Fat Girls and Fairy Cakes (30 page)

“Well for me, it’s Barry!” wailed Lizzie. “He’s dumped me for someone else!” And she too burst into tears.

“Let’s just get out of the kitchen.” I said. “We are going mad in here. Let’s sit in the restaurant, away from all this. We need to talk.” So we staggered into the dimly-lit room and sat around one of the tables, which was all laid up for the next diners. Lizzie toyed with a wine glass and Al wiped his face on a napkin. Then Lizzie spoke.

“Look, I know I’m not myself. You’re right Stella, it’s been tough for me at work and Barry and I...well, now you know it’s over. But in the light of everything with Seb, I can’t just go on about myself.”

“I understand that Lizzie,” I said, squeezing her arm, “but you need to talk to us. We’re your friends and it’s upsetting for Al and me to see you like this, on top of everything else.”

 “It’s just his new girlfriend is really rubbing my nose in it. It’s caused problems at work and the call I took the other day was about that. The launch party is on Monday and there was something I really needed to do, and now it looks like it won’t be done. It doesn’t really matter, but it’s made everything harder,” she finished.

“Oh Lizzie, I thought they didn’t need you at work!” I said, feeling doubly guilty. I’d been annoyed with her and she’d been putting her career on the line helping me. “I thought everything was ready for the launch? You said the first programme was edited ages ago.”

“It’s not about the programme,” Lizzie sighed, “that’s all still going ahead. Look, I am really sorry to be cryptic but I can’t say any more at the moment, but you’ll know all about it soon. I just need you both to know that I’m OK and Al, you need to know that Stella and I are here for you.” She reached out and held Al’s hand. I grabbed his other between mine.

 “Look, I think we’re all being a bit silly here,” I said. “We’re exhausted, we’re all upset and the reason I bake is to make me happy – but the magic’s not working.”

 “Yes and however hard I try, Ann Widdecombe still looks like something from
Lord of the Rings
,” agreed Al.

 “There’s more important stuff happening and we should be dealing with it,” I said. “We shouldn’t even be here. It doesn’t matter about the order. None of it matters without Seb. We should be at the hospital. We’ll go together,” I said, getting up and grabbing the car keys.

We all pushed back our chairs, got up and headed for the door. As I was locking up, Al stopped and put his arms round Lizzie and I. “I just want you to know that the only thing getting me through this is knowing if it all goes horribly wrong, you’ll both be there to catch me.” Tears sprang to my eyes and I hugged them both hard. We headed for the car, and just as we were climbing in, Al’s phone rang. My heart stopped. Lizzie was already in the back seat and I caught her eye in the rear-view mirror.

“OK...OK...” Al was saying. Lizzie and I held our breath.

“Oh God,” he whispered. He was still standing outside the car and I couldn’t see his face, so turned to Lizzie in the back. Her face was white and she was very still. “OK, well thank you. I appreciate you calling, we’re on our way.” Al took a few seconds to compose himself, then climbed into the car.

“I am scared to say this,” he said solemnly, “but it seems that Seb’s improved. And girls – he’s AWAKE!”

Lizzie screamed and I rested my head on the steering wheel, squeezing back tears. I started the car, and we set off on the same journey we all took only days earlier – only this time, we had smiles on our faces and hope in our hearts.

Arriving at the hospital we headed straight for the ICU. Seb’s eyes were open and he was smiling weakly. Al rushed towards him, arms outstretched. Rosemary was sitting by the bed holding Seb’s hand, a bundle of ragged tissues in her lap.

Lizzie and I gave Seb a gentle hug. “Welcome back,” I whispered, “I’ll bring you a cake as soon as you’re well enough.”

“Enough, you two, it’s my turn again,” said Al, pushing Lizzie and I aside. He took his seat next to the bed opposite Rosemary and took Seb’s hand.

“Oh Seb, I thought I’d lost you,” Al said, welling up. I had to look away or I’d start blubbing again, so I started rummaging in my handbag for a tissue. Instead, I was delighted to find a long-forgotten bag of chocolate truffles and suddenly felt overwhelmingly peckish. I discretely put a couple into my mouth and turned away from everyone, lest it be deemed disrespectful to be chomping on chocolate at a time like this. So it was with bulging hamster-cheeks that I was forced to greet Diego, who suddenly appeared smiling in the doorway.

Desperately chewing and swallowing, I gestured for him to go to Seb’s bedside (which probably looked strange – especially as I couldn’t speak). Holding the rest of the chocolates in my clenched fist, I took a good, long look. Now that Seb was improving and things were coming together I was able to give the doctor a proper check-up. Oh, how he was working that white coat! The stethoscope slung nonchalantly round his neck was both professional and provocative and as he made a little joke and smiled, dimples appeared on his cheeks and I had an uncontrollable urge to touch him. I resisted of course; apart from the inappropriateness of me lunging towards him, my fistful of chocolate was starting to melt and that wouldn’t be pretty.

I finally finished the chocolate in my mouth and was able to join the conversation. “So the operation went well?” I asked.

“Well, Sebastian looks good to me, Stella, but I’m an A&E doctor. We need to talk to the specialist. I’ll see if there’s anyone about.”

I watched him leave then caught Seb and Al looking at me. “What?” I said, opening my eyes wide in mock-innocence, finishing the truffle mush in my hand and licking chocolate from my palm.

Within minutes, Diego returned to tell us that someone would come and speak with Sebastian shortly, but in the meantime, he could confirm that the operation had been a complete success.

“You are a very lucky man my friend,” Diego announced, shaking Seb’s hand. He turned to leave.

“Good to see you again, Stella.” Our eyes met and as he grabbed my hand to shake it, I felt the connection. He was looking at me with some intensity. “You came straight from your kitchen?” he smiled, wiping sticky chocolate remnants from his hand. It wasn’t attraction in his eyes, it was alarm. I tried not to blush.

“God, what is it about that man?” I said when he’d gone and everyone started laughing. “He makes me do such stupid things.”

 “Hello?” said Seb quietly, obviously still in some pain. “Can we move on from Stella’s love-life, please. Don’t you two have a business to run?”

“Sorry Seb, she stuffs chocolates in her gob then tries to get off with your doctor while you lie there incapacitated – and I call her a friend,” Al joked.

“Forget chocolates and dishy doctors,” Seb said, wincing as he tried to sit up. “What about foxtrots and cha-chas? Have you finished the order?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is you,” Al replied, plumping his pillows.

“It
does
matter, Al. If you don’t finish this order it could be the end of the business. We’re just building it and it’s going so well. Please don’t let my bad driving ruin it.”

“Sweetie. You come
before
the business,” I heard myself say, thinking with a little jolt of pain about Dave.

“Look, I need to sleep and you need to get that order out,” he said. “If The Cake Fairy fails now I’ll feel responsible and I can’t live with that. Please?” Al and I looked at each other.

“Truly,” Seb continued, “I’m going to be fine now and you guys have a lot to do.”

“Well doll,” Al said, slowly, “I can feel some of that icing magic returning to my fingers...”

“...and we’re nearly there anyway,” chipped in Lizzie.

“OK,” I said, looking at the others. “If you are sure, Seb – let’s do it.” We stayed until Seb fell asleep then headed back to the restaurant with a new burst of energy. On the way back, Sangita called.

“Stella, have been looking through everything you sent. All seems fine. Will you be able to deliver the order?”

“Yes, Sangita,” I said with a smile, “we most certainly will.”

That night we worked with renewed vigour on the order. All buoyed up by Sebastian’s imminent recovery we even laughed about Ann Widdecombe and Lizzie’s Diesel jeans. We honed and created satin icing, blended chilli with chocolate for cha-chas and scattered sweet sparkles over moist mango ‘salsa’ cupcakes. By 2am, Al formally declared the order complete by placing the last, perfect figure on the large, shiny, cake dancefloor.

“Oh God, I can’t believe how hard it’s been,” he said, “not to mention nearly losing my future husband mid-order.” He slumped onto a chair and stretched out his arms. Lizzie’s work phone rang.

“Hi there,” she said. “Really? Are you sure? I can’t believe it, that’s great news. So it’s all ready?” She visibly sank into her chair in relief. “Thank you,” she whispered. With that she put her phone down and put her head in her hands. I looked at Al in alarm, worried she was upset. But when she looked up again, she was smiling.

“I’ve been annoying I know,” said Lizzie. “I’ve been distracted with the whole Barry thing but there’s other stuff I can’t talk about at the moment. I’m aware I seem like a complete drama-queen but trust me, all will become clear.”

I shrugged. “It’s your life Lizzie. We’re not going to judge you. I just wish you’d told us about Barry when it happened, we could have supported you.”

“Well I’m sorry. I will get over Barry. But there’s another matter I have to deal with.” She wasn’t going to spill, so we didn’t ask. “Are you two free on Monday night?”

“Yes, probably, but Grace will be back from Tom’s so I’d need to sort out a babysitter. Why?”

“Just keep Monday night free, both of you,” she said enigmatically. “There’s something I’d like you both to see.” Al and I looked at each other, both intrigued. It was the press launch of
Barrie’s Barbie
on Monday, so it would have to be something pretty major for her to miss it.

“OK doll,” said Al. “Count us in.”

“Sounds intriguing, Lizzie,” I said. “Look, it’s late and I’ve got to deliver this order tomorrow so we should get to bed. What do you think about still going to the event?” I said, remembering how excited we had been when Sangita sent us the tickets.

“I think we should go,” said Al, firmly. “Sebastian was longing to come and he’d be upset if we all missed out. As long as he’s OK, I think we should all be there.” Lizzie nodded slowly.

 “In that case, why don’t you all come back to mine and sleep,” I said. “It’s close by, Grace isn’t there and we can pick your outfits up in the morning on the way to see Seb. Then we can all drive there together. And for some reason, I really don’t want to spend tonight without you two.”

Lizzie was smiling. “I’m in,” she said. “And I’m exhausted. Let’s go”.

When we got back to my house, we were all suddenly ravenous. On arrival I checked the fridge and finding only eggs and cheese, made omelettes.

“We have a pass that includes Seb for tomorrow’s launch,” Lizzie said, placing three mugs of hot tea on the table. “It’s a shame he can’t be there.”

“Would you like Dave to come in his place?” Al offered.

“Oh, no thanks Al,” I said, without hesitation.

As Sebastian’s van had been totalled in the accident, Lizzie headed off the next morning to hire a new one to take us and the cakes to London for the
Strictly
launch. Al wanted to see Seb so I went with him. As much as I wanted to see my friend, I have to admit I didn’t want to play gooseberry, so secretly hoped Diego might make an appearance. When we arrived we were delighted to discover that Seb had been moved out of ICU and was now on a ward. He looked older and tired, but happy.

“I’m not sure about leaving you to spend the night in London,” Al was saying. “Stella and Lizzie could go without me?”

Seb was adamant. “No Al, you all need to be there. Now off you go...and good luck, Cake Fairies.”

So, after lunch the three of us set off for London, with a van full of cakes and posh frocks. Lizzie drove, looking quite impressive behind the wheel of the van in her designer shades. We got to the hotel where the after-party was being held at about 5pm and Sangita was already there, screaming orders. This was a huge night for her – the
Strictly Come Dancing
launch was such a big event in the TV calendar; everyone tried to blag their way in along with the press to find out which celebs were dancing and who they were dancing with that year...and to spot all the celebs attending the huge industry party at the hotel afterwards. The uninvited press were camped outside as the celebrity dancers made their entrances via the red carpet and the buzz around this event was massive. Once the names of the celebrities taking part had been announced, the secrecy over the celebrities would be over and we’d no longer be among the select few in the know.

We set out the cakes and whilst the celebs were being interviewed and photographed we changed into our outfits.

“So how is everybody feeling?” said Lizzie, slicking on expensive red lipstick.

“OK,” said Al.

“Yeah, OK,” I agreed. And that’s exactly how I felt. A few weeks ago I would have expected to be terrified right now, but I wasn’t. I was happy. The cakes were good, but more importantly, my friends were OK. Al and I looked at each other and smiled. I think we were thinking the same thing. Once we had finished getting ready, we went into the big hall to wait the arrival of the celebrities and invited guests.

The huge hotel function room was decorated beautifully with a dance theme and our glamorously dressed fairy cakes, exploding hip-hop macaroons and the centrepiece cake (which was to remain covered until everyone had arrived) were all arranged at one end. We waited patiently for the interviews to be over whilst Sangita checked and double-checked that everything looked perfect. Then finally, in a flood of chatter and cha-cha the celebrities and other invited guests flowed into the room. As they quaffed cocktails, our centrepiece cake was unveiled, drawing gasps of admiration from the throng. Resplendent on its own table, which even had special lighting it was almost a metre wide. With its polished surface and fondant dancers, this was certainly a talking point and warranted another photo opportunity for the invited press.

Al was soon chatting with Graham Norton about his new show as Brucie complimented me on the lightness of our sponge. Tess worked the room with Anton and other showbiz luminaries while eating our delicious cakes and in the background, glamorous, spangled women sipped white wine and chatted animatedly.

“The newsreaders look the weirdest when they do these dancing shows,” observed Lizzie from her position near the centrepiece. “Look at those two over there – they look positively sexed-up in their open-necked shirts and micro-minis.”

I had to agree, I wasn’t used to seeing them smile so frequently and they looked very strange from the waist down, lurking over the canapés. “It all started with
Children in Need
. Whoever put Andrew Marr in a basque and stockings on that night wants flogging,” I murmured under my breath.

“Honestly, Graham’s not nearly as camp in real life,” said Al as we came together over the macaroons. He looked happy – the colour had returned to his face and he was networking with enthusiasm. “I’m almost running out of business cards Stel, celebrities are coming out of every nook and cranny.”

I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter (just like they do in films). It was after 8pm, the cakes were being eaten and enjoyed and I was just thinking about starting out for home when Sangita leapt to my side. “Stella, the events people are saying ‘fabulous’, they’re saying ‘outstanding’, they’re saying ‘we will be discussing a long-term contract with this company’.” she practically screamed.

“Sangita, that’s amazing,” I said, looking at Al who was beaming with joy.

“Well, you haven’t let me down and for that I thank you,” Sangita said, calming down and reverting to her usual understated presence. She swept off as always without a ‘goodbye’ or ‘see you’, leaving Al and I to breathe in a cloud of financial relief and Champagne bubbles.

“Well, that’s good news, doll,” said Al.

“Yes, but more importantly, have you called Seb tonight?”

“Yes. He’s doing well and he’s pleased that we seem to be a hit. We are lucky Stella, aren’t we?” he said, with shining eyes. He was so right – we were lucky. Not only had our hard work paid off, we had come through something really tough, and been stronger for it. Suddenly, I was bored of all the glitz and glamour and celebrity. I just wanted to go home, with Lizzie and Al, to see Grace and to start our lives again in the morning.

“Al, can we go?” I suggested as soon as she’d moved on. “I think our work here is done ‘re cakes’, to borrow from Sangita. And I have a real urge just to spend the evening with my friends and be normal. What do you think?” I said.

 “Well, it
is
the new series of
The Real Housewives of New Jersey
tonight – and I know none of us would want to miss
that
.” He said with a smile.

 “I’m glad we have things in perspective,” I giggled. “I’m already in the van.”

“OK. Let’s grab Lizzie and tell her we have a hot date in NJ with Danielle and the gals...” He trailed off as something caught his eye.

“What?” I asked, bemused.

“Erm, Stella don’t look now but isn’t that Dave over there?”

“Dave? It can’t be” I said, still smiling. This was the last place Dave would be seen – too public, not good for his MI5 credentials.

 “Yes that’s definitely him, hanging out by the exploding macaroons,” he said, peering through the celebrity throng.

“Are you sure it’s Dave,
my
Dave?” I said, squinting into the distance and then suddenly spotting him in a good suit I’d never seen him in. “I’m surprised to see him here. So much for his spy doc,” I said, my heart lurching.
Why hadn’t he told me?
I hadn’t heard from him since he came round to the house. He was too busy to support me when one of my friends could have been dying but clearly not too busy to hobnob with celebrities. I screwed up my eyes and I saw Dave more clearly. He was talking animatedly to someone and laughing.

“I wonder who he’s talking to? I haven’t seen him so engaged for some time,” I said.

“Yes doll, he’s been so tied up with MI5, he isn’t allowed to
engage
,” Al said sarcastically. “He’s worried he might be bugged but I’d love to bug the conversation he’s having with that twisted old slapper.”

“Who?” I looked back through the familiar faces and there she was. Dave was talking and laughing: with Mary-Jane Robinson.

“Stella, there’s something I think you should know,” Al said, moving me round the buffet table out of Dave’s eye line. “I met François from Fashion earlier tonight by the piano. He said that Dave’s come in from the cold.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled.

“Well, I wasn’t going to tell you until we’d got out of here but apparently the spy doc collapsed. Oh doll, you should probably hear this from Dave...”

“Al! Please tell me!” I said, worried now.

“François says Dave couldn’t get any real spies to take part. There’s a surprise, I could have told him that and saved all the time and money,” he sniggered.

“What else did François say,” I asked, still reeling from what I had just seen and trying to piece everything together.

“He said, ‘the eagle has landed’.”

“Al, will you stop with the spy stuff and tell me exactly what you mean?”

“He’s sold out, love. It seems that after his spy stuff collapsed he gave his fashion doc to MJ who, according to François, paid him pots and bestowed ‘Executive Producer’ on his pretty little head. He’s now working at Media World. Cyclic, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think cyclic is quite the word I’m looking for,” I said, beginning to feel a rising chill.

I looked at him across the room; Dave Kennedy, with those crinkly eyes and twinkly smile? “He wouldn’t do that,” I said firmly, recalling everything he’d said about integrity being more important than money. “He would never sell his fashion doc to Media World, he said they’d wreck it and he’d have no control. He always said he wanted a stylish, cerebral approach. That’s why he said no to MJ in the first place.”

“Oh darling, I’m sorry. So much for principles, eh?” Al put his hand on my arm. “It seems he has a price, Stel.”

I couldn’t quite believe it. Surely if it was true, he would have told me? I needed to hear it from Dave before I decided what to do next.

Al was putting on his jacket to leave. “Come on girlfriend don’t waste your time on him. Those table-flipping Jersey gals are waiting.”

“Hang on Al, I’ll just be a minute,” I answered, and calmly walked across the room, parting the sea of B-list celebrities and ballroom dancers. When I reached Dave I could see the shock on his face.

“Stella, how lovely to see you,” he stammered. “I didn’t expect you to be here.” He turned on the charm and smiled that big, open smile.

“You knew I had the cake order for this,” I said without smiling. “You might have guessed that I’d deliver them myself. You could always have called me to check and by the way, thanks for your support over the last few days.”

At this, I glanced over his shoulder to see MJ smirking, one ear in our conversation the other pretending to listen to some poor, defenceless dancer. Dave manoeuvred me away to a small table filled with screwed-up paper cases and spilt Champagne.