Meet Me at the Cupcake Café (43 page)

Issy didn’t go shopping in the end. Instead, she bought a cream cheese and smoked salmon bagel, and a tiny bottle of champagne with a straw – which might be a bit off for mid-morning, she figured, but she didn’t really care – and a magazine, and went to sit in the sunny park. She tried to enjoy the yells of other people’s happy children throwing bread to the ducks, and the slightly jolty, unnerved sense she got whenever she thought of Austin’s accidental near-kiss.

Lots of friends were sending remote regards via Facebook which, while she realized it wasn’t exactly as good as everyone coming to celebrate her birthday, was better than nothing, and made her phone ping cheerily every time another one came through. After the bagel, she bought an ice cream too, and lay down and looked at the clouds for a bit and reflected that truly, from last year to this, she had come a long way, she really had. So she must stop being so grumpy and be more positive and … nope. It didn’t help. She felt queasy from the champagne and, suddenly, in the midst of the bustling park and the noisy people, terribly lonely.

‘Cheer up, love,’ said one of Kate’s builders.

Issy turned to Pearl. She was back in the shop; she’d sent Caroline away again, noticing that Caroline had been telling Pearl a convoluted story, punctuated by customers, about her holiday in the Dominican Republic, which Issy could tell Caroline thought in some completely mad way would impress and endear her to Pearl and it was doing neither of those two things.

‘Nine,’ Issy said.

‘Nine what?’ asked the builder, who was already slurping the Smarties off his cinnamon cupcake. ‘Mm, these are great.’

‘Nine times someone has come in and said, “Cheer up, love.”’

‘And three “It might never happens”,’ added Pearl helpfully.

Issy glanced round the café. It was bustling nicely; she’d spontaneously bought a bunch of lilies on her way back from the park to cheer herself up, and the scent was permeating through the room; with the windows thrown open and the door held wide (totally against fire regulations, Pearl had pointed out, but they had had so very little summertime), the café felt fresh and summery, filled with the chink of china and the sounds of conviviality. She’d introduced some new floral plates too, to set off the lighter lemon and orange sponges with the candied peel on top that sold so well during the warmer days, and they looked absolutely beautiful. The two students who’d spent the wet spring finishing up their theses off the free wifi were, she noticed, cuddled up together, alternately typing and kissing. She suspected they were sharing more than the wifi now. Well, it was nice that at least some people weren’t lonely on her birthday, she thought mournfully.

‘What’s up then?’ asked the builder, taking a slow sip from his cappuccino. Issy bit her lip. Kate was going to have her guts for garters. She’d actually asked Caroline ‘as a friend’ to stop serving them cappuccino. Caroline had explained that on a cost/benefit analysis, no marketing expert worth their salt would ever run a business on that basis and Kate had lost her temper and told her that before she’d given up her entire life to care for two ungrateful individual children, she’d had an MBA, thank you very much, and didn’t need a lecture from some ex-wife, and Issy had to step in before Kate took her sewing circle somewhere else and she lost some much-needed income. She too, however, took Caroline’s approach and would serve anyone who walked in the door, whatever someone else thought they should have been doing.

‘Lost a tenner and found a fiver?’ went on the builder.

‘Actually my entire immediate family has just died,’ said Issy, more waspishly than usual. But really, it was such an annoying thing for people to say. The builder looked wounded.

‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean it,’ said Issy. ‘It’s just – it’s my birthday today. And I’m single, and my friends are away and I’m feeling a bit lonely, that’s all.’

‘Yeah?’ said the builder, who was about twenty-eight and had a cute cheeky look about him. ‘You can come out with me and the lads if you like. We’re off for a bit of a bevvy.’

Issy quickly restrained herself from saying, ‘On a Thursday? Kate will be furious,’ and merely smiled.

‘What – me and a bunch of builders?’

‘Some girls might like that,’ said the builder.

‘It’s your lucky day,’ said Pearl. ‘Shoo, builders! Out of the shop, you’re getting my nice floor all dirty.’

‘Don’t ban us from the shop, Nan!’ begged the builder. ‘Please!’

But Pearl was already shooing him backwards.

‘You finish that nice lady’s house, we’ll sell you cakes. Understand?’

‘She’s not a nice lady!’ said the builder. Issy was inclined to agree with him, having had Kate very deliberately walk up and down outside the shop tapping her foot and huffing on more than one occasion when she felt the men were lingering too long.

‘That’s not the point,’ said Pearl. ‘Paid for a job, then do a job. Then there’ll be more cake for you. Out you go!’

The builder winked at Issy. ‘Just as well the cakes are good – the welcome’s a bit rubbish.’

‘Off you go,’ said Issy. ‘Be nice.’

‘We’ll be at the Fox and Horses!’ yelled the builder as a parting shot. ‘From four thirty!’

Pearl shook her head and turned to serve the girl from the temp agency up the road.

‘I mean it, I’ll bar them.’

Issy sighed. ‘I just can’t believe it’s the best offer I’ve had today.’ She turned to Pearl. ‘Thanks though. I wouldn’t want to lose Kate’s group.’

‘Happy birthday,’ said the girl from the temp office, who always looked like she’d had about two hours’ sleep and needed an extra shot of caffeine in everything she bought, including the coffee cake. ‘Birthdays are crap. My last one I spent watching the
Ghost Hunters
marathon on Living. I couldn’t sleep,’ she added. ‘I’m an insomniac.’

‘I’d be an insomniac if I watched
Ghost Hunters
,’ said Pearl.

‘Oh dear,’ said Issy, thinking desperately about what she could possibly find to do that wasn’t just watching TV that night. ‘Extra shot?’

‘Yes please. Happy birthday.’

Issy wasn’t even that keen to close up at the end of the day; she didn’t chivvy the hang-backers fiddling with their laptops, or bundle up the newspapers for recycling. She held back, straightening everything up for the following day. Pearl looked at her.

‘I have to go get Louis now, OK?’

‘OK.’

‘Would you … would you like to come for supper with us?’

Issy couldn’t bear Pearl feeling sorry for her. Which wasn’t attractive, she realized; it meant she felt that she should feel sorry for Pearl. But that was just the way it was.

‘No, no … well, yes I
would
, obviously,’ she added quickly. ‘Yes, please. But, you know. Not tonight.’

Pearl nodded. ‘OK. Bye then!’

And the bell dinged, and she was gone. It was still a beautiful afternoon outside, the shadows lengthening. Sod it, thought Issy, turning the sign to
Closed
and locking the door. This was ridiculous. She had done nothing but mope about all day. Well, that was going to stop. Almost without thinking, she propelled herself out of the shop and up to the high street again. A little boutique had opened up, run by a friend of Caroline’s. Even if she was still slightly nervous about the high street, she was going in to have a look, and that was that.

The shop, just called 44, was packed tight with clothes, and smelled beautiful and expensive. Issy tried not to feel intimidated by the elegant blonde saleswoman with the perfect red lipstick and fifties sunglasses sitting behind the counter.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I was looking for … well, a dress.’

‘You’ve come to the right place,’ said the woman, eyeing her up and down in a professional manner. ‘Evening? Or just something kind of smart but not too over the top?’

‘Yes. That.’ Issy glanced about. ‘And not
too
expensive.’

The woman raised a beautifully plucked eyebrow. ‘Well, you know, quality does show.’

Issy felt her face go a little pink again, but the woman bustled away through the back. ‘Stay there!’ she yelled, and Issy stayed rooted to the spot, looking around at the Aladdin’s cave – beautiful chiffon cocktail dresses in hot pinks and deep reds hung on the wall, looking as if they demanded to be drenched in perfume and taken out to dance; little bags with shiny patent bows that were large enough only for an invitation and a lipstick; extraordinarily beautiful shoes. It was so lovely it reminded Issy how long it had been since she’d got dressed up for something, or someone.

The woman returned, bearing just one garment.

‘Come on then.’ She harried her into the tiny dressing room. ‘Are you wearing a decent bra? Nope, thought not.’

‘You’re as bossy as Caroline,’ said Issy.

‘Caroline! That woman is a pushover,’ said the shop owner. ‘Now, bend down.’

Issy did. And when she straightened up, the soft mossy-green jersey of the dress rippled down her as the silk slip fitted her skin.

The dress skimmed her curves, gave her a tiny waist, and the full skirt swooshed out and swung every time she moved. The green brought out her eyes and contrasted wonderfully with her black hair; the boat neck showed off a hint of white shoulders and the elbow-length sleeves fitted perfectly. It was a dream of a dress.

‘Oh,’ said Issy, looking in the mirror, then doing a spin. ‘It’s lovely.’

‘Yes, I thought it would work,’ said the lady, peering over her specs. ‘Very good then.’

Issy smiled. ‘How much is it?’

The woman named a figure that was almost, but not quite, more than Issy would ever have dreamed of paying for a dress. But as Issy turned and twisted to catch sight of herself once again, she realized: this would be hers. Because it was lovely, yes, but because every penny it would take to pay for it wasn’t a wage, or a credit card bill, or something random and untouchable. This was her money, earned by her, every penny, fair and square.

‘I’ll take it,’ said Issy.

She went back to the café then, conscious she’d dashed out without finishing up, but utterly thrilled that she had. Once she’d let herself in, she ran the coffee machine one more time, made herself a large foamy latte, covered it in chocolate powder, selected one of the few leftover cakes – a chilli chocolate, possibly too advanced for their clientele, but a wonder nonetheless – selected the evening paper and collapsed on to the sofa, her head well down and her back to the window so no one would see her over the arm of the chair and think they were still open for business. She had nothing to do and no one to do it with, so she wasn’t going to hurry to get everywhere. She would just sit for a few minutes, that was all. It was very comfortable here, and she’d had a busy time of it and there was lots to do tonight as well, sign off her insurance and do her stocktake and check to see if anyone had sent any flowers to the house and maybe she’d have some of that awful wine of her mother’s in the bath and …

When Issy woke up again, the shadows had lengthened in the courtyard, the tree casting its shade right into the shop itself, and she blinked, not at all sure where she was. Also there was a noise that sounded vaguely familiar … yes, it was Felipe playing his violin. But why would he bother at this time of night, when everything was closed? It wasn’t the next morning, was it? She checked her watch. No, she’d only been asleep for an hour and a half. So what was all that noise? She turned round, stretching out her arms sleepily and …