Page 43 of The Gingerbread Cafe
Gretel planned to make larger ones to hang in the café window on different lengths of ribbon to replace the festive holly wreaths. She and Lukas had taken them down and packed them away the other night when she’d decided it was time to start moving away from Christmas, but what she would replace themwith had been troubling her. In fact, the whole café seemed sparse now, although her three wise women had told her not to panic when they’d talked about it yesterday over Amber’s newly created gingerbread and cocoa latte. Together they would think of something. ‘It takes a village,’ Eve had kept saying, as though the idea was only just dawning on her. Gretel liked the sound of it.
As well as the larger biscuits for the window display, Gretel would make a batch of smaller and less intricate ones for the four of them to try, with some spare for the café if they were in any fit state for public consumption.
‘It’s chilled,’ said Gretel, pulling her dough out of the fridge.
In front of her eager audience she began cutting out her shapes using cardboard templates she’d made, exactly like she did when she was preparing to cut glass. She’d guessed that bringing her glass-cutting tools would have been a step too far, but she worked determinedly with the sharp knives she’d chosen and the process felt similar, other than that there were no satisfying snaps of glass, and if she went wrong, she could just re-roll her dough and start again. That part was a blessing.
Gretel’s creations were soon lined up on trays ready to go into the oven, which she’d made everyone check to make sure it wasn’t on the blink after some of her previous burning disasters.
‘It’s all good,’ Amber confirmed.
With a joint prayer to the universe or whoever was listening, Gretel put the trays in the oven and four women and a ferret cheered and squeaked as appropriate until the oven door was slammed shut and the timer set.
Amber and Phoebe shuffled off through the café to use the toilets, even though Gretel had offered them use of her bathroom upstairs. They were whispering about something and Gretel left them to it. Eve took charge of the washing-up whilstGretel dried and put things away, in the hope that busy hands would distract her from worrying about her bake.
‘I’m determined not to burn them,’ Gretel said to Eve as she pointed to the oven. ‘I know they’re only biscuits but they’ve taken me hours of careful planning and preparation, and the more you put your heart into something, the more it hurts when it all goes wrong.’
‘Isn’t that just the truth, darling girl,’ Eve replied, with a strange sadness. ‘But we already know these biscuits will be a work of art. You created them from your soul. You researched the recipes, you crafted each piece with loving care, and you showed that dough who was boss tonight. Any kind of creation starts with confidence, just like Amber said. You didn’t let it smell your fear.’
That last bit reminded her of Lukas.
Within no time the oven was beeping and the four women, minus a sleeping ferret, gathered around the oven for the big reveal.
‘I’m too scared to look.’ Gretel pushed the oven gloves into Amber’s hands.
‘No wonder you used to burn everything if you faff around like this instead of opening the oven and getting on with it,’ Amber replied.
Eve grabbed the oven gloves. ‘She doesn’t burn everything any more.’ She pulled the oven open and received a face full of hot steam, then passed the gloves to Gretel so she could demist her glasses. ‘They’re your babies, Gretel. Save them!’
Gretel thrust on the gloves and went in hands first, hardly daring to peep at the contents of each tray as she pulled them out and lined them up quickly on the worktop.
‘Drum roll …’ Amber tapped out a beat on a biscuit tin.
Phoebe moved her out of the way. ‘Wow. I can officially confirm they look bloody delicious,’ said Phoebe, dancing around the trays.
‘Then gimme a whoop for the best new baker in town,’ said Amber.
Gretel’s three friends cheered as she peeked at the trays through nervous fingers, letting out small sobs of joy as she realised that the biscuits looked pretty damned perfect, even if she had no idea what they’d taste like. They were like something from one of those fantastic baking shows where contestants got all tearful in tents. There were no broken off bits or burnt edges, and they could probably pass as small pieces of edible art.
With all the clapping and congratulating, Angel Gabriel woke up and decided he was off. He jumped out of Gretel’s crochet bag, making a bid for freedom across the floor and through the door which led to the café, which was accidentally still ajar after Amber and Phoebe’s trip to the ladies’ room.
Gretel jumped as she heard a scream from the café, her hand flying to her mouth. ‘What the … ? Who’s out there?!’
Chapter 36
Gretel could feel her heart pounding. Who was out there in the dark, closed café – and what were they doing with her ferret?
Phoebe and Amber looked suddenly guilty and Eve grabbed Gretel’s arm. ‘It’s OK, it’s the others. We invited them to join in with your baking success because we knew you’d do brilliantly. Don’t be cross with us.’
‘We sneaked them in when we popped to the loo,’ Phoebe admitted, looking sheepish.
‘The others?’ asked Gretel, leaning against the worktop to try and stop her head spinning.
‘It’s just the gang.’ Amber shrugged, like it was completely normal for intruders to come and celebrate your biscuits.
Phoebe linked arms with Gretel and the four of them moved towards the partly open door where Angel Gabriel had escaped. Eve carefully collected a tray of the smaller stained-glass gingerbread biscuits as they went.
When they got into the café their friends from the street were all there, huddled around a table by candlelight. Angel Gabriel was stretched out luxuriously across Gordon the Grocer’s large belly like it was a king-size ferret bed.
