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THE TWENTY-SECOND
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Thirty Days THE TWENTY-SECOND pt2
Fortunately, my dad provides a distraction as I walk into Cake. I can hear James and his crew fitting out the new cloakroom, so we settle on one of the sofas, away from the noise, to talk through the strategy for the grand opening, which Dad has taken upon himself to be in charge of. We go through the invite samples he has had made up by a local printer, finally settling on a heavy teal card with embossed silver writing. I make a mental note to try and replicate the colour in icing to go on top of the cupcakes that we will be sending out with the invites. “Dad, this is amazing,” I say. “I can’t believe how fast you have managed to pull all of this together.” “You can get anything done with a little bit of bribery, love,” Dad chuckles. “You are going to owe these guys a few cakes down the line…” I chuckle in response, knowing that Dad will have used his trademark charm and good looks to get away with murder, or at least the tightest turnaround they have ever done. “Right, let’s hav
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-SECOND pt3
Just then Mum comes in carrying a box of cutlery, exclaiming over her charity shop find of mismatched silver cake forks. Seriously, this woman can hunt out anything in a charity shop, and given that it is Mum and Dad’s money paying for all of this, the more we can do on a budget, the better. And anyway, with the relaxed shabby chic look we have been going for, these will be perfect, and I would much rather that we support our local businesses where we can. Mum has barely looked at me while she chats away, but suddenly her posture goes rigid. “Is that what I think it is?” she hisses at me, and for a moment I can’t think what on earth she is possibly talking about. Realisation dawns that she is staring at the great big rock sitting on my finger, and I find myself going red. “Um, Taylor proposed last night,” I say, holding out my hand so that Mum can get a closer look. I am unsure of what her reaction is, so I watch as her expression changes. Suddenly tears course down her face, and I
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-THIRD
I have just finished piping the final teal and cream swirls onto my dark chocolate and raspberry muffins. A glance at the clock tells me we have an hour before the couriers turn up to collect the parcels, and we still have to pack up the muffins into individual boxes, tie them up with ribbon and attach the invites. Thank heavens there are plenty of hands-on deck to help, and I am grateful that Mum has had the foresight to organise our mini production line. Half an hour later, I sigh in relief as the last invite is tied to its box. I am exhausted. My night was filled with disturbing dreams where I kept trying to tell Taylor that I loved him, but numerous obstacles kept getting in my way. When I pulled myself out of bed at five this morning, I didn’t feel like I had even slept though I know I must have. Dark circles are etched under my eyes, and I can see the concern on my friends’ faces. I still haven’t heard from Taylor, and I know that worry is also adding to my exhaustion. Taylor
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-THIRD pt2
The first thing I notice about Detective Stanton when I slide into the booth opposite her is how tired she looks. She is perfectly made up, like all the times I have seen her, but nothing can disguise the dark circles under her eyes or the tight lines around her eyes and mouth. “Thanks for seeing me at such short notice, Abby,” Detective Stanton says after we have ordered our coffee and sandwiches. “That’s no problem,” I say. “It sounded urgent.” “Yes, well, we have been tracking down a few of Richard’s ex-girlfriends, and the picture we are building is not a good one. Of the couple who would actually talk to us, it would seem that there is a pattern emerging of systematic mental and physical abuse alongside a complete obsession with Taylor. Though I am sure this is nothing new to you?” I nod my head in acquiescence. “I wanted to ask you a few questions about Hannah, if I may?” Detective Stanton asks. “Sure, though I don’t know how much I can tell you that Taylor won’t have told
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-FOURTH
I squeal with delight as the inspector signs off the paperwork so that Cake can open on Monday. I have to restrain myself from jumping and giving the guy a great big hug as finally, all our hard work has paid off. Looking around me, I am astounded at how much has been achieved in a couple of short weeks, and I know this is down to James and his team, and my mum, who has been working tirelessly to pull together my vision. The inspector leaves, and I just sit and admire the café. I pinch myself; I can’t quite believe that I really own the dessert café I always dreamed about. The hulking great coffee machine sits there, gleaming, waiting to get fired up. The fridges are on, waiting to be filled, and the counter is lined with jars and cake stands ready for their goodies. I know Sunday is going to be a busy one with Annabeth coming in to hang the artwork, and all the prep that will need doing, but I am just itching to get into the kitchen and get baking. I hear footsteps and look up to s
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-FIFTH
I am just bringing through a batch of freshly baked sesame seed rolls from the kitchen when I hear a familiar voice saying my name. I look up to find Eddy, my old boss at Hudson; his wife, Meg; and their gorgeous little girl, Sophia, standing on the other side of the counter. I hand off the tray of rolls to Lorna, our Saturday girl, and rush around to give them all a hug. “Gosh, it is so great to see you guys!” I exclaim, overjoyed at this unexpected surprise. When I left Hudson, the circumstances were far from ideal, but I never blamed Eddy for the part he played. Through the office grapevine, he heard about my move to Brighton and got in touch via email asking for my forgiveness. I explained to him that everything was between Taylor and me and that he had nothing to apologise for. Since then we have exchanged emails, and I have kept in touch with Meg via Facebook. Sophia holds her arms to me to take her, and I grin, pleased that she remembers me. I give her a cuddle as we chat, an
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-SIXTH
Annabeth stands back to admire her handiwork, and I can’t help but clap my hands like a kid. With the addition of each work of art, the walls have come to life, the different shades of grey providing the perfect foil for the bright drawings and paintings. Next to each frame is a white card with the name of the artist and title of the artwork, along with a brief description and a price. The partition between the shops is now down, and James’s guys are cleaning up the mess they made. Both the bakery and café are filled with the delicious aroma of cookies that has wafted through from the kitchen. Mum has been running around like a headless chicken all day, moving things from one place to another and then back to their original position, and it is driving me nuts. “Mum, stop,” I command. “It all looks amazing. Plus once people have been through here, we are going to have to tidy it all up again anyway.” Mum lets out a soft grumble about just wanting to make it perfect, but I know she rea
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-SEVENTH
It is eight o’clock and we have officially opened Cake. Bread opened as normal at seven, but we left the rope barrier up to give Emma and Alison some extra time to get set up after there was a bit of a mix-up with the milk delivery this morning. I have no sooner unlocked the door than Fred and Sarah come walking in, demanding coffee. I laugh and introduce them both to Emma and Alison before giving them the grand tour I promised when I dropped off their cakes on Saturday. Their response is gratifying, and as they walk out with their lattes, they promise to spread the word. The rest of the morning is much the same, with our bakery regulars popping in to check out the café after they have bought their bread. Slowly, though, the café fills with new faces, and by late afternoon I think it is safe to declare our opening a success. As I help out where needed in both the café and bakery, ensuring that everyone gets their breaks, I watch with delight as people scarf down their cakes. The co
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