When Only Cupcakes Will Do

by Daisy James

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The alarm clock woke her and for a few seconds an overwhelming feeling of disorientation overpowered her senses. Her head felt like it had been stuffed with feathers and her eyes like they’d been liberally coated with a layer of grit. Today was the day when all her professional dreams could come true if Georges Gasnier, Fortnum & Mason’s highly respected confectionery buyer, decided that her cupcakes and cake pops were good enough to adorn their hallowed shelves.

  ‘Jess, zip me up, would you? How do I look?’

  ‘Bellisimo!’ her sister laughed as she slotted her hands into the back pockets of her skinny jeans and ran her eyes over the complete ensemble. ‘Mmm, maybe a pair of heels would look better that those flatties, though?’

  ‘I won’t be comfortable in heels, Jess. Anyway, I’m used to wearing pumps. I always tower over Alex when I wear heels.’

  ‘But you’re going to Fortnum & Mason for a business meeting first and foremost. Go on. Try these on.’ Jess scrabbled about in the bottom of her wardrobe and handed Lucie a pair of nude stilettos.

  Lucie slipped them on and immediately experienced a surge of confidence. It was amazing what a pair of heels could do for a girl. What had she been missing all this time? An unexpected pang of irritation reminded her that being with Alex had forced her to change her whole focus on footwear. Before her relationship with him, she had adored her stilettos, even competing with Steph for the title of Tootsie Princess. But any heel higher than an inch caused her to stoop in order to look Alex in the eye and she’d had to swap the boost of confidence the heels gave her for safeguarding Alex’s ego. Was she still prepared to do that? She collected her purse from Jess’s bed and made her way down the stairs.

  ‘Okay. I should be back by six at the latest.’

  ‘Promise to call after your meeting with Georges Gasnier. Oh, I’m so excited! My sister selling her products at the Queen’s grocer’s! I spoke to Mum last night and she’s told all her tennis club ladies and she can’t wait for you to go out and run a class alongside her in Spain for the ex-pats. I think it’s an excellent idea!’

  ‘I think you and the boys should come too. Make it a family affair.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan!’

  A prickle of nerves gnawed at the edges of Lucie’s abdomen but she doused them with a burst of self-confidence. She hugged Jess on the doorstep and trotted down the garden path, a little unsteady on the unfamiliar four-inch heels but her spirits flying high as she anticipated the meeting that could change her life for ever. She had sent over a selection of her cupcakes and cake pops in advance and rehearsed her pitch until it was as familiar as the back of her hand. She was ready to take her favourite emporium by storm.

  As she clambered into the back of a taxi, her thoughts began to spin through what lay ahead.

  Alex.

  Whenever she took that conundrum out of its box her brain became a scattergun of unconnected thoughts, her body engulfed in a mantle of concrete, as she struggled to decide what to do. She glanced out of the window at the capital’s streets flashing by. She had the strangest feeling that she was travelling through a hazy mirage of a parallel reality while the rest of the world went about their Saturday morning business oblivious that one person among them was on her way to a rendezvous that might change the course of her life for ever.

  In the cold light of day, deciding whether she still wanted to meet Alex for afternoon tea after her appointment at Fortnum & Mason was more complicated. If she was planning on accepting his invitation to be his ‘plus one’ at Jemima and Harry’s wedding the following Saturday she needed to hear his detailed explanation and a heartfelt apology for his questionable behaviour, not only when he’d turned down her proposal in Tiffany’s but in the following weeks when her life was in turmoil and he was nowhere to be seen. She knew that once she’d heard his reasons she would be able to see the whole episode much more clearly and a decision would be easier.

  But any reconciliation had to mean absolute commitment to a permanent future together. A fizzle of something she struggled to name erupted in her chest but was extinguished almost immediately. Did she want to marry Alex? And was Jess right? Did he only want to be with her now that his friends and colleagues were settling down and it was the next logical step in his quest to carve out a perfect life to match that of Greg and Yolande, Harry and Jemima, and all his other friends and acquaintances?

  The taxi paused in traffic on The Mall. The sun had climbed higher in the sky and spread tendrils of warmth across the pavements, and shafts of light sliced through the trees lining the route. She decided on the spur of the moment to walk the rest of the way to Fortnum & Mason. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed the city; its bustling streets filled today with tourists and shoppers.

  She set off at a brisk pace, welcoming the exercise, enjoying the cool air that licked her face, even though it lacked the sharp freshness of the air in Richmond. Each step served to banish her previous doubts into oblivion and notched up her hopes that a rekindled relationship with Alex was where her future lay. It made practical sense. She would have minimal difficulty finding a suitable kitchen position, maybe at one of the smaller boutique hotels or high-end bistros. In fact, she could probably just pick up where she left off. No one would remember her as Livid Lucie! But as she slowed her stride, the counter-arguments intervened and attacked with a vengeance. Was that what she truly wanted?

  Should she follow her head or her heart?

  Her internal rolodex spun round to Ed and the heated conversation they’d had outside the Fox and Hounds after he’d seen her with Alex. He’d told her to trust her heart. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? Even in such stress-filled situations as running out of petrol in the rain, Ed had been able to lift her spirits with anecdotes of his exploits as a crazy, adrenalin-seeking teenager. She couldn’t erase the images of him flying down the zip wire, whipping up his nonna’s signature torta, teasing her about her lack of any sense of adventure. Every moment she’d spent with him had been exhilarating, challenging, fascinating, and, unlike when she’d been with Alex, there was no mention of the government’s current corporate taxation policy in sight!

  And it had been Ed who had encouraged her to shoot for her dreams. It had been his idea to submit her products to Fortnum & Mason, Harrods, Selfridges. Why not? he’d argued. What was the worst that could happen? He had unswerving confidence in her talents as a confectioner and pastry chef, despite their shaky beginnings. He had forced her to step outside her comfort zone both professionally and personally and look at what she had achieved in such a short space of time.

  Everything she did now, she wondered what Ed would think of it. New flavours for her cupcakes, new designs for her cake pops, new ideas for diversifying into bespoke chocolates. What would he think about the specialist teas they served in Fortnum & Mason? Which would be his favourite blend? In fact, if she were truly honest with herself, she realised she would have much preferred to be meeting Ed at the Diamond Jubilee Tea Salon to dissect her meeting with Georges Gasnier – whether the outcome was successful or a disaster. She knew he would celebrate the first with joy and encouragement, and dismiss the latter with a suggestion she try Harrods.

  She checked her mobile but there were no messages or texts from him. Had she really expected there to be? He’d made it abundantly clear that he wanted no part of her life until she had decided what she wanted. Were the emotions swirling around her veins what true love was all about?

  By the time she arrived on the doorstep of the iconic store her mind was blank, her conundrums incapable of further exploration. She drew in a steadying breath, shoved her shoulders back and rebooted her modem. For the first time in the last twenty-four hours her heartbeat calmed. She paused on the street, drinking in the sight of the famous store’s duck-egg-blue façade. Her lips curled into a smile as she glanced over her shoulder towards Piccadilly Circus. She really did love it here. She took a moment to absorb the sights and soun
ds of the most fabulous retail space in London, maybe even pipping Tiffany’s to the top spot.

  She stepped inside and was immediately engulfed by a sense of well-being and excitement. All her personal issues shrank to insignificance when she surveyed the myriad wonders of the department store where the Queen shopped for her groceries.

  She checked her watch as she made for the lift. Perfect timing. Her heart skipped a beat as she was greeted by Georges himself with a welcoming smile and a compliment on the cakes she’d sent to be taste-tested in advance. Optimism spread through her entire being and the next thirty minutes were the best of her life so far. An order was placed and the documents signed. She was now a bona fide supplier of artisan confectionery to the Queen!

  Well, that was what she was going to tell people!

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Brimming with excitement and anxious to start celebrating with a glass of champagne, she arrived at the check-in stand of the Diamond Jubilee Tea Salon. As the pianist entertained the afternoon tea aficionados with a selection of tunes from the West End, she gave her name to the maître d’ who led her straight to a table by the window overlooking Piccadilly.

  She hadn’t expected to be the first to arrive. One of Alex’s less attractive traits was a tendency to lateness but she had expected him to make a special effort that day. After all, he only had to travel from Pimlico. She thanked the waiter who offered her the menu to peruse while she waited.

  Ten past three.

  Still no sign of Alex.

  She checked her phone for messages.

  Nothing.

  At twenty past three the waiter returned and asked if she’d like to order a pot of tea while she waited. She felt a blast of heat suffuse her cheeks. Everyone around her was in the throes of celebrating something – just like she should be. There had been two renditions of ‘Happy Birthday’ already. A couple of people had glanced over in her direction and given her a look of sympathy. She was clearly making it obvious she was waiting for someone who had the audacity to be late. She always felt irritated when Alex was late. It was as though he was sending her a message that his time was much more important than hers – that he was a solicitor with a busy, important job to do while she only made desserts for people.

  She smiled at the waiter who was kind enough to ignore her discomfort and took his time to talk her though the myriad blends of exotic teas on offer. She settled for the Royal Blend and sat back on the pale-blue banquette working on remaining calm and maintaining a façade of nonchalance. It wasn’t working. She could feel her frustration bubbling in her stomach and her jaw ached from keeping a smile plastered on her face.

  It was three-forty-five when she heard the heavy footsteps approach and Alex slid into the chair opposite her.

  ‘Sorry I’m late. Have you ordered?’

  ‘Alex, where have you been? I’ve been sitting here by myself for the last three quarters of an hour!’

  ‘I said sorry. I had to go into the office. We’ve got a complex set of interconnecting takeovers on at the moment.’ Alex wasn’t even looking at her; instead he was studying the menu. He decided swiftly and placed his order with the waiter, not meeting his eye either.

  ‘You could have called me to let me know you would be late!’

  ‘Well, I just lost track of the time, to be honest. You know what it’s like, Lucie. We have dated before. If we’re going to make this work, you need to understand how much harder I have to work now that I’m a partner at Carter & Mayhew.’

  Lucie opened her mouth to respond but found no words. Why had she even agreed to meet this stranger who sat opposite her? He clearly had no interest in the outcome of the meeting she’d just had with Georges, which had changed the course of her life and which they should by now be celebrating. But then Alex had never shown the slightest interest in her career, so why did she think he would be any different today? In fact, the realisation hit her with sledgehammer force. She’d moved on from Alex’s shadow a long time ago and was, at that very moment, basking in her own self-made spotlight of happiness.

  And she only had one person to thank for that.

  Ed.

  A razor-sharp image of him in his chef’s whites floated across her vision and she closed her eyes to savour the way his fringe flopped over his forehead, the curl of his lips as he rolled his eyes at something she had said that he didn’t agree with, his taut abdomen as she leaned on him after flying along a zip wire. She wondered what it would be like to be able to kiss him any time she wanted, to have his arms wrapped around her shoulders, protecting her from the random grenades life had a habit of tossing in her path.

  The familiar frisson of electricity shot through her veins when she recalled how he’d fastened his espresso eyes on hers and smiled at her in that way of his – as though she were the only girl in the world. She loved him! That’s what the turmoil of emotions was whenever her thoughts lingered on his sultry good looks or his gentle guidance about reaching for culinary excellence.

  She had to get out of there and tell him!

  But before she could grab her bag and make her excuses, Alex reached across the starched linen table cloth and clutched her hand. There was no accompanying reaction from her body – her heart plodded on without a single acknowledgement of his touch – which sealed her decision.

  With stupendously bad timing, their afternoon tea arrived on a silver-tiered cake stand and Lucie’s intentions were temporarily diverted. After all, it had been her idea to meet Alex there, and if this was to be the last time she saw him she needed them to part on amicable terms. She chose a coronation chicken sandwich and then helped herself to one of the fruit scones, which she cut in half and spread with lashings of clotted cream and Fortnum & Mason’s exceptional blueberry jam. She made a mental note to buy a jar on her way out. She had saved the best until last – the selection of patisserie on the top tier: macaroons, eclairs, bite-sized lemon meringues.

  Despite the wonderful food and the exquisite surroundings, Alex was continuing to regale her with the details of the takeover deal he was working on. As usual, his monologue made little sense to her, nor did she have much interest in the ins and outs of the effect of organising an off-shore component to the deal. Yet she noticed his voice held a slight quiver and his teacup rattled in his saucer when he curled his fingers around the handle. She was amazed to see he was nervous.

  ‘Alex?’

  The look on his face told her he was surprised to have been interrupted. She saw he was confused, unsure what to say. In fact, his whole demeanour seemed agitated and a nervous twitch had appeared at the corner of his mouth. She decided to lead with the main item on the carefully crafted list she had drafted in the taxi on her way there.

  ‘I think we should be talking about why you turned down my proposal.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right.’

  ‘So?’

  Again the strained, puzzled expression, and something else she was unable to decipher.

  ‘I thought I’d explained when we met at the pub in Richmond. Your proposal came out of the blue. It was a genuine shock and I panicked. But I’ve had time to consider it now and… well… actually…’ Alex made to get up from his chair, but she wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily. He could visit the bathroom when she had her long-awaited answers.

  ‘And why did you refuse my calls afterwards? I was devastated, Alex. I just couldn’t understand your reaction. I needed you to explain it to me. To give me a reason for your rejection so I could work through the pain. But all you offered me was a wall of silence. I lost all rationality. And you know what happened with Ed…’ Then she remembered Alex’s one text, a bland enquiry as to her well-being along the same lines as if his maiden aunt were recovering from a bout of lumbago. ‘Your girlfriend was in meltdown and you turned your back, put your career first.’

  ‘Lucie, you’ve always been aware of the importance of my career. And you were everywhere. I took some stick from my colleagues, I can tell you. Livid L
ucie, they called you. Did you know that?’

  ‘Of course I knew! I was living through a nightmare and you ignored me!’

  ‘But that’s all water under the bridge. If we’re going to start again we should agree to move on and not mention that… erm, blip again. Now, erm…’ Alex glanced over his shoulder and signalled to the waiter. Within seconds, a bottle of champagne arrived and was set down on the table in front of them with a crystal flute each. ‘Lucie, what I want now is for you to be my wife.’

  Lucie’s jaw gaped as Alex stood up and moved to her side of the table. He lowered himself on one knee, took her hand and held open a pale-blue velvet box in which a diamond solitaire nestled.

  ‘Lucie Emily Bradshaw, will you marry me?’

  Chapter Thirty

  Alex’s smile of expectation encompassed his whole face. But as the seconds ticked by his smile began to fade. Lucie hadn’t wanted to keep him there on one knee, in front of the other diners, but her brain had frozen and she struggled to formulate a response. Myriad thoughts tumbled around her mind, her jaw see-sawing as she tried to come up with an appropriate reaction.

  ‘Alex, it’s too late for us,’ she whispered. ‘Sorry.’

  Alex glanced at the couple at the table next to them who swiftly averted their eyes having realised this was not going to be a celebration. He pocketed the jewellery box and slid back into his chair, his eyes fixed on Lucie.

  ‘But how do you know until we’ve tried?’

  ‘Well, several reasons. One is because you haven’t once asked me about the Travelling Cupcake Company.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘It’s my new business venture. I run a mobile cake-baking business: children’s birthday parties, christenings, weddings, you know. And I love it. The thought of giving it up and coming back to live in London fills me with dread. I don’t think I’ll ever be as happy as I am decorating cupcakes with a dozen five-year-olds, making as much mess as possible and then licking away the evidence. And I love being with my family, seeing them every day, hearing their gossip, listening to their advice. But there’s another reason we’re not destined to be together.’