by Izzy Bayliss
As I surveyed the room, I felt like a proper grown-up. I couldn’t believe somebody had entrusted me, Lily McDermott, with my own building. Sometimes I felt totally overwhelmed by the responsibility of it all that I could barely breathe. My chest tightened and my heart started rattling. Be cool, I told myself, you’ve got this.
I went into the kitchen and immediately fired up the ovens. I looked around the room where glass jars ran along my shelves filled with jams, flavourings, and decorations. The fridge was full of catering tubs of butter and bottles of cream. Trays of free-range eggs sourced from an organic farm in County Kildare that were so fresh that some still had feathers stuck to them, sat on the worktops. I had everything prepared and ready to go. I set to making scones, lovingly combining the ingredients into a soft dough, and once I had them loaded in the oven, I bent down to the chalkboard and wrote in curly script:
‘Good morning from Baked with Love.
Today we’d love you to try our orange and raisin scones, or if you’re feeling decadent our sticky toffee pudding with whiskey sauce.’
When I was finished I put the board out onto the street before coming back inside to give the place a final once over. The wooden floor was polished until it shone. The glass was gleaming, and my colourful cake stands, full of gorgeous treats, were displayed behind it. The cushions were plumped, and even the napkins were lined up perfectly. I felt like a little girl playing shop.
Dad arrived soon after. “Congratulations again on last night, Lily. I’m so proud of you. You deserve it to be a success, you’ve put so much into it.”
We both donned our aprons, and he turned to me. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said, nervously biting down on my lip.
“We have this under control. Let’s go team McDermott!” He raised his hand in a high-five, and I slapped it back. I walked over and turned the sign from Closed to Open. Then we both took our places behind the counter and waited.
It took a while for our first customer to arrive, and for a long time it was just myself and Dad looking nervously at one another, but eventually, over two hours later, a man finally wandered through the door. He ordered a macchiato to go and a blueberry muffin. I was trembling as the coffee machine hissed and bubbled to life scenting the air with ground arabica beans. I didn’t think I’d ever forget that order. I tried to act cool as I boxed up his purchase and rang it through on the till. As soon as he had gone back out the door, I jumped up and down and squealed.
“I can’t believe I just had a customer!” I proudly held up the ten-euro note that the man had just paid with.
Dad laughed at me. “That tends to be the idea of opening up a business, Lily! You’d better get used it to it – once word of mouth gets around, you’ll have a queue out that door, I bet you.”
Dad wasn’t quite right. By three o’clock, we had had two more customers, but it was only day one. I knew it would take time to spread word of mouth.
* * *
“Well, I think that’s what you call a success,” Dad said after the last customer of the day had left and he changed the sign on the door back to Closed. I was giddy with excitement. I gave Dad a high five. “Thank you so much for today, I really appreciate you helping me out like this.”
“Don’t mention it, I really enjoyed myself. It felt good to have somewhere to go when I got up this morning.”
My heart broke for him sometimes. I suspected that Dad was bored since he retired; he filled his days either playing golf or doing his computer course. I always felt that he was lonely, and it broke my heart that he was facing into old age without my mother by his side. Even though she had been dead since I was two years old, I knew Dad had never got over her death. He still missed her dearly; the pain of losing her had never eased for him. They should have been enjoying retirement together, perhaps seeing a bit of the world; instead, she was taken too young, leaving Dad many long years ahead as a widow and struggling to raise two young daughters. He had never met anyone else, said he just wasn’t interested. There would never be anybody else quite like Mam in his eyes.
“Same time again tomorrow then?” I said, grinning.
“Yes, boss!” he said cocking his hand in mock salute.
After Dad left I started work on my mixes for the following morning. I also had several batches of cupcakes to ice for the local radio stations. I was hoping they might give me a little shout out on air. I made a few extra and boxed them up to bring home to Sam.
It was after nine when I eventually climbed up on my bike to head for home. The sun was setting in glorious streaks of pink and orange. I was exhausted and yet so happy at how my first day had gone. I had loved every second of it. When I reached our apartment, I put my key in the door and went inside. I was surprised to find that Sam wasn’t home yet. He had called me earlier to see how my first day was going but I hadn’t had time to talk to him. I went down to our bedroom, removed my sandals, and slipped my tired feet into my comfy slippers before making my way back down to the kitchen. My first port of call before doing anything was to make myself a strong coffee from the Nespresso machine. I sat up on a chair at the breakfast bar, clasped the mug in between my hands, and looked around the kitchen. White glossy cabinets ran around the walls, and all the appliances were finished in stainless steel. It was at least three times the size of the kitchen I had left behind me in Ballyrobin. Sometimes I had to pinch myself that I actually lived here in a penthouse apartment in Dublin’s city centre. I called Sam, but his phone rang out so I guessed he had to work late.
A while later the buzzer went and I thought it was Sam coming home and that he had forgotten his key, but instead I heard Frankie’s voice at the other end.
“This is a nice surprise,” I said, meeting her at the door. She was weighed down with newspapers and magazines. She followed me into the kitchen and let them all fall down onto the marble counter top.
“You’re famous!” she said, opening up the first paper in her pile and flicking through to the social pages at the back until I saw my face grinning back at me like a loon. “You’re in every paper!”
“This is great, Frankie. Thank you!”
“Don’t mention it. Oh look, you’ve been baking,” she said in mock surprise before swiping one of the cupcakes that I had brought home for Sam and taking a bite.
“You’re lucky I always make extra,” I said, wagging my finger at her.
“Sorry, I’m starving,” she said through a mouthful.
“I can see that. Here, you’ve a bit of icing there.” I pointed to her cheek and handed her a tissue.
Just after ten I heard the door open and Sam’s footsteps coming down the hallway. He rounded the corner and came into the kitchen. “Lily, how was –” He stopped when he saw Frankie sitting there. I watched as his face fell. “Oh hi, Frankie.”
I prayed she didn’t notice.
“Well, you could at least try to look pleased to see me –” she said, missing nothing.
I cringed.
“Sorry, Frankie, I wasn’t expecting you,” he said feebly.
“Hmmmh, clearly not!” she replied, tossing her long hair back over her shoulder.
His brow creased down into that furrow once again, which it seemed to be doing a lot lately. Then his face clouded over, and he turned and walked back out of the kitchen.
“Who pissed on his cornflakes this morning?” Frankie asked, turning to me.
I had to stifle a giggle. “Leave him alone, he’s fine,” I said with a confidence that I didn’t really feel. “He just has a lot on in work.” But the truth was that this behaviour was totally out of character for Sam. He was never usually rude to people.
“Well, I know where I’m not wanted,” Frankie said in mock affront. She stood up and started to put on her jacket.
“Frankie, please stay, he’s just tired -”
“Don’t worry, I have to go to a launch anyway.”
“Oh, what’s it for?”
“Some a
irline is launching a new route to Cuba – I’m only going for the cocktails. The speeches will all be over by now.”
I laughed. “You have the best job.”
“It has its perks!” she said with a wink before giving me a kiss on the cheek.
After Frankie had left, I went down to the bedroom where Sam was just coming out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. Droplets of water glistened on the broad flank of his chest.
“So how was your first day?” he asked. “Were you busy?”
“Super!” I said, forcing a smile on my face. “I loved every minute of it. I didn’t have many customers but it’s early days. You were working late?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s manic right now,” he sighed.
I walked over and put my arms around him. “Are you sure everything is okay?” I asked nervously. “It’s just that you seem to be really stressed out?”
He looked at me and for a moment it looked at though he was about to tell me something but changed his mind at the last minute. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I had a day from hell.” He ran his hands back through his wet hair. “I’d better go and apologise to Frankie,” he said sheepishly.
“She’s already left actually –”
“Oh really?” His face fell. “Because of me?”
“Well, she’s heading off to some PR thing.” I slipped my hand through the gap in his towel and up along the wiry hairs of his thigh. I was startled when I felt him flinch and move away from me.
“Sorry, Lily . . . I’m exhausted.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes and his face was wearing that same expression again.
“Oh. . .” The rejection stung. I tried not to let him see but it hurt. I turned and walked back out to the kitchen. There definitely seemed to be something up with him. It felt as though there was something that he wasn’t telling me. At first I hadn’t been sure whether I was being paranoid, but now I knew I wasn’t just imagining it, Frankie had noticed it too. I tried to wrack my brains to think back on whether I had said or done something wrong, but I couldn’t think of anything. After everything I had been through with Marc, I still found it difficult not to let my imagination run wild at times and to start thinking the worst. I had been so badly hurt before, and it had taken me a while to let my walls down to let Sam in. In the back of my mind I always had the fear that it could happen again. I didn’t like this feeling; it unsettled me and made me feel insecure. I had to remind myself that Sam wasn’t Marc, and if we were to have any chance of a happy relationship, then I needed to trust him, but God, it was so hard sometimes.
CHAPTER 3
I spent the next few weeks in a blur with Baked with Love. I would jump on my bike early every morning, cycling past the broad swell of the inky Liffey, to begin my day’s baking, and then after the café closed in the evenings, I would start prepping for the following day. I was putting in fourteen-hour days, sometimes more, but I had never been happier. I dreamed in cake; divine tartlets and towers of colourful macarons seemed to fill my head constantly. I loved what I was doing. It gave me such a buzz to do simple things like twist my key in the lock to open up each morning, and I still felt a rush of excitement as I set up my displays and wrote on my chalkboard before putting it out onto the street. I loved the feeling of kneading the dough with my fingertips until it was pliable or mixing pale yellow batter until it was marshmallow soft.
Although we had a few customers, if I was honest when I had put my business plan together, I had expected more. A lot more. Sometimes hours would go by without a single person coming in the door, but Dad kept reminding me that it was still early days and it would take a while for word of mouth about Baked with Love to spread.
I have to say that Dad was a lifesaver; there was no way I could have done it without him. As well as giving me daily pep talks, he was doing me a huge favour by helping out every day. I wasn’t earning enough yet to be able to pay him, but I think he was enjoying it. I had noticed that he seemed brighter in himself. I could tell that he enjoyed coming to work every morning and the feeling of satisfaction going home after a long, tiring day knowing he had put in a hard graft.
Sam was still going through moody periods, sometimes he was really loving but other times he was cool and distant. I had attempted to keep things breezy without continually asking him if he was okay, but the truth was that I was worried. I was trying to give him as much space as he needed, but then he would surprise me by suddenly taking me into his arms and telling me how much he loved me and that nobody had ever made him this happy. Or he would climb into bed and spoon me from behind and we would stay locked together like that all night long. But I was just so confused as to what was the matter with him and why was he blowing hot and cold?
One evening he was just coming in the door as I was putting on my jacket to leave.
“Oh, I didn’t realise you were going out.” His face fell.
I had called him on my way home earlier to tell him I was meeting Frankie, but he hadn’t phoned me back.
“I’m just popping out to meet Frankie for a drink.”
“Oh right, I wanted to talk to you about something but it can wait –”
He walked over to the fridge and took out a beer. He rooted out a bottle opener and popped the lid before raising the beer to his lips and taking a mouthful. I looked at him quizzically. It wasn’t like him to drink when he had to be up for work in the morning.
“Sorry, I just really need it tonight,” he said as if he could read my mind. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and closed his eyes just for a second, but it was a fraction too long.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked when his eyes flickered open again.
“Of course I am, ” he said, distractedly picking up his post and quickly scanning through the envelopes.
He leant in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Have a good night – tell Frankie I said hi.”
* * *
Frankie and I made our way down to the back of the darkened wine bar located in the basement of a Georgian townhouse. Candles flickered on the tabletops, and the low vaulted brick ceilings gave the place an intimate atmosphere. We sat down in a velvet-upholstered booth and the sommelier handed us the wine list.
“So, did Sam get over his PMT?” Frankie probed after we had ordered a bottle of pinot noir. I knew she thought his behaviour the last time she was over was strange.
I smiled. “I think he was just having a bad day.”
She nodded but I knew she wasn’t buying it. “Hmmmh.”
“Oh, Frankie, I’m at my wits’ end with him,” I blurted. “He’s been acting strange for weeks now, he’s just really . . . distant. I don’t know what is going on inside his head.”
“So what do you think it is?”
The waiter came over with the bottle of wine we had ordered, uncorked it, and poured us both a glass.
I raised the glass to my lips and took a sip tasting notes of cranberry and liquorice. I instantly felt my shoulders begin to relax. “I don’t know . . . I’m so worried that he has gone off me . . .”
“Look, you said yourself that he’s under a lot of stress in work, he’s probably just tired –”
Suddenly, tears filled my eyes. “It’s not just recently,” I said, fishing a tissue out of my handbag and using it to dab them away. God only knew what state my mascara was in. “He’s been really off with me for weeks now. I think he might want to break up with me, Frankie, but he doesn’t know how –”
“You don’t know that! Why don’t you try talking to him? Tell him how you’re feeling?”
“I’m frightened. I know it’s stupid, but I’m so scared that I’m going to lose him. After everything that happened with Marc I don’t think I could go through that all over again.”
“So what’s the alternative, sit here crying your eyes out and tormenting yourself because you know something is up? You need to be straight with him, Lily. If he’s messing you around, you need to know why. Hopefully
, it’s nothing serious and you can get things back on track between you again, but you’re not doing yourself any favours by burying your head in the sand. He owes it to you to be straight up.”
“I know you’re right –” I exhaled heavily. Frankie was always the voice of reason.
“Talk to him tomorrow, Lily. Don’t put it off any longer.”
CHAPTER 4
The next morning I felt Sam stir beside me. I checked the clock and saw it was just after six. I rolled over to kiss him, but instead he turned away from me and got out of bed.
“You’re going already?” I said. “I thought you wanted to talk to me about something?”
“Sorry, Lily, I’ve loads to get through in work, so I want to get in while the office is quiet – less distractions. Can we do it later?”
“Sure . . .” I said, lying back against the pillows.
I watched as he hurried into the bathroom, and soon the hum of the shower could be heard. He emerged a short time later in a navy suit with a crisp white shirt underneath. The collar was open, and I could see the dark hairs of his chest above it.
He leaned over the bed. “Have a good day,” he said, then gave me a quick peck on the cheek and was gone.
* * *
Sunlight filtered through the old glass windows, contorting and twisting the view beyond, where inside I was carefully stacking a tower of cerise pink macarons. I was really pleased with how they had turned out; the crisp outer shell hid a lighter than air texture but the pièce de résistance was the gooey, raspberry-flavoured filling, which exploded on your tongue. I hoped the shocking colour would catch people’s eyes as they went past. I looked out through the glass at the people walking up and down Bluebell Lane beyond. Some were so busy on phones or talking to their friends that they didn’t even notice my café. Every so often I noticed the display would catch a person’s eye, but they still kept walking. It was hard not to get disheartened by it.
I couldn’t help but thinking about Sam and his eagerness to escape me earlier that morning. We really needed to talk. We couldn’t keep avoiding the elephant in the room.