Thirty-Five
Poppy was at the bake sale, which was being held in the school playground. It wasn’t going smoothly. Parents were manning besieged tables with panicked looks in their eyes, kids were clamouring for cookies and cakes, and freshly sugared-up ones were running around and smacking into people queuing. It had the slight air of a purge to it, if purges were catered.
Poppy was standing behind her stall with her frankly rubbish cupcakes (knocked together at six this morning), trying to serve the throng, but it wasn’t easy on her own. She had Luna by her side, but she was no help, too focused on trying to sneak items off the table into her mouth.
‘Luna! I can see you,’ Poppy warned her daughter.
Luna giggled, not that worried that she was anything other than a charming cheek monkey. ‘Mummy! It’s chocolate! I can’t help it!’
Poppy didn’t have time to be cute. ‘Luna, if you eat anything from this table, you better enjoy it because it will be the last time in your young life you ever know the taste of sugar again.’
An old guy who looked like someone’s grandpa asked for two cakes, just as Luna exclaimed. ‘Well, fuck!’
The old guy tutted.
‘Don’t tut at me, or you don’t get a cake,’ Poppy told him.
‘Fine,’ he said and walked off.
He was quickly replaced by a mum with twins. ‘Two cupcakes,’ please, she said a touch desperately.
‘Hold on a sec,’ Poppy said. She looked at her daughter. ‘Where did you hear that word?’
‘From you! When you missed a parking spot at Tesco.’
Poppy sighed. ‘OK, well, that’s on the no-no list, alright?’
‘You said it.’
‘I know, and that was wrong. So we’ll both stop, yes?’ Poppy asked, aware of the pleading that had entered her voice.
‘You want me to stop saying fuck?’ Luna checked.
Poppy tried not to flinch. ‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s bad.’
‘But why is it bad?’ Luna asked.
Poppy thought it over, wanting to come up with a really strong argument. But she didn’t have one. ‘Actually, that word is... just a word. But if you get too used to saying it, it’s going to come out in front of a teacher, and then you’ll be in trouble because schools don’t like swear words. I can’t explain it any more than that,’ she said honestly.
Luna chewed that over. ‘Oh. OK.’
For a split second, Poppy felt like her own mother. That was not a bad thing at all. Poppy’s mum had always known how to put things honestly, but in a way that Poppy could understand. And for once, Poppy had achieved the same. Her mother might just be in her after all.
Poppy turned back to the mum of the twins. ‘Sorry for the hold-up.’
‘I get it. You gotta nip that swearing shit in the bud,’ the woman shrugged. ‘How much for two cakes?’
‘Sixty pence,’ she said and awkwardly exchanged the cakes for cash.
The woman left, but the cue wasn’t getting shorter, lengthening into a curved tail at the back.
But then Luna’s eyes fell upon something that cheered her up from not being able to eat cakes or swear. ‘Look, it’s Freddie!’
Poppy turned to see Freddie running across the playground, weaving through the throng. But, of course, Poppy’s eyes were only searching for Norah. She wasn’t far behind him.
She looked great. Her standard ponytail was gone, and it looked like she’d gotten a new haircut, her dark locks bouncy and fresh. Her clothes looked new too, her usual loose-fit sweats and T-shirts replaced with tight jeans and a black camisole top with a pretty plunging neckline. Norah could look good in a hessian sack, but dressed up? Poppy had to work quite hard not to look like a horny cartoon wolf, complete with eyes popping out of her head.
‘Hi,’ Norah greeted her, walking around the queue. ‘You need help back there?’ she asked.
‘I wasn’t sure you were coming?’ Poppy said, trying to appear unfazed by the new look.
‘Yeah, sorry about the lateness. It’s been a weird long day,’ Norah said. ‘And then my haircut ran late.’
‘Well, you look great,’ Poppy said, trying not to sound aroused. Which she was. ‘Like the new outfit, by the way.’
‘This old thing?’ Norah said, seeming suddenly shy. She led Freddie around the back. ‘Here we go, Freds. Backstage at the bake sale.’
‘Can I have a cake?’ Freddie asked naturally.
‘Err...’ Norah said, looking to Poppy for permission.
‘You can both take something at the end if there’s stuff left, which there probably will be,’ Poppy explained to Freddie, as well as Luna. ‘But be warned, they’re as dry as chalk.’
Luna high-fived Freddie.
‘OK, cake sellers, let’s sell some cake,’ Poppy said, slapping her hands together.
The horde fell upon them. But now Norah was on the cash box while Poppy wrapped cakes. It became a hell of a lot less overwhelming. The adults worked in a frenzied harmony, as the cue got longer and long, and then shorter. Poppy and Norah exchanged amused glances, the awkwardness between them forgotten for the moment in the whirl of crumbs, chaos, and loose change.
After about forty-five minutes, Poppy looked down to see an empty table. She turned to the next customer. ‘Sorry, I’m out!’ she said in amazement.
‘I’ll take your money!’ Susan called over.
The customer shrugged and moved down the row to where Susan was working with about three times the amount of goods.
Poppy turned to Norah. ‘I really thought no one was gonna want my stuff. It’s very mediocre.’
‘I think you overestimated the standards at a school bake sale,’ Norah told her. ‘It’s thirty pence a cake. They were willing to risk it.’
‘Nothing’s left!’ Luna suddenly wailed.
‘Yeah! We wanted cakes!’ Freddie huffed.
‘Sorry, guys,’ Poppy said sincerely.
‘What if we go to the park and find the ice cream van?’ Norah suggested. ‘Would that be OK?’
The kids both screamed like Santa was doing a live drop-by.
Poppy smiled, pleased. It would be nice to all go to the park—like nothing was different. ‘Alright, let’s pack up.’