Chapter 4
Elodie took another order for a dinosaur cake. ‘Are there any allergies that I need to know about?’ She listened. ‘I’ll make sure there are no nuts, yes.’ She made a note on the edge of the order, even though ‘no nuts’ was standard anyway. Even if the birthday child didn’t have any allergies, it was possible that someone else in the party would have and peanut allergies were pretty common. ‘I’ll have it ready for you to pick up the night before. Does that work?’
She took the deposit payment and then wrote the order up into the calendar. These cakes were pretty boring – dinosaurs, tractors, princesses and a cast of cartoon characters were the mainstay of her business. She didn’t mind doing them, but a bit of variety would be nice. That’s why Mr and Mrs Anderson’s anniversary cake had been a breath of fresh air, even if it had given her cramp in her fingers.
A customer came in. ‘I’ll be just one second,’ Elodie said. She double-checked that she’d put everything into the calendar correctly and went back outside. A tall, glamorous blonde was standing at the counter, looking at the cupcakes.
Elodie said, ‘Hi.’
The woman looked up, glossy hair shimmering. She looked familiar. Elodie tried to work out where she knew her from. The woman smiled at her with evident recognition.
‘Elodie,’ she said.
When Elodie nodded, she said, ‘It’s me. Saffron.’ She held her hands out. Immaculate nails. Obviously she expected Elodie to remember her.
When Elodie hesitated, the woman leaned forward, her eyes wider, slightly worried. ‘Saffron,’ she repeated.
Recognition slotted into place. ‘Oh my god. Saffron.’ Of course. From school. ‘Wow. You look … amazing.’ She really did. The girl she remembered had had light brown hair and a retainer. She’d had a hell of a glow up in the last few years. They had been casual friends, but had drifted apart after school, when Elodie went off to France for three months to do a patisserie course. The last Elodie had heard, Saffron was working for a high street homeware store and had a channel where she talked about home decor. It had always struck Elodie as a really nice thing that Saffron got to do something she loved. ‘It’s great to see you. How are you?’
‘I’m good. Someone mentioned that you had a shop in here and I just had to come and check it out. You call it Flour Power,’ Saffron pressed a hand to her chest, ‘that’s so cute.’ She looked down and leaned towards the cakes. ‘These are so pretty. Which do you recommend?’
‘Our cupcake specials this week are citrus cocktails. So we have passion fruit martini there – which has passionfruit crème with a hint of vodka in the centre – it’s the one with the purple fringe in the lemon and lime icing. That one is the classic margarita – orange and tequila flavour with a lime and sea salt topping. This one with the roses on top is the rosewater gin and tonic with a hint of lemon. And this one is everyone’s favourite, the good old gin and tonic with a twist of lemon.’ She had started decorating the cupcakes more obviously different from one another because otherwise the one with the fanciest-looking topping sold out before the others. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered with the more interesting flavours. As far as she could tell, people chose based on the design iced on it and Elodie was excellent at decorating.
Saffron smiled. ‘I’ll try that one with the roses on, please?’ She tipped her head to the side. ‘Has it got actual alcohol in it? It won’t make me tipsy, will it?’
‘It’s only the tiniest amount,’ said Elodie. ‘Just a dash for flavour.’
Elodie bagged it up carefully and passed it to her. To her surprise, Saffron took her phone. ‘Mind if I record?’ Swiftly, she attached a small tripod, set the phone up on the top of the counter, flicked her hair back and said, ‘I’m here in a local cake shop. I’ve just bought this adorable little cake.’ She lifted it to the camera. ‘Let’s see if it tastes as good as it looks.’ Elodie stared, not sure what to do. Was she supposed to be in this video? Should she be worried about it? Social media was a double-edged sword. She didn’t know enough about Saffron to be sure which way this was going to go.
Saffron bit into the cake and made faintly embarrassing ‘mmmm’ noises. She looked back into the camera. ‘This is delicious.’ A twitch of her eyebrow and she tapped the screen. ‘Do you want to say hi?’
Panic stabbed at Elodie. ‘I look a mess. I don’t know what to say.’
Saffron shook her head, making her blonde tresses ripple. ‘You look like a cake maker.’ She gestured to Elodie’s apron. ‘It’s all very on brand. I’ll introduce you, just smile and wave to the camera and say hi. That’s all.’ Her smile was kind and reassuring. She had changed a lot from the shy girl Elodie had known. ‘Okay?’ Saffron put down her cake and picked up the camera, tripod and all. ‘Ready?’
Elodie smoothed down her hair and pasted a smile on her face.
‘This is my friend Elodie,’ Saffron said. ‘Say hi, Elodie.’ She turned the phone around.
‘Hi,’ Elodie squeaked.
‘This cake is amazing! This filling – oh my god!’ said Saffron. ‘What’s in it?’
Now she was on safer ground. ‘That’s rosewater gin and lemon curd,’ Elodie said. ‘The cake is one of our citrus cocktail range of cakes.’
It was over within seconds. Saffron turned the phone back towards herself and moved around, talking about how wonderful the cakes were. ‘I think I’ve found my cake maker,’ she said with a grin. She tapped the phone and seemed to relax a notch.
She put the cake down, dismantled the tripod arrangement and watched the video she’d just made. ‘That’s good.’
‘What’s going on?’ said Elodie.
‘Oh. I’m sorry about that,’ said Saffron. ‘It’s just that it always looks more authentic if I do it in the moment. Because it is more authentic, I guess.’
That wasn’t an explanation. Elodie frowned and waited.
‘So. The reason I’m here,’ said Saffron, ‘is that I’m getting married!’ She showed her hand. A modest diamond flashed on it.
‘Oh. How lovely. Congratulations!’
‘I only announced it this morning, so you’ve probably not seen it yet,’ said Saffron.
It was probably best not to let on that she didn’t follow her. Elodie used Instagram only to post photos of her cakes and TikTok not at all. She smiled.
‘Anyway,’ said Saffron. ‘We’re getting married in two months, which is waaay short notice, I know. But Holywell House had a cancellation and it was too good a chance to miss. Jamie lives near here and I’m from here, so we thought it would be lovely to have a small wedding and use local suppliers as much as we can. You know, keep it cosy.’
Elodie nodded. ‘That sounds wonderful.’ It did. Holywell House was a grand manor with extensive gardens. She pictured sunshine and bunting and white tablecloths rippling gently in the breeze.
‘We’re having a proper wedding breakfast for the family, but for the event afterwards, we’re going to have a buffet type thing. Would you be able to cater it?’
What? A whole wedding. A celebrity wedding … well, an influencer wedding. Elodie felt a flash of panic. She had catered for small events before. Retirements, seventieth birthday parties, that sort of thing, but a wedding? ‘I …’ She was about to turn it down, when self-preservation got the better of her. ‘How many guests?’
‘About fifty or sixty.’ Saffron was on her phone now, fingers tapping. ‘We were thinking traditional stuff. Like quiche and sandwiches and lots of cake, obviously. And the wedding cake.’ She looked up. ‘Elodie, please can you make my wedding cake?’
‘Wedding cake, yes, definitely. The rest – do you have an idea of budget? I can work up a menu and cost it up for you, if you’d like, but a ballpark figure would be nice.’ She could cater for that, but she might need to hire in some temporary help.
Saffron frowned at her phone for a bit. ‘Hmm. I have to go. Tell you what, I’ll email you tomorrow with some ideas and a budget. Also, I’ve seen your cakes on Insta. I like what you do. I might have a few specific requests though. So I’ll email those through as well. Take a look and give me a quote. Okay?’ She blew Elodie a kiss and made for the door. She paused with the door open.
‘Huh. Man Buns? What do they do? Hair?’
Before she could censor herself, Elodie snorted. ‘They steal other people’s shop lets, that’s what they do.’
Saffron turned. Her expression was almost hungry. ‘How do you mean?’
Elodie waved a hand. ‘Doesn’t matter. We’ve just had a bit of a disagreement, that’s all.’
Saffron waited, a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised.
Okay. So she really wanted an explanation. ‘I was hoping to let the shop. They got in before the let had even been advertised. The guys had met the owner in the gym … nothing sinister.’ She should shut up, really. ‘Like I said. It’s nothing.’
‘I see. Kinda unfair though,’ said Saffron. ‘It’s like that with top jobs in London, you know. All the bloody time. Men. Drives me nuts.’
Elodie gave a shrug that she hoped conveyed whatcha gonna do vibes. She wasn’t sure what Saffron knew about top jobs in London, but she got the sense that it was probably true.
‘I’ll email you though, yeah?’ Saffron gave her a friendly nod and left.
Mal had just finished serving a customer – those discount vouchers had brought a few people in out of curiosity. Most of the people who ordered his lunch boxes through the gym were exercise fanatics who knew all about keto for muscle gain, but the vouchers had enticed some people who were interested in it for weight loss. They seemed delighted with the meals. Excellent.
His phone rang. It was Priya. ‘Mal, are you in the shop? Can we come and see it on the way home from school? Dilan’s really excited to see.’
‘Of course you can. I’ll see you in a bit.’ He hung up and looked around the shop floor, double checking that Dilan would have room for his rollator. He checked the snack selection too. After all, Dilan was the ideal customer that he’d had in mind the whole time.
As with everything, he had made sure the nutritional information was available so that people could make their own decisions. Different people did keto differently. He figured he could trust them to know what they wanted.
Through the main window, he could see the man from the cake shop rushing off carrying a box. He had intended to go across and see what had annoyed the cake lady so much, but it would have to wait now. He busied himself checking through tomorrow’s lunch orders. He, Liz and Archie would be making up the meals later that day.
The door opened. ‘Hi.’
Priya held the door for Dilan, who came in, leaning on his rollator.
Mal straightened up. ‘Hello, Dil, how was school?’ Dilan was still in his first year of secondary school.
He waited for the response. There were always a few seconds before Dilan spoke. ‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘Got my maths test results back – 64 per cent.’
‘Did your mum ask you what happened to the other 36 per cent?’ said Mal.
Dilan rolled his eyes. Mal laughed. ‘Where’s Nilupa?’
‘She stopped to buy a notebook.’ Priya hovered anxiously by the door. ‘She assures me she’s fine. She’ll be along in a minute.’
He watched his nephew carefully read the nutritional information and choose a samosa. Dilan did everything slowly, as though carefully measuring out his efforts to make sure he had enough energy to get through the day. Priya leaned past him to check the nutritional information and gave the smallest nod.
‘And a diet Coke, please,’ Dilan said.
‘I’ll bring it round.’ Mal put everything on a tray, including Priya’s coffee and came to their table. Dilan carefully moved his snack from the tray to the table in front of him and opened the can of cola. Mal glanced at his sister-in-law and saw the softness in her face as she watched her son. Dilan had come a long way since starting the diet. He had fewer drugs to take, which meant fewer side effects and he seemed much more alert and happy. Mal felt a surge of pride in the boy too.
His niece, Nilupa, arrived in a rush of noise. At eleven, she was younger than Dilan, but was almost as tall as him. She threw herself into a chair at the same table as her brother and looked around.
‘Looks good in here, bappa,’ she said. ‘I like the blue and white. Matches the boxes your lunches come in.’
‘That’s the idea.’
‘Why did you call it Man Buns though? Why not Mal’s Buns to match the meals?’
Dilan gave a little snort. ‘Think about it,’ he said. ‘Mal’s Buns.’
Nilupa made a face. ‘Oh. Yeah. I see.’
‘Maureen came up with Man Buns. When she finally stopped laughing, I thought it was actually a fun name and went with it.’ He smiled at his niece’s grin. ‘Do you want a drink? I don’t have fruit juice. I can manage an almond milk, if you like,’ he said.
Nilupa wrinkled her nose and shook her head. ‘Nah. Water’s fine.’
‘The samosa is very nice,’ said Dilan, who was leaning over his plate, carefully lifting the food to his mouth.
Nilupa looked at him and the same expression of tenderness flitted across her face, but only for a second. ‘Can I try one, then?’
‘Of course you can.’
Watching them sitting in his café, eating together, gave Mal a warm glow in his chest. When Priya came over to pay, he insisted it was on the house. After a small argument, Priya relented. ‘Next time,’ she said. ‘I will insist.’
‘Fine,’ said Mal.
Priya looked back at her children. ‘It’s so nice for him to be able to just come and buy something. And for us all to eat the same thing. That doesn’t happen so often.’
Mal dropped his voice. ‘Well done for letting him choose.’
She shook her head. ‘I guess he’s old enough to be able to manage now … but I worry.’
‘Well,’ said Mal. ‘This is a good place for him to practise. At least he knows he’s not going to have sugar sneaked in as a surprise.’
Priya nodded. ‘Thanks. I’ll take you up on that. And I’ll let the rest of the Keto Parents support group know.’
‘That would be brilliant. Thank you.’
‘How has launch day been?’
Mal glanced through the window at the cake shop opposite. ‘It’s gone pretty well, I think. Apart from a small disturbance with the lady who owns the cake shop.’
‘Disturbance?’ said Priya.
Mal explained what had happened. Priya frowned. ‘That sounds very strange. What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to go over and see if I can talk to her. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.’ He certainly hoped that’s all it was.
Elodie was busy in the back when Marty called her to say there was someone here to see her. She should have guessed from the tone of his voice who it was. When she walked out into the front, the guy from Man Buns was standing there chatting to Marty. Chatting.
‘Really. That’s so interesting.’ Marty was leaning against the counter, smiling. ‘So are you guys—’
‘Can I help you?’ Elodie said.
The man turned. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m Mal. We … spoke earlier.’
She took the chance to study him properly. She had been so blinkered with anger when she marched into his shop earlier that she’d only barely registered what he looked like, apart from noting with some surprise that he didn’t have a beard. Now she noticed that his face was pleasant. Handsome, even. He gave the impression of being slight, which was weird considering he was broad shouldered and slim hipped in a way that suggested he spent a lot of time in the gym.
The gym where he got insider info that meant he could steal her shop. It didn’t matter how good he looked. He was still a shop-stealing rat bag. ‘Yes,’ she said, icily. ‘What do you want?’
Behind Mal, Marty winced.
‘There seems to have been some sort of misunderstanding,’ Mal said. ‘I thought it was best that I came to see if we can smooth things out.’
‘You stole my shop from under my nose,’ said Elodie. She crossed her arms.
The confusion on his face seemed genuine. ‘I’m pretty sure I didn’t,’ he said. Then, when she drew breath to argue, he added quickly. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you think I’ve done?’
‘I don’t think it. I know it,’ she snapped back. ‘You and your buddy took the lease on the café before it even went out to estate agents. I’d already expressed my interest to Warren and I was waiting for it to be advertised. I had the deposit and everything. You snapped it up before I could even look at it.’ Now that she said it out loud, she heard what that sounded like to other people. She pressed her lips together so that the howl of ‘it’s not fair!’ wouldn’t escape and braced herself in case he laughed.
His expression remained neutral. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘I had no idea. From my point of view, I was looking for retail space and a café turned up. So I took it. I didn’t know you had your eyes on the place.’ He smiled. ‘In all honesty, it sounds like you just got unlucky.’
It was the smile that did it. He was laughing at her. He obviously thought she was this hysterical woman who was sore about something trivial. But it wasn’t trivial. Just because it felt easy and fair to him, he didn’t see his own privilege. She glared at him. ‘Of course you see it that way. Just because it was handed to you on a plate.’
His expression hardened. It wasn’t a major change – just a tightening around the eyes and at the corners of his mouth. ‘Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. I promise you, it wasn’t intentional.’
She lifted her chin. ‘Was there anything else?’
‘No. I don’t think so. Thank you for your time.’ He turned, gave Marty a nod and left.
Neither Elodie nor Marty moved for a few seconds after he’d left. Then Marty said, ‘Phew.’
Elodie released the breath she’d been holding. ‘Did you see that smirk? Ugh. He’s such a jerk.’
‘Cute though,’ said Marty.
Elodie shook her head at him. ‘Seriously?’
‘But he is!’ Marty protested. ‘You’re just too angry to see it.’
‘I’m going back to work.’
‘Elodie …’
‘What?’
‘He really did sound like he had no idea that you had your eye on the property. I mean, how would he know, realistically?’
Elodie ignored him and went back to her workbench. A tiny voice in her head said maybe he was right. She ignored it. She knew she had a temper and that it sometimes led her to do stupid things. But she’d learned that being angry was better than being sad. Anger drove her to do things. If she sat around being sad, she’d never even have opened this little shop. Anger, right now, told her that her carefully made plans had been completely shunted out of the way because some blokes shook hands in the privacy of their little club. She couldn’t do anything now, but she didn’t have to keep quiet about it.
‘She effectively told me to mind my privilege.’ Mal paced around Maureen’s kitchen. ‘Handed to me on a plate.’ He snorted.
Jake exchanged a glance with Maureen, who was sitting on the other chair. Penelope, the elderly dog, was lying under the table. Maureen lived next door to Jake. Since her mobility wasn’t that great anymore, Jake had started walking her dog for her. If Jake couldn’t do it, sometimes Mal would do it. Gradually, Mal had been absorbed into Maureen’s informal club. She always had a pot of tea at the ready and provided a surprisingly good sounding board for questions relating to business. At one time, Maureen had been in charge of a fairly large HR department. She must have been terrifying.
‘In fairness,’ said Maureen, helping herself to a biscuit from the tin in the middle of the table, ‘it must have looked really shady to her.’
Mal paused, mid-wave of an arm. ‘I suppose,’ he conceded. ‘But I’ve never had anything handed to me on a plate.’
‘Apart from this lease. Which you came by because …?’ said Maureen.
‘Because a guy at the gym heard that we were looking for premises and told us about this space he had to let.’ Okay, now he heard it out loud, he could see why it might look a bit unfair. ‘But I honestly had no idea she had her eye on the place. Besides, he offered and I took it up. Not shady at all.’ He put his hands on his hips. ‘Seriously. The way she was carrying on, you’d think I’d knocked someone off to get hold of the lease. It’s just business.’
Jake held up his hands. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘It’s just business. So maybe you should just look at it as one of those things that happens in business sometimes. Other businesses might feel threatened by you.’
Mal stared at him. He didn’t think of himself as a threatening figure. He wasn’t tall, like Jake. Or formidable like Maureen. He was just … him. A fat guy who got thin. Someone who was trying to get his business off the ground and not get swallowed up by the harsh realities of the marketplace. He wasn’t threatening at all. Besides … ‘We’re not even in competition with each other,’ he said. ‘She makes …’ He waved a hand. ‘Sugary things. I make meals for people who trying to avoid sugary things. We are literally opposites.’