Nell gives me a bump with her elbow. ‘Are you and Ross going to have a go then?’
I jump a yard across the kitchen. ‘Absolutely not! I’ve got three lots of icing to make – immediately!’ I nod at the sink stacked high with mixing bowls. ‘And if Ross has offered to wash up there’s plenty to keep him busy too.’ And this really isn’t me trying to keep him out of the action with Fi and Tash, who are both really pretty even when their faces are covered in chocolate buttercream. Ross can rub noses with who the hell he likes; if I’m feeling slightly queasy here, it’s down to the shock of my evening coming so close to careering off the rails, not the threat of Ross ending up with his tongue in someone’s ear.
I’m staring at the crumbs and icing lumps landing on the gingham tablecloth, mentally moving on to the next problem. ‘How does polished limestone stand up to grease?’
Plum takes hold of my shoulders and turns me round. ‘Leave the floor to me! You sort your icing and fill your piping bags; you’re going to have six very hyped hands-on bakers to help you soon.’ Her face splits into a smile as there’s another whoop from under the saucepan rack. ‘It’s turning into a brilliant evening.’
That’s the funny thing; once everyone starts having a great time the rest matters less. No one minded that I overcooked some of the chocolate cupcakes because we’d all gone out onto the terrace to watch the sun go down. And Josh insisting on icing warm cakes instead of waiting for them to cool showed everyone why it was a bad idea when his buttercream melted to a puddle. But the time whizzed by, and before we’d reached the end of my playlist, we were giving Chloé her special hostess mixing bowl, and waving the rest of them out onto the street.
‘Six very happy customers there.’ Nell’s patting me on the back as Plum and Sophie put the last of the boxes into the car.
As I try to get this into perspective for myself, I suspect she’s exaggerating. ‘On the up side, they all wanted aprons and piping bags too.’
Sophie gives my arm a squeeze. ‘The merchandising opportunities are fabulous, aren’t they?’
Ross comes out with the last of the rubbish bags. ‘And we’re doing it all over again in two days’ time?’
‘We are?’ I’m buzzing, but if they’re as shattered as me, they might not be up for it. And in any case, Ross was here for one night only.
Sophie, Nell and Plum all chorus together: ‘For sure we are! For you and for Kittiwake. We’ll go with the same arrangements until you take off properly.’
Ross gives a shrug. ‘Another night, another kitchen. We might need to ask if Charlie has a larger vehicle.’
If we were still talking I might tell him he won’t be needed. But I’m guessing that’s our truce over, so I’ll have to leave that to Sophie. While she and Plum get a lift back to the harbour with Ross, I go back to Nell’s to pick up Diesel and walk him home.
As Diesel and I pass Charlie’s car on the way back to Seaspray Cottage I stop to pick up the first of the bags to carry back to the flat. As the cottage is quite a way from the harbour I’m counting on taking the whole of tomorrow morning to unload. But instead I find the boot’s completely empty, and when I get up the stairs to the flat everything’s neatly stacked in the kitchen.
I know I love doing things my way. But just this once it’s been so good to have some help. As for how long this will last – after a couple of nights as chaotic as tonight, the word will get around and the evenings may well die a natural death. But at least I’ve got enough in the coffers to keep me in cocoa for the next few days.
13
On St Aidan beach
Principles, climb-downs and online dating
Monday afternoon
By the end of the weekend I have two more Cressy Cupcake evenings behind me, but none of them have been what I’d count as a proper success. A new venue and a different group every time make it impossible to anticipate the pitfalls, and they’ve each had their own set of quirks and disasters.
Friday’s was in a tiny cottage with a group of women who were as lively as Chloé’s group were quiet. But where Chloé’s place was spacious, this one was so small there was barely room to lift a cocktail glass let alone a piping bag. Mostly I remember hysterical laugher, gallons of Tequila Sunrise, and people falling off chairs. No one took their handouts away. In terms of learning outcomes they might as well have stayed at home and eaten Häagen-Dazs.
By contrast Saturday’s group was mixed but horribly grown up. They waved away the fizz and drank iced water with lemon twists instead. Then they wrote down every word I said in personalised notebooks, fired questions at me faster thanMastermindand insisted on an impromptu competition for the neatest in-class piping! They were so fun-averse that the cakes on strings game got pushed right to the end, but when they came to that they were so competitive it was like a scene fromFight Club.
I was hoping to build demand from recommendations, but if any of this lot spread the word people will run a mile rather than sign up. The exciting thing about trying new things is the surprises; the evenings may be about to fizzle to nothing, but seeing the public face to face for the first time has highlighted how much they love baking accessories.
So on Monday afternoon I nip to the fabric shop in town with Diesel to check out the cost of having some customised aprons made up. Shop owner Helen is one of those people who goes the extra mile and works really fast. Once she’d given Diesel some fuss and a treat she whipped out some bales of lovely stripy fabric and took thirty seconds to help me decide which two would work best. She’s coming back to me later with a special friends-and-family-rate price.
Obviously I need to get more cash up-front to cover this, which brings me to my next venture. Over the weekend I joined the St Aidan For Sale and Wanted Facebook group; it has posts for everything from friendly electricians to second-hand bridesmaid dresses, and from the speed the vintage dressing table disappeared it gets lots of traffic.
As I spent yesterday doing more recipe testing for what I’m now calling my speculative book project, I’ve got a kitchen overflowing with tray bakes. So I ran my prices past Sophie and just before I came out I posted a photo in the group with a little post offering variety bake boxes, for collection from Seaspray Cottage.
As Diesel and I make our way back from town and down to the beach for our afternoon walk I tap the pocket where my phone is. ‘This has to be better than a stall in the garden, Diesel. All we have to do now is wait for the Facebook messages.’
As we walk along the bay I’m throwing pebbles into the shallows for Diesel to chase, and he’s splashing about as he tries to find them. But mostly I’m anticipating the tell-tale vibration on my ribs saying I’ve got mail.
When we’ve walked all the way to Comet Cove and back without a peep, I can’t help but share my disappointment. ‘People in St Aidan obviously don’t like cake as much as we thought, Diesel.’
My hope is fading as we wind our way back up to the flat, then I glimpse Ross from the landing window and my heart sinks as far as my Converse. ‘Damn, now we’ll have to grab some dinner supplies and make a dash for the bedroom.’
