Page 33 of The Cake Fairies
“Oh, yeah, right.” Polly meandered back to the huddle of bar stools where Annabelle, Alex and Ivy were now seated; a warning plastered across her face which imparted so many things, chief among which were, ‘don’t you dare tell them too much’ and, ‘why in the hell didn’t we make a baking decision before their arrival?’
Annabelle couldn’t say that she was the greatest believer in flying by the seat of her pants either. Especially not when it came to such a prestigious inaugural cake deposit.
“So, what’s this all about? Surprise birthday, bar mitzvah, work colleague’s leaving do, baby shower?” Here Annabelle’s mind boggled: what was that last one?
“Well… it’s an experiment,” Annabelle began, purposely avoiding eye contact. The boy looked so good she could eathim, never mind the cake. And she could almost picture the pecs beneath that frankly unnecessary piece of cotton that she’d give her right arm to rip off. “We’re taking a year out and doing a social experiment.”
“A year away from what?” asked Alex.
“We run a bakery in a village… but it’s nowhere near here,” added Polly. “You wouldn’t have heard of it.”
“That’s right.” Annabelle nodded. “We decided it would be fun to…”
“…Mix things up a bit,” said Polly.
“A change is as good as a rest… as the old saying goes.” Did they even ‘do’ old sayings in 2019? “We’ve run our… er…chain of bakeries,”Annabelle knew that one of them had to justify the slightly baffling fact they could afford to live in this multi-millionaire’s pad, but why did she have to go and say that? Now they’d have to remember it as part of their backstory. “For ten years. It’s great. Hard work, but lots of fun, and we’re always inventing new bakes and surprising our customers.” She stopped then to make sure Polly was up to date with the latest instalment of their life story. Her cousin’s mouth was slightly agape. “Anyway, we wanted to transport that element of spontaneity to the streets of the UK. Starting off in London and wending our way around the British Isles. For a whole year. As you do.”
“Cool!” Alex’s eyes lit up and she thanked her lucky stars he was so easy to impress. “Sort of like when people hang out in public places holding out trays with samples of brownies or Christmas cake for passers-by. Sort of like what I was doing for The Toadstool… before you fell into my arms.”
“No. Way more exciting than that.”
Polly didn’t so much rain on his parade as dowse it in a thunderstorm, hurricane and tsunami, and Annabelle hoped she saw the way his face fell. That was plain cruel. It was all she could do not to hug him and claim him for her own.
“I love it,” said Ivy. “It’s got that Book Fairy feel to it; you know, those bookworm dudes who leave novels all over the place wrapped up in shiny green ribbon… aha… so that’s why you call yourself the Cake Fairies!”
“Bingo.” Polly nodded, and Annabelle acknowledged the unwitting credibility Ivy had just given to Amber Magnolia’s tent yarn on all things concerning their mission, easing her a little further into trusting they wouldn’t be stranded here forever. On the other hand, that might not be such a bad thing if there were more males of the Adonis’s league. “And that’s why I hand-pickedyouas chief cake taster.” Nice changing of the subject there, before they got out of their depth. “On that note, is there anything you’re allergic to? I know in this day and age… I mean… it’s always good to check. I don’t want you getting anaphylactic shock on us.”
“No, I’m good. This bottomless pit—” Ivy tapped at her washboard stomach “—can take on anything after the alcoholic challenges of freshers’ week.”
“Excellent. So, we need to come up with ideas. I’ll grab a paper and pen.”
Annabelle breathed another silent sigh of relief, stunned that neither Alex nor Ivy had really batted an eyelid; that this kind of project was apparently completely normal in the new millennium.
And then she remembered the glut of reality TV and cookery programmes that pervaded the airwaves these days and realised this was nothing so very new. Inspired, yes, but in a world where anything went – because nowadays people were flown off to islands to play dating games (and blatantly have sex), and a guy with a Mr Whippy ice cream of a hair-do ran the USA – their little scheme blended in rather nicely.
“No need to waste time thinking about anything. You absolutely have to make a massive Swedish summer cake. A little late now we’re heading into autumn, and yes, I’m a Dane, so I ought to be trumpet-blowing our own celebration cakes, but nowhere makes this type of foodgasm quite like our neighbours. It’s beyond perfect”
Annabelle and Ivy exchanged another stunned look. Did he just say…? Annabelle tried to ignore the expanding pool of heat traveling from her belly down to the space between her thighs. She imagined he was capable of giving a rather good one, too.
“Oh, I really don’t think that’s quite the effect we’re…”
“What’s one of those? The er… Swedish summer cake, I mean?” asked Annabelle, cutting off Polly’s predictable and instant critique while desperately trying to change her focus.
Ivy had the answer already. “Here.” She passed heriPhone around, practically licking her lips at the sweet pleasure awaiting her discerning palate.
“Oh, wow, that is beautiful. And you’re right, Alex. It’s perfect for tonight’s drop at Westminster… as long as we’re talking metaphorical org… Polly, look!”
Annabelle kicked herself. Why did she have to part-say that word he’d alluded to? Now her cover would be well and truly blown and he’d be sure to think she fancied him.
Polly cast a fleeting sideways glance and shifted her attention to the cake conundrum. “The berries will never settle, the cream will slide, and the sponges are way too flimsy. Guys, we’re talking about a five-tiered showstopper to get this experiment started. Thisedificewould sway more than the leaning tower of Pisa in a hurricane, and that’s before we even reach the station.”
“I heartily disagree.” Annabelle was having none of it. Alex had come up with a genuinely great idea and it wasn’t as if they had the luxury of time. “This is our first public venture. It’s simple but effective, and more importantly, it’s easy to make and assemble if you scroll through the method. We’ll royal-ice those blasted berries down so they’re super-glued if we have to.”
“Then that’s settled.” Alex rubbed his hands together in glee. “I know the recipe off the top of my head. Let’s do this.”
“But I really don’t…”
“Chill out, Polly. It’ll be amazing. I know I’m really looking forward to tasting it, and I am supposed to be your benchmark, after all. But that’s not the only reason I’m casting my vote. Everyone’s well into thehyggetrend. This cake’s a no-brainer,” said Ivy.
