The Sweetest Thing (27 page)

‘What do you think of the choc and beetroot combo?’ I ask.

‘Beetroot?’ He stares at his plate. ‘I can’t stand the stuff. I’d rather feed it to the cows. I don’t mean that I’d like to feed this cake to the cows,’ he goes on quickly.

‘So you don’t like it?’ I say, a little disappointed.

‘I like it, but I’m afraid I don’t love it.’

‘At least you’re honest. Thanks, Guy. I’ll go back to the recipe books.’ I pause, observing with a smile how he continues to eat, methodically clearing his plate.

‘You did ask Delphi if Bracken has any vices?’ he says, looking up again.

‘Vices?’ My mind is running riot, galloping away with me. ‘What kinds of vices do ponies have?’

‘Bucking, rearing, biting, cribbing … I could go on.’

‘Please, don’t,’ I say firmly.

‘Does she jump?’ Guy asks me.

‘Delphi said she does.’

‘You didn’t try jumping with her?’

‘I took Delphi’s word for it.’

I can see that Guy is still finding this funny.

‘I think she might have taken you for a ride, so to speak,’ he says.

‘Well, I wish you’d stop going on about it,’ I say sharply. ‘I don’t want you telling me I’ve got it wrong, even if you’re right!’ It’s what David used to do, all the time. It rankled then and it rankles now. ‘I’m sorry,’ I add quietly. ‘I shouldn’t have snapped like that. It’s just that I’m upset for Georgia and furious with myself. And I managed to burn the cakes earlier on.’ To my chagrin, my eyes fill with tears. I turn away.

‘I apologise too,’ Guy says. ‘I should have been more tactful.’

‘It isn’t you.’ I touch my throat. ‘It’s me.’

I hear the scrape of a chair and Guy is on his feet beside me.

‘Jennie, are you all right?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘That’s what you always say.’ Guy slides an arm around my back, resting his hand on the curve of my waist. ‘You don’t have to pretend to be fine all the time, not with me,’ he adds tenderly, bowing his head and gazing into my eyes. My heart lurches as I read in his expression a mixture of compassion and desire. I catch his flicker of hesitation, but make my move before he can change his mind this time, leaning up and kissing him on the mouth. He responds and we share a kiss, and I’m flying – until I pull myself back to my senses and down to earth.

‘What’s up?’ he murmurs, frowning.

‘The children,’ I whisper guiltily. ‘I forgot. I mean, I—’

‘You don’t have to explain,’ Guy says. He gives me a wry smile as he straightens and steps away. ‘I’d like to do that again though …’

‘I’m sure it can be arranged, but Guy, I have to think about—’

‘The children. I understand.’

‘Perhaps, you’d like to come for dinner one night?’ I say tentatively. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this. I’m not sure how I’m coming across: making my feelings clear, or scaring him off.

‘No, Jennie,’ he says.

‘But—’

‘I won’t come for dinner. I’ll take you out for a meal.’

‘Like a date?’ I say doubtfully.

‘Yes, if you want to put it that way.’

‘That would be lovely. Guy, I haven’t been out on a date – not since David. I’m not looking for a brief fling – it isn’t my style.’

‘Mine neither.’

I’m going to have to find the courage to ask him straight out, because I can’t be worrying about it any longer.

‘Have you dated anyone since Tasha?’

Guy looks at me, half laughing, half annoyed.

‘You mean, have I been out with Ruthie? Ruthie and I are mates. She’s like one of the lads. Jennie, why don’t you believe me?’

‘I do. I do,’ I say, as if repeating ‘I do’ will make it fact.

‘You don’t trust me?’

I hesitate. When David had those affairs, he wrecked my trust in men. I know they’re no more all the same than we women are, but it’s difficult …

‘Jennie, how can I prove it to you?’

I look at him – I mean, really look at him.

‘You could always kiss me again,’ I say, and he does. I’m speechless, overwhelmed, deliriously happy. My head is spinning.

‘Is it next weekend that Adam and the girls are with their dad?’ he says, pulling away, his breathing fast and ragged.

I nod.

‘Next weekend then …’

I’m looking forward to it. I’m excited and scared in equal measure. Me and Guy. Can it be possible? When I moved here, I never anticipated this, that I’d start dating again. It is just a date though, I tell myself. If – I
hardly dare to hope – it goes well, then I will have to start introducing the idea of Guy becoming my boyfriend to the children. I’m not sure how they’ll take it, particularly Adam. I’ve already detected his disapproval when I talk too much about Guy.

Later, I trawl the internet for ideas for new recipes. The children have had their tea and headed to bed, but I can’t concentrate. Every now and then, I suppress a tiny quiver in my loins as I relive that kiss, and the surges of electricity, both real and imagined, that have passed between us.

On the Friday afternoon before Penny’s wedding, I collect the children from school, casting a glance towards Bracken who’s eating her way through the grass in her tiny area of paddock. Georgia has been catching her twice a day, before and after school, but she hasn’t ridden her again yet. I’ve said that I’ll walk with her sometime, like Guy did. Guy? My pulse thrills each time I think of him, which, I have to confess, is unsuitably often. Tomorrow night he’s taking me out for dinner, and I can hardly wait.

I leave Lucky behind because, although we’ve tried taking him in the car again, he barks all the way to school and back, leaving your ears with that painful thrumming sound that you get after a rock concert. Not that I’ve been to any recently.

When we get back home, it seems that Lucky’s taken umbrage because he doesn’t come running out to greet us. In fact, I can’t hear him at all.

‘Lucky,’ Adam calls. ‘Where’s the dog?’ He turns to me.

‘I expect he’s run away,’ I say, but I don’t believe it for one minute. He’s got his paws well under the table. I watch Adam’s face, his anxious frown. ‘Lucky won’t be far away, love.’

We go inside, Adam, Georgia and Sophie dropping their schoolbags and leaving their shoes in a heap in the hallway.

‘Do you mind?’ I say, remembering how my mother used to say the same to me and my sister. We didn’t mind in the slightest. We knew, as they do, that Mum will pick everything up and put it away.

‘Lucky,’ Adam calls again, as he disappears through to the kitchen. His tone changes to one of dismay. ‘Lucky!’

‘What’s happened?’ I say, pushing past the girls. ‘Adam, what’s going on?’

Adam is standing in the middle of the kitchen in front of the table, arms outstretched as if to hide something behind him.

‘He didn’t mean to do it, Mum,’ Adam stammers. ‘He must have had an attack of the munchies …’

I move closer. Adam turns, ducks down under the table and sweeps Lucky into his arms, revealing the carnage of crumbs, fruit cake and marzipan in the middle of the kitchen floor.

‘Lucky’s snaffled the wedding cake!’ Georgia exclaims. ‘You naughty dog!’ She wags her finger at him, but to me that is a far from adequate response to the disaster which lies in front of me.

‘I’ll kill that bloody dog,’ I yell, taut with fury and disappointment.

‘Someone must have left the larder door open,’ Adam says, his voice quavering. ‘You can’t blame him for that. He’s a dog. He doesn’t understand.’

Lucky cowers against Adam’s chest as if he knows he’s done wrong.

‘Oh, get him out of my sight,’ I snap, and Adam makes a quick exit out through the back door. I sink down on one of the kitchen chairs and stare at the mess. The girls tiptoe around, making their own inspection of the damage.

‘It’s ruined,’ I say. There are the remains of two tiers of cake on the floor.

‘He didn’t eat the marzipan, Mummy,’ Sophie points out, as if that’s going to make any difference. ‘He’s licked the icing off.’

‘Well, I can’t re-ice it. He’s taken great bites out of it.’ Then, I think, perhaps I can salvage something. There’s one tier left, the largest. I check in the larder, but that too is on the floor, shards of icing surrounding it, and a corner nibbled off. My idea of a dramatic cake rescue goes out the window. I’ll have to start all over again, but the wedding’s tomorrow and I can’t possibly bake, marzipan and ice a fruit cake in less than twenty-four hours.

Panic surges like iced water through my veins. Tears spring to my eyes and trickle down my cheeks.

How am I going to tell Penny? I’m sorry, the cake’s off. I’m sorry, the cake wasn’t up to scratch. I’m sorry, the dog ate the cake. It sounds like some of the excuses Adam uses for not handing in his homework. I decide to settle on the truth, no matter how far-fetched it sounds.

I dry my tears, sweep up the remains and throw them in the bin outside, then pour myself a measure of the brandy from the larder, and phone Penny, wondering how on earth I can retrieve the situation – and my reputation.

‘Hi, Penny,’ I say when she answers. ‘It’s Jennie here.’

‘Oh, hello.’ Penny’s voice is warm and friendly. ‘I suppose you’re ringing to confirm the arrangements for tomorrow. I’m in such a flap, I can tell you. Declan’s been to collect his morning suit and the shop’s ordered the wrong size. I wish everything wasn’t so last-minute. In fact, I wish it was this time next week, and it was all over, bar the honeymoon.’

‘It’s about the cake, I’m afraid,’ I say when I can finally get a word in.

‘Is there a problem?’

‘I’m so sorry, Penny.’ I imagine how I would have felt if someone had told me my cake was ruined the day before the wedding. ‘I can’t apologise enough – I don’t know how it happened – but the dog’s just eaten it.’

‘You don’t mean that?’ Penny says, rather sharply. Wincing, I await her further angry response because I’d be livid if I were her. However, after a long silence, then a chuckle, she goes on, ‘The dog, you say? Oh, Jennie …’

‘I feel really bad about this, Penny.’

‘Please, don’t be upset on my behalf,’ she says. ‘It’s only a cake, and I completely understand. Sally’s a terrible thief. Last year, she almost died because she stole the Christmas dinner. You would have thought she might have learned from the experience – she was at the vet’s for some time after that – but she’s incorrigible. She’s supposed to help me, being an assistance dog, but she often helps herself to the food on my tray.’

‘Yes, but this shouldn’t have happened.’ I’m running a business. I’m a professional. Lucky’s escapade makes
me look like a complete amateur. ‘The dog shouldn’t have been anywhere near the kitchen, let alone in the larder.’ One of the children – Adam, probably – must have left the doors open.

‘Dogs are like men,’ Penny says, ‘you can’t live with them, you can’t live without them.’

Right now, I think, I could live quite happily without a dog.

‘I’m not sure you can have a wedding without cake though,’ she goes on thoughtfully.

‘I know, so I have one or two suggestions – I can make three tiers of chocolate or plain sponge with butter-cream icing, so you end up with a traditional-style wedding cake. I won’t charge you, of course, and I’ll refund your deposit. Or – you may have seen them in bridal magazines – I can bake cupcakes, one for each of your guests, and decorate those in a theme of your choice. When they’re displayed on a stand, which I’ll get hold of before I come and set up at the venue, they can look amazing.’ I pause. ‘It’s entirely up to you. I’ll understand if you want to try someone else …’

‘No, that sounds great,’ Penny says. ‘It’ll be something different. It’s a shame about not being able to cut the cake though. That won’t be quite the same.’

‘I’ll make a small cutting cake for the top of the stand – that means you and Declan can cut the cake and we can still use your cake toppers. I’m so sorry,’ I say again.

‘Never mind. These things happen. You go ahead.’

‘Good luck for tomorrow,’ I say, relieved.

As soon as I’m off the phone to Penny, I’m calling around for a suitable stand, finding one I can collect from a supplier in Exeter the following morning, and
then I get baking. I bake as if I am in fast forward and soon the sink is piled high with mixing bowls, pans, spoons and spatulas, and there’s a queue of trays of cupcake mix lined up to go in the Aga. I start washing up.

‘Mum, aren’t we going to Daddy’s tonight?’ Sophie asks, coming into the kitchen clutching one of the chickens.

‘Hey, get that bird out of here!’ I say. First the dog, now a bird. There would be dire consequences for Jennie’s Cakes if health and safety ever found out. ‘I’ll have the hygiene police after me.’

‘Okay,’ she says, letting it down right outside the back door where it turns, caws and steps across the threshold again, picking its feet up high. ‘Shoo!’ Sophie says, chasing her away. ‘Mum, we should have let the chickens have the crumbs.’

‘I’m not sure. That cake had so much brandy in it, we might have ended up with boozy eggs.’