Meet Me at the Cupcake Café (53 page)

Joe touched Issy’s cheek. ‘She’d have loved you too.’

Issy held his old hand to her face. ‘Thanks, Gramps.’

‘Give me a cake then.’

Issy raised her eyebrows at the nurse; it wasn’t Keavie today. The nurse walked her to the door.

‘Where have all the romantics gone these days?’ the nurse mused. ‘It wouldn’t be like that now. He’d pull her then not ring her the next day. Not your grandfather,’ she hastened to add. ‘I mean, a bloke. In general. I don’t think a man would ever come up to me in a nightclub and think, right, babe, let’s get married and have children. Or if he’s going to, he’d better hurry up.’

Issy smiled in sympathy.

‘Good luck. Would you like another cake?’

‘Go on then.’

Chapter Seventeen

Graeme looked at the post and sighed. He didn’t even want to open it. He’d been through this before; it was a big envelope, stuffed with leaflets and information. With planning, a big envelope was good. A small one was bad, it meant ‘no’. A big envelope meant, ‘Please fill in all these forms for the next stage.’ It meant printed signs to put up on the lamp posts around Pear Tree Court. He didn’t even have to open it. He just had to do it. He sighed.

A blond head poked round the door. It was Marcus Boekhoorn, the Dutch owner of Kalinga Deniki along with about a hundred other companies, who was over on a tour of his UK bases.

‘Our rising star,’ he said, striding into the office. Marcus did everything quickly. He never stopped moving, like a shark. Graeme jumped up immediately.

‘Yes, sir.’ He was glad he was wearing his tight-fitting Paul Smith suit. Marcus was in great shape, and was rumoured to like his lieutenants lean and hungry-looking.

‘I like this local project,’ said Marcus, tapping his teeth with his Montblanc pen. ‘This is exactly the way I think our business should be going. Local business, local clients, local finance, local builders. Everyone is happy. You understand?’

Graeme nodded.

‘You get this right, I think there is a big future for you. Anywhere you would like to go. Local development. It is the new thing. I’m very pleased.’

He glanced at Graeme’s desk. Even upside down, and in another language, he too recognized the envelope immediately. Not much got past him.

‘You have it?’ he said joyfully. Graeme tried to forget that he had been putting off opening it.

‘Looks like it,’ he said, trying to seem cool and laid-back.

‘That’s the business,’ said Marcus, patting him on the shoulder. ‘Good for you.’

Billy the pushy salesman rushed in after the boss had departed for the heliport in Battersea.

‘You’re in the good books,’ he said, not altogether pleased. Kalinga Deniki wasn’t a place that encouraged good coworking skills. It was winners and losers in this game.

Graeme felt cross when he looked up and saw Billy standing there, in his flash loafers and gold signet ring, carefully cultivated stubble on his jutting chin.

‘Mm,’ said Graeme, reluctant to reveal anything to this little shithead who would only use the information to his own advantage.

‘It’s sweet,’ mused Billy. ‘This local stuff. Just as well, you know. You’ve got to sort out the mortgage with the local bank. The leases up there are a mess and you’re going to have to get your money out of them.’

‘I know all that,’ said Graeme, pretending to be nonchalant, even though it was a pain in the arse not to be able to go to the big merchant banks like he usually did.

‘Good,’ said Billy. ‘It’s just, I don’t know, seems to me you aren’t all that keen on this project. Your heart’s not in it. Figured it might be the legwork. So if you need someone else to take it on … I mean, I know you’re really overworked.’

Graeme narrowed his eyes.

‘Keep your sticky fingers off my project please,’ he said. He’d meant to sound jovial, but it came out sharper than he’d intended.

‘Ooh, touchy,’ said Billy, raising his hands. ‘Fine, fine. I just didn’t want you to bite off anything more than you could chew, that’s all.’

‘Thanks for your concern,’ said Graeme, staring at Billy stonily until he left the room and closed the door. As soon as he’d done so, Graeme testily threw the envelope at the wall.

Chapter Eighteen

Children’s Cooking Party Cupcakes

150g butter, softened

150g caster sugar

175g self-raising flour

3 eggs

1 tsp vanilla extract

icing, marshmallows, chocolate buttons, hundreds and thousands, edible stars, orange and lemon jelly slices, food colouring (all colours); edible gold and silver foil, candy footballs, Smarties, candy flowers, liquorice allsorts, ground almonds, toffee and chocolate sauce, jelly worms

Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas mark 4.

Line a 12-cupcake pan with cupcake papers.

Crack the eggs into a cup and beat lightly with a fork.

Place all the ingredients in a large bowl and beat with an electric mixer for two minutes, until light and creamy. Divide the mixture evenly between the cake cases.

Bake for 18–20 minutes until risen and firm to the touch. Allow to cool for a few minutes and then transfer to a wire rack. Um, decorate.

As Issy buried herself in work to deal with her conflicting sense of sadness and relief at breaking up with Graeme, and Graeme tried to figure out a strategy to win back Issy’s trust, at least until the deal went through, and Pearl tried to get a straight answer out of Ben about his intentions, and Helena started checking out flats for sale, Austin found himself languishing. He read the proposal again and again. There was no doubt about it: Kalinga Deniki were trying to unravel the complex banking arrangements of the block, take out another loan and rebuild the entire thing. Sod the ironmonger’s, the newsagent’s. Austin thought back to Issy’s birthday present from the funny little man next door. She’d seemed so genuinely pleased, so touched and happy to be accepted into the community. But for what? The duplicity, that was what amazed him. She’d seemed an honest, straightforward, genuine person. And it wasn’t until now, when he understood how much she wasn’t what he’d hoped, that he realized how much he’d liked the person she’d seemed to be.

Louis’s birthday finally arrived.

‘You are bouncing this morning,’ observed Pearl, folding up Buzz Lightyear napkins.

‘Of course I am,’ said Issy. ‘It’s beautiful Louis’s birthday, isn’t it.’

‘
Is ma birfday
,’ agreed Louis, who was sitting on the floor making his new Iggle Piggle and Tombliboo (gifts from Issy) kiss each other and bake imaginary cupcakes. ‘
I likes been five
.’

‘You’re not—’ Issy decided that no one should have their illusions shattered today. ‘Five is a wonderful age,’ she agreed. ‘What I especially like about it is how many cuddles and kisses you give everyone when you’re a big boy of five.’

Louis realized he was being played, but was such a benevolent soul he didn’t mind too much.

‘I gives
yooo
kiss and cuddle, Issy.’

‘Thank you, Louis,’ said Issy, throwing her arms around him. If Louis were the closest she ever got to having a small person around the place, she had decided, she was going to make the most of it.

‘And are you having a birthday party today?’

‘
Iss. All mah frens is coming to Louis party
.’

Issy glanced at Pearl, who nodded. ‘Well, they all said yes,’ she said, looking faintly surprised.

‘Why wouldn’t they?’ said Issy.

Pearl shrugged. She still felt forced into this. It was one thing asking the kids at playgroup to Issy’s safe, well-known cupcake shop, right next to their homes. It would have been a different story altogether if she’d invited them to
her
home. Then it would have been excuses and murmurs about swimming lessons and long-standing grandparent visits. Being the first kid in the area to get exclusive access to a baking party was one thing. Doing it for Louis was quite another.

‘Who else is coming?’ asked Issy. She rather liked the idea of becoming a whizz at children’s parties.

‘My mum,’ said Pearl. ‘My pastor. A couple of people from the church.’

She didn’t add that she’d hardly asked any of her friends. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of where she worked, or that Louis was in with a group of new people. A lot of her friends couldn’t work anyway; they had more than one child at home, or no help with childcare like she had with her mum. She just didn’t want them to think that she was showing off, throwing a big extravagant party for Louis like she didn’t think the local Maccy D’s was good enough for her child (which she didn’t), and she didn’t want anyone to imagine she was getting above herself. Louis had to go to school soon, after all. Life where they lived was hard enough.

Most of all, she didn’t mention Ben. She couldn’t. He had been, though, so sweet. So lovely. She’d seen him so much. She had actually begun to … Well, he was working up this way. Up at the Olympic site. He was earning. Her mother could stay in the council property, but there was nothing to stop them … well, maybe renting a place. Just a little place round here. Not too far from Ben’s work, and close enough so that Louis could still go to the same nursery … and then, maybe next year, one of the wonderful schools they had around here, filled with light and art and happy children in smart uniforms. She’d seen them. It didn’t feel, to Pearl, in the scheme of things, such a big dream. It was more than she could possibly have envisaged only a year before. And she was terrified of jinxing it. But Ben knew where the party was. And he’d promised to be there.

‘Well, it’ll be fantastic,’ said Issy, sorting out the raw ingredients into little bowls. She’d also invested in a dozen tiny aprons, which she’d been sighing and cooing over. Pearl looked at her with narrowed eyes. Something was definitely up.