Christmas At The Cupcake Cafe (14 page)

‘So Richard is turning out to be even more of an UTTER ARSEHOLE than usual,’ declared Caroline, banging the door and whisking her tiny arse – in white jeans, in December – into the shop. She was wearing a huge furry stole thing that made her legs look even more sticklike, and that Issy fervently hoped was fake. Issy blinked herself out of her reverie and tried to wake up as Caroline shook off the cold. It was freezing outside; everything was iced over, and the clouds in the sky were heavy and dense with snow.

‘What’s he
done now?’ she said. Caroline’s divorce seemed to be taking rather longer than the marriage had lasted.

‘He said no hampers. No hampers. Can you believe it? He stopped our hamper account.’

Issy looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean? Those boxes with tins in?’

‘They are not just boxes with tins in!’ said Caroline in shock. ‘They are traditional luxury items sent at Christmas as a token of esteem, and are therefore part of my totally normal family expenditure.’

‘But don’t they cost a total fortune for like a can of jam and some fancy nuts?’ wondered Issy. ‘And they’re probably full of stuff you don’t even like, like olives stuffed with beetroot. I always wondered who sent those.’

Caroline sniffed. ‘Everyone does,’ she said.

‘So are the children looking forward to Christmas?’ Issy tried to change the subject.

Caroline sighed dramatically. ‘Oh well, you know what they’re like.’

‘Delightful,’ responded Issy, promptly.

‘Hermia is just looking forward to the opportunity to eat for the entire holiday. I will have to keep an eye on that girl. Can you believe it, she prefers eating a sandwich to practising her flute. A sandwich! I don’t even keep bread in the house!’

Issy made Caroline her small decaf espresso, black, and handed it over. Caroline downed it quickly.

‘Hit me
again,’ she said. ‘And can I have it caffed?’

Issy raised her eyebrows. ‘That bad?’

Caroline shrugged. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Well …’ She blinked heavily several times. ‘It’s just … Richard said … Richard said …’ And she dissolved into tears.

‘What is it?’ said Issy, rushing round the other side of the counter.

‘He said …’

Issy suddenly felt terrified for her. He wouldn’t fight for the children, would he? OK, Caroline left them with nannies and ignored them and denigrated them, but … no, surely not.

‘He said that if he’s going to keep paying for them, he wants them sent to BOARDING SCHOOL …’

Caroline collapsed into sobs. Issy put her arm round her.

‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘But I thought you always said that boarding school was the answer to everything and would do all those rioters a lot of good?’

Caroline sniffed loudly and took out a cloth handkerchief. Issy was stunned that she carried a cloth handkerchief, but didn’t say anything.

‘Yes, but not for mmmyyyyyyy …’ She couldn’t finish the sentence.

It was odd, thought Issy. If you heard Caroline talk about them – although sometimes she seemed to forget she had children at all – you would think she wasn’t really that interested; that having children was something she’d
done simply because it was expected. She seemed to find them more of an annoyance than anything else.

‘They would miss me,’ said Caroline. ‘I think they would miss their mother, wouldn’t they? Achilles is only five.’

‘They would,’ said Issy, from bitter experience. ‘Of course they would. It’s ridiculous. He’s being completely unreasonable.’

‘I know!’ said Caroline, bawling. ‘What am I going to do?’

‘Hang on,’ said Issy, straightening up. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

Caroline glanced up at her, her tear-stained face almost unrecognisable.

‘What?’

‘Why don’t you just tell Richard to go screw himself? Say, sod off, Richard, they’re not going to boarding school. You can send them to the local school! Louis goes there, it’s great.’

Caroline paused for a second. Then she fell once more into massive gobbing sobs.

Pearl and Louis came in, tinging the bell.

‘What’s up with Princess Twinkle?’ asked Pearl.

‘Don’t ask,’ said Issy. ‘I mean it. Really. Don’t ask.’

‘Don’t be sad, Caroline,’ said Louis, reaching up to stroke her fur wrap. ‘I like your wolf.’

‘Please don’t touch, Louis,’ Caroline managed between sobs. ‘It was very expensive.’

Louis turned
round to Issy. ‘ISSY!’ he yelled. ‘I MOST FORGOT! IT’S SNOWING!’

Issy glanced up at the windows. Sure enough, in the early-morning gloom, the little lamppost next to the tree showed up the flakes that had silently begun to drift down into the little alleyway.

‘Oh, so it is!’ said Issy, almost forgetting her tiredness in her delight. ‘Isn’t that gorgeous!’

‘Can you come out to play in it with me?’ said Louis, grabbing her hand.

‘I can’t, my love,’ said Issy. ‘But I can make you a hot chocolate.’

Louis smiled. ‘YAY!’ He turned to Pearl.

‘CHRISTMAS! It’s snowing! It’s snowing! It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas! YAY!’

Pearl half smiled. ‘All right, all right,’ she said. ‘It’s going to take us four hours to get home tonight, that’s all I can say. Let’s get that hot chocolate warmed up.’

As they bustled around, cleaning, scrubbing, baking and generally getting the shop ready for the first of their chilled, hungry customers, Louis stayed with his face pressed against the glass. It was barely light at all, with the blizzard and the clouds so close to the ground. People passing by on the main road had their scarves over their mouths and their hats pulled down over their eyes, and were leaning in to the wind at an angle, grimly set on their destinations. It was an extraordinarily cold storm out there.

‘I might take some samples out to the bus stop,’ said Issy,
bringing up a huge tray of sticky gingerbread. ‘More of a mission of mercy than anything else.’

‘MAMMA!’ shouted Louis suddenly, his chubby little finger pressed up against the glass, his breath forming a cloud of condensation on the window. ‘MAMMA!’

Pearl rushed over and followed his finger.

‘Jesus Lord Almighty,’ she said, and without stopping to grab her coat, ran out of the shop.

Issy and Caroline were right behind her.

‘What on earth …?’

When you opened the door, you realised how freezing and horrible it was outside; a true maelstrom, with flakes swirling every way, blinding you. The cold grabbed you with a metal grip; the wind bit at your throat.

Pearl’s heavy figure was lumbering over to the other side of the alleyway. Issy was just behind her, and gasped when she realised what it was Louis had spotted.

Standing just behind the now bare tree was a small boy, younger than Louis. He was in his bare feet, wearing nothing but slightly grubby cream pyjamas with fire engines on them. His hair was blond and standing straight upright, and he was crying his eyes out.

Pearl scooped the little thing up in her arms like he was nothing, and they all rushed back inside. Louis was excited at his discovery.

‘I found the boy, Issy,’ he said importantly.

Issy was
horrified. She had dashed out on to the main road, expecting to see a terrified mother running up and down searching frantically for her little boy, but there was just the usual queue of frozen-looking early commuters. She said hello to her friend Linda and asked if she’d seen anyone looking for a child. Everyone had looked confused, but shaken their heads. Issy told them that if anyone did come looking for him, he was safe with them, then dashed back to the shop.

Old Mrs Hanowitz, one of their regular customers, was at the door already. She gasped when she saw the little boy, in his cream-coloured pyjamas, cradled in Pearl’s arms.

‘The Christkind,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Look at him.’

She came closer and put her fingers through his golden curls.

‘A child at Christmas,’ she whispered.

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Pearl. ‘This child is lost. What’s your name, sweetheart?’

By the time Issy got back, the child was wrapped up warmly in a tartan blanket that normally sat on the back of one of the old leather sofas. The child, who looked to be barely eighteen months, seemed too shocked even to cry. He grabbed the label on the blanket and started to rub it gently between his thumb and forefinger, then stuck his other thumb in his mouth. He looked rather comfortable.

‘He
needs a cake,’ said Louis. ‘And an Advent chocolate. OH NO, THERE AREN’T ANY, AUNT ISSY.’

‘Louis, hush about that stupid Advent calendar,’ said Issy. ‘It’s not going to get chocolate in it.’

‘It is a very sad Advent calendar,’ observed Louis.

Pearl sat down on the sofa with the boy still wrapped up in the blanket. Issy tried to tempt him with a piece of gingerbread, but he wasn’t terribly interested in it, preferring to stare around the room with wide eyes. His little feet were blue; he was wearing no socks or slippers.

‘I’ll call the police,’ said Issy. ‘Someone must be going frantic.’ She glanced out of the window again into the blizzard. ‘Where are they, though?’ she said. ‘Unless he’s come from miles away.’

‘What’s your name?’ Pearl asked again, but it elicited no response. Then Louis came forward.

‘What is your name, baby boy?’ he asked kindly. ‘Can you talk, baby?’

The boy took his thumb out of his mouth.

‘Dada,’ he said.

‘Well, that’s a start,’ said Pearl. ‘What’s your name, sweetie? We’ll get you back to your daddy soon.’

‘DADA,’ said the little boy, louder.

‘He’s the Christkind,’ said Mrs Hanowitz, who had followed them back into the shop even though they weren’t officially open and was looking openly at the boy’s untouched gingerbread.

‘I really
don’t think he is the Christkind,’ said Issy. She took the phone from its cradle. ‘Do you think this is a 999 situation? It’s not, is it? Or is it? What’s the one for things that aren’t quite as important as 999? 888?’

‘One oh one’ reeled off Pearl at once. ‘What?’ she said, seeing Issy’s surprised face. ‘Oh, well done for you. You live somewhere where you’re unlikely to be a frequent victim of crime.’

Just as Issy started to dial, she saw someone tentatively enter the alleyway and look around. It was a young, confused-looking woman, not dressed warmly enough for the weather. Issy put down the phone and went to the door and stuck her head out.

‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Are you looking for a child?’

The young girl turned, looking relatively unconcerned.

‘Oh, do you have him?’

Issy looked at her for a moment. She couldn’t just have heard that.

‘Are. You. Looking. For. A. Child?’ she repeated in case the girl couldn’t hear her.

The girl sauntered over. ‘Have you got him?’ She was chewing gum and her eyes looked tired and a little blank.

‘Um, yes,’ said Issy. She wondered for a tiny second if she was being a bit of a nosy old busybody – was it perfectly normal for small children to go wandering about in their pyjamas in snowstorms? Was it none of their business?
Then she turned and saw the tiny thing sitting on Pearl’s lap and realised it wasn’t.

The girl walked into the shop.

‘Oh, there you are,’ she said resignedly. ‘Come on then.’

The boy made no move to go. Pearl looked at the girl.

‘What are you talking about?’ she said. ‘Did you let this little boy walk out in the snow on his own?’

‘Durr, nooo,’ said the girl. ‘He wandered off. Come on, Donald.’

‘Dada no,’ said the boy.

‘Well, that explains that,’ said Pearl. ‘Is your name Donald?’

‘Dada,’ confirmed the boy, then stuck his thumb back in his mouth.

Pearl looked at the girl again. She didn’t look old enough to be his mother. Plus, one would imagine his mother would probably be a bit more pleased to see him. Especially a mother who bought fire engine pyjamas.

‘Right, I take him,’ said the girl, looking bored.

‘Have you got socks for him? A coat?’

The girl shrugged. ‘It not far.’

‘Hang on,’ said Caroline suddenly. ‘Is this Donald? Donald Gough-Williams?’

The boy’s eyes lit up at the mention of his name.

‘Yeah,’ said the girl unwillingly.

‘You
know
this child?’ said Pearl. ‘Why didn’t you say?’

‘Oh, they all look the same to me,’ said Caroline.

‘This
is Kate’s baby. Are you the new Gough-Williams nanny?’

The girl shrugged reluctantly.

‘There are the twins too,’ said Caroline. ‘Where are Seraphina and Jane?’

The girl turned on her with exhausted eyes.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘The twins.’

‘Who’s looking after the twins now?’ said Issy suddenly.

‘CBeebies,’ said the girl. ‘Come on, Donald, let’s go.’

Pearl stood up and handed over Donald, complete with the blanket.

‘Bring this back later,’ she said. ‘Don’t let him catch his death.’

‘Yes, I say OK,’ said the girl. Slinging Donald over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, she turned and left the Cupcake Café.

Caroline stared after them. ‘I wonder what’s up with Kate?’ she said.

‘She hasn’t been in here for ages,’ said Issy. ‘I think it was just after the baby.’

‘No, she’s gone completely off radar,’ said Caroline. ‘I just assumed she was in rehab.’