Cupcake Couture

by Davies, Lauren

  Doyle parties help the rich, famous and successful keep face in the recession.

  Zachary and his brothers were the hosts with the most. They were hired by people like the guests in this room, who wanted to show the world they were not victims of the credit crunch. They were themselves survivors and winners despite the credit crunch, unlike me. Zachary, as I had discovered, was also kind and had a conscience. Many of his events raised thousands of pounds for worthy causes. He had come from humble beginnings and he had worked like a Trojan after his father had passed away. His father had lived a tough life in the ship building industry and, after Hurley’s accident and with the influence of the vibrant Malachy, Zachary had realised what mattered and had bravely changed direction and taken his brothers and mother on a more fun, more playful, more sparkly journey through life, planning parties for the rich and famous and giving to the less fortunate.

  Zachary had given me the job, I concluded, because he saw a broken, unemployed, ‘less-fortunate’ woman crying on a Metro platform and he had decided my life needed some sparkle. He had felt sorry for me. I was one of his good deed projects. I was the best friend of his disabled brother’s girlfriend and there was no doubt he adored Hurley and would do anything for him. Heidi and Hurley had probably talked him into helping me out. Zachary had pitied me, which was a sentiment I had always hated. I didn’t need pity; I was a survivor, a boardroom ball-breaker, a scared, forced to be independent kid who had grown into a determined, successful woman. Or so I had thought until my life had taken a sudden turn. After all, I had even asked Zachary to give me a job the very first day we met. He was clearly wealthy; he could afford to throw some money at a couple of hundred cakes to make me feel better then, as soon as I was out of the back door, he would cover up my amateur attempt and bring out the real cake from the real cake designer. He had not even bothered to come and find me and thank me for my work, which was how little he was interested in me now the job was done. Zachary was too busy air-kissing popstar looky-likeys and Antonbloodydec to bother with the unemployed recruitment consultant.

  I blinked tearfully at the seating plan that did not bear my name, glanced down at my far from glamorous outfit and turned to look at the party. Not for the first time in recent weeks, I felt like an outsider. I had not found where I was meant to be, I was still in limbo, just a different level of it. I took a gulp of fragrant party air before stepping outside. The glass doors slid silently shut like the doors of that Metro train leaving me excluded and a little bit lost.

  I found my car, which had been moved by the valet parkers and boxed in a corner of the immense gravel parking area beside a quadruple garage. Squashed beside two BMWs, a Bentley and a Mercedes sports car, my little Golf looked like a Mumbai slum dwelling surrounded by jazzy new skyscrapers. It took me a while to locate the men in charge, who were playing poker in one of the garages, sipping from pilfered bottles of pink champagne, apparently safe in the knowledge that no-one would be as daft as to want to leave such a spectacular party before the end. They tried to hide the bottles when I walked in but I waved my hands and told them not to on my account.

  ‘Can you give me the keys to the Golf so I can get out of here?’

  ‘Oh, we didn’t think that was a guest’s car,’ the biggest of the four men sniffed.

  ‘I’m not a guest, I’m just the cake maker.’

  ‘Right, figures,’ he sniffed again, ‘trouble is, we thought it belonged to one of the staff who’d be here till the end so it’s right at the back and we’d have to move all the cars to get it, which would be a right pain in the arse, like. This is our break.’

  Like the leader of a Trade Union, he looked meaningfully at his watch and then at his fellow poker players who all nodded in agreement. I sighed, knowing that it would take a stretch limo pulled by four stallions to move this lot.

  ‘Thanks a bunch,’ I growled.

  I stepped forward and swiped a bottle of champagne off the table, glanced over the big man’s shoulder at his cards and said – ‘You’ll never win with that hand’ – before flouncing out.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Gradually add to butter mixture

  I sat on a wooden sun lounger in a dark corner beside the pool, sipping straight from the bottle of champagne and listening to the water cascading over the edge of the infinity pool. The muffled sounds of the party reached me whenever the glass doors slid open and guests emerged to smoke or to talk on mobiles or to steal furtive fumbles when they thought no-one was looking. I saw one glamour model stick her hands down an actor’s trousers whom I knew from gossip magazines to be married. I heard a singer shouting at her manager down the phone about not getting her anywhere near the Christmas number one with only two days to go, which was apparently down to the manager being a ‘bloody twat’ rather than her song (in my esteemed and somewhat drunk opinion) being ‘bloody awful’. If I were a tabloid journalist or that way inclined, I could have sold more than one story the following day. I briefly considered it as a way out of my impending financial crisis, but I quickly decided that I couldn’t be bothered to give any of these people any more column inches than they already took up, which was generally too many (again in my esteemed, drunk opinion).

  I heard exclamations of delight when the Teppanyaki chef arrived. I heard dinner plates being collected and then after-dessert toasts being made while my stomach gurgled unhappily. I may well have been too fat to fit comfortably in my trouser suit but I had also not eaten anything other than raw cake mixture and dollops of icing for the best part of two days and, due to increasing tiredness, I was now starving. I swigged from the bottle and I heard the glass doors slide open. The swish, swish was beginning to irritate me now. Who had automatic glass doors in their house, for fuck’s sake?

  The same stupid, rich people who had hand-dryers in the bathroom apparently.

  I heard a man’s voice and a woman’s voice and then the sound of tyres on the decking. I peered through the darkness and saw the outline of Hurley in his wheelchair with a girl beside him. Judging by the enormous bow on the top of her head that made her look like the grand prize in a raffle, which she had obviously returned to Top Shop to buy, it was safe to say it was Heidi. She had come, I was glad. I smiled and then I remembered about her Charity Shop closing down. Damn, I had forgotten about it again. I was turning into a terrible friend. I put down the bottle and was about to stand up to walk over to them when Heidi spoke.

  ‘I think Chloe’s going to be really embarrassed actually, Hurley.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I just know what she’s like. Don’t be surprised if she runs out of the room.’

  I clasped a hand over my mouth.

  Even Heidi.

  Heidi, who never swore and never had a bad word to say about anyone, had seen my cakes and was embarrassed for me. She knew I was such a perfectionist that I would be too. Why had I let my parents loose on my work when I had only ever seen them as fruit loops bearing paintbrushes? I must have gone mad.

  I watched Heidi and Hurley kiss and then turn to go back inside.

  ‘Come on, I’ve got a surprise for you,’ said Hurley.

  I glugged the champagne as the doors slid shut.

  ‘What the chuff are you doing out here you silly cow? You missed the free scran. The hot chocolate pudding nearly gave me a mouth-gasm.’

  Roxy strutted across the lawn towards me with her skirts yanked up above her knees.

  ‘I have to say, this is the first party I’ve been to where I’ve had to be as sober as a nun but it’s not been as bad as I expected. I think I might last the whole nine months without getting bladdered like.’

  ‘Judge,’ I said glumly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s as sober as a judge.’

  ‘Aye right’ – she stepped onto the terrace, wobbling on her heels as one slid down a gap in the wood – ‘most of the judges I’ve been up in front of were more pissed than the criminals.’

  She crouched down with her bum res
ting on her heels and peered at me curiously.

  ‘So would you like to tell me what the fuck you’re doing out here, pet, when the city’s most glamorous party is going on in there and you’re a special guest?’

  ‘I’m not a guest, Roxy, I’m one of the staff.’

  ‘Well you’re not much of a team player then if you’re out here getting pissed by yourself on free champagne and they’re all running about like their arses are on fire tending to our every need.’

  I tipped up the bottle to check it was empty.

  ‘I’ve done my bit. Not very well apparently.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The cupcakes. He’s covered them up and I heard Heidi say I was going to be really embarrassed. You didn’t even bother to make a comment, so they’re obviously rubbish and Zachary hasn’t come over to speak to me all night. He only gave me this job as his good deed. He felt sorry for me.’

  ‘Howay man, that’s not true. I’d like to say he gave you the job because you’re the only person in Britain who can bake cupcakes like but I actually suspect he gave you it because he wanted to help and he could help and because he wants to shag you pet.’

  ‘He does not. Look at all the glamorous women in there who would shag him in an instant, especially that bloody redhead.’

  ‘I thought you said he didn’t like “glamorous”’ – she wiggled her fingertips, adding with a hint of sarcasm – ‘Not that you’re bothered.’

  ‘Yeah, the bloody hypocrite, how can he not like glamorous when he lives it? The one night I make a big effort and get dressed up and go out with a footballer with a bum like a hamster chewing two golf balls and drink ludicrously expensive champagne…’

  ‘That is what every night should be like in my opinion,’ Roxy nodded.

  ‘… Zachary bloody Doyle gets all high and mighty and basically tells me to stop trying to be something I’m not and makes me feel guilty. I thought he didn’t like glamorous when actually he was trying to tell me to leave it to him and stay in my rightful position down the ladder with the hired help. Bloody cheek.’

  I crossed my arms over my chest, squashing Roxy’s flower in my cleavage as I did so.

  ‘I don’t really know the fella to be honest, Chloe, maybe he likes glam, maybe he doesn’t. I’d say he’s a touch above Chavy tramp swigging champers alone from the bottle.’

  ‘I don’t care what he thinks to be honest, Roxy. I wasn’t on the seating plan so he doesn’t want me at the party and you’re all just so bloody glamorous and happy and loved up and successful, it’s pretty much exactly where I don’t want to be right now.’

  Roxy rubbed her temples then reached into her clutch bag and pulled out a cigarette.

  ‘You can’t smoke, Roxy, you’re pregnant.’

  ‘Am I? Really? I’d forgotten for a moment. Is that why I’m pissing all the time and getting fat and craving coal sandwiches and Vimto?’

  She sniffed the cigarette and rolled it between her fingers.

  ‘I don’t smoke it, I just fiddle with it. Something to do with my hands.’

  ‘Can I have one?’

  She handed me the cigarette and took out a second. We fiddled with them in the darkness.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t stop and look at your cakes like. You know me, Chloe, I’m shallow as’ – she glanced at the pool – ‘well more shallow than that. I just get a bit carried away with looking the part sometimes. I’m sure the cakes are canny good and besides, it’s pretty dark in there so even if they’re shite you might get away with it.’

  I blinked at her.

  ‘You won’t solve anything sitting out here like a chuffing gnome in the garden. I think you should come in, pet.’

  ‘Why? So I can be embarrassed in front of you all?’

  ‘No, because you have always faced things head on, Chloe man, you’re not the sort to run away, never have been.’

  ‘Maybe it’s time to start.’

  I sniffed the cigarette and screwed up my nose.

  ‘Come in,’ said Roxy, ‘Hurley’s got a surprise for Heidi and I think you should be there.’

  My shoulders slumped.

  ‘Now I feel guilty because I know I haven’t been there for her lately. I’ve been too busy thinking about myself and about twenty dozen stupid cupcakes.’

  Roxy straightened up and held out her hand. I put down the bottle, slipped the cigarette behind my ear and let her pull me up.

  ‘Come on, one surprise for Heidi then I’ll get Thierry to take us home and make us hot chocolates or chocolat chaud as he insists on calling it.’ She rubbed her belly. ‘Howay, hot chocolate? Listen to me, I’m starting to sound ancient.’

  I stretched my cheeks back with my hands.

  ‘I’m starting to feel ancient. This credit crunch has not been kind to me, Roxy.’

  ‘Then make the most of all the free shite on offer here, lass. Really’ – she began dragging me towards the glass doors by the hand – ‘you’ve got to learn how to make the most of a situation. Come on.’

  I sheepishly entered the room and tried my best to stand at the back but Roxy kept on dragging me right through the melée and over to her table. She shooed Thierry towards Gary Lineker until they were almost sharing a seat and then pulled me down next to her on a cream throne. I looked around for Zachary but could not see him. I was terrified he would spot me mingling with the guests and ask me to get backstage with the waitresses.

  ‘Has it started yet?’ she said to Thierry who shook his head and winked at her.

  The noise in the room suddenly hushed when a gong was struck beside the top table and a spotlight shone on Hurley who was sitting in the centre between Heidi and Malachy. My heart squirmed uneasily in my chest when I saw Zachary at Heidi’s other shoulder beside the same “glamorous” girl with the cannonball boobs and big hair whose head was lolling precariously close to his shoulder.

  Bitch.

  Sienna Miller’s waitress doppelganger handed Hurley a microphone, which he tapped before clearing his throat.

  ‘My brothers and I would like to thank you all for coming here to our family home to celebrate Christmas, which will be with us in a few short days and to mark the end of a year that has not been easy for many people in this country.’

  A murmur of agreement coursed around the room and some people clapped, their Rolexes and diamond bracelets jangling on their wrists (ironic, I thought).

  ‘We have held parties for most of you and we have had a wonderful time doing that so we want to thank you for being not only our clients but for becoming our friends in the process.’

  This was greeted with a cheer.

  ‘I’m sure I’ve bored every one of you over time with my ups and downs since I lost the use of my legs but tonight I want to let you know the good news.’

  There was a gasp. Jesus, he wasn’t going to jump out of the wheelchair and do a routine with Diversity was he?

  ‘No, I haven’t suddenly found out I can walk, the good news is, I’ve found something even better. I’ve only been with her two weeks but already I know I’ve found the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with because she is a better person than I could ever dream of being. So if you’ll have me, Heidi, I’m yours forever.’

  My hands flew to my face.

  ‘Oh and just to clear something up, honey,’ he carried on, ‘I have to come clean to you all now and admit that I was actually christened Frank Hurley Doyle. It’s not quite as glam but it’s my given name, which does in fact begin with an F.’

  Dear God the crazy psychic from Spanish City who got hit by a taxi was right.

  Tears welled up in my eyes, through which I saw Heidi leap out of her chair and throw her arms around Hurley’s neck.

  ‘Yes!’ the microphone picked up as she nuzzled his ear, ‘Yes!’

  ‘Fucking hell man,’ Roxy chuckled, ‘he’s as mental as she is. Do you think he’s got a wedding scrapbook too, the pair of bloody romantic weirdos?’

  I turn
ed to look at her just as she smiled and turned her head towards Thierry. He reached out and clasped her hand tight, his smile illuminating his face.

  ‘Je t’adore,’ he said softly before kissing her gently on the crown of her head.

  ‘Aye,’ I heard her whisper in return, ‘I love you too, pet.’

  It was the first time I had heard her use those words with any man.

  No smart comment, no retort, no sarcasm or swift defence, just a simple I love you too, pet.

  My two best friends were in love and one was about to have a baby. I was so happy for them, it was more than we could ever have imagined this time a year before. I owed it to them to treasure this moment in their lives. I took my own feelings of jealousy and discontentment and locked them in a box for later.

  Maybe I’d tie it with a bow and open it alone on Christmas Day.

  ‘I have another surprise for Heidi,’ Hurley continued.

  He really was getting into his stride. What the hell was he going to do now, present her with a puppy in a box and two point four perfect children? I burped sullenly under my breath, the bubbles from the champagne filling my nose and making my head spin. I wished I had eaten at least a bread roll or two.

  Or two-hundred and twenty cupcakes that would more than likely go to waste.

  ‘Heidi has been working very closely with a local charity for disabled children. Some are like myself and have been paralysed in accidents and some were born disabled. Heidi has worked with many of them in her role as an occupational therapist at the clinic where I first met her. Not as a patient I must add.’

  I tried to join in the ripple of laughter but I couldn’t be bothered to muster the strength. Hurley glanced proudly at Heidi.

  ‘In her spare time, would you believe, Heidi worked in the Charity Shop that financially helped this fantastic cause, which very sadly fell victim to the recession today and closed its doors.’

  Heidi nodded sadly and the crowd offered up its sympathy.

  ‘So, Heidi,’ Hurley concluded, ‘in a little while, after Diversity have performed, we will be holding an auction, the proceeds of which we have decided to donate to the childrens’ charity to make sure they get those presents you wanted to get them for Christmas and much, much more.’