Page 15 of The Wedding Cake
“It’s nothing. I just like to do my bit. The staff help out as much as they can, too. There’s so much wealth all around us in Marbella and, when you live in a place like this, it’s easy not to see the plight of those in need. Anyway, I think we’re all done here and the last thing we want to do is get caught in the act by one of the bakers.” That made their kitchen interaction sound well dodgy, but Freya didn’t seem alarmed by her choice of words. “Shall we?” She gestured for Tim to help carry a tray and they descended the stairs, to take their seats again in the courtyard.
“First things first, Tim,” said Freya once they were settled. “Let’s reconfirm the wedding date. I’ve got you down for Saturday the thirteenth of August. We’ve got three wedding cakes going out that day, but luckily the others are much smaller, so I can assure you there will be no issues.”
“Of course,” said Tim, still struggling to snap out of his daze at the mention of the month of August.
His stomach churned and he struggled to identify with this morning’s version of himself; a man who craved his partner’s attention, a man who couldn’t wait to put a twinkly wedding ring on her finger and whisk her off into the sunset on honeymoon. Speaking of which, not only was Piper being elusive about the guest list but she was constantly avoiding the subject of said honeymoon. Oh, well. Maybe they’d stay at the villa in Spain. There were far worse places to celebrate your first week or two as a married couple.
Now Tim had resorted to his own spot of rapid blinking as he processed the image of the beautiful baker extraordinaire sitting before him. Freya’s words about charity had really struck him, too. Thunderbolt style.Why hadn’t he seen the truth before?Piper was greedy.Yes, she appeared to share things with others (well, to be honest, just with him), and yes, she was paying for this holiday. But, now he stopped to really think about it, money was only splashed in great amounts when it benefitted her. When being with him enhanced her image, for example. That was as far as her benevolence went.
Tim couldn’t claim to be holier than thou about things, but he did what he could every month, and on a considerably smaller pay packet. The Nutkins clan had never been a church-going family, but Tim had been brought up to help others. He tried to give away at least fifty pounds a month to a charity, he waived the fees for his classes when his students were skint and he would always go out of his way to help little old ladies – and men – cross the road. Tim didn’t idolise many sports stars, which could be considered surprising given his career, but he was a massive Marcus Rashford fan. The way that guy used his position to raise others up and fight for so many deserving causes was admirable. When he looked at his relationship with Piper from that perspective, was he being a hypocrite to marry someone who didn’t ‘do’ community spirit, let alone any kind of altruistic deeds?
It was definitely food for thought.
“Okay, that’s great. Thanks for reconfirming the date.” Freya scribbled something in her dilapidated green book and Tim silently pledged he’d stop daydreaming once and for all. This was a business meeting and there was a wedding cake to taste, a girlfriend to call imminently.
He reached for his mobile phone, still resting against the vase, to make the call to Piper, when her incoming call beat him to it. Tim ran a hand through his hair as if to physically erase his recent thoughts about Freya and pressed the answer button.
“Hey babe! How’s it going? What’s the cake like? Have you met Freya Ashcroft in person? I bet she’s super stylish.”
Piper sounded as if she’d rehearsed that entire spiel, and Tim couldn’t believe she was wearing another miniscule bikini top. This one in shimmering gold. It was even cooler today than the last time she’d paraded about on the beach. Both changes of outfit really were several sizes too small for her recently augmented bust, but he knew that was intentional. Tim couldn’t tell if she was wearing a matching thong on her bottom half but he was sure that Freya would never have conducted a wedding cake tasting with a bride wearing so little – not that she was technically in the courtyard.
The internet connection wasn’t great, which was unexpected in upmarket Marbella. Then again he was in the old town, maybe fibre optics hadn’t reached here yet. He went to answer Piper, keen to savour the cake so he could relax, but she was already talking over him, full of herself after another day of all-expenses-paid luxury. ‘She’s not being rude,’ said his heart. But his head said, ‘Don’t fall for the excuse that there’s a time lag because of her phone connectivity issues. She bloody wellisbeing rude.’
“We’ve just sailed around the coast and now we’re moored up in the port for champers and oysters.” Piper tossed her hair this way and that and Tim tried to ignore his uncomfortable feeling of sheer embarrassment at this display in front of Freya. At that, Freya appeared at his side to speak to Piper.
“Hi Piper. It’s great to meet you. Looks like you’re having a fabulous time there. I’ll make sure Tim’s happy with all the components of the wedding cake, don’t worry. This side of the screen is a little fuzzy but hopefully you can see his reactions, and the individual sponges, a little clearer at your end. It’s such a shame you can’t be here in person but if you ever want to make another appointment to double-check you’re happy with everything, just let me know.”
“Aw, thanks, Freya. It’s good to meet you too. But honestly, there’s no need. I pride myself on clean eating, as you can see.” Piper winked and Tim cringed. “As long as you can seamlessly add a wedge of healthy Yacon syrup-baked sponge into each layer, as previously briefed, I totally trust my hubby-to-be. He’s got great taste, after all.” Piper twirled at the ends of her hair.
Tim clenched his teeth and quickly unclenched them to down his cold coffee in one. He wasn’t a spirit fan, or a violent man, but he could suddenly murder a double vodka. He’d never known Piper to behave so exasperatingly. And hang on a minute. Tim squinted at the screen.
“I-isn’t that the…Noahdude with you on the boat?” Tim frowned.
“Oh, ha, yeah. W-well spotted.” Piper pulled her shades down over her eyes. “And you can probably also see that he’s with his partner… Giles.”
Tim narrowed his eyes to scrutinise the figures on the other side of the yacht, but the solitary pair of males didn’t look particularly loved-up, even if they were getting a little pixelated. ‘Exactly,’ his head interrupted. He could have decked himself for all the endless internal chatterandthrown himself over the deck on the screen. Which would have been quite a feat, but damn, would this second-guessing ever stop?
Freya plated up the first of the samples for him.
“We’ll start with the smaller top layers and work our way backwards,” she said, and Tim couldn’t have been happier for the change of subject.
“Sounds good to me.”
He picked up a cake cube and let the zingy aroma of the lemon curd and passionfruit sponge anchor him to the courtyard and the job in hand. It was weird to eat with two pairs of eyes upon him but Tim brought the sample to his lips anyway, hoping he wouldn’t have to come out with anything poetic like the food critics on television.
“Phenomenal,” he said, after he’d let the flavours meld on his tongue. And it was. The sponge was moist, but there was no way he was usingthat wordto describe it, and the burst of fresh lemon and exotic passion fruit cutting through the sweetness of the smooth icing was the perfect antidote.
“It looks great,” said Piper, who seemed to be getting merrier by the minute, taking swig after swig from a giant champagne bottle that had been passed to her by a stray hand. “But couldn’t you do it with buttercream instead?”
“I’m afraid not. It’s impossible for a summer wedding,” Freya enlightened her.
“Really?”Piper hugged the bottle to her chest, and then evidently thought better of the chill against her skin. “I’m sure I read about a cake of a similar scale made with buttercream at a Spanish model’s wedding last year. I’m paying you enough money. Surely you could make an exception.”
“Sorry, Piper.” Tim marvelled at the steadiness in Freya’s voice and wished he could channel her assertiveness when asked by his girlfriend to do something he didn’t want to. “The only way that could happen is if we decorated the naked sponge at the reception and then stood back for your guests to pile in and wolf it down immediately. Trust me, you’d have an awful mess on your hands. Buttercream simply won’t withstand the heat. We can only provide buttercream cakes for winter weddings.”
Piper pouted. Talk about showing Tim up. Talk about showing herself up. It was a bonkers request when she didn’t even eat sugar. The rest of the guests would be over the moon with the eight-tier showstopper in its original frosting.
In the end Tim had no choice but to cut off their call, later blaming it on the poor connection. Freya had looked more than a little alarmed at his action but he’d assured her it was for the best and he’d diligently signed all the paperwork she’d had at the ready so that the bill could be emailed to Piper. He was desperate to get back to the dinky little bite-sized cubes of sponge. Every flavour was heavenly. Every morsel was a distraction. Light, not cloying, delicately flavoured. Extremely moreish. Tim couldn’t stop going in for seconds, much to Freya’s delight.
