The Winner Bakes It All

Chapter 6

Mal grabbed a stack of empty crates from the back of the van and carried them back to the shop. With there being so many more gym outlets now, he was having to do a fifty-mile round trip each day. It was starting to take a toll. He needed to hire someone to do the deliveries. He could carry on doing them for his own gym. He was going there anyway for his workouts.

He was so busy thinking about this that it took him a moment to realise that something was wrong. Mainly, he had stepped on something soft. His first reaction was to recoil and look down, expecting something nasty. It was beans. Baked beans in tomato sauce. What the—? He looked up. The shop door and window were covered in three separate arcs of beans. Mal stared at it, still holding the crates. Why would anyone do this? There was no other graffiti. Just beans. So weird.

He took a couple of steps back, away from the risk of stepping in more of the squishy beans, and put the crates down. What was the best way to get into the shop without trailing tomatoey beany yuck into it? All his cleaning stuff was inside. Was there anything he could use from the van?

A moment’s thought reminded him to take some photos of it, in case he had to report it. At least it was only beans. It would have been so much worse if someone had thrown a brick at it. Who would want to vandalise his shop? In such a stupid way, too. It was almost like it was a protest done out of frustration rather than actual intent to harm.

He turned to look over his shoulder at the cake shop. The lights were on. Someone ducked out of sight when he turned. Was she watching him?

He turned back to the baked beans smeared on the shop. It was the sort of thing an angry cake shop owner would do. Nothing bad enough for him to get the police round, but just awkward enough to inconvenience him. Hmmm. He narrowed his eyes. He knew how this went. Small things. Snide comments, made in passing in voices quiet enough that they could pretend they hadn’t said anything. A push here. A shove there. Until you couldn’t bear it any longer and just wanted to die to get away.

Mal squared his shoulders. He had spent years getting over what his bullies had done to him at school. He was damned if he was going to let that happen again. Once he’d got his shop cleaned up, he was going to go over there and give that woman a piece of his mind.

Elodie was minding her own business. She wiped down the table before setting up for the day’s work. She had emailed Saffron her quotes and hadn’t heard back yet. She was trying not to pin her hopes onto this idea. If it worked out, it would be a great step up for the catering business. The cake that Saffron wanted was four tiers – two each of dark chocolate and white chocolate – with a collection of sugar paste flowers and fresh fruit on it, plus a massive number of cocktail-flavoured cupcakes decorated to match. All these would make a great showcase for her baking talent as well as her decorating skills. If she went into doing more wedding cakes, she could charge more. She could afford to give Marty more hours. Maybe buy a new fridge. No. No. She was getting ahead of herself now.

‘You’ve scrubbed that clean already,’ Marty said. ‘What’s distracting you?’

‘Nothing. Just thinking about Saffron and praying that she chooses me to do the catering for her wedding.’ She looked up at him. He was standing by the door, looking at the Man Buns shop again. She hadn’t noticed the baked beans on his shop window when she came in – she’d been looking at her phone, working out when she needed to deliver the order for that day. She had only noticed it later, when she’d glanced outside to see Mal, holding carry crates in his arms and staring at his own shop. She’d looked to see what he was staring at and spotted the mess. Then, when he turned towards her shop, she’d ducked. She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d done that. Mostly, she didn’t want to be caught watching him. Now it occurred to her that she should have gone out to talk to him. What if he thought she’d done it?

‘What’s distracting you?’ she asked Marty, as if she couldn’t guess.

‘He’s washed the windows and he’s sweeping down the path in front of the shop,’ said Marty. ‘I wonder what’s going on.’

‘Maybe he likes things really clean.’ Which would be a good thing. Not that she wanted to know good things about him. If Man Buns got shut down for bad hygiene, she’d have a chance at getting the lease on that place again. She shook her head, annoyed at herself for even thinking that.

Leon seemed to dislike Mal too. She could find out more about what happened between them.

‘Maybe,’ said Marty. ‘But he looks kind of stressed.’ He twiddled one of his necklaces. ‘I have a bad feeling about all this, Els.’

Elodie rolled her eyes.

‘Oh. Oh. He’s coming over.’ Marty darted into the kitchen, which was too small for a person to be moving at speed.

‘Marty!’

‘I have to look busy,’ he said. ‘I can’t look as if I’ve been standing at the door staring at his shop. He might think I’ve been ogling his customers.’

‘And he’d be right.’ She stepped around him. ‘Go out there and do your job, will you.’

The door opened and Mal marched in. He stood in the middle of her small shop front and folded his arms. ‘I’m not scared of you,’ he said.

She stared at him through the open door. ‘What?’

‘Someone vandalised my shop very early this morning,’ he said. ‘Would you know anything about that?’

She folded her arms too and lifted her chin. ‘Are you accusing me? I would never do that, I’ll have you know.’

‘I know you feel like I’ve somehow treated you unfairly, but this is ridiculous.’

How dare he? ‘What the hell are you on about? Don’t come into my shop and accuse me of things.’

‘Fine. Pretend you don’t know who threw beans at my shop. But please don’t do it again.’ He pointed a finger at her. He looked like he was barely controlling his anger. ‘I’m watching you.’

Well, she didn’t have to put up with this. ‘Get out of my shop.’

He spun on his heels and strode out of the shop. His hands were clenched by his sides.

Elodie stared after him and resisted the urge to throw something after him. ‘How dare he come in here and accuse me of things I haven’t done.’ She frowned. ‘What makes him think I had anything to do with it?’ She would never do that. She might think it. Maybe even threaten it in a temper, but she would never vandalise someone’s property.

‘Who throws baked beans at people’s shops anyway?’ she said. ‘What even is that?’

Marty was on his phone. ‘Exactly what it says on the tin,’ he said. ‘They throw beans. It’s been a thing lately. Here. Look.’ He turned the phone around. Someone had gone jogging and spotted the shop. ‘Looks like this guy spotted it not long after it was done. It’s still sliding off in places, look.’

‘That looks like it’s about 5 a.m.,’ said Elodie, who had spent enough nights working until the small hours to know what the arcade looked like at that time of day. ‘Whoever did it was out early.’ She peered over Marty’s shoulder as he watched it again. ‘Who would do that sort of thing?’

‘I dunno,’ said Marty, thoughtfully. ‘But I guess I can see how he might think it was you.’

‘How do you mean?’ She could guess, but she wanted to hear Marty say it. He might have a different take to her.

‘You were clearly cross with him about the lease. No one else has treated him like an enemy. So it’s not a huge jump to think that you might be petty enough to deface his shop in a small, but annoying way.’

She had been expecting it, but it was still shocking. ‘I would never!’ she said.

‘I know that,’ said Marty. ‘Especially not with the price of baked beans as they are. But he doesn’t know you. He might suspect you.’

‘That’s just jumping to stupid conclusions.’ It made her even angrier. ‘He’s so annoying. No wonder Leon hates him.’

‘Wait, what? Leon? The new boyfriend? How does he know Mal?’

‘He’s not my boyfriend. We met for coffee.’ She waved a dismissive hand. ‘He and Mal were at school together. They were friends, but Mal did something dastardly and now Leon hates him.’

‘Oooh. Juicy. What did he do?’

‘No idea. But that’s not the point. The point is, Mal is clearly a bad sort.’

Marty craned his neck so that he could peer through the door again. ‘Shame.’

Elodie paced up and down in the small space. ‘I’ve a good mind to go and tell him where to put his accusations.’

‘You know,’ said Marty. ‘I’d wait a bit. You’re both in a state of high emotion. Calm down before you go. Otherwise you’ll just end up shouting at each other again.’

She stopped pacing and considered. Her temper did get the better of her quite often. But she couldn’t let him carry on thinking she’d done it. She wasn’t having him brand her a vandal. ‘No. No. I don’t think I will do that.’ She started to untie her apron. ‘I’m going to go talk to him now.’

The door opened and Saffron arrived. Elodie froze mid-untying.

‘Hello,’ said Saffron. ‘How’s my favourite cake maker today?’

‘Saffron. Hi. How are you?’ She slowly retied her apron. How soon could she ask what Saffron thought about the suggested menu that she’d sent?

‘Ooh, those look pretty.’ Today’s cakes were wildflower themed – with poppies, cornflowers and oxeye daisies. ‘Can I film them?’ She whipped out her phone and was attaching the tripod as she spoke.

‘Oh. Yes. Sure.’

Saffron leaned over the counter and carefully panned the camera, holding it by the stem of the tripod. She looked up and said to Marty. ‘Could you hand me one and smile, like you’re selling it to me?’

Marty patted his hair. ‘Of course.’ He made a great show of putting on his gloves, picking out a cake with a poppy atop it and handing it to Saffron.

‘Perfect.’ Saffron dismantled the tripod and checked the video on her phone. ‘Wonderful. Thank you.’

‘Do you … actually want the cake?’ Marty asked.

‘No. Thank you.’

Elodie was ready to explode with impatience now. ‘So … did you get my email with the planned menu and the quote?’

‘Oh. Yes. That’s what I came to talk to you about. I have got your quote. I like what you’ve suggested, but I should probably run it past Jamie before I say anything. But I have some tweaks I want to make for the cake. Can we run through that?’ She pulled a small notebook out of her bag.

Elodie nodded. Going over to shout at Mal would have to wait. Business was business. The place was too small to have an office, so she said, ‘Would you like to sit in the kitchen while we talk? I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

‘Oh. That would be lovely. Have you got any peppermint or rooibos?’

It took Mal a while to calm down. His argument with the cake lady was still bouncing around his head as he served his morning customers.

He should report it to the police, but he felt faintly silly reporting that someone had thrown beans at his shop. He’d washed it off and it hadn’t left any lasting damage, but it was annoying.

He was glad he’d confronted the cake lady. He rolled his eyes. Of course she’d denied it. He should probably make a note of this so that he could make a case for sustained harassment if she did something like that again.

He was still jittery when Priya came in with Dilan.

‘Not at school today?’ he asked as Dilan made his way to a seat.

He waited for the answer.

‘Appointment,’ Dilan said. ‘I’m going back after lunch.’

‘I’ve got his packed lunch,’ his sister-in-law said. ‘But we thought we could buy one of your salad-type ones to eat in instead.’

‘Sure. Dilan, would you like to choose what you want?’ Mal passed a laminated menu, with the few options written in large print, across to his nephew. The same information was on the wall of the café.

He noticed the glance exchanged between mother and son and Priya’s small nod. While Dilan was choosing, Priya came to the counter.

‘I’ll have chicken and salad, please,’ she said. ‘Maybe some squash chips.’

‘Gotcha.’ He grabbed a plate and tongs and started to plate it up for her.

Priya leaned forward. ‘It’s so nice that he can just choose something off a menu. It’s not something he gets to do very often.’

He smiled and glanced at his nephew, who was still staring at the menu. He finished plating up Priya’s meal, checked which sauces she wanted and rang it up on the till.

‘How are things going?’ she asked.

Mal made a face. ‘We’re not exactly overrun with customers,’ he said, ‘but we’re starting to get a few people coming in before work to grab a low-carb lunch.’ He tried to avoid phrases like ‘healthy’ because what was healthy for one person may not be for someone else. He was a keen advocate for the ketogenic lifestyle, but he knew that it wasn’t for everyone.

‘Oh, and we had a spot of light vandalism early this morning.’

Priya looked alarmed. ‘What happened?’

He explained and she looked worried. Dilan, who must have been listening, said, ‘It’s a thing now. On TikTok.’

Both adults turned to stare at him.

‘There’s a TikTok meme.’ Dilan shrugged.

Priya turned to Mal. ‘Are you on TikTok?’

‘No.’

There was a snort from Dilan. ‘Have you seen him dance?’

‘Oi, cheeky,’ said Mal. ‘Have you chosen your lunch yet?’

Dilan paused to grin at him, then said, ‘I’ll have the quiche please. And salad with mayo and …’ He frowned. ‘Can I have the cheese crisps, Mum?’

Priya shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, darling. Unless you have more mayonnaise to make up the fat.’

‘I’ll have it without crisps then,’ Dilan said, wearily, as though his meal was being dictated by his mother rather than his medical diet.

‘So, do you know who did it?’ Priya asked.

‘I have my suspicions.’ He glanced at the cake shop.

‘It could be some randos,’ said Dilan. ‘Trying to be cool.’

Mal frowned, doubt creeping in for the first time. He had jumped to the conclusion that it had been Elodie’s fault rather quickly, hadn’t he? He didn’t have any actual proof, only that she had looked suspicious when she ducked out of sight that morning. What if it wasn’t her? What if it really was some random kids …? He groaned. He’d marched over there and accused her. How embarrassing if he was wrong.

‘What?’ said Dilan.

‘Nothing. I just … went over there and accused the cake lady of defacing my shop …’ he said, with a grimace. ‘The light was on in the shop when I got here and I saw someone duck out of sight in there when I looked.’

‘You assumed?’ Dilan sucked his teeth. ‘See, this wise man once told me that you shouldn’t assume things because it makes an ass out of you … Who said that now? … Oh wait, it was you.’

Mal shook his head, just as Priya said, ‘Don’t be cheeky to your uncle.’

Dilan shrugged. ‘If the cap fits.’

‘I suppose I should go and apologise …’ said Mal.

‘Unless she did do it,’ said Dilan.

Which was a good point.

‘Don’t you have CCTV you can check?’

‘I don’t think so. It’s not a very modern arcade … Besides, it’s only some baked beans. I shouldn’t have overreacted.’ Blast it. He would have to swallow his pride and go and apologise. A movement outside caught his eye. Elodie was walking past, carrying a white box, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she marched along, her gaze furiously focused straight ahead.

‘I’ll go back and talk to her later. When we’ve both had time to calm down.’

He started plating up Dilan’s lunch. Talking about Elodie made him think of Leon. ‘I ran into a former friend yesterday,’ Mal said to Priya.

Dilan frowned, puzzled. ‘What’s a former friend?’

‘This guy, Leon. He was my best friend at school for a while,’ Mal explained. ‘Back when I was still fat. He was fat too and we kind of bonded over adversity.’

Dilan gave him a look that was bordering on pity. ‘That’s a weird thing to base a friendship on.’

‘Dilan,’ his mother admonished.

‘What happened?’ Dilan said. Priya seemed invested too.

‘I decided to join the gym and get stronger and trimmer … and he felt like I’d left him behind. I started hanging out with Jake more and with one thing or another, we fell out. So he’s a former friend now.’

‘That sucks that you got picked on just for being fat,’ said Dilan.

Mal studied his nephew for a moment and felt a wave of protectiveness. ‘People are scared of what they don’t understand.’

Dilan met his eye. ‘I know.’ Dilan was lucky in that he had some good friends around him, but Mal knew that things were thrown Dilan’s way. Being disabled and Asian meant that Dilan stood out in two different ways. Thankfully, his nephew had the self-confidence and the support of enough people that he could navigate life with equanimity. Not everyone was so lucky.

Mal placed Dilan’s lunch in front of him and handed him the cutlery, holding it out for a few seconds so that Dilan had time to work out his grip. ‘Times were different twenty years ago.’

‘Don’t tell me. You didn’t waste your life on social media.’ Dilan rolled his eyes.

‘I’m not that old,’ said Mal.

Priya leaned forward. ‘So what happened when you met up again? Was it okay?’

‘It was a little awkward, to be honest.’ Mal thought back to their conversation outside the coffee shop. ‘He’s doing well, by the looks of things. He had a weird look in his eyes though, like he was still cross.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Priya.

‘Is it?’ said Mal. ‘I still feel a bit bad for having left him to be picked on by himself.’

‘It was years ago.’

‘True. But still.’ He gestured to the shop across the arcade. ‘I think he’s dating Elodie.’

Priya turned to look and swung back again. ‘The cake lady?’

Dilan chuckled. ‘The plot thickens. It’s like watching a really tame episode of Death in Paradise where no one actually dies.’

‘Yes, thank you, Dilan.’

‘I don’t mind. It’s very funny.’ He took his phone out and started carefully tapping.

‘Don’t post about me on social media,’ Mal said, alarmed. ‘I don’t want the trolls to have any more ammunition against me or my shop.’

Dilan gave him an injured look. ‘I would never post anything without your consent.’ His brow furrowed. ‘What trolls?’

Mal waved a hand, as though he didn’t really care. ‘Apparently, Jamie’s fiancée posted about the shop and said something about toxic masculinity.’ Jamie had apologised when he saw him at the gym. Mal hadn’t really paid attention because he didn’t do social media and didn’t see any of the comments anyway. ‘I guess I should tell him about the vandalism. Maybe his fiancée will delete the post when she realises that there’s real-world consequences.’

Dilan frowned and ate his lunch, one hand still on his phone.

A couple of customers came in, so Mal served them. When the customers had left again Priya sighed and pushed away her plate. ‘That was delicious, Mal. Unfortunately, now I want cake.’ She caught sight of Dilan. ‘Sorry, darling.’

Dilan gave her a world-weary look. ‘It’s fine, Mum.’ He looked over his shoulder, turning awkwardly. ‘I could have one of these brownies … and you could go get a cake. If that’s allowed.’ He glanced at Mal.

‘I don’t mind,’ said Mal. ‘The cake lady might be the bane of my life, but I’ve heard good things about her cakes.’

Priya looked longingly at the other shop. ‘But I feel disloyal.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Mal. ‘If she hadn’t been so aggressive from the start, I might have suggested that we team up a bit and I send people who want cake across to her. That way, the people from the gym could come over with their non-keto partners and have a coffee together.’ He already knew that some of the guys diligently picked up their lunches from his shop every day of the week, then bought a cake from Elodie on Fridays.

‘Are you sure?’ Priya asked her son.

‘I will eat my delicious brownie,’ said Dilan, pointedly.

Mal took the hint and got up to get Dilan a brownie. Priya dithered a bit more and left to get herself a cake.

‘She feels bad because she takes Nilupa out for tea and cake sometimes,’ said Dilan. ‘She can’t take me because she feels bad eating stuff that I can’t have.’

Mal placed the dessert in front of his nephew. ‘Does it bother you?’

He had made keto cheesecakes for Dilan’s birthday cake for years. It meant that everyone could have a slice of birthday cake – albeit a very fat-heavy one. He had tried to make cakes that felt like non-keto cakes, but that was difficult, especially when some of Dilan’s friends couldn’t have nuts. Fruity cheesecakes worked well.

Most of the recipes he’d perfected for the café had been enthusiastically taste-tested by Dilan at some point.

‘Not really,’ said Dilan. ‘It’s not like there’s another choice, is there?’ He waved a hand to indicate the café. ‘This is great though. Is it okay if me and my friends come here sometimes? Mum might be okay with it since you’re here and I’m not out alone.’ He dabbed his mouth with a napkin. ‘She worries too much. I am nearly thirteen.’

Mal nodded slowly. ‘If you want to do that, I will support you.’ He knew that Priya worried about Dilan wanting to do things that other kids did. If his friends wanted to hang around in the café at the weekend, Mal didn’t really mind. ‘You’ll have to come when it’s not busy though.’

‘Or buy some food,’ said Dilan. ‘We’re not stupid. We know you have a business to run.’

Mal laughed. That he did. Sometimes he needed to be reminded.

‘Actually,’ Dilan said. ‘While Mum’s out. Is this the TikTok you were talking about?’

Mal went over and peered over his shoulder. A very glossy woman was speaking to the camera. ‘This is the patriarchy in action. My lovely friend was all set to try and get a lease on this shop, she’d had her eye on it for years.’ The image swung round to show the storefront of Man Buns. You could see Mal, talking to a male customer, inside the shop. ‘She was part of the community already,’ the TikTokker continued. ‘But these guys … they knew the owner from the gym and they just made a shady deal between them. How are women-owned businesses supposed to compete with that sort of thing?’

Mal looked out of the window. ‘From the angle she was filming, she must have been standing in front of the cake shop.’

‘There’s hundreds of comments,’ Dilan said. ‘All about the patriarchy and toxic masculinity.’

Mal stared across the corridor at the cake shop. ‘Do you think that’s what caused someone to throw beans at us? I mean, even if it wasn’t her …’ He was much less convinced now that she was the one who had actually thrown the beans. ‘She encouraged them.’

‘She really is all the bad things to you,’ said Dilan, sadly.

‘Yep.’ Mal nodded. What he didn’t know was what he was going to do about it.

‘You know,’ said Dilan, thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps you need more of a social media presence. Where you can talk about all the non-toxic stuff you and Jake do, making the guys talk about their self-image and mental health and stuff. And how your café is a friendly and welcoming place for the disabled community.’

Mal laughed. ‘I wouldn’t even know where to start.’

‘That’s where I come in,’ said Dilan. ‘You could hire me to do your social media for you.’

This time Mal laughed properly. He had to admire the level of hustle. ‘I don’t think I can afford you.’

Dilan stared thoughtfully at his phone. ‘I’m just starting out. I’ll give you mates’ rates.’

‘Mates’ rates?’

When Priya came back with her cupcake, they were still negotiating.