Page 35 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
“That was nice of your nanna, wasn’t it? Now run along and sit at the table — I think the birthday cake will be along in a minute.”
The child ran back to her friends, wriggling into her place. “That’s Uncle Bill,” she informed them proudly. “He milks cows.”
Debbie, usually so deftly efficient, was fumbling to put two pasties into a paper bag. She finally managed it and held them out to him with another shy smile.
“Thank you.” He took out his wallet and tapped his credit card on the reader, but he didn’t leave at once. “Um... Will... will you be coming to the cricket tomorrow?”
“Of course.” Another blush. “You know I always do the catering.”
“Oh yes — of course.” He grinned, glanced away, glanced back. “I’ll see you there then. Goodbye.”
“Yes. Goodbye.”
Vicky had been clearing one of the tables. She paused as she stepped past Debbie to put the things in the dishwasher. “He likes you.”
“Um . . .”
“And you like him.”
If Debbie had blushed any deeper she would have rivalled the tomatoes on the pizza.
“So why don’t you get it together?”
“It’s not that simple.” Debbie had picked up a tea towel and was twisting it in her hands. “There’s Amy.”
“But she adores him,” Vicky insisted. “And he seems very fond of her.”
“I know. That’s the problem. If I... if we... I don’t want her to get too attached to him in case... What if it turns out like Alan again?”
“Why would it?” Vicky arched an eyebrow. “Is he like Alan?”
“No! Nothing like him — not at all. But...” Debbie shrugged, trying to smile. “I don’t think I’m a very good judge of men.”
“Rubbish. He seems like a really nice bloke. Sometimes you just have to take a chance.”
“I suppose...” She shook her head, fussing with hanging the tea cloth back on its hook. “Um... It’s time for the birthday cake.”
Vicky let the subject drop. But she hadn’t forgotten about it.
The birthday cake was met with squeals of excitement. Debbie had made a plain sponge, but covered it with pink fondant icing and designed a castle gate complete with drawbridge, and arrow-slit windows all round. Set around the top were five turrets made of icing sugar, each with a candle, and in the middle was a tiny princess and a white knight.
“Oh, that’s fabulous!” Vicky exclaimed. “How did you make the little figures?”
“They’re just the bride and groom figures you get on a wedding cake. I added a few bits, and coloured them different with food colouring.” She smiled crookedly. “Actually they’re from my own wedding cake. I thought it was about time they made themselves useful.”
Vicky laughed. “Too right!”
The candles were blown out and the cake cut with due ceremony. By the time the last few crumbs had been demolished, some of the children were getting fidgety, leaving the table and starting to run around the café.
“Oh dear.” Debbie watched them anxiously. “I hope none of them are going to be sick.”
“Don’t worry — their mums will be here soon to pick them up.”
As she spoke the door opened. But it wasn’t a parent — it was Jeremy and Jayde. And at the precise moment they walked in, a miniature Wyatt Earp ran towards them — and threw up a virulent amalgam of pink cake, jelly and ice cream all over Jeremy’s highly polished shoes.
“What the... ?” He leaped back, roaring in anger. “Get away from me, you disgusting child!”
Wyatt Earp promptly burst into tears.
