Page 68 of Cupcakes and Kisses in Micklewick Bay

When seven o’clock arrived, it wasn’t Eloise, the sixteen-year-old babysitter, who was making her late for once, it was Connie Jamieson, the woman from Lingthorpe, who was supposed to have collected the christening cake an hour ago. Jasmine supposed she could have left Eloise to do the handover, but she preferred to do it in person. She liked to make sure her clients were happy with their order, and provide them with any instructions where necessary.

With an exasperated huff, Jasmine picked up her phone in readiness to call Connie, when a text pinged through from the woman in question, telling her she’d been held up and would collect the cake first thing in the morning. ‘Could’ve told me sooner,’ Jasmine muttered to herself as she fired off a reply in a more cheerful tone than she was feeling, saying that would be fine.

Since she’d already had a text from Florrie advising her she was running late, and would meet her down at the Jolly, Jasmine popped her head around the door of the living room where Zak and Chloe were laughing at something on the television, along with Eloise. ‘Right, I’m heading out now. Be good, monsters, and go to bed when Eloise tells you to, okay?’

‘Yes, Mummy. Have a lovely time.’ Chloe ran over for a kiss; Jasmine knew better than to trouble her son for one, especially in front of Eloise. Though, seeing him looking so relaxed andhappy made it good to know the kids hadn’t picked up on her internal anguish.

Jasmine headed across the bar of the Jolly, a sense of doom in her chest. As she expected, the pub was busy and she had to squeeze her way to the usual table, but even the lively chatter and the folk band’s toe-tapping tune failed to raise her spirits as it usually did as soon as she arrived. And nor did the aroma of Mandy’s fish and chips have their usual effect, kick-starting her appetite. She’d barely eaten all day, her insides were too churned up to face food. She’d had to force down a couple of slices of toast before she left the house, not wanting her glass of wine to land on an empty stomach, but that had been as palatable as a sheet of sandpaper and had stuck in her throat.

‘Now then, Jazz.’ Maggie’s warm smile dropped as soon as she took in Jasmine’s lacklustre demeanour. ‘What’s up, flower?’

‘Oh, Jazz, what’s happened? Your aura’s not right.’ Lark smoothed a hand down Jasmine’s arm. ‘Is the essential oil blend not helping? I can give you something else if you like?’

‘I think my problems are a bit too big for your roller balls and pillow sprays, unfortunately, Lark,’ Jasmine said flatly.

‘I thought your appointment with old Cuthbert went well.’ Stella frowned as she poured a glass of Pinot Grigio and slid it across the table to Jasmine.

‘It’s not that – and you’re right, Stells, it did go well. As for the essential oil blend, Lark, I’ve pretty much used up all of the pillow mist and I carry the roller ball thingy everywhere.’

‘What have I missed?’ Florrie appeared, her face flushed with rushing as she slipped into the settle alongside Stella.

‘Nothing, our Jazz was just about to tell us why she’s got a face like a wet weekend,’ said Maggie.

‘Why, what’s happened?’ asked Florrie, looking closely at Jasmine.

‘Ugh!’ Jasmine put her head in her hands. ‘Where do I start?’

They all listened as Jasmine brought them up to date with everything that had gone on that week, including Max’s offer on her home and Edith’s bequest, but she’d struggled to look any of them in the eye as she told them of her outburst on Max. Lark had gasped which had made Jasmine squirm and added to her guilt.

‘Oh, Jazz, that’s so not like you,’ Maggie said. She was wearing an expression of disbelief that tore at Jasmine’s insides.

‘Neither can I.’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘Believe me when I say I feel absolutely dreadful about it. If I could take those bloody awful words back, I would in a heartbeat. The look of hurt in his eyes has plagued me ever since I said those horrible things.’

‘Listen, flower, I think you’ve beaten yourself up enough. You need to try to get hold of him again tomorrow, and if he still refuses to answer his phone or return your calls, then, if I were you, I’d go to his house, see him face to face and tell him how sorry you are, clear the air. Once he sees you, he’ll be in no doubt that you mean it.’ Stella always favoured a direct, no-nonsense approach.

‘You’ve been under a lot of stress recently, Jazz, running on adrenalin. Something was bound to give,’ Lark said soothingly.

‘Yeah, s’just a shame poor old Max was in the firing line and not someone like Scraggo,’ said Jasmine.

‘Now that would’ve been worth seeing.’ Florrie gave a wicked chuckle, setting them all off. Even Jasmine found herself laughing.

Jasmine was standing at the bar, waiting to order a bottle of wine, and doing her best to avoid being spotted by Ando Taylor. She’d noted he was having a noisy conversation with Lobster Harry and handful of other local fishermen and she was trying to keep out of his eye line.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned. It took her a couple of seconds to realise that the pinched face looking back at her belonged to Sabrina. She was looking effortlessly stylish again, wearing a linen halter-neck dress, and her hair fixed in a messy up-do, a pair of silver dangly earrings completing the look.

‘Sabrina, hi.’ Jasmine gave a hesitant smile, noting the look of hostility in the other woman’s eyes.

‘Have you got a minute?’ Sabrina made no attempt to return Jasmine’s smile.

‘Er, yeah.’ The last thing she needed to deal with was a jealous wannabe-girlfriend.

She followed Sabrina outside and over to the sea wall where it was quiet, just the sound of the waves rushing to the shore and a solitary seagull overhead, cawing as it headed towards the cliffs.

Stay focused!‘Look, if you’ve brought me out here to warn me off Max, you’re wasting your time. I can tell you quite categorically that he’s not interested in me and I’m not interested in him. So he’s yours.’ Jasmine gave a defeated shrug just as the vintage streetlights flickered into life.

‘What?’ Sabrina looked at her as if she’d lost the plot.

‘Sorry if I’m speaking out of turn, or if you?—’

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