by Izzy Bayliss
I opened the dishwasher and steam rushed out. I began to unload it, before I would fill it once again. It seemed to be working around the clock now. As I stacked the clean plates on top of each other, it suddenly dawned on me. It was so obvious! Why hadn’t I realised earlier? The reason that all these young girls were coming in was because they had seen the magazines. They thought Baked with Love was some new cool celeb hangout. I put the plates down with a clatter as the realization hit me. I leaned back against the worktop and groaned. I was glad to have the extra business, but I had believed that all my hard work was finally paying off. I had stupidly thought that my cronuts had put Baked with Love on the map. I assumed word of mouth was spreading about town, but instead it was because some teenage girls thought they might get a chance spot a Z-list actor. Suddenly, I felt rage coursing through my veins. I tossed my tea towel down on the bench in anger. Bloody Marc, would I ever be free of him?
When I got home to the apartment that evening, I flung my handbag onto the worktop.
“Frankie?” I called out.
“I’m in here,” her voice replied from the bathroom.
I made my way in to where she was applying thick eyeliner in the mirror. I went and sat on the side of the bathtub and talked to her reflection.
“You’re heading out?”
“There’s a launch for a new line of hosiery called ‘Second Skin,’ want to come?” she asked, turning away from the mirror.
I wasn’t in the mood for going out socializing. “I think I’ll pass, Frankie.”
“So, did you tell Sam?” she asked, turning back and concentrating hard on applying her eyeliner.
“You know I didn’t,” I said.
“Well, you might get around to doing it before the child starts school.” She stuck out her tongue at me in the mirror.
“So, I finally figured out where all my customers are coming from,” I said, changing the subject.
“Oh yeah?” she said, carefully angling the brush to paint a flick.
“Well, they’ve seen the magazines, haven’t they? They reckon it’s a new celeb hangout.”
She swung around from the mirror; her eyes were wide. “You’re right!”
“And there was me getting all excited because I thought I’d done it through all my own hard work.”
“Don’t get deflated, Lily. There’s no such thing as bad publicity!”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess . . .”
“Look, it’s happened now so try to use it to your advantage. These new people will spread the word. It all helps. Right, I have to run,” she said, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek.
* * *
I went to bed that night and let my body sink into the weight of the mattress. I was bone tired, and I was asleep before my head even touched the pillow.
I woke a while later to someone calling my name and a loud bang, I startled and sat up in the bed. Then I heard another bang. I listened out but I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. I rubbed my eyes and looked across to the alarm clock. The red glow of the LED told me it was 4.03 a.m.
“Lily – help me!” The voice said again. I suddenly realised that it was coming from Frankie’s room. “Lily!” Her voice was growing more frantic.
I hurried out of bed and ran out to the hall. I screamed when I saw a man standing in the hallway, banging on Frankie’s bedroom door.
“Open the bloody door!” he was roaring at her.
“Stop it!” I screamed at him. He didn’t even turn and look at me; he was too intent on breaking down her bedroom door. “Frankie – are you okay?” I shouted to her in panic.
He continued pummelling on the door with his fist while I ran out to the kitchen and started flinging open the cupboard doors, looking for something I could use to hit him. I found a saucepan and ran back in to where he was still pounding on the door. I lifted up the saucepan and held it up high above my head. Then I closed my eyes and lowered my hands down until I felt it connect with his body. I dared to open my eyes and saw him grip his shoulder in agony. He spun around to face me. “What the fuck did you do that for?” His eyes were blazing, and suddenly, I was frightened. I raised the saucepan over my head again. “Go on, get out of here,” I said.
“Stupid bitch – a prick tease is all she is!”
“Now, you just hold on a minute –” I raised my saucepan higher.
“Don’t worry, I’m going now –” He turned and went to walk past me towards the door.
And then before I knew what I was doing I drew back the saucepan and planted a blow squarely on his other shoulder.
He stumbled forward knocking a vase off its table where it smashed into jagged pieces all over the floor.
“Jesus, you’re a right pair of fucking crazy bitches!” he said, picking himself up off the floor.
“Go on, get out,” I ordered.
He stumbled dizzily towards the door, rubbing his other shoulder with his hand. I watched as he made his way down the corridor towards the lift, clumsily hitting off the walls as he walked. Doors began to open as neighbours with sleepy heads and wrapped dressing gowns came out into the corridor, obviously having been woken by the ruckus and wanting to know what was going on.
“Sorry,” I mouthed in apology.
When the lift doors closed, I shut the front door and put the keychain across it just in case.
“It’s okay, Frankie,” I called out. “He’s gone now.”
The bedroom door opened, and Frankie ran out and into my arms. “Oh, Lily!” she started to sob. I guided her into the living room and sat her down on the sofa. She was crying hysterically. Frankie never cried.
“Oh, Lily, I’m sorry - I was so scared –” she said breathlessly.
“What happened, Frankie? What was he doing here?”
“He’s a guy I met in town –” she started to sob. “The rest of the crew cried off after eleven, but I didn’t want to go home, so I got chatting to him at the bar. We were just talking and having a laugh – so I invited him back here for a few drinks. We were having the craic, and he went to kiss me. And I don’t know what happened – one minute, I was fine, and the next I felt dizzy, so I pulled back, but he kept on at me. He was trying to take off my top, but I wanted him to stop, I needed air, so I got up off the sofa. But he got really mad and started shouting at me, and then he pushed me back down again and got on top of me. I was so frightened, Lily – I managed to slide out from underneath him and make a run for it, but he pinned me against the wall. I was able to duck under his arm, and I ran into the bedroom. He started banging on the door then and shouting horrible things at me. That’s when I screamed for you. If you hadn’t been staying here it could have been so different –”
“You had a lucky escape, honey.” I shuddered to think what might have happened if she had been alone. She was shaking violently, so I took the throw off the couch and put it around her shoulders. I got up and put the kettle on and made us both a mug of sweet tea.
“Here, get this into you,” I said, handing her a mug.
I knew that if I was any sort of friend to Frankie I couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room any longer. I sat down beside her and took a deep breath.
“Look, Frankie, do you think maybe you’ve been overdoing it a bit lately?” I said softly.
“How do you mean?”
“I’m not saying what happened tonight was your fault – he was a nasty creep – but for your own safety, you should have left at the same time as your friends rather than staying behind on your own just so you could drink more. You’re going to have to cut back on what you’re drinking. I didn’t want to say anything to you before, but lately you just seem to spend your days going from one drunken daze to the next.”
She was silent for what seemed like forever.
“Oh, Lily –” she said eventually and the tears started to spill down her face until she could barely catch her breath. “I’m such a mess.”
“Here, you’re okay, let it all out. You
got a terrible fright tonight.”
“I know I’m drinking too much, but I don’t know . . . it’s like I can’t stop.”
“You can, Frankie – this is a wake-up call for you. I will help you get through this.”
“I got such a fright tonight, Lily – I always thought I was okay with alcohol, y’know? I never used to drink on my own, and I would have the same amount as everyone else on nights out, but lately . . . I don’t know what’s come over me. It started off with me having a glass of wine after a long day in work, then the next night I wouldn’t want the bottle to go off, so I’d have another. Then the next night I’d have another really stressful day, so I’d allow myself one but now it’s got to the stage where I can’t face an evening without a drink. It’s my way to relax – I tell myself I deserve it. It is my reward for a hard day. I’ve started coming home from nights out and having nightcaps by myself, which I know is bad – that’s why I asked that guy back earlier on – you don’t feel guilty if someone else is drinking with you because you’re just being social. I guess when I’m drinking I don’t feel so alone . . . I know it sounds pathetic.”
“But you have me –” I was shocked by her admission.
“As much as I love you, I’d like something more . . .”
“But I thought you loved being single?”
“I did, but it’s been years now, I think it would be nice to have someone to come home to.”
“But you’re not on your own, I’m living with you now?”
“You have the baby, even if you and Sam never get it together, you and the baby will be a family. I feel like everyone else’s life is moving on, whereas mine is just static.”
“Why didn’t you say anything to me before, Frankie?” I rubbed the back of her hand.
“Well, it’s not really the kind of thing you can just drop into conversation. Since you found out that you were pregnant, it really hit me that my own life is so empty . . .” She fell silent, then whispered, “I swore I would never let drink control me and ruin my life the way it did for my dad, and now look at me?” She shook her head despairingly. “I’m pathetic.”
“No you’re not,” I said. “And you won’t turn out like your Dad because you’re already facing up to it.”
“I can’t believe how close I was to going down the same road though, and I never saw it coming. It scares me how history is repeating itself. I was so angry with Dad growing up, how he wasted his life in and out of treatment centres . . . and then this has been creeping up on me and I didn’t even notice it!” She turned to look at me with frightened eyes.
“At least you can see what’s happening, and now you can change it before you go down the same road as he did. I’m not going to let that happen to you – no way. It’s all going to be okay.”
* * *
I tiptoed out of the apartment quietly the next morning and left Frankie tucked up in bed. She needed the sleep after the events of the night before. She had got a nasty fright, but I hoped this would be a wake-up call for her. She needed to get her drinking under control.
It seemed that from the moment I opened the doors of Baked with Love that morning we had a queue. Frankie had said that there was no such thing as bad publicity, and I guess she was right. Yes, I had lots of young celeb spotters through the doors, but I had lots of other customers too. I had started to notice a lot of the same faces returning again and bringing new people with them, which made me feel so proud that they were spreading the word about Baked with Love. Finally, the business was getting the traction that I knew in my heart and soul it deserved. And if somebody complimented one of my cakes, I felt like a new mother must feel when somebody stops to admire her baby. Whenever a queue would form, although good for business, my heart would start beating a bit faster as I worked my way down the line trying to serve people efficiently so they wouldn’t get impatient.
I enjoyed the rhythm of the day. The ebb and flow of customers, the morning-time tsunami of coffee to go, the calm but steady stream in the afternoon. As I went about my work, I couldn’t help but think about what had happened the previous evening. The whole thing had got me thinking: Frankie wasn’t the only one who needed to face up to things. I needed to take a leaf out of my own book and stop running away from my problems. It was time to tell Sam. I knew he wouldn’t answer my calls to his mobile, so I decided to ring him in work. When we had a quiet spell in the afternoon, I left Dad front of house and went back into the kitchen. With trembling hands, I picked up my phone and dialled his office number.
“Hello, First Ireland Bank, how can I direct your call?” a woman sang in an American accent.
I took a deep breath. “Hi, can I speak with Sam Waters please?”
“Let me put you through to his P.A.”
Sam had his own P.A. now? He really was a hotshot. I felt a sting for all I was missing out on. I was proud of him for being so successful but sad that I was no longer there to share it with him.
I was transferred to a woman with a southern drawl.
“I’d like to speak to Sam Waters please,” I said.
“And who should I say is calling?” She sounded so upbeat and chirpy in total contrast to my own feelings.
I guessed that he probably had warned her not to put me through, so although I hated lying, I knew I would have to use a fake name if I had any chance of speaking to him. “It’s . . . um . . . Irene –”
“Okay, you just hold the line there please, Irene.”
The phone was answered moments later. “Hello, Sam speaking –”
The familiar sound of his voice caused my nerves to ratchet up again. It had been so long since we had last talked. My heart ached for him.
“Sam – it’s me, Lily.”
“Lily? What the hell do you want? I told you not to call me!”
“Wait! Please don’t hang up. I’m sorry for using a fake name, but I knew you wouldn’t have taken the call and I really need to talk to you –”
“Well, I don’t think there’s anything left to say –”
“Please, Sam – it’s important –”
“I’m trying to get on with my life, Lily – please, can’t you just let me do that?”
I knew I had to do this now before he hung up on me. “I have some news for you –” My heart was hammering with every word that left my mouth.
“Look, I’m in a new relationship now –” he cut across me. “I’ve moved on, Lily, and you should too –”
My heart fell with a tremendous thud as the words scalded and stung. He had somebody new in his life already? It hadn’t taken him long to move on. How was I ever meant to tell him that I was pregnant now?
“I – I – see,” I stuttered. “I – I – I hope you’ll be very happy together,” I said hanging up the phone.
CHAPTER 40
This was the part when I realised that real life wasn’t like the movies. In all the times over the last few weeks that I had tried to envisage how the conversation might play out, that was not how I had imagined it going. I had expected shock, maybe even anger, but certainly not to be told that he was in a relationship with someone new before I had even managed to get the words out. I knew a small part inside of me had hoped that when I did finally pluck up the courage to tell Sam that he would have been happy to learn he was going to be a dad. I had secretly wished that he would say we could work it out for the sake of the baby and give our relationship another try, but the phone call had ended with him telling me he had found happiness in the arms of someone new before I had even had a chance to tell him my news. I guess I had watched one too many rom-coms.
Frankie and I had drunk mug after mug of tea chatting about it that evening. Although she was still recovering from her ordeal, her outlook on life was already more positive. I think admitting how unhappy she was had been a weight off her mind, and now she could start building a path towards getting herself well again.
“So, you didn’t get to tell him?” Frankie asked as I recounted the conversation
to her.
I shook my head. “When I heard that he had somebody new, I just couldn’t. I was in shock -”
“I’m so sorry, honey,” she soothed.
“I can’t believe he was ready to jump into a new relationship so soon. There’s no way I could even look at another man right now! He was so cold on the phone, you should have heard him, Frankie . . . I just thought I meant more to him than that . . .”
“He’s on the rebound, Lily, it won’t last.”
“You don’t know that though, do you?”
“You still need to tell him about the baby, even if he’s with someone new, he still has duties to you both.”
“I know,” I sighed.
I didn’t sleep at all that night. I tossed and turned in Frankie’s spare room until I finally pulled myself out of bed at three a.m. It was pointless just lying there with my head running in a constant loop of worries and hurt. I went out to the kitchen and switched on the lights under the cupboards, bathing the kitchen in a soft glow. I went to the press and automatically started pulling out flour and eggs. It was like a magnetic force pulling me towards it. Baking was the only thing I knew that would help to take my mind off my worries and calm me down. As my fingers worked their way through the buttery dough, I could feel my whole body start to relax. I added some vanilla extract and, when I was finished, put the mixture into the oven. Soon the sweet smell had scented the whole apartment. I made myself a coffee and went into the living room. I saw the photo of Mam staring down at me from Frankie’s bookshelves. It was one of my most treasured possessions; I brought it everywhere I went. I loved studying her face; I always found something different that I hadn’t noticed before. Sometimes it would be the gradual arch of her eyebrows or the gentle slope of her nose. Having no memories of her, studying her face was the only way I could get to know her. It was at times like this that I missed her desperately. I envied people who still had their mothers around and could turn to them for advice when things were falling apart.