or something.’

  ‘It’s called Snapchat and WhatsApp, and you’re trying too hard again, Jen. Stop jacking her style, girl…’

  ‘I don’t even know what that means.’

  ‘Exactly, just be yourself and stop trying to force entry into her world. That’s the point of being a teenager, remember – no adults allowed.’

  As always, Jody amazed me with her knowledge of people and life, and I put the phone down realising that I had to just get on with it and hope Ella would climb aboard when she was ready. And the words ‘snappychat’ and ‘Justin Bieber’ weren’t going to leave my lips.

  I went back into the room and tried to think of something real to say that was relevant.

  ‘Look, Ella, it’s a bad night. But your dad’s probably helping other people too. He saved me when I’d been out in the snow and collapsed…’ I started.

  ‘Did he?’ She seemed vaguely interested. I’d never told her how I met her dad; perhaps just by being natural and saying what I was thinking rather than trying to second-guess her, I could reach her. That’s what my little sis reckoned anyway – so it was worth a try.

  ‘Yes, it was awful, I was so embarrassed.’ I told her all about my suitcase issues and my outfit and how I’d chatted with him outside the nightclub and the minute I’d walked back in I’d collapsed in front of everyone. I told the story with feeling, and she gasped in all the right places, even giggling a little at my humiliation.

  ‘So even in my advanced years I can still manage to make an idiot of myself in front of the opposite sex,’ I said, laughing.

  She smiled at this and then told me how she liked a boy at school and she’d fallen over in front of him and was mortified. ‘He’ll never like me now,’ she said.

  ‘Well, your dad still likes me and I was face down in a nightclub, so don’t give up… You should tell your dad about the boy you like, get the man’s view.’

  ‘No… Dad’s always too busy to talk to me about stuff like that. He’s not interested.’ And there it was, crystallised in a few words – the problem.

  ‘He is interested in you. I know that might be how it feels, Ella, but your dad thinks about you all the time. He never stops talking about you – you’re everything to him.’

  She didn’t answer me, but I just kept talking. ‘My mum and dad were divorced too. I lived in another house in another town from my dad like you do. And it’s taken me a long time to realise that even though he wasn’t with me every day, I was with him. I was his child and he carried me in his heart – I just wish I’d realised it when he was alive. Your dad carries you with him too, Ella, and it doesn’t matter how many people he rescues from the snow or falls in love with – you will always be special.’

  Tears filled her eyes and she suddenly put her arms around my waist and clung to me. ‘I’m scared, Jenny.’

  I hugged her and thought about how Dad had described me as ‘the clever one’, something I’d never been aware of until Jody told me recently. How I’d longed to fit into his new family but had felt so betrayed when he’d left. How he’d called me ‘the most important girl in the world’ but had gone on to have another little girl. I’d felt like I had no place in his life, so I’d fought him, permanently pushing barriers, defensive just like Ella. But all that time, I did have a place in his family. It wasn’t a traditional family unit, but that didn’t mean I didn’t belong, and it had taken me until now to realise my dad did care.

  ‘I understand how you feel, Ella. And I want to make you feel better. No one really explained it to me, and I just think you should know that parents are sometimes so wrapped up in their own lives they forget to tell their daughters what’s going on. They love us so much they assume we know and we don’t always, do we?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘And if me being in your dad’s life and yours is a problem, then I will go. I won’t make a fuss – I’ll just go. But me going away won’t make things change between your mum and him. You know that, don’t you?’

  She nodded sadly. ‘I know, and you don’t have to go, Jenny.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No, you can hang out a bit, but just stop being silly.’

  ‘You mean I can’t tag you on Facebook and talk about Justin Bieber too much…’

  ‘Don’t ever tag me on Facebook and as for Justin Bieber? Shitting hell, you’re obsessed,’ she said.

  I looked at her and saw the twinkle in her eye – she was teasing me. I laughed and she smiled a lopsided ‘I don’t want to smile but my mouth is doing it anyway’ smile.

  A few minutes later the phone rang. ‘Jon,’ I said, waving at Ella on the sofa. ‘He’s fine, your dad’s fine,’ I said, and she sat up suddenly, hair on end, beaming. Jon quickly explained that he was now helping another neighbour to clear the snow from his front door. ‘I’m so sorry, I would have called you, but I didn’t take my phone. I had to borrow this from a stranger. It’s really bad out here, people need help. I may be another hour. I won’t be able to take you back tomorrow, Jenny – the roads are all blocked.’

  ‘That’s fine – I’m sure Ella will be delighted I’m staying for Christmas Day,’ I
said, winking at her. She rolled her eyes, but this time it felt more good-humoured.

  ‘Are you and Ella okay?’

  ‘Yes, we’re fine. Do you want to speak to her?’

  ‘No, I’m too busy…’

  ‘You do? Yes, she wants to speak with you too… she’s been worried.’

  ‘Oh, of course, yes – I’m sorry, sometimes I forget.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, handing Ella the phone and going to the bedroom so she could have her dad to herself.

  ‘So… baking… let’s bake a cake for when your dad gets back,’ I said, walking back into the living room.

  ‘I’m not baking – that won’t get Dad home any quicker.’

  ‘You’re so right – baking a cake won’t do that, but it will provide him with cake when he gets home – and he loves cake, doesn’t he?’

  She shrugged and picked up her phone, lost again to the world of snappychat and texting and doing whatever you were supposed to do on Instagram.

  I wandered into the kitchen, which was filled with a mix of old-fashioned and ultra-modern crockery, and enjoyed the sense of being surrounded by all the wonderful baking paraphernalia. I felt like I’d died and gone to heaven. This was the kind of kitchen I would have loved to bake in, but unfortunately I had to make do with a corner of Storm’s kitchen, which was often taken up with magic teas and strange herbs.

  I felt like Nigella as I started to take ingredients from the cupboard and describe them, hoping to engage Ella. ‘Ooh, just smell this cinnamon,’ I sighed. ‘Oh and what’s this?’ I took a jar out of the cupboard and unscrewed the lid, oohing and ahhing about the smell and the texture and just what I was going to bake. But nada. ‘I wonder if you could help me with the weighing?’ I asked, in a final act of desperation. ‘You need to be a space scientist to work out how to use these scales.’

  She tutted as she stood up from the sofa and skulked into the kitchen. ‘It’s not difficult, Jenny, you just put the flour in there and the numbers are here – it’s digital, anyone can use one… even you.’ With that she wandered back into the living area, and I continued to weigh and mix ingredients and start baking, feeling rather foolish because I was only doing this because I thought she’d join me and it would stop her worrying. I couldn’t help thinking if Jon walked in now he’d think I was mad. His daughter was lying there upset on the sofa while I was baking a bloody cake like a Stepford Wife whose wiring was loose. So I tried one last time to engage her.

  ‘If you help me I won’t mention Justin Bieber.’

  ‘Promise?’ she said with her lopsided smile.

  ‘I can try… but let’s do some snappychatting anyway.’

  ‘God you’re annoying,’ she sighed, taking an apron down from the kitchen hook and throwing it at me. She found another one in the coat cupboard, and we both started to gather together the ingredients.

  And at precisely 10.15 p.m., having been gone for over three hours, Jon pushed his way into the chalet, covered in snow, to see us just about to whip up a cake storm. He was cold and exhausted, but the smile on his face at seeing us together in the kitchen said it all.

  ‘Daddy, we’ve been so worried!’ Ella yelled and ran towards him, hugging him hard and gently guiding him to the sofa like he was an injured bird. Tears sprang to my eyes – for someone who seemed so disagreeable on first meeting, she was actually very caring.

  Jon and Ella sat on the sofa, her arms wrapped around him, and as I walked towards them I felt a barrier go up and I flinched. He reached out his arm to bring me into the hug, but I understood and offered to make him a hot drink instead while he told us all about the car stuck in the snow. ‘So have you girls been baking?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, we’re thinking cinnamon spice cake with citrus buttercream – it’s perfect, sharp yet light to cut through the richness,’ I said.

  ‘Ah no, no, no – she needs the Christmas gingerbread base, rich and chewing.’ Jon was now standing up and walking into the kitchen area.

  ‘Chewy,’ I said, laughing, ‘not chewing.’

  Jon laughed too… and God bless her, Ella laughed and caught my eye conspiratorially.

  ‘Dad, the lemon buttercream will be perfect, Jenny and I already decided.’ I glowed. She had brought me into her world, if only in a sentence, but I felt a warmth in my tummy.

  This was followed by some good-natured arguing over cake flavours, where Ella and I disagreed with Jon and laughed at some of his mispronunciations, which I’d realised he did deliberately for Ella to enjoy.

  ‘Okay, I know a way we can prove we’re right.’ I winked at her. ‘Let’s have a competition – Ella and I will make our cake and you can make your “chewing ginger” cake. What do you think, Ella, does that sound like a plan?’ I held my breath, ready for a deflating shrug or creative use of the word ‘shitting’ as an adjective.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘but we’ll win.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ Jon said.

  ‘Oh yes we will,’ Ella and I answered at the same time, just like in panto. We laughed at this and as she lifted her hand to give me a high five I flinched. I was still slightly unsure of her – but she and Jon laughed at my reaction.

  ‘Jenny, you are just so uncool,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah and you’re a bit scary,’ I said, laughing. She giggled and lifted my hand to meet hers, showing me just how to do it, which of course I did know, but I let her show me.

  ‘I love baking late at night,’ Jon said as he began pouring syrup into a bowl. ‘I come home sometimes after night-shifting and bake bread and cake for breakfast,’ he said, his eyes glittery.

  I never saw him quite as animated as when he was talking about recipes and flavours, and I found his enthusiasm quite infectious.

  ‘Pass me the fresh ginger, Ella,’ he said, grating it into black treacle, adding baking powder and turning the mixture with an old whisk. It went from yellow marbled with black treacle to a deep, dark brown batter that smelled (and tasted) divine. Ella poked her finger in for a taste and he slapped it playfully, making us giggle. ‘It’s almost midnight and we’re baking cakes,’ I said. ‘Could this night get any crazier?’

  Once the gingerbread cupcake bases were in the oven, we started on the citrus buttercream, and this time it was his turn to sample. I told him off playfully, but when he put a blob on the end of my nose, Ella retaliated with a handful of flour. This escalated and before any of the cakes were finished we were all laughing and covered in cake ingredients. We couldn’t do anything for laughing.

  Later, when Ella went to put on her night things, Jon and I were finally alone. Jon pulled me towards him gently and licked some of the sweet, sugary batter off my upper lip as I melted in his arms. We kissed. His mouth was warm and he tasted sweet, like Christmas, and my heart was all wrapped up in gingerbread and squishy buttercream.

  ‘Get a room, you two,’ Ella groaned and we both went red with embarrassment, not realising she was back.

  Jon set to work whisking up the topping, all three of us sampling every now and then and making suggestions. ‘More cinnamon?’ Ella said, and I nodded. ‘More rum?’ I asked and Jon obliged. Once the buttercream was adorning the cakes, they didn’t stick around for long, and we ate them with gusto. ‘These are almost the Glühwein cakes you talked about creating,’ I said, eating a ginger cupcake covered in Christmassy cream.

  ‘Yes, the citrus are light and not too sweet – I like them with the topping,’ he said, offering me a bite of his cake. I took a large bite and licked my lips, and then I offered him my ginger cake. I’d never realised cupcakes could be so erotic.

  ‘Let’s take these into the living area,’ Jon said, filling a plate with the delicious cakes and grabbing a bottle of wine.

  He added some logs to the fire and I lit some candles as he opened the wine, and we sat in front of the fire on a squishy sofa eating, drinking and discussing our baking creations.

  ‘I think Dad’s gingerbread “chewing cake” is excellent,’ Ella said, ‘but mine
and Jenny’s cake was just dope.’

  ‘Is that good?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Jon said. ‘I reckon you two have won.’

  ‘Fair enough, the judge has spoken.’ I smiled.

  We finished off the cakes and then Jon suggested Ella should really be in bed. ‘Your mother would be cross with me if she knew.’

  ‘Then don’t tell her,’ she said and winked, taking a sip of her dad’s wine and saying a final goodnight. Then she kissed her dad and I felt a slight hesitation about whether she was about to come towards me and perhaps hug me too. But she didn’t, and I just blew her a kiss, which caused the eyes to roll, but I detected it was slightly more good-humoured than before. Ella still needed time. She had to do what she was comfortable with when she felt like it. She’d already had so much taken out of her hands – she had to make her own decisions about some things.

  Jon and I continued to sit by the fire and talk quietly.

  ‘Until I came here I thought my life was over,’ I sighed. ‘I’ve always seen it as this great tragedy that I left it too late for children, and I suppose it’s something I will never quite come to terms with. But I’m enjoying spending time with Ella…’

  ‘Yes, I felt the difference tonight – I think you may have won her over.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think it will all happen so quickly. There will still be some challenges ahead, but I think I’m beginning to understand her better.’

  He looked into the fire, watching the flames. His eyes were glassy, wet, like he was about to cry.

  ‘My own parents stayed together – they were happy for ever. I tried to stop the divorce, begged her not to leave – I didn’t want this half-life for Ella.’

  ‘It’s only a half-life if you keep her in the dark, Jon,’ I said. ‘Look, I know it’s none of my business, but Ella’s been lost in the middle of the grown-up war, and you and your ex have always loved her, made sure she’s warm and safe and has everything she needs. But perhaps no one has really talked to her about how she feels. And I understand why – it’s because neither of you want to know.’