She looked online again and saw that other cake makers had had this idea. But instead of sitting the glider on the cake, she would suspend it over the cake, from the corner. Yes! She was happy. She’d work out the engineering later.
She rang Helena. ‘Hi, darling, I know you’re busy but I’m going shopping. Is there anything particular you’d like or shall I just get what I think you need?’
‘Oh, Mum! You read my mind! Jago has done all the housekeeping lately and it would be wonderful if I contributed something. I’ll pay you back.’
‘We’ll discuss payment later. Shall I drop it round to you? Or will you pick it up?’
‘I’ll wait until Jago goes out and then pop over. It’ll be nice to have a break and some company.
But it wasn’t until a few days after Gilly had rung that Helena finally got over to see her. She knew her mother would have put everything in the fridge and possibly made a lasagne or something as well. With garlic bread. She was also looking forward to a long hot bath in her mother’s bathroom, with her mother’s bath products. Washing arrangements in Jago’s house were still a bit primitive.
Although she had kept up her rate of work since the Springtime Show, she was beginning to lose hope that she’d have enough work to fill a stall respectably at the World of Wool. She had a good reputation as a weaver which meant all sorts of people would go to that event just to see what she was doing these days. There’d be fellow weavers, teachers, potential customers and just friends – she had to have enough good work or she might as well phone in sick. This was not something that self-employed artists could ever do! Jago had suggested wall hangings but she found herself completely lacking in inspiration. She wanted to display workshe believed in, even if it was different from what she usually did.
She came into her old home through the back door to see her mother frowning at something on the kitchen table. Ulysses, the cat, was shut in his cat basket. As he quite often slept in there through choice this wasn’t actually cruel but this time the door was closed. This was unusual. She went over to the kitchen table on which was an enormous cake.
‘Mum? What is this? And what is it supposed to be?’
‘Can’t you tell? I’ve had to shut Uly up in case his hairs got in it.’ Her mother sounded tired and disappointed.
Helena looked at the cake a bit more carefully. ‘Oh! I get it now! It’s a landscape, from above. And you’ve put in all the fields and hedges and the river. And the mountains. It’s amazing! It’s just like when we were little and you made us such brilliant cakes. I love your hedgerows made out of chocolate flakes. I don’t like those shop-made cakes that are all smooth and professional but you know they won’t taste nice.’
‘I’m not a big fondant-icing fan either,’ said Gilly, looking more relaxed now.
‘Look!’ said Helena. ‘There’s a little caravan. Do you remember the caravan cake you made me for my Sylvanian Families? And a duck pond! With little ducklings!’
‘I did get a bit carried away, I must admit. Once I’d started I couldn’t stop adding detail.’
‘You are so talented! You should enterBake Off.’
‘It’s only a cake! Now, find yourself a towel in the airing cupboard and have your bath. I’ll make you an omelette when you come down.’
‘A Mummy-omelette! Yes please. Jago’s out or I’d have brought him round for one, too.’
‘Has he gone anywhere nice?’ asked Gilly.
‘Just a meeting, I think. He didn’t seem overjoyed to be going.’
‘Oh,’ said Gilly. ‘You go and have your bath then. I’ll see how you’re doing before I start cooking.’
Helena gave her mother a hug before going upstairs.
She turned on the taps and went to hunt for a towel in the walk-in airing cupboard. She wanted to find a non-B & B towel so her mother wouldn’t have to wash it immediately when something right at the back on the bottom shelf drew her attention. It was a Harrods carrier bag and seeing it brought back a flood of memories. She pulled it out and saw that yes, it did still contain what she thought it did. Several old fleeces, dyed in eye-popping colours, rolled together in a felted mass. She’d forgotten about them but now she remembered the day she’d dyed them, thinking she was going to spin and then weave them. And here they were, in her mother’s airing cupboard, as vibrant as they were when they went in.
She got in the bath and lay there, as always her thoughts becoming more creative as the hot water did its work. She thought of her mother’s cake – in theory it was a crazy idea but actually, it was lovely. Why didn’t she make a wall hanging of a landscape from above? She could use the fleece. She could do another as a cross section of a piece of land, like a piece of cake. (She realised it had been ages since she’d had a good bit of cake!) And the cross section, starting from the bottom up, could show all the strata and layers of the earth ending with a hedge and possibly sky and clouds as the top layer. Once she’d worked out a pattern it should be quick to do. Fleece was lovely and fat! It would take up lots of space.
When she went downstairs later wearing her mother’s dressing gown and smelling of her bath products she was excited.
The kitchen was no longer taken up by cake and a sulky Ulysses now sat in front of the range cooker, the end of his tail flicking with resentment.
‘Mum – I’ve had a brilliant idea! I want to borrow your idea of a landscape from above. Wouldn’t it be a wonderful wall hanging? And then I thought I’d do a cross section of the earth too. Just a slice, obviously. Once I’ve worked out what I need to do it’ll be quite quick to make, I think.’
‘Oh?’ Gilly held the bread knife over the loaf, waiting for Helena to explain further.
‘I found that bag of fleeces I dyed when I was in college. They were in the airing cupboard. Not only are they amazingly bright colours, fleece is really fat—’
‘—and so will take up lots of lovely space? Darling, it sounds brilliant. Now, omelette coming up. Why don’t you stay the night and then you can have wine with it.’
‘And we can watch property porn on telly? I’ve been working so hard I’ve hardly had any time off. That would be lovely! I’ll just text Jago to tell him not to expect me home.’
