Christmas at the Cupcake Café

‘They would miss me,’ said Caroline. ‘I think they would miss their mother, wouldn’t they? Achilles is only five.’

‘They would,’ said Issy, from bitter experience. ‘Of course they would. It’s ridiculous. He’s being completely unreasonable.’

‘I know!’ said Caroline, bawling. ‘What am I going to do?’

‘Hang on,’ said Issy, straightening up. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

Caroline glanced up at her, her tear-stained face almost unrecognisable.

‘What?’

‘Why don’t you just tell Richard to go screw himself? Say, sod off, Richard, they’re not going to boarding school. You can send them to the local school! Louis goes there, it’s great.’

Caroline paused for a second. Then she fell once more into massive gobbing sobs.

Pearl and Louis came in, tinging the bell.

‘What’s up with Princess Twinkle?’ asked Pearl.

‘Don’t ask,’ said Issy. ‘I mean it. Really. Don’t ask.’

‘Don’t be sad, Caroline,’ said Louis, reaching up to stroke her fur wrap. ‘I like your wolf.’

‘Please don’t touch, Louis,’ Caroline managed between sobs. ‘It was very expensive.’

Louis turned round to Issy. ‘ISSY!’ he yelled. ‘I MOST FORGOT! IT’S SNOWING!’

Issy glanced up at the windows. Sure enough, in the early-morning gloom, the little lamppost next to the tree showed up the flakes that had silently begun to drift down into the little alleyway.

‘Oh, so it is!’ said Issy, almost forgetting her tiredness in her delight. ‘Isn’t that gorgeous!’

‘Can you come out to play in it with me?’ said Louis, grabbing her hand.

‘I can’t, my love,’ said Issy. ‘But I can make you a hot chocolate.’

Louis smiled. ‘YAY!’ He turned to Pearl.

‘CHRISTMAS! It’s snowing! It’s snowing! It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas! YAY!’

Pearl half smiled. ‘All right, all right,’ she said. ‘It’s going to take us four hours to get home tonight, that’s all I can say. Let’s get that hot chocolate warmed up.’

As they bustled around, cleaning, scrubbing, baking and generally getting the shop ready for the first of their chilled, hungry customers, Louis stayed with his face pressed against the glass. It was barely light at all, with the blizzard and the clouds so close to the ground. People passing by on the main road had their scarves over their mouths and their hats pulled down over their eyes, and were leaning in to the wind at an angle, grimly set on their destinations. It was an extraordinarily cold storm out there.

‘I might take some samples out to the bus stop,’ said Issy, bringing up a huge tray of sticky gingerbread. ‘More of a mission of mercy than anything else.’

‘MAMMA!’ shouted Louis suddenly, his chubby little finger pressed up against the glass, his breath forming a cloud of condensation on the window. ‘MAMMA!’

Pearl rushed over and followed his finger.

‘Jesus Lord Almighty,’ she said, and without stopping to grab her coat, ran out of the shop.

Issy and Caroline were right behind her.

‘What on earth …?’

When you opened the door, you realised how freezing and horrible it was outside; a true maelstrom, with flakes swirling every way, blinding you. The cold grabbed you with a metal grip; the wind bit at your throat.

Pearl’s heavy figure was lumbering over to the other side of the alleyway. Issy was just behind her, and gasped when she realised what it was Louis had spotted.

Standing just behind the now bare tree was a small boy, younger than Louis. He was in his bare feet, wearing nothing but slightly grubby cream pyjamas with fire engines on them. His hair was blond and standing straight upright, and he was crying his eyes out.

Pearl scooped the little thing up in her arms like he was nothing, and they all rushed back inside. Louis was excited at his discovery.

‘I found the boy, Issy,’ he said importantly.

Issy was horrified. She had dashed out on to the main road, expecting to see a terrified mother running up and down searching frantically for her little boy, but there was just the usual queue of frozen-looking early commuters. She said hello to her friend Linda and asked if she’d seen anyone looking for a child. Everyone had looked confused, but shaken their heads. Issy told them that if anyone did come looking for him, he was safe with them, then dashed back to the shop.

Old Mrs Hanowitz, one of their regular customers, was at the door already. She gasped when she saw the little boy, in his cream-coloured pyjamas, cradled in Pearl’s arms.

‘The Christkind,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Look at him.’

She came closer and put her fingers through his golden curls.

‘A child at Christmas,’ she whispered.

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Pearl. ‘This child is lost. What’s your name, sweetheart?’

By the time Issy got back, the child was wrapped up warmly in a tartan blanket that normally sat on the back of one of the old leather sofas. The child, who looked to be barely eighteen months, seemed too shocked even to cry. He grabbed the label on the blanket and started to rub it gently between his thumb and forefinger, then stuck his other thumb in his mouth. He looked rather comfortable.

‘He needs a cake,’ said Louis. ‘And an Advent chocolate. OH NO, THERE AREN’T ANY, AUNT ISSY.’

‘Louis, hush about that stupid Advent calendar,’ said Issy. ‘It’s not going to get chocolate in it.’

‘It is a very sad Advent calendar,’ observed Louis.

Pearl sat down on the sofa with the boy still wrapped up in the blanket. Issy tried to tempt him with a piece of gingerbread, but he wasn’t terribly interested in it, preferring to stare around the room with wide eyes. His little feet were blue; he was wearing no socks or slippers.

‘I’ll call the police,’ said Issy. ‘Someone must be going frantic.’ She glanced out of the window again into the blizzard. ‘Where are they, though?’ she said. ‘Unless he’s come from miles away.’

‘What’s your name?’ Pearl asked again, but it elicited no response. Then Louis came forward.

‘What is your name, baby boy?’ he asked kindly. ‘Can you talk, baby?’