Christmas at the Cupcake Café

Caroline snatched the card before Issy could even raise her hand.

‘Will do! Mwah! Mwah!’

As Abigail departed, to a kiss from Louis, wearing her beard, Caroline turned round in triumph.

‘What just happened?’ asked Issy wearily.

‘Best-decorated shop! I KNEW we could win it. I think it was probably my clever trompe l’oeil tinsel.’

‘I’m sure it was,’ said Issy, trying to muster a smile. They’d done well without her after all. This gave her a bittersweet feeling. ‘Five hundred pounds, eh? Well, I reckon you should split it as an extra Christmas bonus. I can advance it to you if you like.’

‘Well, conceptually speaking it was really my …’ began Caroline, but a quick look from Issy stopped her. Pearl’s heart leapt, but she didn’t want to be unfair.

‘It was Caroline’s concept,’ she said. ‘And she did enter us.’

Caroline looked at Pearl, amazed at her generosity.

‘No chance,’ said Issy. ‘It was Louis’ beards, she said so herself. If anything, it should be his. Plus, you’ve been cleaning and dusting all those new decorations every day.’

Caroline couldn’t bear anyone being magnanimous without her.

‘Of course I wouldn’t dream of taking more than my fair share,’ she said. ‘And, after all, it’s not like I need the money.’

Pearl and Issy smiled at one another, and Issy, looking round at the beautiful shop, and the happy punters, felt that surely she ought to be able to squeeze a bit of Christmas spirit out, somewhere.

‘I have made your beard for you here,’ said Louis seriously, holding up stuck-together cotton wool and cardboard with sellotape loops for her ears.

‘Thank you, Louis,’ said Issy. And she put it on.

The traditional crate of wine – clearly her mother hadn’t realised she’d moved house – arrived at the flat on Christmas Eve. It was kosher, she noticed. She called Marian, but no luck. Anyway, she supposed her mother didn’t celebrate Christmas any more. Not that she ever had, not really.

Everything was ready for tomorrow, all the food prepped and covered in cling film, ready to pop into the big industrial ovens at the café. They could peel all the potatoes tomorrow, but there were many hands for the job. All the bits and bobs like cranberry sauce and buttered cabbage Issy had happily outsourced to Marks & Spencer. The kosher wine would join the bottles of champagne contributed by Caroline and the two bottles of whisky given to Ashok by a grateful patient.

She and Helena sat up late, chatting, as they wrapped presents for Chadani Imelda, who didn’t know what was happening but knew something was, so was using it as an excuse to stay up late. Ashok was dealing with her. Every so often he would run past the sitting room door pursuing a tiny shrieking girl holding a dirty nappy above her head, and Helena and Issy would ignore it.

They were talking about the future.

‘The flat above the café has come up,’ Issy was saying. ‘He’s not sure whether to rent it or sell it. He reckons he’ll get more for it because of where it is. So, basically, I’ve priced myself out of it just by making nice baking smells.’

‘Well, see if he’ll let you lease it. He already knows you’re a good tenant. Then you can decide what you want to do later.’

‘Hmm, maybe,’ said Issy.

‘And we won’t be here for much longer,’ pointed out Helena. ‘As soon as I start working again, we’ll get a bigger mortgage and move. We need a garden for Chadani Imelda anyway.’

Chadani Imelda was now riding Ashok like a horse and giggling uncontrollably.

‘So you could have this place back.’

‘I could,’ said Issy, looking at the pink kitchen and the nice old faded floral armchairs, currently completely hidden under mountains and mountains of presents. ‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s time to move on.’

‘I’ve registered,’ said Helena. ‘With a nursing agency. Look.’ She held up a sheaf of forms.

‘Wow,’ said Issy. ‘What did you say when they asked why you wanted to come back?’

‘I said, darlings, I can be fabulous simultaneously in many arenas.’

‘Like that?’

‘Yes, exactly like that. No, don’t be stupid. I just reminded them how lucky they’d be to have me, and not to ask such impertinent questions.’

‘Heh,’ said Issy.

‘Now, look away,’ said Helena. ‘I need to wrap your present.’

‘Oh, don’t be daft,’ said Issy.

‘I mean it! Look away, or you’re not getting it.’

Grumbling, Issy went and stood in the doorway. Chadani Imelda now had pants on her head. Ashok was growling at her and pretending to be a bear. Issy watched them, smiling. It was a nice sight. Ashok realised she was watching and looked up at her. He stopped growling.

‘You could have had this,’ he said, seriously.

Issy felt herself stiffen.

‘You two. You were very silly.’

‘Ashok, STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!’ came a voice from the sitting room that brooked no argument.

‘I just want Isabel to be happy. Do you not want Isabel to be happy? You want her off renting new flats and opening new shops instead of saying well, Isabel, it was nice when you were happy because your friends were also happy so everyone was happy.’

‘I’m warning you,’ came the voice again.

Issy choked up. ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ she said. ‘I’m not the one who left.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

‘I’ll be fine.’

Ashok gathered Chadani into his arms and nuzzled her soft olive cheek.

‘I want you to be better than fine, Isabel.’

Helena stomped through.

‘BED. Bed bed bed. For everyone.’

Chapter Eighteen

Figgy Pudding Cupcakes

100g unsalted butter

100g treacle

50g sugar

2 eggs

1 tsp cinnamon

1 tsp ground ginger

½ tsp cardamom

½ tsp ground cloves

250g all-purpose flour

25g unsweetened cocoa powder

½ tsp baking soda

2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp salt

100ml milk

1 tsp brandy

1 tsp vanilla

Preheat oven to 170°C/gas mark 3 and butter cupcake tin.