Page 1 of Cupcakes and Kisses in Micklewick Bay

ONE

THE FIRST FRIDAY IN JUNE

‘Finished!’ Jasmine Ingilby said, puffing out a sigh of relief. Setting down the fine paintbrush she’d been using to dust iridescent powder over the cake she’d spent most of the day decorating, she took a step back, running a critical eye over her handiwork. The brief had been, well… brief: three-tier Victoria sponge to celebrate a pearl wedding anniversary. But Jasmine had been okay with that; she enjoyed being given a free rein, allowing her creative side to take the lead.

‘Just do what you think, Jazz,’ Ali Harrington had said when she’d called to place the order. ‘After seeing the wedding cake you made for Kendra and Tom Wilson, I know I can trust you to come up with something totally awesome – those sugar paste flowers wereamazing! They looked so realistic.’

The feedback had given Jasmine a thrill; not only had she been in her element decorating the cake Ali referred to, but she’d also gained a considerable number of new customers off the back of it. Her diary was now bulging for the rest of the year with orders trickling into the next. She had no idea how she was going to fit them all into her already hectic schedule, but she’d do it even if it meant working into the early hours and getting up at the crack of dawn. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.

And now, a month after Ali’s phone call, she was standing in the tiny kitchen of her little home, surveying the end result, the cloyingly sweet smell of sugar paste and icing sugar hanging in the air.

The three-tiered confection was a study of understated elegance, decorated in ivory-coloured fondant icing and topped with a cluster of delicate roses in a matching shade of sugar paste. The top and bottom tiers were edged with cream ribbon, while the middle one was trimmed with a string of faux pearls. Jasmine had spent an age making the individual roses, using her cake-decorating tools to curl the petals in order to create a realistic effect. The final touch had been to add a soft pearl-like shimmer of iridescent powder in a nod to the anniversary for which it had been commissioned. Jasmine smiled. Usually self-critical, she was pleased with her creation. And, after Ali’s feedback about the Wilson’s wedding cake, she felt sure Ali and her family would be happy with her interpretation of the brief.

Her own parents’ ruby wedding anniversary was a couple of months away and Jasmine planned to make something similar for them but with elements in a rich red trim referencing the red stone that symbolised the fortieth celebration. Though she was going to trim theirs with sugar paste “lace” using the confectioner’s mats she’d recently invested in. The equipment would punch the intricate design into the sugar paste, creating a delicate vintage lace effect which she could then affix to the base layer of fondant icing. Jasmine couldn’t wait to try it.

Her green eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, its face glaring back at her accusatorially, making her heart lurch. It was twenty past seven. ‘Yikes! How the bloomin’ ’eck has it got to that time?’

She was late, of course – whenwasn’tJasmine late? It came with the territory of being a single mum to two lively children while juggling two part-time jobs and her growing celebration cake-baking business. And though she thrived on being busy,and regularly found herself wishing there were more hours in the day, there were times when she felt she was – to quote her mum – in danger of catching herself coming back. She fell into bed exhausted every night, sleep pulling her under as soon as her head hit the pillow, and before she knew it, the six a.m. alarm was rousing her with its ear-splitting screech the following morning. Much as her body cried out for an extra hour’s sleep, Jasmine resisted the temptation to snuggle back under the duvet. Instead, she’d heave herself out of bed so she could catch up on her jobs around the house, throw a load of laundry into the washing machine, or even make a start on the sugar paste elements of whichever celebration cake she was currently working on. Whatever it was that was screaming out as a priority at that time, was given her full attention. It was the only way she could keep on top of everything.

But since her cake decorating business had taken off, Jasmine had found herself becoming perennially late, this evening being a prime example. It wasn’t because she was unorganised – the opposite was, in fact, the case, with her slew of lists and planners – it was more that she was a perfectionist, tweaking her creations until they satisfied her exacting standards. Losing track of time had, frustratingly, become a hazard of her life recently and she’d been racking her brains to figure out a way around it. Thus far, she’d had limited success.

In an ideal world, Jasmine wouldn’t be constantly under pressure to keep things running smoothly, wouldn’t be dashing from one job to another to make sure there was enough money to pay the bills and to make sure her children got what they needed. And she wouldn’t be wracked with the guilt that constantly ate away at her, telling her she wasn’t giving her children enough attention, which was the worst part of it all, especially since she’d noticed that her daughter, Chloe, had beenquieter than usual recently, which she hadn’t been able to get to the bottom of yet. Not having to deal with all of that would be the dream. But, maybe, after the phone call she’d received earlier, there was a faint chance it might be more than just a dream – not that Jasmine wanted to build her hopes up too much; she was nothing if not cautious in that regard.

But right now, at twenty past seven on a Friday evening, Jasmine should have been sitting in The Jolly Sailors pub with her friends, glass of wine in hand as they all caught up with what had gone on since their last get-together a week earlier. In those few precious hours, she allowed herself to switch off, slip out of “mum mode”, not to mention “work mode”, push her never-ending list of jobs to the back of her mind, and relax with her closest friends – her ‘me time’ as they called it. As a rule, Florrie from their friendship group would stop off at Jasmine’s house on Rosemary Terrace and scoop Jasmine up on her way to the Jolly, but knowing she would be running late, Jasmine had texted her friend earlier and explained about the cake, telling Florrie to make her own way down to the pub, adding that she’d join them as soon as she could. She knew they’d understand.

‘No worries, flower. And don’t go stressing yourself out, rushing around like a headless chicken; just get there when you can,’ Florrie had said in her reply, which, Jasmine had thought at the time, was easier said than done.

Would there ever be a time when she wasn’t running around like a headless chicken? Jasmine wondered. The way things had been going recently, it was hard to imagine. Next week was a classic example. Not only did she have an extra couple of hours working for Spick ‘n’ Sparkle, the cleaning company owned by her friend Stella’s mum, but she was also covering two shifts for a colleague at the bakery in town on top of her own. Then there was the celebration cakes she needed to bake and ice. The reminder triggered a squeeze of stress in her chest. Before shelet it take hold, Jasmine pulled herself up and drew in a deep breath.

‘Right, it’s Friday night, fretting about next week isn’t going to help or make a difference. You need to get your backside into gear and get down to the Jolly with your friends!’ she remonstrated with herself, relieved not to have a tardy babysitter to contend with – something that had, disappointingly, become increasingly regular – thanks to Zak and Chloe having a sleepover at her parents that night.

Feeling instantly brighter, she quickly washed her hands before separating the tiers of the cake and carefully placing them into boxes ready for collection first thing in the morning. That done, she whipped off her apron and shoved it into the washing machine before rushing upstairs where she wriggled out of her cake-making clothes. Much as she’d love nothing better than to jump in the shower, time was against her, so she gave herself a quick squirt of deodorant instead, then changed into a clean pair of cargo trousers, teaming them with a yellow and white striped T-shirt. She didn’t have time to look in the mirror; the couple of coats of mascara she’d applied that morning would have to suffice, and she wasn’t going to give the state of her dyed-red pixie crop a second thought after all the icing sugar and sparkles that had been floating around the kitchen. If she sparkled like a Christmas bauble, it was too bad!

‘Ignorance is bliss and all that,’ she muttered to herself, knowing her friends would take her as they found her.

Racing downstairs, Jasmine grabbed her phone and her keys, stuffing them into her bag, which she slung over her shoulder cross-body style. She slipped her feet into her battered Converse plimsols then reached for her green utility jacket. Seconds later, the front door closed behind her with a slam. Standing on the doorstep, she puffed out her cheeks, squinting in the bright evening sunshine.

Sucking in a deep breath, she set off, hurrying along the street of two-up, two-down terraced houses, unzipping her bag and rummaging for her sunglasses, warm air rushing over her skin. If she put her best foot forward, she could get to the Jolly in twenty minutes, provided she didn’t melt into a sweaty puddle beforehand, that is. She had so much to share with her friends and was eager to get their opinion on a couple of things. Her heart fluttered at the thought.

It wasn’t until she was striding along the top promenade of Micklewick Bay on the North Yorkshire Coast, her feet pounding over the flagstone pavement, that Jasmine’s thoughts had steadied sufficiently to allow herself time to process her day, and in particular,thatphone call. Excitement fizzed through her as she replayed the conversation in her mind.Oh, my days!She could hardly believe it – she’d actually had to pinch herself several times to prove she hadn’t been dreaming or hallucinating! Things had suddenly taken off with her celebration cake-baking business in a way she could only ever have dreamt of and, much as she didn’t want to tempt fate or jinx herself, she hoped it was a sign that her life was about to turn a corner. And boy, did it feel good. She’d sent her friends a brief text earlier, hinting that she had something big to tell them. Their enthusiastic replies suggested their interest had been thoroughly piqued and she couldn’t wait to share the details with them.

She gave in to the smile that had started tugging at her mouth. It didn’t matter one jot to Jasmine that her hair was sticky with icing sugar or that sunlight glinted off the edible glitter that had found its way to the tip of her nose and the dusting that decorated her left eyebrow. It was par for the course. Nothing could dampen her spirits tonight – not even her former in-laws, and that was saying something. She elbowed the recent toxic encounter with them out of her mind beforeit had a chance to take root. It wasn’t as if anything she ever said to Gary and Alice Forster made any difference and their latest accusation, of her still hanging on to some of Bart’s stuff, was just the latest in a long line of hassle she’d had with them. But Jasmine wasn’t going to give their spite and negativity the tiniest bit of headspace, especially tonight. Tonight was all about positive vibes only.

She strode on, arms swinging, as the mellow evening sun shone down from a clear blue sky. The town was still bustling with day-trippers and locals making the most of the fine weather. Upping her pace, she glanced to her left, taking in the stunning vista that stretched out before her. A handful of fishing boats bobbed about on the waves that sparkled in the sunshine where seagulls dipped and dived, their cries carrying over the water. But what dominated the view was the precipitous range of cliffs that held the North Sea at bay along this stretch of the North Yorkshire coastline. Taking centre stage was the rugged broad shoulders of the iconic Thorncliffe that loomed over the cove where the higgledy-piggledy cottages of Old Micklewick huddled close together, and the Jolly sat stoically facing out to sea. The beach below swept around in a dramatic arc of golden sand, reaching all the way along to where work on the new marina was underway, transforming the fortunes of the once tired part of town. The skeletal shapes of industrial Teesside further up the coast seemed incongruous juxtaposed against such an idyllic seaside scene. Jasmine loved her hometown and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, not least because her family and best friends were here; after her children, they were what mattered most in her life and she loved them all dearly.

She soon reached Skitey Bank, the steep road that wound its way down to the bottom prom and the beach beyond, and hurried along it, almost tripping over her own feet in her haste – despite its steep ratio, it was far easier than the alternativeof tripping down the uneven range of one hundred and ninety-nine steps. She’d taken a tumble down them several times before in her rush to get to the Jolly. The extra traffic snaking up and down the bank was a reflection of the beautiful weather the seaside town had been blessed with that week.

Beads of sweat prickled her brow as she scurried by boats and the precariously stacked lobster pots by the sea wall, weaving her way through clusters of people ambling along at a leisurely pace, the hush of the tide idly lapping at the shore in the background. Up ahead, the characterful, whitewashed building that was the Jolly came into view, triggering a wave of relief that her destination was within reach. Even from here she could see the outside seating area was heaving with customers, with every table taken.

As she drew closer, the jaunty sound of a fiddle floated towards her, accompanied by the familiar tones of the folk band that played there every Friday. It was joined by the tempting smell of fish and chips that wafted under her nose, making her stomach growl, reminding her she’d only had a banana for her lunch which seemed like an age ago. Jasmine had found that the sweet scent of the sugar paste and icing sugar took the edge off her appetite while she was busy cake-decorating, and she had to make a concerted effort to remind herself to grab something quick to eat just to keep from flagging.

Stepping inside the pub, she wasn’t in the least bit surprised to be met with a wall of people. It was always a popular spot, in no small part because of landlady Mandy’s fish and chips which were legendary and had recently won an award for being the best in town – from the corner of her eye, Jasmine had caught the chalkboard on the wall outside proclaiming the very same.

The ancient pub was oozing with character, with its thick, uneven walls, the low ceiling supported by smoke-darkened oak beams, the wide inglenook fireplace and the repurposedhurricane lamps that cast their soft light around the room. It was no wonder people were tempted back.

A loud, cackling laugh rang out above the folk music and conversation. Jasmine instantly recognised it as belonging to Lobster Harry. When he wasn’t out to sea in his ancient trawler, the grizzle-faced fisherman was as much a fixture in the pub as the old ship’s bell that hung above the bar.

As she pushed her way through the throng of warm bodies towards the table where her group of friends gathered and put the world to rights every Friday evening, she caught the eye of Ando Taylor. She groaned inwardly as he gave her an exaggerated flirty wink. He was a harmless soul who was regarded as something of a local character, though he was known to stray into the realms of silliness when he was on the wrong side of a few pints of beer. His penchant for skateboarding, and his youthful garb of ripped jeans, battered leather jacket, brightly coloured trainers, topped off with a baseball cap worn back-to-front, belied the fact he was well into his forties. He’d been showing an increasing amount of interest in Jasmine over recent months but, much to her irritation and no matter how many times she turned him down, he remained undeterred. She gave him a tight smile and continued her way across the bar, hoping he wouldn’t trouble her tonight.

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