Snow Angels, Secrets and Christmas Cake (15 page)

W
e worked incredibly
hard over the next few days – Christmas orders were coming in and we virtually lived by the big oven, making tea, chatting, looking at recipes, laughing at silly things that only sisters can share.

Since Tamsin had been pulling her weight and helping out our relationship had definitely improved. She now had a purpose, a future and it was good for her. Spending time with Gabe seemed to suit her too. According to Tamsin nothing had happened between them, but he was a good influence on her. Gabe kept her grounded and stopped her from taking herself too seriously, which had been one of her worst flaws.

We had a routine of putting on the kettle at midnight, making a pot of tea and sitting by the fairy lights to have a break together while baking for the next day. It felt so Christmassy just sitting by the window, looking out onto the snowy white square framed by white fairy lights and frosty windows.

‘I’ve never known it snow for so long,’ I sighed, sipping my tea.

‘It started when the bailiffs came,’ she said.

It had all seemed so unreal since then, so many changes. It was like the snow had brought with it an ending but also a new beginning.

‘God, it feels like months ago, but it’s only two weeks. What do you miss?’ I asked.

‘Nothing,’ She said, without hesitation.

‘Really? But what about Simon and your friends?’

‘I don’t miss any of them. Simon’s called the kids, he’s been trying to call me too. He left messages saying he wants me back, we were meant to be together.’

I was surprised. ‘You wouldn’t go back with him would you?’ I asked.

‘No... he doesn’t want me and I don’t want him. He’s just panicking I’ll take him for everything he’s got in a divorce – but he doesn’t have anything,’ she laughed. I don’t miss him, but I miss the early days together when we’d first met and we were both so vital and enthusiastic, our whole future laid out before us.’

‘Yeah... I remember that with Steve. But I’ve had to remind myself that’s all it is – a memory, a lovely memory to add to the photo album in your head. Take it out, look at it – but don’t let it hold you back.’

I heard myself and smiled. I should start practising what I preached – it made perfect sense for both of us to leave our pasts behind, not to forget, but to face them and move forward.

I was just thinking about this when my phone rang, it was a number I didn’t know and when I answered a voice said, ‘Hi this is Tamsin’s friend, Mimi.’

‘Oh, hi Mimi,’ I looked at Tamsin, who had a puzzled expression on her face. ‘Tamsin’s not with me right now – but I’ll get her to call you,’ I said. ‘She’d love to hear from you I’m sure.’

I came off the phone and Tamsin looked cross.

‘Look, she just wants to find out if you can make it to her party. She’s worried about you – she hasn’t seen or heard from you and she says she misses you.’

‘Really? She didn’t want to gossip about my situation? Didn’t ask how much we owed? Or the phone number of my favourite caterer?’

‘No Tam, she’s what normal people call a friend... and I think she genuinely cares about your welfare.’

Tamsin seemed surprised and even a little flattered.

‘She was a lap dancer, you know,’ she said, almost to herself.

‘So what? I did a bit of dancing when I worked in Spain.’

Tamsin clutched the worktops like she’d been stabbed – the diva was never far away.

‘I didn’t take my clothes off, but I danced with men, lured them to the bar and got them to buy drinks.’

‘Why?’

‘I was paid by the club to do it. I stood outside the club with leaflets and flirted and guys spent their money – it’s not quite the same, but it wasn’t any better than lap dancing.’

‘Oh my God, Sam.’ She looked at me warily. ‘Is there anything else you want to share.’

‘Apart from my time as a prostitute in Berlin and a drug addict in Amsterdam?’

‘I take it that’s a joke?’

I nodded.

‘So all this time, I’ve been blackballing Mimi from every social event while welcoming my sister, the bar room dancer?’

I nodded.

We looked at each other for a few seconds, then she started laughing and I joined in and before long we were holding on to each other, tears of laughter rolling down our cheeks.

‘I told you, Tam, you should never judge a book by its cover... you don’t know everyone’s story – even mine. Have some humility... Mimi was a lap dancer, not a murderer.’

She was still laughing. ‘Give me her number – I’d better give her a call. I’ll tell her my sister’s looking for a lap dancing partner – you two could start your own act.’

T
hings were going well
and mine and Tamsin’s working relationship seemed to be good for business. We’d increased a couple of big orders as Tamsin had used her charm on the manager of a local hotel and convinced a tea rooms and a grocers to use our bread and cakes.

‘We’ve had another big order,’ I said to her one morning as she teetered down the stairs in Jimmy Choos and a Vivienne Westwood suit with black and yellow stripes. I read the email order form – ‘The lovely lady in the designer dress’ apparently seduced someone into ordering all their Christmas cakes from us. Go Tamsin. I reckon you’ve really got a talent for selling.’

‘Fabulous! I just feel so alive. It’s amazing to discover in your forties that you are good at something.’

Gabe came in at that point, shaking snow off his boots and beaming at her.

‘Do I look okay?’ she asked, giving us a twirl.

‘Yeah... you look hot, but do you have to wear those stupid shoes?’ Gabe sighed. ‘Yesterday she got her heel stuck in the bloody snow and nearly broke her ankle,’ he said to me, rolling his eyes. She giggled and I caught a look between them. I loved the way he teased her making her go all girlish.

‘These “stupid shoes” cost a fortune, poor little Jimmy Choo slaved in his cobbler’s studio stitching these by hand,’ she said in mock reprimand to Gabe.

‘Well, if you change your mind there’s some of my wellies behind the door,’ I smiled and continued to work as Gabe loaded the van and Tamsin teetered around him like a high-heeled wasp.

Eventually Gabe started up the van and Tamsin was just getting in her side, which was a high climb for someone in heels and a tight skirt, when we heard the rip.

‘Christ it’s torn,’ she shouted, and I gather Gabe was laughing because she was now admonishing him and telling him how much it cost while half in and half out of the van.

‘Calm down, Tam,’ I said, helping her out.

‘Look, go back upstairs take the beautiful suit off and in my second drawer down you’ll find my jeans and jumpers. They aren’t designer, but they are far more suitable for deliveries and it doesn’t matter if they get ruined in the snow.’ She wasn’t happy and stomped off in quite a tizzy.

‘She’s a bit pissed off,’ I called to Gabe, who just laughed and lit up a fag.

‘She’ll get over it,’ he smiled.

I went back into the shop and thought about how the two of them were together; he didn’t pander to her and even when she tried to boss him around, he let her think she was in charge, but really he just let it go and she forgot. He had her back and she knew it. Minutes later Tamsin appeared on the stairs in my jeans, looking ten years younger without the fuss of designer clothes and grown-up heels.

‘You look great – so different,’ I said.

‘Yeah... this little jumper’s not bad is it? Whose is it?’

‘Mine.’

‘No... I mean which designer?’

I rolled my eyes; ‘You know I don’t wear designer clothes.’

‘I know, I just hoped against hope I’d come across a gem in your pile of chain store cast-offs,’ she smiled.

‘Cheeky bugger – now get those stupid shoes off and put these wellies on and get to work,’ I said.

She struggled with the wellies. I could tell she was biting her tongue, but then abandoned them on the floor.

‘I’m sorry – I can’t they are awful – so unflattering, they do nothing for my leg length.’ With that, she teetered out into the snow in my old jeans, cheap jumper and Jimmy Choos. One step at a time I reminded myself as I stood on the doorstep holding the wellies like her mother and when Gabe worked out what was happening he got out of the truck and walked round to the passenger side. He calmly took the boots off me, and opening the truck passenger door, grabbed one of Tamsin’s legs and while she wriggled and giggled he slowly but firmly took off one Jimmy Choo. For a split second my heart was in my mouth as he held the shoe in his hand and then threw it over his shoulder into the deep snow. Tamsin screamed like she was in pain and tried to struggle as he pinned her down and took the other shoe. By now he was laughing as she lashed out at him, and by the time the second Jimmy Choo flew through the air I was waiting for the Tamsin explosion. I held my breath in horror as Gabe picked up a wellington and despite her struggling and screaming he put the first one gently onto her foot, then took the other one and did the same. Then I realised, she was only pretending to fight him off – and to my relief and amazement – she was giggling.

They eventually set off and as I watched them go I thought about how much my sister had changed and how she was literally shedding her old life – and stepping into a new one.

I
had been so
busy with deliveries and fending off Gabe all morning I was exhausted. It seemed Sam’s cheap old jumper and jeans were far more alluring to him than my gorgeous designer suits. I always knew the man had no taste – and after wrestling me to put awful supermarket wellingtons on my feet, he couldn’t keep away. I have to say it was fun fighting Gabe off – little did he know I enjoyed it as much as he did, and whilst I definitely wanted it to go all the way – there was a time and a place.

Returning to the bakery, I waved Gabe off and went inside. I was instantly soothed by warm gingerbread hovering in the air, infusing the place in rich, treacly fragrance. It was also very calm and lovely - a couple of women were enjoying coffee and mince pies at a table and Sam was behind the counter putting out freshly baked rum truffles in Christmassy boxes. The perfect Christmas scene, I thought as I picked up one of the boxes.

‘They need a red ribbon,’ I said, playing around with a box, a little Christmas wrapping and some ribbon lying on the side.

‘Wow, that looks lovely,’ Sam said, and asked me to do some more. I enjoyed doing this, and as we put them on the counter, the two ladies at the table made approving noises. I saw this as my chance to leap in and prove to myself I could make something of being a saleswoman.

‘Good morning ladies... soo Christmassy with the snow and everything, isn’t it? I just wanted to show you these new boxes of truffles we are presenting for Christmas.’

‘Lovely,’ they both said in unison. They licked their lips, they were so damn desperate to have them.

‘Maracaibo, or Porcelana cocoa is grown on small plantations in Venezuela. I’m sure you’re familiar with the Amedei chocolatier in Tuscany?’

They both nodded. They weren’t.

‘Well, the same bean used in these truffles is used to make their Amedei Porcelana – said to be the most expensive in the world.’

In my former life I’d attended a gourmet pudding weekend – of course we didn’t eat a thing it was all too fattening – but fascinating nonetheless. At the end we’d had a fun chocolate quiz, but I’d revised hard and won (I always like to win) and still remembered random chocolate facts – who knew they’d be so useful?

‘My sister is not just a pâtissier, she is also a master chocolatier, the chocolate is full-flavoured, takes on the rounded marble of truffle, yet is yielding in texture. She adds the finest French cognac flown directly from Paris and the result, ladies, as you can see, is sublime... exquisite.’

They were looking at me like two children being read a story – they were hooked, they wanted more.

‘Kate and William have ordered several boxes to gift the family this Christmas,’ I added, watching their eyes widen. Then, finally, when I had their full attention, I gave them the price. ‘They are £5 a box for six truffles... a snip, I think you’ll agree.’

Manicured nails clawed at the beautiful boxes, smoky eyes darted everywhere, while Chanel-glossed lips panted with the wanting. I knew the Kate and William line would get them agitated.

‘My husband asked me to buy small gifts for his business associates – I’ve left it late this year – I could get them all a box of these truffles?’ the blonde said, breathlessly, imagining how fabulous these truffles would make her look to her husband.

‘What a great idea,’ I smiled. ‘So how many can we make for you?’ I asked.

‘Can I order one hundred please?’

I was a little taken aback. ‘Boxes?’

‘Please... I’ll need them the day after tomorrow, is that possible?’

I nodded, but didn’t meet her eyes, knowing Sam would go mad. That was six-hundred truffles in two days. I was better at this selling business than I’d thought – and Sam couldn’t grumble we needed the money.

‘Oh you know what?’ The redhead started, not wanting to be outdone. ‘They are so gorgeous I’m going to give them to our clients – and friends too. Make my order one hundred and fifty,’ she gave a sidelong look at the blonde that said ‘gotcha girlfriend.’ I knew how these women ticked and they were in the palm of my hand.

At this point Sam appeared at my shoulder like a rather negative little monkey.

‘I’m sorry but...’ she began.

‘Sam, please. Let me handle this,’ I said, gently putting my hand on her arm.

‘But Tamsin, there’s no way I can make that many...’

‘It’s fine,’ I said over her, smiling reassuringly at the ladies who lunched. ‘My sister is a little concerned, she’s been told by a certain “family who will be spending Christmas in Sandringham” that on no account must she recreate the same chocolates for anyone else. It’s all about exclusivity in those circles, but I won’t tell if you don’t.’

The women were now virtually fighting each other to be the first to get their credit cards swiped while I smiled benignly and took their cards in turn.

Once they’d left, their orders safely made, I looked at Sam. ‘So... I have just taken a total of £1,250.’ I held my hand up for what Hugo always called a five high or something, but Sam just looked at me stony faced.

‘If I remember rightly... the phrase is “please don’t leave me hanging around here”,’ I said, my hand still in the air.

She ignored this. ‘Tamsin – I know you want this business to succeed as much as I do, but you have just taken money under false pretences. That chocolate isn’t used in Tuscany, nor is it from Venezuela, it’s from the bloody cash and carry. And Prince William and Kate? Hello, they haven’t been anywhere near the shop, let alone ordered truffles.’

‘Who said anything about
Prince
William? I just said William and Kate had called, and I’m sure, in the year that you’ve been open, people by those names have bought cakes.’

‘That would hardly stand up in a court of law,’ she sighed.

‘Look Sam, those women were label queens. They would buy my used tissues if I told them they were designed by Alexander McQueen and Lady Gaga had wiped her armpits with them. Remember I once paid 200 quid for a sweaty T-shirt signed by Madonna... I had the bloody thing framed until we found out it was a money-making scam from the boys at Hugo’s school. God only knows whose teenage sweat I’d had expertly mounted in that gilt-edged box frame.’ I shuddered at the thought. ‘What you have to remember is, those women don’t care about the chocolate... they’ll never eat it, nor will their friends. They just want it in their lives to make them look good.’

‘It’s dishonest, Tamsin, I’m not comfortable with it.’

‘Oh Sam, lighten up,’ I said, hearing myself and never imagining in my life it would be me saying this to her. ‘It’s called selling. I seem to have a knack for it... I just put a few of my old designer dresses on eBay to make a few pennies and sold them within the hour for six hundred quid – all because I said they were, “believed to have been owned by Monégasque Royalty”.’

Sam frowned.

‘Oh I didn’t say who, but of course everyone is thinking Stephanie of Monaco.’

‘But it’s a lie.’

‘Prove it.’

‘I don’t have fucking time – I have to go to Venezuela via Tuscany to get the chocolate for the 5 million bloody truffles you just agreed to make,’ she yelled.

‘Well get on with it then,’ I shouted back.’ And stop bloody swearing.’

She was genuinely cross, but it was all quite good-natured. I quite enjoyed the yelling and the arguing with Sam, it reminded me of when we were younger and she’d borrowed my best top or used my mascara. It wasn’t serious but it helped us get stuff off our chests. I hadn’t been able to get anything off my chest for a long time. I poked my tongue out at her, made an online order for 400 truffle boxes and felt a frisson of excitement for the first time in years.