Page 9 of Clara's Secret Garden
‘Well,Icould play with you?’
He stares at me mutinously, chin wobbling, determined not tocry, and my heart squeezes with love. Even Bertie’s starting to realise he’sbeen given a raw deal when it comes to parental care. ‘Come on. Let’s go andwatchMarch of the Dinosaurs. We haven’t seen it for at least a week.’ Ismile. ‘But you’ll have to remind me of their names because I always forget.’
He shakes his head and scrambles down from the table. ‘I’mgoing to play on my Xbox with Luke,’ he says, and runs out of the room.
‘Your mum will come and tuck you in when she gets back,’ Icall.
‘No, she won’t. She’ll forget.’
‘I’ll remind her.’
His reply is drowned out by Lois’s music reverberatingthrough the ceiling and making the nagging ache in my head worse.
Trying to keep this dysfunctional family from completely fallingapart sometimes seems like a full-time job. But I do it for Bertie. If itwasn’t for him, I’d probably have moved out a long time ago...
I think of Gran. She made no bones about the fact that Irenewasn’t good enough for her son. ‘Too flighty and much too selfish,’ was herverdict, almost from the start. ‘All she thinks about it herself, that one.’ Granmakes a real fuss of Bertie and I know she’s trying to make up for the affectionhe doesn’t get from his mum. I used to love watching them together. But sinceher heart attack, Gran hasn’t wanted Bertie to visit her in hospital. She mustmiss him terribly but she doesn’t want him to see his gran looking so poorly.She keeps saying, ‘when I’ve got a bit more colour in my cheeks’. But when willthat be?
As for Bertie, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that when Granwas rushed into hospital, he started acting up at school, playing the fool inclass and distracting the other kids. I can tell he really misses our gran...
Lois turns her music up even louder, the beat punching rightinto my head.
Feeling desperate, I charge up the stairs and knock on herdoor. ‘Lois, will you turn that music down, please?’
‘God, you’re no fun at all,’ she calls, although the volumelowers a fraction. ‘Maybe if you stopped acting like a boring, prudishpensioner, you might get a boyfriend. But I wouldn’t hold your breath if I wereyou.’
I walk back downstairs, feeling my throat closing up. I canusually just bat away Lois’s carelessly cruel remarks. But that one touched anerve. Is that how I come across? Boring and prudish and no fun at all? Isuppose compared to Lois and Irene, that’s exactly what I am...
In the kitchen, I reach for the cake tin. I’m not hungry.I’ve just eaten dinner. But carbs are so comforting – at least for the fewseconds the food is in your mouth. I baked a chocolate fudge cake only theother day, so there should be a few slices left. I will eatonly one...
But the cake tin is empty.
Irene probably finished off the last of it when she got inlate last night with the munchies.
Anger surges up from nowhere, tears smarting at my lids. ButI’m angry at myself, not at Irene. If I had a life, as Lois is always pointingout, I wouldn’t need the comfort of cake to get me through...
But I can’tstopthinking about cake now, and the usualstruggle starts up in my head.
I feel cheated that there was no chocolate fudge cakeleft. But I could always bake another one. Or I could make a courgette cake.That recipe I found earlier had cherries and lime in it as well, which actuallysounds quite delicious.
But if I bake a courgette cake and it’s nice, I’ll only endup eating more of it than I should. (Even if it’s not that nice, I’ll probablystill eat it because I can’t resist the carbs.)
So I won’t.
I’ll leave the temptations of the kitchen and go and dosomething else instead.
But I’ve got all the ingredients – even the morellocherries, which is a miracle in itself – and I really want to know what itwould taste like.
And those courgettes need using up.
I’ll feel really guilty if they go to waste...
*****
An hour later, I bring the cakes out of the oven. I madefour, to use up as many courgettes as I could (the cakes freeze really well,apparently) and the aroma in the kitchen is amazing. No hint of garden allotmentwhatsoever.
Waiting for them to cool, I shave a tiny slice off the endof one of the loaf cakes to sample it. The sponge is lovely and fluffy and moist,and the cherries and lime are a match made in heaven. I busy myself making alime icing to drizzle over the cakes once they’re cool.
I’m feeling more relaxed now. Baking makes me happy.
