‘You know how first dates are? We barely scratched the surface.’ She takes a breath. ‘If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing. Otherwise what’s the point?’
‘Once they’re gone, they’re gone.’ If she starts saying she’s doing this for me, I might just scream.
She picks me up straight away. ‘What’sthatgot to do with anything?’
I smile. ‘Nothing. It’s another of those sayings that doesn’t mean anything.’
I can sense her eyebrows going up. ‘On the contrary, they say “once they’re gone, they’re gone” all the time in those upmarket bakeries to make their over-priced cakes sell faster.’
‘In which case, I might have picked it up subliminally on Stoke Newington Church Street. Or in Islington.’ Now she’s nudged my memory, it was actually Hot Cakes, in Notting Hill, at a time when I was randomly wandering around London trying to find anything to make the time pass after Dillon left. I queued for forty minutes outside a tiny backstreet shop for a feta puff dredged in icing sugar that lasted three bites and cost six quid. It was so unexpectedly gloriousto find something delicious when it felt like I’d never enjoy anything ever again, I went back three Sundays running.
She carries on. ‘They were talking about those bakery places in Force10 Hair when I had my last layer cut done. You could try that with your puddings – why not put them on Facebook?’
This is the thing about Mum. Not only does she effortlessly pick up what’s bang on trend. But over and over, she also cuts through the crap and gets straight to the heart of what matters.
‘Genius, Mum, thanks. I might do that.’ There’s the small problem that the ice cream would melt, but it’s nice she cares enough to make suggestions.
‘Don’t thank me, you’re the one who brought it up.’ She hesitates. ‘I’ll have to go, Michael’s here measuring up for the plantation shutters.’
I can’t help feeling a twinge of embarrassment that the stuff my mum is doing is so much cooler than me. She also has an army of super-skilled tradesmen she calls on who all ooze charm and good looks.
‘Which one is Michael?’
‘Like Robert Redford. But more sexy and achievable.’
As she ends the call I’m left with one burning question: if she wants a boyfriend and Michael is all that –why isn’t she datinghim?
28
The Hideaway, St Aidan
Stampedes and a sugar rush
Tuesday
Who knew nervous baking was a thing? Having had the thirty-second chat with Mum that told me nothing but left me so I can’t sit still, I headed for the kitchen and made two batches of M&M cookies, and a double batch of brownies, and afterwards I felt a whole lot calmer.
Then I spend a soothing evening drooling over pictures of baking on Insta, and by nine I’m back in the kitchen. This time I do a blondie tray bake try-out and a carrot cake with a wiggly cream cheese topping and only then do I feel tired enough to curl up with Shadow and go to sleep.
It’s only after our walk along to Comet Cove the next morning, as I’m slicing it into slabs, that the extent of my over-production hits me.
The cookies and brownies are destined for next door, but as I’m off to Kit’s shortly for my first morning of work the rest are homeless for now. As I get out my phone to take a couple of photos of the baked goods with Ivy’s chequered linen napkins, I’m thinking about my chat with Mum. Clemmie and Nell are always raving about the St Aidan FacebookFor sale and wantedpage, and if I’m serious about getting myself out there, I have very little to lose. It takes a few seconds to write my post and upload my photos, and a moment later it’s live.
Take a stroll to the Little Cornish Kitchen Beach Hut, and serve yourself.
Today’s treats: Bakewell blondies and pecan and carrot cake
FlorenceMay@TheHideaway
ONCE THEY’RE GONE, THEY’RE GONE!
ENJOY!
All that’s left to do is to put them on trays under glass domes on the steps to the deck, with serviettes, price tickets and a money jar. And then I’m ready to go to Kit’s.
As Shadow and I arrive at Latitude One ten minutes later the door opens for us as we cross the porch. I stride past Rye and down the studio, put my bags on the desk and smile at Kit, who is slumped in a leather sling chair balancing a pencil on his finger.
‘So how are you guys this morning?’
