Christmas at the Cupcake Café

After a tense ten minutes, it was arranged that Issy could go back on a flight leaving very early the next morning. Just one more night to go.

‘Do you want to go out?’ said Austin.

‘I think I’m finally going to have that nice bath,’ said Issy, trying to paste a smile on her face and stop her voice from wobbling, though she didn’t quite succeed. ‘Then an early night; I’m going to be up to my eyeballs when I get back to the café.’

‘Yeah,’ said Austin. ‘OK.’

But as they lay together in the huge, comfortable soft white bed, listening to the distant honks and whoops of the traffic, there was not the faintest possibility of sleep. Instead Issy cried; great silent tears, dripping down into her pillow. She tried not to make a sound or disturb Austin, until he turned over and realised her pillow was wet.

‘Oh my darling,’ he said, holding her tight and stroking her hair. ‘My love. We’ll work it out.’

‘How?’ said Issy, sobbing. ‘How?’

But Austin didn’t have an answer to that. Either way, it seemed, would leave one of them very unhappy. Which in the long run would leave them both unhappy; that much he understood. He sighed again. Why did life have to throw up speed bumps when they seemed to be running happily along? And this, he thought, stroking Issy’s soft dark hair, this was a big one. Their tears mingled together on the expensive pillowcases.

Pearl had finally thrown up her hands and admitted defeat. She had phoned Caroline and asked her to come in early.

Caroline had turned up and tutted at the state of the place. Then she had made a call of her own.

‘Perdita! Chop chop!’ she had shouted at the pleasant-faced middle-aged woman who’d arrived, slightly frightened-looking, three quarters of an hour later. Perdita had instantly started scrubbing everything down from top to bottom, as Caroline briskly went through the figures.

‘One thing divorce does is make it very easy to read a balance sheet, see where all the money’s gone,’ she growled.

Pearl was still gazing at Perdita. ‘She’s your cleaner? How can you have a cleaner and still come to work in a café?’

‘Because Richard is an evil cunning bastard,’ said Caroline. ‘I’ve told you this before.’

Pearl eyed her shrewdly. ‘But you must be getting close to a settlement now,’ she observed. ‘It’s been dragging on for years.’

‘Pearl, you’re a terrific salesperson and a wonderful organiser in the café, but your paperwork is a dog’s dinner and you bake like a wookie,’ said Caroline tightly, ignoring her. ‘Division of labour should have been sorted out properly before Issy flounced off.’

‘She didn’t exactly flounce off,’ said Pearl. ‘Caroline, I have a theory about you; do you want to hear it?’

‘If it’s about my astonishing self-control when it comes to food, I’ll just tell you again, nothing tastes as good as skinny fee—’

‘Nope,’ said Pearl. ‘That’s bullshit. No, here is my theory: I think you work here because you like it.’

‘Like it? Working? In a job a robot will probably be doing in two years’ time? In a job that persistently refuses to recognise my creative interior design and organisational skills and insists on putting me in front of the general bloody public after I’ve already been a major player in the corporate world? Yeah, right. Perdita, you’ve missed a bit. And sort out the skirting while you’re down there.’

‘Yeah,’ said Pearl. ‘I reckon you really do like it.’

Caroline glanced at her out of the corner of her eye.

‘Don’t you ever dare tell a bloody soul. PERDITA! Did you bring those bags I asked you? Well, if it takes two runs at it, it takes two runs; just bring them in, would you?’

Perdita soon came in weighed down with two suitcases.

‘What the hell is in there?’ said Pearl.

‘Aha!’ said Caroline.

Maya arrived just afterwards, arm in arm with a girl with very short hair.

‘Hi,’ she said happily to everyone, beaming her lovely smile. ‘This is Rachida. Rachida, this is Pearl and Caroline. They are being very patient with me.’

Pearl raised an eyebrow, feeling guilty because she had not been in the least bit patient.

‘I’ve had her up all night practising,’ said Rachida. ‘Our friends have got a cappuccino machine. She’s got it down to six seconds.’

‘Thank you,’ said Caroline. ‘Do your friends do bookkeeping too?’

‘Shut up,’ said Pearl, looking at Maya and Rachida.

Rachida left, kissing Maya full on the lips as she did so. Maya took off her coat and hung it up behind the door, unconcerned. ‘See you tonight!’ she yelled cheerfully. Then she turned round.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘I reckon I’m ready.’

Pearl smiled a huge wide smile at her, ridiculously cross at how pleased she was.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘Go bring up that new tray of mince pies. Surely I got them right sixth time out.’ And Pearl started to slightly relax, leaning behind the counter and turning on the stereo. ‘Deck the Hall with Boughs of Holly’ came thundering out of the sound system, and she found herself joining in on the falalas. She must need sleep, she thought.

Issy cried all the way to the airport in the cab. She cried as she sat in the posh lounge, where she completely wasn’t in the mood to sample any of the luxury treats. She cried all six hours across the Atlantic, pausing only to watch Sleepless in Seattle so at least it seemed like she had an excuse. She cried all the way back on the Heathrow Express and all the way back up the Victoria Line and all the way across town on the number 73.

Then she pulled herself together and walked into the café.

She stopped, and gasped. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t really noticed from the outside; there were a lot of people with their faces pressed up against the glass, but she hadn’t really taken it in. But here, inside, the entire place was transformed.

Snow lined the fireplace, which was thickly wreathed with ivy. Ivy also hung down in garlands from the ceiling, linking up so the café appeared to have trees growing out of it. Every table had a display of silver ferns and holly, and there was a huge wreath on the door, so the entire place felt like an enchanted forest. Most remarkable of all, however, was that some space had been cleared in the windows, taking out their display box. In its place was a snowy landscape, complete with white hills and a little wooden town, lit up with tiny lampposts. Figures were tobogganing down the hills; there was a school with children playing outside, a hotel with ladies in ballgowns descending the steps, and several cosily lit houses, and round it all ran a dinky steam train, with carriages with tiny people inside them. There was a station with a station master waving a flag and blowing a whistle, and vintage cars parked outside, and tucked behind the highest of the hills, against a backdrop painted with stars, was Santa Claus on his sleigh with all his reindeer. It was utterly enchanting.