Page 13 of The Wedding Cake
Tim knew it was wrong. Really wrong. Scumbag wrong. But try as he might, he couldn’t quell the warm feeling that swelled in his chest in Freya’s company. How immediate and effortless their rapport had been. It was self-indulgent, and yet it felt so refreshingly different to his usual initial response to an attractive woman. Chiefly because it didn’t come from his boxer shorts. Which was weird (and sounded more than sordid) and certainly wasn’t to say that Freya was ugly. Quite the opposite. Her beauty was understated and natural. People often talked about beauty shining from the inside out. Somehow Freya embodied that. Her soft brown curls framed her pretty face, she owned her freckles – unlike Piper, who covered hers up with foundation the moment the sun kissed her skin – and her hazel eyes seemed to light up the entire room. Or maybe it was just that Freya gave Tim her undivided attention? He wasn’t used to that. It was shameful to compare Freya’s complexion or her conversation with Piper’s. But when it came to the latter, the analogy of a seesaw explained it best: any interaction with Piper raised his girlfriend high in the air, with Tim struggling to meet her halfway, often finding himself grounded. But with Freya, everything was on an even keel. Like for like. Which probably sounded extremely delusional. He was, after all, a client. Of course Freya would appear interested in what he had to say. And yet, Tim just knew Freya would be the same in or out of a professional situation.
Tim cursed himself, breaking from his foolish reverie to twiddle the cabin’s aircon nozzle. It was just as well that Piper had her pink sleep mask on so she couldn’t detect the hot flush that had crept over his face. He carefully reached for the Pringles carton in the netted pocket of the seatback, conveniently shielded by his tray table, and popped a mini stack of potato chips in his mouth, munching as quietly as possible, chasing them down with a swig of his prosecco.
Luckily, Piper hadn’t detected a thing when he’d silently pointed at his order on the laminated menu to the male cabin crew member, who’d smiled soppily in return and silently ‘awwed’ at Tim’s devotion to his Sleeping Beauty girlfriend. But Tim hadn’t kept his bar order under wraps for the benefit of Piper’s sleep; he was petrified she’d hear he was eating junk food and ruining his pre-wedding diet!
Lately it felt like Piper was stage managing every aspect of his life. Obviously she had the best of intentions, wanting both of them to be in peak condition for their big day, ensuring suits and dresses fit, but there were still five months to go until the wedding. A few crisps wouldn’t make any difference. Tim would burn the excess calories off during his first night back in the hall teaching the trampoliners.
He fidgeted in his seat, unable to get comfortable. Piper would have booked them in business or first class with British Airways, but alas there were no direct flights. There just wasn’t enough leg room on these budget airlines when you were well above average height, and his niggles were swooping like vultures, picking every aspect of his relationship apart.
Now his bugbear was Piper’s career. Again. But blimey, it had deviated from the original plan when Tim had met her! Still, that was her prerogative and Tim could hardly speak; he’d set out on a sports management degree harbouring dreams of becoming an outdoor activities manager… and all he could seem to pull off was indoor aerobics (plus a part-time job that Piper had more or less cold-shouldered from their dialogue: working as a porter for the NHS). Still, it was a marathon not a sprint – ha! – and as soon as they were back home he intended to put his heart and soul into some Pennines and Peak District pursuits, which would hopefully set him on the right track to full-time work in his beloved field of study. His trampoline class would be a great place to put the feelers out for that – as would some of the notice boards around the hospital, which were often dotted with exercise and nutrition information.
Piper, on the other hand, had gained her NVQs in beauty therapy at college, with original aspirations to get into theatre and TV makeup, but never found the motivation to follow through when she finished her course. She’d worked as an assistant at a local salon instead. Then not long after Tim met her, she’d got a tip-off from a former student friend who had seen her own hair and makeup demos explode all over TikTok, YouTube and Instagram. Naturally, Piper decided to dabble… andkerching, everything changed overnight.
There was so much Tim loved about his girl, and yet, those qualities seemed to have faded as time had gone by. He didn’t want to liken Piper to a chameleon, but the analogy was spot on at the moment. Hopefully it would be nothing more than a passing phase. Oh! Tim had a sudden thought: maybe she was nervous about the wedding? Maybe the way Piper constantly threw herself into work was a coping mechanism? Now he felt guilty. And yet, despite regretting his doubts and gripes, he was compelled once again to replay his visit to Freya’s.
Piper’s decision to pull out of the cake tasting had grated on Tim. This rendez-vous was the best of the bunch, when you scanned the long list of time-consuming visits they had to get through. But Piper had been so apologetic and had promised to make herself available on FaceTime from the yacht’s deck, ‘multi-tasking’ so they could ‘enjoy the experience together’.
He couldn’t say she wasn’t making an effort, could he? Freya had snorted when he’d said that – and then all of a sudden he had her apologising to him too. “Oh, my God!That was the height of unprofessionalism. Please excuse me,” she’d said. “I… erm… I wasn’t insinuating for one moment that your significant other has you under the thumb. In fact, let’s be honest… it makes quite a change to see a man single-handedly taking on the wedding plans, and stepping up to the plate.” Freya screwed her features up at her awful pun.
Tim couldn’t help but belly laugh. Her attempt to cover the sizable hole she had dug was super cringeworthy, yet there was something so adorable about Freya’s innocence in trying – and failing abysmally.
“No, really. It’s not funny at all. I’m mortified. Let’s rewind,” Freya implored, her bright eyes on stalks. “Thank goodness the rest of the staff are still on their lunch breaks. I’d never live down such a faux-pas.”
This woman was fabulous. Salt of the earth. Fortifying.
“You’re all right, relax!” Tim tried to reassure her. “I’ve caught you off guard by arriving so early for starters, and Piperistaking unconventional to new levels. She’s probably downloaded a scratch, sniff and taste app on her phone… It wouldn’t surprise me.” He rolled his eyes. “That blessed device of hers has everything on it, bar the kitchen sink.”
Tim shook his head. He sounded as fuddy-duddy as his dad. A right technophobe. But he couldn’t stop himself laughing. He needed the release. “I’ve had a full-on week of it, to be honest. If I don’t laugh I’ll cry, so you’re doing me a favour. I can’t think of anything better than stuffing my face with cake to ease my woes.”
“Oh, heck,” said Freya. She looked cute. Cute enough to eat. Tim immediately erased the image from his head. “I’m so sorry to hear it. I know these wedding planning trips can be full on.”
Freya’s face was a picture of concern now and Tim batted a hand to suggest she ignore his embarrassing vent.
“No pity required. I’ve lived with the demands of my fianceé’s influencer career for a while. Mervyn’s itinerary is a walk in the park in comparison. Still, this was never going to be a holiday. It is what it is. Business with minimal pleasure. Present company excepted, of course.”Shit. Tim realised how inappropriate that must have sounded. He was here to sort out the wedding cake of Piper’s dreams, not to enjoy himself with another woman. “I’ll just… ah… set my phone up here so that Piper can see as much of the table top as possible, I guess.” Tim pulled his phone out of his pocket. He had no idea how much of the pomp and ceremony the camera lens would capture, but it would have to do.
“Right, yes. Good idea,” said Freya. “And I’ll just… erm… go and fix us some hot drinks and bring the wedding cake samples out to the courtyard then you can dig in. Normally my assistant, Hannah would take care of the refreshments but she’s on her break like everyone else, as it’s kind of Spanish lunchtime.” Freya pasted on a harried smile. Tim couldn’t blame her. Why hadn’t he been more considerate? The appointment was for three-thirty and he was a whopping fifty minutes early. But that was how keen he was to feel like he was doing something, like he’d not been abandoned by his bride-to-be. “I do make a mean Nespresso though. Unless you’d prefer tea?” Freya added.
“Nespresso’s grand. If it’s good enough for George Clooney…”
Tim carefully rested his mobile against the least expensive-looking vase on the table ready for Piper’s call and admired the handiwork that had gone into decorating the courtyard. It was all things twee and romantic. Beautiful flowers, little fairy lights, candles and petals. There was even harp music playing softly in the background. You couldn’t help but imagine a bride and groom standing in a similar setting for an intimate ceremony. Something like this would be so much more relaxed for everyone – him and his parents, his mates, even the humanist minister who they’d just hired for the day. Oh, and Piper. Even if she couldn’t see it. Okay, his girlfriend had collated a massive wedding guest list (and on that note, Tim really should insist he be allowed to take a look at it, she’d been ridiculously cagey when he’d last attempted) but even in the majestic villa, everyone would roll around like marbles and you’d be hard pressed to find the person you wanted to talk to, constantly panning the vista for a familiar face. In a small and friendly venue everyone could come together so much more easily.
“Here we go,” said Freya, jolting Tim from his thoughts as she returned with two mugs of coffee. “I sensed you’d be a mug man and I couldn’t resist joining you.”
Ha, the irony. Tim was certainly beginning to feel like a mug. The kind who had no say in anything.
“I’m guessing you usually have to do the whole teacups and saucers thing with your pinky pointing out, then?” he deadpanned, desperate to change the course of his thoughts.
“Yep, we do.” Freya sighed. “Especially when Meticulous Merv is in attendance. Seeing as I’ve already lost all of my dignity, airs and graces with you, I’ll just carry on in that vein.This is me.”
Freya hopped out of her seat to turn the music off, but something about the sudden silence made her flush and she tried to mask her discomfort with a cough.
“What am I like? We are not here to talk about me!” Now she threw in a giddy laugh. “We’re here to talk about you and that gorgeous bride of yours.” Tim gulped at the shocking thought that flew into his head then. Put it this way: he was sitting in front of a woman he’d known for all of ten minutes; a woman who was having such an unquantifiable effect on him, that if he had a wedding ring on his finger already, he’d have removed it and wedged it deep inside his pocket. Like he said, shameful behaviour. He was king of the scumbags. And then some. He reached for his coffee and took a long sip, immediately regretting it when he burnt his tongue.
“Shi… sugar…bollocks!”
Well, that had totally broken the ice, that kept melting and freezing around them. What a bizarre afternoon.
“Oh, my God. I take full responsibility.” Freya stood and covered her face in panic. “I shouldn’t have boiled the milk to such a volcanic temperature, but I find there’s nothing worse than cold milk added to hot coffee, except maybe black coffee… or… erm…”
