Chapter 24
I spend the next few weeks diving head-first into work and motherhood and honestly, I do actually wonder how people fit anything else in. Other than a very quick coffee with Frankie after drop-off one morning, I haven’t seen any of the school parents outside St Barnaby’s gates and we’re into May already. Not even Joe. I miss him terribly, but he seems so busy. I did the Thursday pick-up a couple of weeks ago and when I suggested the diner for us all like the first time we had pizza, he said he had too much work because it was exam time. Last week I texted about a general meet-up and he said he was supervising dissertations which meant he was too busy. It’s never nice to feel like you’re pestering your friends into hanging out with you, so for now I’m letting it go. In truth, channelling my time and energy into work has felt restorative. Cold, hard facts is how I like it, and that’s exactly what I get from work. We’re now days away from launching Alec and Arnaud’s website, which looks incredible, and meanwhile the seed of a brand new business idea has now fully taken root.
Today, I’m acting on it! I’m standing outside Joe’s parents’ house with my notebook and laptop.
‘Hello, love.’ Denise beams. ‘Come on in. Will you have a brew?’
‘Yes, please,’ I say. ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me today.’
‘Don’t be daft, it’s always lovely to see you.’ She laughs and steers me into the kitchen.
I watch her pour us both a cup of tea and try not to think about Joe’s thoughts on my tea-making. Try not to think about Joe full stop. It’s not easy. I’m beginning to suspect that he was my best friend, perhaps the best friend that I’ve ever had. I keep wondering if he really is as busy as he says at work, or if The Kiss has messed things up.
‘We haven’t seen so much of you recently.’
‘I’ve really missed you all. I just … there’s a lot going on.’
Denise nods kindly, a little twinkle in her eye. ‘Just know that you’ve got a lot of support around you. Your family, me and Jim, my Joe … he’s very fond of you, Sophie.’
I can feel my bottom lip wobbling so I bite down on it, hard.
‘He’s a good egg …’ I falter. And then I get a grip of myself. Today is about business.
If there’s one Sophie-patented way to get myself out of a dither, it’s to focus on the stuff I’m good at.
I rally. ‘How do you feel about talking business?’
Denise pushes a mug of tea towards me and smiles.
‘Okay, love, let’s do that. I was intrigued by your message mentioning a business proposal. It all sounds very exciting. But I’m not sure I can help you much in that department.’ She chuckles.
‘Oh, but you can.’ I grin. ‘I’ve been working on a proposal for you.’
‘For me?’
I pull up the presentation on my laptop. Denise watches with increased surprise as the slideshow scrolls by and I find myself chewing on a fingernail in anticipation.
‘My word,’ she says when it finishes. ‘Are you suggesting that we set up a cookie-making business? With my recipes?’
‘Yes! You make the best cookies I’ve ever tasted, you’ve got the vegan and gluten-free markets covered, and I feel very strongly that the people of Bristol and beyond should be allowed to sample them.’
‘But I don’t have a café … or any premises!’
‘That’s the beauty of this plan.’ I tap the screen. ‘Our niche will be postable bakes, delivered straight to your door. With some clever branding and targeted marketing, you could be baking from home and posting your cookies out to customers in no time.’
‘I don’t know anything about branding, Sophie.’
‘But I do! We’d make the dream team. I’d take on the business side of things and you’d be whipping out these incredible bakes, just like you always do, but this time earning some real cash too.’ I scooch round to her side of the kitchen table. ‘A while ago, you told me that you wished you’d had a career when you were younger and a mum friend of mine said something similar. Like you, Celeste has put her work life on the backburner so that she can raise her kids. I mean, Celeste perhaps isn’t the best example because she’s wildly wealthy and they have a nanny and I’m rambling. The point is, there’s no age limit on starting a career, Denise.’
Joe’s mum looks both bright-eyed and baffled at the same time.
I give her hand a squeeze. ‘You have a talent and I can help to channel that. I feel very strongly that women shouldn’t have to choose between motherhood and a career. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. I think this is your chance, your time! It’s just a working brand name at the moment but with The Cookie Box, I’m hopeful we could be a big success. Your kitchen will need some adapting for health and safety but none of that is insurmountable. I can schedule a meeting with Tara, a client of mine in the food industry, to talk about how she set up her seafood truck. I bet she’ll want to stock your cookies at Hook and Bait because she doesn’t have any sweet offerings right now.’
Denise sits back in her chair.
‘You really think so?’ she asks excitedly.
‘So much so that I’d like to put some money into the business to get us going. Look, it’s a lot to take in, so please take as long as you need to mull it over. I will not be offended if you decide against it, I just had to give it a shot.’
Denise is tickled by this. ‘A cookie business? Well! I can’t wait to tell Jim.’
‘Any questions, please shout,’ I say, gathering my things up. ‘I’m going to leave you to have a think, but thanks so much for seeing me today. It’s been really nice.’
And it has. It’s so homely here.
‘You too, love.’ Denise is still beaming as she shows me out.
Later that night, not long after I’ve put Lila to bed, Denise sends me a message.
Hello love! I’d be mad not to take you up on this offer.
Cookie empire, here we come!
Oh my god! I’m so excited I squeal, bursting with excitement for the new project. Then Joe’s name appears on my phone – the first message I’ve had from him in a long while.
Mum’s told me what you’re doing for her. Thank you.
It’s so formal compared to our usual communication that I can’t help but feel like my bubble’s been burst a little.
Within a week I’m back at Denise’s, this time for the inaugural photoshoot of The Cookie Box! Poppy is our professional photographer and it’s all going amazingly well. Apart from the bit where I made a pensioner cry. I’d presented Denise with an apron I’d had printed up with ‘The Cookie Box’ written on it, which she wrapped around her polka dot dungarees and then carefully dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, insisting they were tears of joy. ‘I feel very lucky,’ she’d said while I gave her a squeeze.
Now my little sister is busy taking pictures of Denise as she makes a batch of cookies in her gorgeous, reclaimed kitchen. I’d been expecting a cosy, chaotic style of house when I came to pitch a few days ago but Denise and Jim’s kitchen is a masterclass in interior design and it’s the perfect backdrop for our shoot. A salvaged kitchen dresser with blue-and-white willow-patterned china hanging from hooks. House plants tumbling down from shelves. Brightly coloured pendant lights dangling above a vast tabletop in reclaimed oak. It’s gorgeous.
Every time the speedlight flashes, a new image pops up on Poppy’s laptop screen. Denise has her sleeves rolled up as she creams butter and sugar together in a large bowl, her face lit up in her particular brand of happy baker. It’s infectious. The house is filled with music from a jaunty playlist, baking smells and laughter until we break for lunch and Poppy asks what’s wrong with my face.
‘This is my busy-at-work face,’ I protest.
‘No, it’s not,’ she argues, slicing up a hummus wrap. ‘There’s something on your mind that you’re not telling me about.’
Sometimes Poppy’s sisterly intuition is annoying as hell.
‘All right,’ I concede. ‘There’s a lot on my plate.’
‘Spill.’
‘Not now! We’re working,’ I say pointedly, nodding towards Denise who is busying herself making yet another brew. I am already ninety-nine per cent English breakfast tea at this point.
‘Don’t mind me, I can go outside for a bit?’
‘You will not!’ I protest, shooting Poppy a look. She shrugs.
‘It’s not my Joe, is it?’ Denise asks before looking contrite. ‘Not that it’s any of my business. It’s a good job Jim’s out today otherwise he’d be telling me off for sticking my oar in.’
‘Oh don’t worry about that, Denise,’ Poppy breezes. ‘I’m always sticking my oar in. Sophie loves it, don’t you, Soph?’
I tut at my sister.
‘Denise,’ I say, pointedly ignoring Pop. ‘You are more than welcome to ask after me. I really appreciate your concern, it’s just—’
I pause. I can’t open up about my problems with Joe, firstly because I’m tangled up remembering who knows what. To Poppy, we’re dating. To Denise, we’re just good friends. To me? I’m not sure we’re even that anymore. And secondly, Joe has more or less stopped contact since that weird phone call a few weeks ago. After that and The Kiss, we have drifted. We used to meet for playdates and share a bottle of wine once Lila and Sid had crashed out. Joe would ring me up just to tell me about something funny from his day, like the time he took Sid to the city farm and they spotted guinea pigs in a three-way which led to a lot of awkward questions from his intrigued son. I did get one message from him recently, which said: ‘Probably ought to get another date in soon for appearances, are you free Friday?’
That was it! No fun, all serious.
‘Joe’s been busy with work,’ I end up saying. ‘This time of year’s always hectic with exam papers, I think. Anyway, it’s not really Joe. It’s Mark, my ex-husband.’
Poppy’s head spins round so fast it looks like she’s in a horror movie.
‘WHAT?’ she bellows.
Suddenly I’m so overwhelmed by a desire to offload that I start blathering on about Mark coming back into my life even though this is technically a work day and what will Denise think of me?
‘So, let me get this straight, that utter shite – sorry, Denise – is back and he wants to see Lila?’ Poppy, outraged, is now on the edge of her seat.
I nod.
‘What an effing liberty.’
‘I know. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t want to let Lila down by withholding from her the chance to meet her dad but also …’ But also what?
‘But also her dad’s a useless piece of—’
‘Thank you, Poppy,’ I say, cutting her off. ‘It’s not as simple as that. For so long it’s been just the two of us and I love that, I never thought I’d be tempted to rock the boat. But Mark does seem to have changed and …’ I trail off, gnawing at my lip.
Denise reaches across the table and holds her hand on top of mine. It’s so comforting. ‘You poor thing,’ she says kindly. ‘That’s a really difficult position to find yourself in. I hope Joe’s been supportive?’
‘Oh … yes,’ I lie. ‘We’re hanging out on Friday, actually.’ This bit is true at least.
‘Auntie Poppy’s on babysitting duties,’ says my sister. ‘Lila’s been pestering me about that bear hunt in town, have you heard about it? She’s already made me download the map so we’re definitely doing it. Like, I have no choice in the matter.’
I find it amusing that Lila has Poppy wrapped around her little finger, just like Poppy has me wrapped around hers.
‘I could take Sid too?’ she adds.
‘Thanks, Pop, I’ll mention it to Joe.’
Sensing that I’m keen to move on, Denise steps in again and soon she and Poppy are swept away in a world of romance, with Poppy mooning after current crush Akoni Jones and Denise retelling the story of how she met Joe’s dad. It’s sweet that they get on so well, I think, returning to The Cookie Box’s financial projections. Because I just don’t get it. What’s the point in love? Other than weighing you down in emotional turmoil, that is. Look at Joe and I! Everything was going brilliantly until we let our guards slip, the lines blurred for, what, less than a minute? And now I’m not so sure we even have a friendship left. Romance, even a whiff of it, can get in the sea.