Page 2 of Cupcakes and Kisses in Micklewick Bay

It was Maggie who spotted her first, her face lighting up with a smile as she gave an enthusiastic wave, causing the others to turn and follow suit.

Jasmine smiled back, her heart lifting; it was always so good to see her pals.

‘Jazz, you made it, flower!’ Florrie said when Jasmine reached the table. She pushed her tortoiseshell glasses up her nose and grabbed her friend’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

‘Hiya, lasses,’ said Jasmine.

‘Yay! So glad you’re here, Jasmine.’ Lark beamed a warm smile at her, making her pale green eyes crinkle.

‘Oh, you look all hot and bothered, petal. Park your bum and catch your breath.’ Maggie’s smile was dampened by the faint hint of a troubled expression. Jasmine inwardly berated herself for not running a smudge of concealer over the dark circles that seemed to have become a permanent fixture beneath her eyes these last couple of months; her haste to leave the house meant she hadn’t given it a second thought. She knew her friends’ concern for her had been growing with all the extra hours she’d been working and she didn’t want to worry them, especially tonight when she had exciting news to share. She didn’t want anything to take the edge off that.

‘I agree, you do look all of a fluster, Jazz,’ said Stella, reaching for the bottle of Pinot Grigio chilling in the wine bucket and filling the spare glass. Though she smiled, the look in Stella’s eyes betrayed that her thoughts were straying down the same path as Maggie’s.

Jasmine draped her jacket over the back of the seat at the head of the table before flopping into it. She blew out a long breath, feeling her heart rate begin to settle. She inhaled slowly, the familiar soothing scent of the essential oils Lark doused herself in tickling her nostrils and overpowering any perfume the others were wearing. ‘Tell you what, hot and bothered, and all of a fluster, doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’m shattered and I’m absolutely sweltering. And I don’t even want to think about the horrors taking place inside my plimsols after the race I had to get here.’ She gave an exaggerated shudder, making everyone laugh.

‘Can’t say I’d be keen to give that too much thought, either,’ Maggie said dryly, hitching an amused eyebrow at her.

‘Yeah, me neither.’ Stella pulled a faux horrified face.

Jasmine grinned, giving her T-shirt a quick waft in a bid to cool herself down. ‘I was that engrossed in the cake I was decorating, I completely lost track of time – mind, it’s fair to say I had a phone call that didn’t exactly help. Meant I’ve had a right bloomin’ rush on to get here. That said, you can trust me when I say, wild horses couldn’t keep me away from our Friday night get-togethers. They’re what keeps me sane.’

‘There you go, get a mouthful of that.’ Stella smiled kindly. She was sitting on the settle to Jasmine’s left and slid the glass of freshly poured wine towards her. As ever, Stella was looking effortlessly sophisticated in a simple linen halter-neck dress, its shade of blue complementing her ice-blue eyes and glossy, blonde hair that she’d tied back into a sleek, low ponytail. Her cool, unapproachable exterior and straight-talking nature belied her warm personality and sharp sense of humour, and the fact that she was very much a woman’s woman.

‘Thanks, Stells.’ Jasmine took a sip, the crisp, cool citrussy notes making her tastebuds dance. ‘Mmm. That’s nice.’ She was already beginning to feel the benefit of the cooler temperature of the pub, its thick, centuries-old walls doing a sterling job of keeping the heat of the sun at bay.

‘So, come on then, spill the tea, missus. We’ve all been dying to know what you meant in that text you sent us this afternoon,’ said Maggie, who was sitting on the other side of Stella. She’d exuded a happy glow ever since she and husband Bear had become parents to much-longed-for baby Lucia last Christmas, and Jasmine noted the recent bout of sunny weather appeared to have lifted her naturally olive skin, adding to the effect. Maggie was looking colourful in a short-sleeved empire-line dress in a light cotton fabric that was splashed with bright pink flowers on a yellow background. She’d piled her shiny, dark curls up on top of her head, fixing them in place with a turquoise-coloured scarf.To Jasmine’s mind, Maggie could carry off bold, clashing colours like nobody else she knew.

‘Yes, come on, Jazz, we’ve been trying to guess what it could be,’ said Florrie, who was looking all fresh and cool in a white blouse with short, puffed sleeves, making Jasmine feel even more of a hot and sweaty mess in contrast. ‘We’ve been coming up with all sorts of suggestions.’

‘Mm. Knowing you lot, I dread to think what they’d be.’ Jasmine rolled her eyes jokingly.

‘My suggestion was that you’d got a cake order for the new people who’ve moved into the big house on the cliff above the marina, then you’d be able to satisfy our curiosity, and tell us who they are,’ said Lark. She owned and ran Lark’s Vintage Bazaar in the town’s Victoria Square. It was an enchantingly eclectic store that sold an array of vintage clothing and accessories, alongside a selection of crystals and a range of essential oils Lark mixed herself. She flicked her wavy blonde hair over her shoulder, sending her armful of bangles jangling – a sound as synonymous with Lark as the aroma of the aforementioned essential oils that wafted in a fragrant cloud around her. She was rocking her usual other-worldly vibe in a floaty Indian cotton sundress in muted shades of pinks and blues, shot through with fine silver thread that glittered under the lamplight.

‘I should probably warn you, our Lark’s is the tamest suggestion.’ Stella gave Jasmine a loaded look.

‘It is,’ agreed Maggie, giving a mischievous grin before taking a glug of her fizzy orange juice. Since she was still breastfeeding, she was steering clear of alcohol.

‘That’s because our Lark doesn’t let herself get carried away like the rest of you,’ said Jasmine, glancing around at her friends, before taking another sip from her glass. ‘I’m not sure I want to know what you came up with.’

‘Mine was that you had a mystery man lined up and had agreed to go on a date with him.’ Maggie waggled her eyebrows at her.

Jasmine almost choked on her mouthful of wine. It was worse than she’d imagined. ‘You what? You must be bloomin’ joking!’ Her horrified expression made them all hoot with laughter.

‘What a face,’ said Lark, chuckling into her glass.

‘When d’you reckon I’ve had the chance to meet a man, mystery or otherwise?’ Jasmine shot them a look that said she thought they’d truly lost the plot.

‘Ah, well, I’ve heard cake decorating can throw you into the path of all sorts of eligible young gentlemen,’ said Florrie.

‘“Eligible young gentlemen?” Have you been having Jane Austen readings at the bookshop or something?’ Florrie co-owned The Happy Hartes Bookshop with her boyfriend, Ed. ‘You need to step away from the romance novels, flower. My life couldn’t be any further removed from that particular genre if it tried. Come to think of it, I’m not sure what genre my pathetic excuse for a love life would fit into.’

‘Horror?’ said Stella.

‘Tragedy?’ offered Maggie.

‘How about comedy?’ suggested Lark. ‘Sorry if that sounds mean, it’s not meant to.’ She pulled an apologetic face.

‘Crime?’ added Florrie.

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