Cupcake Couture

by Davies, Lauren

  Heidi looked like she might faint. Hurley laughed and waggled the microphone at the assembled guests.

  ‘We are playing host to some very rich people here tonight, recession or not,’ he grinned cheekily, ‘so I will be expecting some eye-watering bids from you lot, or else your next 3D events may well not run as smoothly as you hope.’

  The crowd erupted in rapturous applause, which I joined in with, as did Roxy and Thierry.

  ‘Get your wallet out, pet,’ Roxy said, nudging her boyfriend, ‘and you, Gary.’

  Gary Lineker nodded and immediately riffled in his pockets.

  Heidi was beaming as if all her Christmases had come at once. She clapped excitedly like a child then pulled Hurley’s face towards hers and kissed him.

  ‘Good things come to good people,’ I said quietly to myself, ‘and Heidi is the best person I know.’

  Heidi suddenly caught my eye. I forced a smile and waved at her across the room. She waved back and then frantically motioned for me to come up to the top table. I shook my head. The applause was dying down and Sienna II was passing the microphone along the table. Heidi waggled her hands and mouthed something then pointed at the screen masking my cake. I tried to read her lips but couldn’t. I shook my head. She waved frantically. Was she trying to tell me to go before I was embarrassed? I shook my head again just as Zachary stood up, tapped the microphone and began to speak.

  ‘Good evening everyone, thanks for coming.’ He dipped his head and flicked back his fringe with his hand. ‘Now I usually like to leave these speeches to Malachy because we all know how he loves the limelight.’

  Everyone laughed as Malachy threw his hands in the air and gestured for Zachary to give him the microphone.

  ‘But tonight, I would also like to tell you about someone I met very recently too.’

  My heart flipped.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s not another proposal’ – he nodded at Heidi and Hurley – ‘congratulations you two and welcome to the family, Heidi, but we’ll do all that later.’

  My heart twisted with envy.

  Zachary stepped out from the table, after having pulled his leg from the grip of cannonball tits and began to walk across towards the corner of the room while he spoke.

  ‘I met a girl, a woman, a lovely woman in Tynemouth Metro station one morning. She was, and I hope she doesn’t mind me telling you this, very sad that day because she had been made redundant.’

  I heard a murmur of sympathy. Roxy clasped my hand and squeezed it.

  ‘Now in these hard times, she was not the first and she certainly won’t be the last. She had worked hard and it had come out of the blue. When I saw her there, so sad and lost, I stopped to help. She was, I suppose, my good deed for the day.’

  As Zachary said this, he touched the shoulder of an elegant older woman with thick, white hair and a smiley face. Her green eyes flashed up at him with pride.

  Mrs Doyle, I presumed.

  She patted her son’s hand and he continued to walk on towards the black screen. My toes curled with a mixture of fear and embarrassment.

  ‘I only expected to give this woman a tissue but then we got chatting. She, I suppose you could say, fascinated me. She even asked me for a job, although she didn’t know who I was.’

  ‘I bet she did,’ I heard a woman mutter to her neighbour on the table beside me.

  ‘I didn’t,’ I hissed back.

  ‘There were a few more chance meetings, the details of which I won’t go into…’

  Thank God.

  I had visions of him spilling all the beans, handbag in the Metro door, Spanish footballer in my bed, food fight at the flea market, the lot.

  Zachary stopped in front of the black screen.

  I stopped breathing.

  ‘One thing I found out about this woman, Chloe…’

  Roxy squeezed my hand again and Heidi waved.

  ‘… was that she had had a childhood dream to be a posh cake designer. As in’ – he chuckled, his breath reverberating across the microphone – ‘a designer of posh cakes, not a posh designer of cakes.’

  An appreciative laugh rippled through the partygoers. I still held my breath.

  ‘I tried to encourage her to chase that dream because I suspected she had a talent. She resisted at first. She was a hotshot businesswoman and she wanted to stay that way because she was comfortable and because she is as stubborn as I am.’

  ‘You are that like,’ Roxy laughed along with the rest of the guests.

  I blushed.

  ‘To me, Chloe epitomised what has been happening to determined, hardworking people in the ups and downs of this recession. She had given her all to her job, forgoing her childhood dreams so that she would have a steady, reliable career, but then finding herself turfed out without so much as a thank you.’

  I blinked when half the room turned to the other half and nodded.

  ‘I wanted to help and thankfully she gave in and agreed to bake the cakes for the 3D Christmas event. I asked her for something’ – he touched his hand to his chin – ‘exceptional, unforgettable and fabulous.’

  I mouthed the words as he said them before holding my breath again.

  ‘It was a tall order. After all, Malachy doesn’t like anything done by halves.’

  Malachy whooped and thrust his champagne glass into the air.

  ‘But I think Chloe has a knack of understanding people and what they want and well, I think you may be clambering over each other for one of her business cards when you see her creation.’

  ‘If I had any,’ I whispered to Roxy.

  Roxy winked and Thierry blew me an affectionate kiss.

  ‘I’ll stop blithering on now,’ said Zachary.

  He peered across the room and gestured for the lights to be dimmed, which they immediately were. I inhaled sharply.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen I give you, the 3D Christmas cake.’

  The screen was pulled back, the crowd of Newcastle’s movers and shakers inhaled, I covered my eyes but slowly lowered my hands when the room erupted in a round of spontaneous, enthusiastic and thankfully generous applause.

  ‘Go, godmother,’ said Roxy, shoving me out of my chair.

  I stood and, while the room blurred around me, I tottered unsteadily towards my cakes.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Add puréed strawberries

  Even I had to admit that, despite my earlier crisis of confidence and thanks to a little help from Malachy (as I later discovered) my cupcake sculpture looked impressive, quirky, sparkly and befitting of the 3D Events’ Christmas extravaganza.

  The metal and wire ‘Christmas tree’ formed the base of the installation. It stood approximately four feet tall and it had been fantastically revamped by Julian and my parents using huge black and white feathers, swathes of silver and black material and vibrant splashes of paint. It was a cake-stand to rival all other cake-stands. Around the branches of the tree, we had coiled every set of fairy lights I owned, which twinkled magically in the dimmed lights of the party room, the pink and white hues reflecting off the black and white marbled surfaces. At the top of the tree was a giant snow dome. I had made a blown sugar bubble into which I had squeezed three men lovingly crafted from fondant icing, all with hair the colour of Guinness and smiles as white as the froth. I had spent a little more time on the fondant man in the centre of the snow dome. He had broader shoulders than the other two and a pink hanky (which did in fact have a strawberry flavour if anyone dared to taste it) in his top pocket and rather hypnotising green eyes. Julian had attached a motor to the dome, which whirled edible silver glitter around the three tasty brothers. The glitter blew out of small holes in the bottom of the dome and now fluttered down the tree, settling on the two-hundred and eighteen cupcakes nestling in the branches.

  ‘Are those cakes?’ I heard Ant say to Dec (or was it Dec saying it to Ant?) as I passed by their table.

  They stood and walked forwards behind me, along with the rest of the guests who we
re surging trance-like towards my cupcake Christmas tree.

  ‘The decorations are all cupcakes,’ said another voice.

  ‘Not just any old cupcakes, though, look at them, they’re works of art.’

  I felt a smile travelling from one ear to the other and a surge of pride running up from my heels to the squashed fake flower decorating my chest. I recognised the buzz running through my veins as self-esteem, a feeling that had escaped me of late. My pulse quickened.

  The cupcakes did look beautiful displayed on the giant cake-stand. Then again I was biased when it came to pretty little, sumptuous, colourful cupcakes; I always thought they looked too good to eat. Almost.

  Some of the cakes had swirls of pink or purple buttercream, others were topped with vanilla or chocolate. The swirls, like everything else in the design, were oversized and gluttonous, winding up into tall peaks like Mr Whippy ice cream cones. I had decorated these with glass-like sugar balls made to look like strings of fairy lights and diamond-like sprinkles. Some had pink feathers sticking out of the top, while others had bows made from sugar laces to make them resemble presents to be unwrapped. Other cupcakes I had decorated with fondant icing in purple, pink, white and black to represent the 3D Events pink, purple and black logo and the black and white city colours of Newcastle. Inspired by the flea market football cupcakes, I had crafted the fondant into characters and people. In anticipation of who might be on the guest list, I had made Gary Lineker, an Ant, a Dec, Thierry and even a tiny Cheryl Cole, who would probably be enjoyed by her lookalike if one of the men did not snap her up first.

  ‘There’s us!’ said Ant, or it could have been Dec.

  ‘I’m going to eat you,’ replied Dec (or was it Ant?)

  I had also made cakes topped with shiny silver coins.

  ‘These are better than real money,’ I heard one local businessman say whom I recognised from a tearful episode of The Secret Millionaire.

  ‘Just as well for you,’ said his friend with a deep belly laugh, ‘you’ve given all yours away!’

  The whole design had been inspired by my research of 3D Events on Google and the images of their over-the-top, dynamic party themes and their company colours, as well as Zachary’s self-confessed love of lights and sparkle. I could tell from the moment I met him that Malachy had indeed been the sparkle catalyst, like a pushing-six-foot male Tinkerbell. He wasn’t a queen but he had a twinkle in his eye and a love of extravagance. When he took hold of a party, he waved his imaginary wand, let loose with his exuberant personality and transported the guests to a world of pure escapism. Zachary provided the solid grounding, the direction (and the funds apparently) while Hurley made things happen like the engine of the machine.

  I had been so exhausted by the end of the process of making cakes and designing the final piece and so intent on re-building the sculpture before the guests arrived that I had stopped seeing it clearly anymore. I had never expected such a reaction.

  My ears filled with oohs, aahs and compliments as I walked up to my first real cake sculpture. Were they just being kind? They seemed genuine enough. Were they all just inebriated? Some were, admittedly, but it had been too classy an affair for drunken brawls and vomiting in the vases. I stopped when I reached my cupcakes to take a breath. The wall behind had been covered with reflective black screens, displaying professionally designed posters. Two graphite tables stood either side of the tree, upon which were stacks of glossy business cards fanned out in symmetrical semi-circles. The whole space was lit with giant candles. None of these features had been my doing. Clearly, while I had been in the garden fretting about the reasons for Zachary covering the cakes with screens, the 3D Events people had been at work adding these professional touches to the design. I reached out and picked up a business card. My hand flew to my mouth.

  ‘I took a liberty with your company name,’ said an unmistakeable voice, ‘I hope you don’t mind.’

  I felt his breath very close to my ear and my pulse began to race, pumping blood to my heart, my head and apparently my ears. My head span and my mouth felt dry. I wished I hadn’t drunk all that champagne. I clutched the business card, turned and lifted my face to look up at the deliciously handsome Zachary Doyle.

  ‘Congratulations, Chloe,’ he said with a smile. ‘Heidi said you would be really embarrassed by all the attention but I couldn’t help myself. We like to celebrate the good things in our family.’

  I blinked. So that was what Heidi had meant. Crowds closed in around us to get closer to the cupcake tree.

  ‘You made business cards for me?’ I said eventually when I mustered enough saliva to be able to speak.

  ‘And posters.’ He gestured towards the screens behind the cakes, then leaned closer and touched my elbow. ‘Although to be honest I just came up with the name and then I passed the technical stuff on to Hurley. He’s a whizz with all that. You’ve got a website too.’

  ‘A website?’

  ‘Yes, just a temporary one until you get yourself up and running but I think you’ll like it.’

  I rubbed my forehead, which felt hot and sticky. The air around me was thinning by the second.

  ‘I don’t understand. Why would you do all this for me? Why do I need a website?’

  ‘Look, Chloe.’ He took my elbow and turned me to look at the celebrities swarming around my cupcake installation like bees around a honey pot. ‘This is what you were meant to do. This is your talent. Don’t fight it.’

  ‘But…’

  I looked again at the celebrities almost fighting each other for a closer look.

  ‘Have they never seen cupcakes before?’ I said with a bemused laugh.

  ‘They’ve never seen your cupcakes before,’ Zachary whispered so close to my ear it made my spine shiver, ‘you’ve been too selfish keeping them locked up in that head of yours. It looks like it might be time to share.’

  ‘The same way you shared with me what sort of parties you throw hmm? What was it you said? Conferences, birthdays, charity nights, that sort of thing?’

  He blushed and flicked his hair.

  ‘I didn’t lie, this is a charity night.’

  ‘A very glitzy, very “glamorous”’ – I made quotes in the air – ‘charity night.’

  ‘Yes well, I didn’t want to scare you away from your first assignment. First of many by the looks of it.’

  I took a deep breath and allowed myself to dream for a moment. Could I really make a living out of designing cakes? Especially in the current financial climate. I fiddled with the shiny, stiff business card. It would be a dream come true but over the years I had grown up and realised that dreams usually stayed just that; dreams. However, I had to admit, when I was around this man it felt as if he could click his fingers and turn dreams into reality. He had done it for his brothers and now he was doing it for me.

  He was doing it for me in more ways than one.

  I looked up at him, at his bright eyes that rivalled the fairy lights for sparkle, at his lips like soft fudge, at his smooth cheeks, his broad chest in his stylish Tuxedo, every inch of him the successful but modest and kind businessman. I had a sudden urge to grab him and kiss him. It was not the first time, but it was definitely the most intense. As was the entire situation; intense and overwhelming. I wobbled on my heels.

  ‘Are you OK, Chloe?’

  ‘Yes,’ I nodded, ‘I’m just shocked and little bit hot.’

  ‘I’ll get you some water.’

  Zachary was about to move away and probably get one of his ‘people’ to fetch me water when a man with a camera and a lens as long as an elephant’s trunk bounced in between us.

  ‘Can I get a photo please, Mr Doyle?’

  ‘Sure, sure, is that OK, Chloe?’

  I nodded at Zachary. We turned to face the camera and I felt his arm slide around my shoulders. I glanced at his hand and the camera flashed. The camera kept flashing while more and more people joined the scene. Celebrities pushed their way to the front, some keen to increase their f
ifteen minutes of fame. Others stood coyly to one side, while Malachy bounced around excitedly in the centre. Roxy and Thierry squeezed in beside Zachary and I, with Heidi and Hurley at the other side. Roxy swiftly removed the cigarette that I had forgotten was behind my ear.

  ‘Nice line-up,’ Roxy said with a wink in between photos, ‘me and Thierry, Heidi and fucking Heidi mark II the male version over there and you and Zah-cary.’

  I nudged her.

  ‘Shush, he’ll hear you.’

  ‘Are you gonna shag him then?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Howay, why not? He definitely wants to shag you.’

  ‘He does not.’

  ‘Aye he does, it’s obvious from the way he looks at you, man’ – she rolled her eyes exaggeratedly – ‘and why else would he have done all this?’

  ‘Business,’ I hissed. ‘He’s in the business of making money and all this is good for his business.’ I glanced up at him to check he couldn’t hear me but there was such a racket in the room, I felt sure he couldn’t. ‘And I don’t mix business with pleasure.’

  ‘Don’t be a twat, Chloe man, make business your pleasure and pleasure your business. Worked for me.’

  I nudged her in the ribs. She laughed and rubbed her side.

  ‘Ouch, mind the baby.’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll be minding it many a night while you’re out having pleasure time,’ I smirked.

  We posed for endless photographs and when the photographer had finally filled his memory card, Malachy clapped his hands and called out – ‘Let them eat cake.’

  There was a cheer and the guests descended on my cupcake tree like crazed shoppers at the Harrods’ sale.

  ‘You don’t mind do you, Chloe?’ he said.

  ‘No,’ I grinned, ‘they’re there to be eaten.’

  I steeled myself to be courageous and opened my mouth to say more when Zachary’s female companion with the cannonball boobs barged in between us and thrust a pink buttercream cupcake towards his lips. He stumbled backwards away from me. She giggled like a hyena and pressed the cake into his mouth then groaned as if she had just orgasmed.