Fat Girls and Fairy Cakes (27 page)

“Come on, let’s go to the restaurant and see if Uncle Al’s there – he’ll think of something, I know he will.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to do, so in a weird
Freaky Friday
role-reversal scenario I did as Grace suggested, and reluctantly washed my salty face, pushed a comb through my hair and climbed into the car. I tried to stay calm as we snaked through the agonisingly slow, busy homecoming traffic and headed for Sebastian’s restaurant. On the way it started to rain, which seemed to slow everything down even more and stopping at a zebra for a rainbow of opened umbrellas to cross, I thought I saw a familiar face.

“Is that Auntie Lizzie?” I said to Grace, about to beep her.

“Yes it is! And there’s Dad, he’s with Auntie Lizzie...yay,” shouted Grace, waving frantically and trying to wind down the window to call them.

“Don’t Grace, you’ll get all wet. Are you sure that’s your dad with Auntie Lizzie?” I said, puzzled and convinced Grace was mistaken.

“Yes, it’s definitely Dad, look he’s wearing that awful red jacket we hate,” she giggled. I screwed up my eyes trying to see him through the rain and brollies and rushing pedestrians. She was right it was Tom – with Lizzie.

“That’s funny.” I said.

“Lizzie’s Dad’s friend too,” added Grace, still waving.

“I know but...”

“She’s always phoning him up,” she added.

“Is she?” I said, even more puzzled. “Well they’ve been working together. I suppose they probably had things to sort out. To be honest, I don’t think Lizzie likes your dad much.”

“Oh she does,” answered Grace with feeling.

I let it go. It’s only right that Grace believes they are friends. I knew exactly how Lizzie felt about Tom. She hated him for what he did to me but she was such a good friend she’d sucked it all up and offered him the work in Australia so he would be able to support Grace and I. It’s strange that they were together though – after all, they’d practically only just landed.

Having fought through the rain and the traffic we finally parked outside Seb’s restaurant, half on the pavement, abandoning the car to whatever fate the traffic warden decreed. The restaurant hadn’t yet opened for dinner so I started banging hard on the glass door. “Al!” I shouted, at the top of my voice. After a few seconds I saw Sebastian rummaging for keys and rushing to the door to let us in.

“Stella, what is it?” he asked looking very concerned.

“Oh Seb, it’s awful. Where’s Al? He’s not answering his phone. All our hard work, for nothing...” I spluttered, eyes brimming.

“Calm down, sweetie. We had a lovely romantic lunch then Al went swimming. You know what he’s like when he’s in the swimming zone. Sit down and tell me what’s happened. Just sit.” he lowered me gently onto a chair at one of the tables and asked one of the staff to bring us some coffee and lemonade for Grace.

Seb was so kind I burst into tears, telling him about Sangita’s call and the anonymous email. Throughout this I gulped coffee and wiped at my face with a paper napkin, feeling about five years old. Sebastian listened and nodded and shook his head in all the right places. Then he said, “I thought it was something terrible. Let’s get this into perspective. Grace is OK, you’re OK. This is about a kitchen.” I half-smiled through my wet napkin.

“But Sangita won’t work with us anymore if we can’t prove we have a proper kitchen and she’s our main contact. With her we were going places, but now...”

“But now, you have a kitchen,” he said, like he hadn’t heard a word I’d just told him.

“No, Seb. I work from my own kitchen, that’s the problem. I’ll need inspections and I don’t think you understand.”

“I understand perfectly,” he said, taking a sip of black coffee, “and the solution is simple. There is a working kitchen here,” he waved his arms in the general direction of the restaurant kitchen.

“What...what do you mean, Seb?” I asked, confused. “You are a restaurant and so your kitchen’s always busy, there’d be no room for us.”

“I mean that you and Al often work through the night – I’m sure we could organise your schedule so that when we finish in the restaurant, you begin. I have all the necessary paperwork and if anyone asks, this is where you’ve always worked.”

Grace squealed and jumped up and down and I burst into tears again. I lunged towards Sebastian, kissed his face and hugged him so tight he screamed. Then he added, looking at Grace; “And let’s not forget you, Princess Grace. We have a spare room that I will paint ‘princess-pink’ and you can sleep in it at night while Mum’s working.”

“Cool,” she said with a big grin.

I called Sangita straight away with the good news. I then faxed through the restaurant paperwork immediately, pointing out that we hadn’t had the chance to add our business name to it yet, but were in the process of doing so.

“Great, Stella,” she barked, “I have to say, I was thinking ‘curtains’ for the Cake Fairy. However, I need proof that you do actually operate from this address, in case of further complaints. How soon can you send?”

“Er, we should be able to get that to you before the event,” I improvised, feeling sick all over again. “Now, let’s talk tangos.” As I hung up from Sangita, Al returned carrying a boxful of sample wedding favours. I quickly explained to him what had happened and stood back as his face turned bright red.

 “Who the hell would send an email?” he started.

“I don’t know, Al. The only truly evil person I know is MJ,” I said thoughtfully.

“Sweetcakes, how can it be her? She doesn’t know anything about your business.” Then his eyes widened.

“OMG!!!” he exclaimed. “Think, Stella, who else would know that you work for Sangita and operate from your own kitchen? Think
Fatal Attraction,
honey!!”

It slowly dawned on me. “Rachel?” I said.

“Yes yes!!! Of course it’s her! Younger lover who can’t live up to older, successful, chunkier wife?” he said

“Thanks, Al. But maybe you’re right.”

And he didn’t stop there. He ranted and raved, pacing the floor, waving his arms and finally climaxing with, “The home-wrecking, life-destroying slut. She makes Glenn Close look like Mary Poppins.” I wasn’t completely convinced, but he was infectious.

 “Nothing could be further from my mind than getting back with Tom. But if Rachel is angry about her split from Tom and blames me, who knows how far she’d go to destroy my life?” I added, starting to sound like Al.

During Al’s tirade, Seb had wisely escorted Grace to the kitchen to ‘help’ Claude the sous-chef and returned quickly to change the subject before our Rachel frenzy hit orbit.

“Look guys, let’s not get hung up on who it was or why, let’s just move on and prove them wrong,” he said.

“Have you said anything to Tom about his ex-girlfriend’s little email yet?” Al asked the next morning, as we worked on the ‘Cha-Cha’ cakes. It was Tuesday and with the
Strictly
deadline looming that Saturday, we were both feeling the pressure. The morning sun was streaming through the restaurant kitchen window and I felt that strange sensation of time being suspended, which was less about magic and more to do with working through the night and having no sleep.

“No. He’s only just back from Australia and I know it’s been a stressful shoot. I’ll tell him all about it soon,” I said, dreading the conversation because it would no doubt cause trouble between us.

“Don’t worry, Stel. Seb is sorting out all the paperwork we need today so we should have everything done by the weekend.”

“I know Al – it’s just hassle that we don’t need,” I said, slurping on strong, black coffee.

Al smiled and held out what he’d been working on. “This will make you smile,” he said.

“What is it?”

“It’s an ‘exploding macaroon’. I thought we could add a little ‘Hip-Hop’ to the proceedings.”

I took a bite from the light, crunchy disc and it literally exploded in my mouth like a thousand fireworks popping with sweet-yet-tart strawberries and sugary crystals.

“Wow Al it’s aaghhh!! Wonderful, but aaghhh!” I giggled.

“That’s just the reaction I wanted,” he said proudly. “The secret ingredient is Space Dust – it always made me laugh when I was a kid. I think it’s fiery and fun, just like the dance.”

“You are so clever Al, for a moment there I was ten years old again,” I smiled.

Al’s phone beeped. “It’s Seb,” he said. “He’ll be here in ten minutes.”

“I’ll get some brunch on, then,” I said, relieved to finally have an excuse for a break and opening the fridge. We had the restaurant to ourselves until the staff arrived at ten, so there was just enough time to whip up some smoked salmon and scrambled eggs.

Lizzie appeared at the back door. “One child safely deposited at school,” she reported. “She had a lovely night with Auntie Lizzie and went to bed really early – honest,” Lizzie winked. “Crikey, you two look like two rough old slappers who’ve spent the night on the street.”

“Thanks a lot!” I retorted. “That’s what comes of having to work through the night because some malicious bastard has reported you to the FSA. I could be in bed right now,” I sighed. “And it’s not over yet.” I began beating eggs with feeling.

 “Hard times all round then,” said Lizzie gloomily. “It’s such a relief to be with my friends and away from the bloody
Barry’s Barbie
edit but that’s not over yet either. I haven’t got too long now – I just have to stick it out.”

“No you don’t have to stick it out,” said Al. “Look at me and Stella, we didn’t stay until the bitter end – we abandoned ship before we became human husks. OK – I was made to walk the plank, but I went didn’t I? Go now, all that stress will ruin your skin, girl.”

“Yes, but I’m not you and I need to stay at work.”

“Lizzie, I know you’re a trooper but it’s not like you’re desperately short of money. You could walk away now and live for about twelve months without work if you stopped buying designer gear. What’s going on there? Why has it been so awful?” I pressed. She flashed me a thin smile.

“Enough boring work talk!” she declared, dismissing me and turning to Al. “Where are you and Seb planning to go for your honeymoon?”

I frowned. All this drama and secrecy was getting a bit boring, especially if she wasn’t going to actually talk about it. I placed some smoked salmon, eggs and plates on the table.

“Well, we’re torn between Paris and Rome,” he said, grabbing a plate and piling it high, looking far away like he was imagining the gorgeousness of it all.

“Do both,” said Lizzie. “Do it all. Do a Grand European Tour.”

“That sounds lovely,” I said, then my mobile started to ring.

“Hello, can I speak with Stella?” the voice asked. It had a familiar, Spanish-sounding tone to it and I felt my stomach lurch.

“Is that you, Diego?” I asked reluctantly, trying very hard to sound lucid.

“Yes, Stella it’s me Diego. Stella I... ”

Oh God, I thought. It had to be something to do with my mother, she’d called him, blabbed and he was now ringing me to ask for an apology.

“Diego I’m so very, very sorry. I didn’t realise you only wanted a cake for your daughter. I thought we were on some kind of date and I drank too much wine on an empty stomach and a broken heart and I…am...so...”

 “Stella,” he raised his voice over my bleating, “I’m phoning from Accident and Emergency, I need to speak to you about someone I think may be your friend.”

“Who?” I asked, confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“He has ID, his name is Sebastian Girard. He has had a road accident. Do you know him?”

“Yes...yes.” I heard myself whisper.

“He needs you here, at the hospital. Stella, it’s not good.”

“Oh God!” My stomach hit the floor as I glanced over at Al who looked puzzled and had now put down his fork.

“We’re on our way,” I threw the phone down and grabbing my car keys, said as calmly as I could: “Al, Seb’s at the hospital, I don’t know any details, but I think he’s OK. We need to go there now.”

We all jumped in the car. Lizzie sat in the back holding onto Al who couldn’t speak and I saw in my mirror that he was deathly pale. “He’ll be OK, we just need to get to him,” I could hear her saying. “He’ll be fine once he sees you. It’ll all be fine, hon.” It was ten minutes away and as my car flew along the dual carriageway my mind flew faster. I kept hearing Diego’s words: ‘It’s not good’.

When we arrived at the hospital I had to park and frantically rummaged in my handbag to find a bloody one-pound coin. “Go on Al. Lizzie, just get him in to see Seb, I’ll sort this.”

They leapt from the car and started running, jumping over the grass verges and diving into the entrance. The more I rummaged, the more panicky I became and I could feel myself filling up with fear and blinding frustration
: my friend could be dying and I’m late because I can’t find a fucking coin. I might never see him again -and all because I need a pound to park.

Realising that it didn’t matter I abandoned the car in its space, unpaid for and ran across the tarmac faster than I’d ever run in my life. Stumbling over the endless grass verges, I eventually hurled myself through the glass doors of Accident and Emergency, breathless from running and fear. After much frantic to-ing and fro-ing through the department I was eventually led through some heavy, double doors into a room filled with equipment and people. Sebsatian was lying motionless on a bed, a network of tubes coming out of him and a team of people around him, the buzz of machines providing an intrusive backdrop of sound. Al and Lizzie were standing to one side, out of the way, clinging to each other. Al’s face was wet with tears and I looked on helplessly as Lizzie rocked him like a mother would a child.

“Sebastian’s really bad, Stella. He might die,” Al croaked, reaching out to me as I walked robotically towards them.

“But...he can’t. You’re going to get married. And what about your honeymoon?” I could hear myself saying stupidly. “What happened, Al?” but he was shaking his head, too distressed to speak.

I turned to Lizzie, who was talking to one of the nurses. “He’s been stabilised, the doctor will be along to see you soon,” the nurse was saying “but you should know that he is very seriously hurt.” Lizzie covered her face with her hands.

“I was always telling him...his bloody driving...He was going too fast – he crashed the car, Stella.” Al sobbed, inconsolably. I reached out and held him. I didn’t know what to do, I was so numb with shock. I just held him and willed myself not to cry because I needed to be strong for Al. Then the doctor arrived.

“Hello,” he said looking at us with kind brown eyes; it was Diego. “I have been looking after Sebastian since he came in. We need to move him into the Intensive Care Unit very soon. We are doing everything we can.”

“It’s so awful,” I said, a sob lurching in my throat. “Will he be OK? What exactly is wrong with him?”

Diego put his hand on my back. “Your friend has broken some bones but the main worry is the trauma he suffered to his head. He is in a coma and his brain is very bruised and swollen.” He looked at Al. “The swelling might not go down. I am very sorry my friend, I wish I could offer you better news. We need to move him now.”

 “Oh...er Al, this is Diego,” I said, rather inappropriately. I felt a pang of guilt for reverting to social niceties in this cataclysmic moment, but what else could I do? We were lost.

Al looked up and smiled. “Fancy you two meeting again, in the middle of all this. Isn’t life funny?” And he started to cry again.

In the midst of all the awfulness, something occurred to me. I turned to Diego. “How did you know to call me?” I asked, putting my arm around Al.

“He had your business card. I recognise the name and number,” Diego said. “And Stella – this was found in the car, on the front seat.” Diego reached across to a trolley, picked up a small, white package and handed it to me. It was a card, with my name scribbled on the front. My eyes met Al’s and with shaky hands, I opened the envelope. I slowly pulled out a bright pink card and as I lifted it up, something fell to the floor with a clank. ‘Welcome Home’ was emblazoned on the front of the card in sparkly letters and as I looked inside, I saw Sebastian’s beautiful script. ‘Dear Stella’ it read, ‘welcome to The Cake Fairy’s new home. May you create magic here’. My eyes filled with tears and as I looked up I saw that Lizzie had retrieved what had fallen out of the card.

“Here,” she whispered, holding her hand out. In it was a set of keys to Sebastian’s restaurant, on a beautiful fairy keyring.

At that moment, a team of porters came in.

“We need to transfer Sebastian now,” said Diego gently. “Perhaps his partner would like to accompany him?”

“Yes,” Al sobbed. “I’m not leaving.”

“We’ll wait in the café, Al. We’ll come up as soon as we’re allowed,” said Lizzie, and took my hand. In a flurry of white coats, drips and nurses, Sebastian was wheeled away with Diego and Al following behind. As they walked away beyond our reach I saw Diego place his hand on Al’s shoulder, which finally brought the sob that had been threatening in my throat to the surface.

“Let’s get a coffee, Stella,” Lizzie whispered, putting her arm in mine and gently trying to move me forward. I stood rooted to the spot, clutching the keys, watching as Sebastian’s bed disappeared from sight and Al’s forlorn figure faded from my view. Then I allowed Lizzie to lead me away, down the stairs and into the sunlit cafe, where people queued for coffee and chattered, unaware that life for us might never be the same again.