Christmas At The Cupcake Cafe (13 page)

But Darny was older now, grown up enough to at least remember to brush his own hair once in a while, even though he’d rather not, and turn on the washing machine (turning it on was rarely the problem; removing the clothes when they were finished instead of leaving them there to stew was the main stumbling block at the moment), and now Issy was there too, and maybe it was, kind of, time for Austin to do something with his life, or rather something with his life that he himself had chosen.

He wouldn’t have changed one thing about his life with Darny, not one thing, he told himself fiercely. That was the hand he had been dealt, and he’d played it. He loved his brother so much. But this was beyond his wildest dreams … a big job in New York … a cool apartment, maybe? Darny could go to school here. And Issy …

He needed to talk to Issy.

‘Hello?’

The voice was trying to be friendly, but struggling. By the time Issy had risen at six to start baking, worked a full day in the shop, cashed up and done the accounts, helped Darny with his homework and cooked supper, there wasn’t much left of her. She went to bed very early.

‘Iss?’ said Austin. ‘Iss, you won’t believe this. It’s amazing. This huge bank. They want me! They want me to
work for them! They’re offering … well I don’t know what they’re offering but it seems like they really want me, and, I mean, well, obviously I haven’t said anything, but, I mean, they have been talking about sending me overseas for a while, and well. Anyway.’

He was conscious Issy wasn’t saying anything.

‘Anyway. I just thought I should let you know what is going on. Kind of thing.’

Issy had been half asleep when she’d answered the phone. She was wide awake now. And she realised that on some level she had always expected something like this to happen. Who wouldn’t want Austin? She did. Things were always too good to be true.

She suddenly wished Helena was here. Helena would tell her, ferociously, to buck up, that she was more than good enough for Austin, thank you, and that her stupid mind would talk her out of anything, which was how she had ended up with a loser like Graeme, and she didn’t want that again, did she?

She did not.

But Helena wasn’t here. She would be walking Chadani up and down the flat (Chadani was too sensitive to sleep well; it was a sign of hyper-intelligence), and there was only Darny, snoring loudly next door, a dark house with new, unhung curtains and, on the other end of the line, four thousand miles away, sounding happy and
carefree and light, the only man she’d ever truly loved, telling her he was never coming home.

‘Congratulations,’ Issy had finally managed to stammer out. She had tried to cover up her consternation by yawning ostentatiously for as long as she could; then it had turned into a real yawn that she couldn’t stop until she could feel his impatience on the other end of the phone. ‘I mean, well done. It’s really happening. New York, New York! I mean. Wow. I’m so happy for you …’

Austin winced. She didn’t sound in the least bit happy. That fake yawn hadn’t fooled him in the slightest.

‘It’s such a step up,’ he said, feeling a note of pleading creeping into his voice. ‘I mean, it just changes everything really. I don’t even know how I could come back to London and say no to it.’

‘No,’ said Issy. ‘Of course you can’t. You’ve worked so hard. And you’re good at what you do.’

‘Thanks,’ said Austin.

There was a windy, wobbling pause across the ocean. Then Issy remembered with a pang of annoyance the cupcakes he’d sent.

‘I got your present.’

Austin couldn’t remember at first, he’d been so sleepy and fuddled when he’d ordered them. Then he did.

‘Oh, the cakes! Ha, yes, I thought you’d like those. So you see, they do cupcakes over here too.’

‘Well of course
they do,’ said Issy. ‘They invented them. Until the Americans, they were just known as fairy cakes.’

‘Oh,’ said Austin. ‘I thought you’d think it was funny.’

‘They weren’t very good.’ Issy hated sounding sulky. She had to stop this.

‘Want to come out and make them better?’ said Austin.

There was another pause.

‘Austin,’ said Issy. ‘I miss you so much.’

‘I miss you too,’ said Austin. ‘I really do. I only got the cakes because I was thinking of you. Was it a stupid thing to send?’

‘No,’ said Issy.

‘Yes,’ said Austin.

‘Yes,’ agreed Issy.

‘Oh, bugger,’ said Austin. ‘It’s hard, this long-distance stuff, isn’t it?’

Issy felt an icy grip of fear in her stomach. What did that mean? Did it mean they were going to have to get used to it? Did he mean it was so hard, maybe they shouldn’t bother carrying on? Did he mean they were just going to have a lot of trouble from now on?

‘Hmm,’ she said.

‘I wish you could come out,’ said Austin. ‘Why don’t you just come out? You’ll LOVE it.’

‘Well,’ said Issy, ‘I’ll just kill Darny and leave his body in the garden for the foxes, set fire to the shop, then I’ll be right there.’

Austin
smiled. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I think I’m going to have to be here for a while longer. Whilst everything gets sorted out, you know. Contracts and stuff. And I have to meet a few people.’

‘You are coming back?’ said Issy, suddenly panicked. ‘You’re not asking me to parcel up your stuff and send it on, are you? Put Darny on a plane with a little ticket around his neck like Paddington Bear?’

‘Of course,’ said Austin. ‘Of course I’m coming back.’

‘But you don’t know how long for,’ said Issy. ‘Or when.’

Austin didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Caroline stomped into the shop the next morning in high dudgeon. Issy looked at her with bleary eyes. She’d hardly slept a wink after speaking to Austin the night before and was on her third coffee. She felt so daft, but it was the unfairness of the whole thing that was getting to her. She’d finally got her life together; she finally felt like she was doing what she had always longed to do and had met a man she loved, and now it was all going horribly wrong.

On a deeper level too, she knew why she was so upset; why she was so bad at talking about all this to Austin. It being this time of year didn’t help … and now … No, she was catastrophising. Taking the worst possible
view of the situation. Surely London would give him another job and it would all be fine; he couldn’t possibly want to uproot what they had, how could he? Then she remembered something she hadn’t thought about for a long time: she was at church on Christmas morning, wearing a too-tight red dress, with Startrite shoes that gave her blisters at the back, holding hands with Gramps, who knew everyone, of course, and would have been liked by them even without a bag in his pocket full of gingerbread. A woman she recognised from the shop, posh and loud. She didn’t like her, although she didn’t know why. The woman was wearing a blue hat with a large peacock feather in it, and she leant forward to Gramps and said, ‘She couldn’t POSSIBLY want to leave at this time of year,’ and Grampa Joe hushed her, crossly, more cross than she’d ever seen him.