Chapter 23
Cathy came to collect Jake just before six o’clock. As Lauren let her into the house, Cathy’s eyes widened in surprise to see her three-year-old son sitting calmly on the settee, cuddling the charity shop parrot and watching Bluey.
‘Wow – he’s really chilled out,’ Cathy remarked. ‘You’ll have to show me how you do that, sometime!’
Lauren smiled. ‘We had a great time at Mollie’s, and Jake’s been helping me perfect my Octonauts for the birthday cake.’ She glanced at the clock on the living room wall. ‘I’ve got a busy evening, I think, putting it together.’
‘Then I won’t hold you up.’ Cathy grinned. ‘You’ve been a lifesaver. I think I’ve got everything I need now, barring any last-minute emergencies.’
‘Any time.’ Lauren smiled.
‘Well, on Christmas Eve, the drinks are on me. Shall we meet about seven-ish?’
‘That’d be great, if you can definitely get away.’ Lauren handed Jake’s bag of stuff back to Cathy, who was gently coaxing Jake off the sofa, parrot and all.
‘I’ll make sure I can, don’t worry.’ Cathy grinned. ‘By that point, I’ll be gagging for a drink!’
As Lauren bade them goodbye, she felt happy to have an excuse to get out on Christmas Eve. It made the prospect of spending the holiday alone a little less daunting.
After Cathy and Jake had gone, Lauren cracked on with the twins’ birthday cake.
Moulding the pliable fondant icing into shapes with Jake had helped her to get a sense of the characters, and with the aid of some YouTube tutorials and a lot of patience, she had finally managed to create some models she’d been pleased with for the cake.
That had been the trickiest part. The actual cake, a vanilla sponge with light butter icing, had been a doddle in comparison.
Even making the little spun sugar bridge had been easier!
Yawning, late on Friday evening, Lauren put the finishing touches on what had turned out to be her most ambitious cake baking project to date.
The small, fondant Captain Barnacles beamed at her from Luca’s side of the cake, reaching out a polar bear white hand across the delicately woven light brown bridge, made of a combination of fondant and spun sugar towards Minecraft Steve, standing on the other side of the bridge.
She hoped that Luca and Liam would like it as much as she did.
On Saturday morning, the day of the twins’ birthday, Lauren nervously shifted the silver cake board into the white confectionary box, which she then proceeded to fold carefully around the cake.
Then, heart thumping, she manoeuvred it into the front seat of her car.
She’d texted Marc half an hour ago to double-check he’d be home, and he’d replied to say that he was in all morning.
The drive to the Hathaways’ house was mercifully short, and as she pulled up, she gave a sigh of relief that she’d avoided the two large potholes in the lane that led up to the lake.
Deciding to knock on the door first, she smiled when a furtive-looking Marc opened the door before she’d even raised her hand.
‘Hi,’ he whispered. ‘Thanks so much for bringing it over. I thought I’d try to sneak it into the house while the boys were watching a movie.’ He glanced over his shoulder, but it seemed his idea had worked – neither of the twins came rushing to the door.
Lauren grinned. ‘Excellent plan. I’ll just get it.
’ She hurried back to the car and gingerly removed the box from the passenger seat.
Hardly daring to breathe, she walked slowly back up the driveway, cradling the box as if it were a newborn child.
Marc, an anxious look on his face, met her halfway and relieved her of the box.
‘I can’t wait to see it,’ he murmured in an undertone. ‘Thanks so much, again, for taking the time.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Lauren smiled, and their eyes met for a long, delicious moment. Perhaps it was the sugar high from tasting too many of the cake’s ingredients over the past twenty-four hours, but Lauren’s heart began to race.
‘I, er, really should get this inside,’ Marc said, a trace of nervousness in his voice. ‘Can’t risk dropping it.’
Lauren nodded. ‘I’d better get back to the café, too. We open in half an hour.’
‘Look, Lauren…’ Marc seemed reluctant to break the moment ‘…I do really appreciate you doing this.’ His eyes flickered away from her, and past her, towards the driveway. ‘If you, er, ever wanted to go for a drink, you know, just as an extra thank you… I’d like to buy you one.’
Lauren’s face grew hot. ‘You have already agreed a fee for the cake!’ Immediately, from the look on Marc’s face, she realised she’d goofed. ‘I mean, there’s no need to thank me again.’
‘Sure, sure. Well, it was just a thought.’ Marc hurriedly began to turn away. ‘I’ll see you around.’
Shit, Lauren thought. What the hell did I say that for? She’d been so flummoxed by him suggesting a drink, that she’d reacted in completely the wrong way.
‘I’ll be in the pub on Christmas Eve, with a friend, at about seven o’clock,’ she called after him quickly. ‘If you wanted to, you could buy me a drink then.’ God, she was rubbish at this!
Marc glanced back over his shoulder. ‘I’ll try. It’s tricky with the boys.’
And with that, he disappeared back into the house.
Lauren shook her head in frustration. Why did she have this knack of making things complicated?
She’d taught herself to read the social signs as best she could over the years, but she still tended to miss things when she was nervous or stressed.
Add a lack of sleep to the mix, and she was bound to misread and make mistakes.
When she got back to the café, she’d try to call Myriam before opening; she missed having her mother to talk things through with.
Myriam had been invaluable as someone to ‘rehearse’ social interactions with.
Her mother had a gregarious, sociable nature, and was adept at reading people and situations.
She often said that Lauren got her reticence and shyness from her father, but never having met him, Lauren had to take her mother’s word for it.
Lauren wished she’d inherited her mother’s gift, but for her, her natural sense of reserve made things feel far more difficult.
The café had given her a context – a way of learning the rules without having to give too much of herself, but, when she was out from behind the counter, everything felt that much more complex.
Trying not to dwell on it as she pulled away from the lake house, she set her mind to the tasks for the rest of the day, hoping that Marc would be able to get away to the pub on Christmas Eve, and perhaps she could spend some time explaining to him just why she found the easiest social things quite so difficult.