The Saturday Supper Club

by Amy Bratley

  ‘Never say never,’ said Maggie, twisting her wrist to see the time on her watch. ‘It’s half eight. I’d better get going because I’m meeting someone at nine. Will you be OK from here?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Who are you meeting? A man, by any chance?’

  ‘Remember Paul,’ she said, ‘the Saturday Supper Club photographer? He wants to take me to dinner.’

  She rolled her eyes, as if it were a chore, a wicked smile stretching over her lips.

  ‘Is he married?’ I asked, frowning. But Maggie shook her head.

  ‘Single,’ she said. ‘But I’m not letting that put me off. Despite being short, he’s actually very well endowed.’

  ‘Maggie!’ I said. ‘Have you slept with him?’

  ‘Of course I have,’ she said. ‘Where do you think I disappeared to the night of Andrew’s dinner? Hey, are those your cakes I can smell?’

  After Maggie left to meet Paul and I decanted the chocolate cakes from the tins and placed them on cooling racks, my dad called to say he was going to pop in with the till roll I’d left at his house. While I was waiting for him, I smoothed out the piece of paper with Mum’s Lovebird recipe on it and pinned it to the ‘Love’ wall, alongside the photograph of her and Dad on the beach. I thought about my memories of Mum, most of them of her in our kitchen, mixing up something delicious, or just sitting at the kitchen table having a cold drink. She worked, too, as a dressmaker for a designer – and was no doubt a smart businesswoman – but I never saw where she went. Most of the time we were together, we were at home. She’d seemed happy there in the kitchen, at the heart of our home, but was she? It struck me that I didn’t really know. Maybe she was secretly seething with resentment every time she dragged a tray of freshly baked fairy cakes out of the oven. Maybe she just put it all on, for us. I doubted it, though. Even when she’d fallen ill she’d remained positive, never showing me how unhappy she must have been. I sighed heavily. I hoped her life had been everything she wanted it to be.

  ‘Hello, love,’ my dad said, coming in and closing the cafe door behind him. ‘Big day tomorrow.’

  Dad’s silver hair was starting to sprout back where he’d shaved it off, which made him look like a catkin. I walked over to him and we hugged. I pointed to the black-and-white photo on the wall and smiled.

  ‘I was just thinking about you and Mum,’ I said. ‘About her making this cake all the time. She always seemed happy, but the very fact she came up with that recipe makes me wonder what was going on. Did you row a lot? Was she fulfilled? Did you have a good marriage?’

  A cloud passed over Dad’s face, as he found a chair to sit on. I hopped up onto the tabletop, my legs swinging.

  ‘Of course we did,’ he said. ‘Very good. Though it was cut short.’

  We looked at one another and he smiled sadly. I wanted to make him feel better.

  ‘I knew your marriage was good,’ I said, relieved. ‘You two are my standard. I won’t ever settle for anything less than what you and Mum had.’

  Dad shook his head and sighed. He looked at his shoes, then up to me.

  ‘It wasn’t perfect,’ he said. ‘In fact, just after we married, we almost split up. Let’s just say she was a little bit careless with my heart for a while.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ I said, confused. ‘Did she have an affair?’

  I asked the question, but I didn’t really believe that my mother would do such a thing. The image I had of her in my mind, of such a homely person, didn’t go hand in hand with a woman capable of an affair.

  ‘She had a very short-lived affair,’ he said. ‘With a friend I used to play tennis with. She was full of remorse and regretted it terribly. That’s the origin of that cake. She was trying to win me over.’

  ‘Oh, Dad!’ I said. ‘I’m sorry, these cakes must bring back awful memories. I had no idea! Why did you give me the recipe?’

  ‘The cake is so delicious, I knew you’d like it,’ he said. ‘And your mum’s affair was a wake-up call in many ways. Audrey needed a lot of attention and I’d become a little bit lazy. It was hard, but I forgave her and we became closer. Marriages are like that. Forgiveness and understanding are very important.’

  Dad stretched his arms up into the air and yawned.

  ‘Why am I blathering on like this?’ he asked. ‘Do you think you should get some rest before tomorrow?’

  The news of Mum’s affair was still sinking into my brain. Did I really know her at all? Of course I did. She was still the same person, whatever was going on in her private life. She still loved Daisy and me, she must have loved Dad. Perhaps her life confused her, perhaps she made a genuine mistake. I wished I could have a conversation with her to find out what she thought.

  ‘Yes, but I don’t think I’ll get any sleep,’ I said. ‘I’m too worried about whether anyone will actually come in.’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  By midday the following day, I hadn’t had even one single customer in the cafe. I sat on a chair behind the counter, holding a cup of coffee to my cheek, feeling depressed. I hadn’t expected it to be an instant success, but I thought at least one person who had passed by and looked through the window might have come in for a measly cup of coffee. A city of cakes was stacked up in front of me and I wondered what I was going to do with them all at the end of the day. I’d have to start running a soup kitchen, but it would be a cake kitchen instead. In the quiet of the empty cafe, my mind drifted to Ethan. I wondered what he was doing in Rome and how he could live with himself for running away from Benji like that. No matter how difficult Daisy had made it, he should have stuck it out. And how was Joe now? What was he feeling? Still hating me, I expected. I imagined him sitting at a desk in the city somewhere, fuelling all of his energy into his job, not allowing himself to dwell on us. My thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of my mobile phone. I reached into my apron pocket to read the text, when the door opened and Elaine walked in, keeping her hand on the half-open door.

  ‘Eve, honey,’ she said, pointing at the door. ‘Did you know you have the sign turned round to “Closed”? I’ve just watched three people come and have a look in your window then turn away again. Shall I turn it round to “Open” for you? That would be a good start.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ I said, slapping my hand to my mouth. ‘What an absolute idiot I am! Yes, turn it round, leave the door open! Come in and have a drink. There’s a ton of cake here too. I can’t believe I left the sign the wrong way round. God.’

  I served Elaine a massive slice of cake and made her sit in a window seat, so people could see that I did actually have customers.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, enthusiastically tucking into her cake. ‘This is good.’

  Soon after, a trickle of people I didn’t know came into the cafe. I was so excited I phoned Isabel in Dubai to tell her. She screamed. I burst out laughing.

  ‘I wish I was there too,’ she said. ‘This is the beginning for you.’

  And Isabel was right. Though some days the cafe was very quiet and I ended up throwing away the cakes I baked, over the next few weeks, word-of-mouth publicity and the Saturday Supper Club feature meant that I got busier, especially popular with the yummy-mummy brigade who, most mornings, clogged up the entire cafe with their enormous buggies and baby paraphernalia. I didn’t mind. They ordered a relentless supply of coffee and cake for their group and could never stay too long before one of their toddlers demanded they leave. The customers were a constant source of fascination to me, especially the people who chose to stick up a picture on the ‘Love’ board. Already there was an eclectic selection of pictures up there underneath the one of Mum and Dad: Antonia’s red shoes, a couple kissing, a bunch of pansies, an empty plate scattered with cake crumbs and a close-up picture of a nose. A lovely nose, I had to admit.

  When I’d been open just over a month, Dominique came into the cafe. Dressed in a black dress and high heels, her blonde hair straightened to within an inch of its life, she looked terrifying. In my gingham te
a-dress and flats, I felt suddenly childlike, shadowed by her sophistication. I trooped obediently over to her table, a smile fixed on my lips. I was still seething about the write-up she’d done of my dinner party.

  ‘Joe sent me here,’ she said. ‘He’s got a job at the paper. He’s now my boss! Did you know? He wants me to do a review of this place.’

  My cheeks glowed and my heart warmed. A smile crept onto my lips.

  ‘That’s so lovely of him,’ I said. ‘I must call him. What can I get you?’

  Dominique ordered a mocha and a slice of cake, but as I left her table, she grabbed hold of my forearm. I looked down at her long pink talons gripping my skin, then at her face, in alarm.

  ‘What?’ I said. ‘Dominique . . . will you get off, please?’

  I shook off her hand and she gave me a quick, slightly apologetic smile.

  ‘It’s Joe,’ she said, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears. ‘We’re . . . well . . . I’m very interested in him. We’ve been seeing each other. Are you going to make it difficult for me?’

  Taken aback, I blinked and opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I couldn’t believe that Joe could have moved on so quickly. Perhaps he hadn’t been so dead keen on me after all.

  ‘N-no . . . no,’ I stuttered. ‘If Joe is happy, then I’m happy.’

  The door opened and I looked up to smile and welcome a couple with their baby trying to decide where they should sit. I gestured to a big table at the back of the cafe, where there was ample room for a buggy.

  ‘Good,’ she said, as I backed away from her table. I made her coffee and cake as quickly as I could, plonking it down on her table.

  ‘Don’t choke on it,’ I muttered under my breath, heading to the other table. ‘Hello, right, what can I get you?’

  When Dominique had gone – her plate pleasingly clean – I called Joe and, though he was cool at first, he sounded genuinely pleased to hear from me.

  ‘Dominique says you’ve been seeing each other,’ I said, resisting the urge to tell him I thought it was too quick and that she’d eat him alive.

  ‘Yes, it’s weird, she lives in a flat over the road, I didn’t even know,’ he said. ‘I like her, but I think she likes me more. It’s strange being in this position, I’m not sure I like it.’

  ‘Oh, it’s not so bad,’ I said warmly. ‘Are you OK, really?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m getting there. Listen, have you seen Ethan again? Because there’s this Saturday Supper Club thing I can set up . . .’

  I laughed and told him that Ethan had gone back to Rome.

  ‘That’s strange,’ he said. ‘Because I’m convinced I saw him in the park with Benji.’

  ‘Must have been someone else,’ I said. ‘Bye, Joe, I’d better go. Come in sometime.’

  ‘I will,’ he said, though I doubted he would. ‘I definitely will.’

  I hadn’t seen Daisy since opening, so when I saw her at the door that same afternoon, I thought something must be wrong.

  ‘Eve,’ she said. ‘I’ve come to talk to you.’

  Daisy asked me to sit down while she explained that Ethan hadn’t ever returned to Rome. Instead, he had moved back into his cousin’s flat and was trying, really hard, to form a relationship with Benji.

  ‘I had to give him a second chance,’ she said. ‘He pleaded with me to give him a chance.’

  She paused to look at me, but I was too shocked to speak. Shocked, but also pleased that Ethan had done the right thing.

  ‘I know this isn’t easy for you,’ she said, ‘to know that Ethan has been spending time with me, but I came here to tell you that he’s still desperately in love with you. I know he doesn’t want me. He never has. You’re all he talks about. You’re all he wants, but he thinks you don’t want to see him again.’

  ‘I don’t,’ I said. ‘He should get on with his life and I’ll get on with mine, it’s not ever—’

  No, I thought. Stop pretending. Just be honest.

  ‘I . . .’ I said. ‘Too much has happened.’

  ‘He’s coming in,’ Daisy interrupted me. ‘At closing time. I got here first, to warn you. I’m going now. I have to go and pick up Benji from nursery.’

  ‘Closing time?’ I said, checking my watch. ‘That’s in five minutes.’

  Five minutes. Ethan. Here. I was suddenly reminded of how I felt when he turned up on my doorstep for the Saturday Supper Club. I took a deep breath.

  ‘Thank you, Daisy,’ I said to Daisy’s back as she left the cafe, her ponytail swinging behind her.

  I put the ‘Closed’ sign in the window and made coffee and cut two slices of cake. I put on the radio and walked out into the courtyard, looking up at swifts dart across the sky. I closed my eyes for a long moment and exhaled deeply, snapping them open when I heard a knock on the front door. My heart in my mouth, I glanced up to see Ethan standing there, a warm, gentle smile on his lips. I opened the door.

  ‘You were expecting me?’ Ethan said, looking over at the coffee and cake hopefully.

  ‘Daisy told me you were coming in,’ I said. ‘Sit down for a while.’

  We sat down opposite one another at a small wooden table, drinking the coffee and eating the cake. As we ate and drank, we looked at one another, speaking without speaking.

  ‘Why did you come?’ I asked Ethan after a few minutes.

  ‘A leap of faith,’ he said. ‘And so is this.’

  Ethan stood up and pushed back his chair. He moved towards me, took the coffee cup out of my hand, pulled me to standing and wrapped his arm around my waist.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I said, but Ethan’s lips were suddenly on mine, silencing me.

  He kissed me. My shoulders dropped and my body melted into his. I couldn’t help myself. I jumped off a cliff and hoped to find my wings on the way down. I kissed him back. He tasted of cake. We broke off to smile at one another then kissed again. We were lovebirds. Destined.

  Lovebird Chocolate Cake

  INGREDIENTS

  For cake:

  180g good quality plain chocolate

  175g unsalted butter, at room temperature

  90g golden caster sugar

  3 eggs, yolks and whites separated

  100g ground almonds

  90g plain flour

  For topping:

  200g good quality plain chocolate

  3 tbsp milk

  Raspberries, enough to form a heart

  METHOD

  1. Heat oven to 170°C/150°C fan/Gas mark 3

  2. Grease and line a 7-inch round cake tin.

  3. Melt the chocolate in a bowl over simmering water.

  4. Separate the egg yolks and whites.

  5. Cream butter and sugar together until light then beat in the egg yolks. Add the melted chocolate and ground almonds.

  6. Whisk the egg whites in a separate bowl until soft peaks form, then fold the flour and the egg white into the chocolate mixture, taking care not to knock the air out of the egg whites.

  7. Pour mixture into the tin and bake for 25–30 minutes or until springy and an inserted skewer comes out clean.

  8. Turn onto a wire rack and, when cooled, make the topping.

  9. Melt the chocolate above a bowl of simmering water and add the milk, which will thicken the chocolate, stirring all the time. Make sure to keep the bowl over the heat whilst adding the milk and stirring. Spread over the cooled cake.

  10. Use the raspberries to make a heart on top of the cake.

  If you loved The Saturday Supper Club, then make sure you try . . .

  Seven months pregnant, Mel is dumped by her partner and is suddenly facing parenthood alone.

  But at her antenatal class, she meets a group of women who quickly become invaluable friends in the terrifying new world of birth and babies . . .

  Katy – rich, successful and with the dream husband – has her delivery planned to perfection. But she soon realizes that nature doesn’t always follow suit.

  Lexi, loud and confide
nt, is coping well on her own. Until the only man she has ever loved reappears at the most unexpected moment.

  Rebecca is the youngest of the group – not long out of her teens, in fact –but she’s determined to hold onto her dreams, even without her family’s support.

  Erin already seems to be an expert on babies, but her quiet nature hides a secret tragedy.

  When you’re contemplating pain relief, birth positions and sleepless nights you really need a good friend – or four.

  ‘I LOVE it. It’s so good and really makes me feel like one of the girls . . . a perfect read for anyone who is a mum to be’ Member review, thebabywebsite.com

  Available in paperback and ebook in April 2013.

  Read on for an exclusive free sample!

  Chapter One

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Leo, almost inaudibly. ‘But I can’t have this baby.’

  Leo was, at least, polite when breaking up with Mel. There was nothing sordid for her to deal with. She didn’t have to find a blonde bombshell in bed with her fiancé, long, slim legs wrapped around his torso, a silk thong wedged down the side of the sofa or an explicit text message not meant for her eyes. There was no unseemly catfight or slapped faces to contend with. No, it was Leo’s timing that was just the tiniest bit off kilter. Standing on the stone steps outside Birth & Baby, a centre for antenatal classes in Brighton, Mel was nearly eight months pregnant with their first baby when Leo decided now would be a good moment to split.

  ‘I just can’t go through with it,’ he muttered to the back of Mel’s head.

  Leo was standing behind Mel while she fished around in her enormous tote bag, searching for something she’d lost. He watched and waited while she lifted out a bruised banana, knitting needles, balls of wool, a make-up bag, a water bottle, a battered copy of The Rough Guide to Pregnancy, a half-eaten bar of chocolate and a book of baby names, before repeating himself with more volume.