Page 10 of Clara's Secret Garden
When I’m measuring out ingredients and stirring eggs, butterand flour into the mix, all my problems seem to melt away like magic. The scentof a fresh cake baking in the oven is so soothing.
It’s not good for me, though. I need to be healthy forBertie and I do try. But it’s always a struggle. I realise that cake fills agap in my life, but it’s hard to give up something that takes away the ache, ifonly for a little while...
After drizzling on the lime icing, I scatter crushedpistachios over the top. And then, obviously, I have to try it.
It’s melt-in-the-mouth good.
But I must stop at one slice.
I’ll take some into the hospital tomorrow evening when Ivisit Gran. She’ll be amazed. Not because of how good the cake is, but becauseshe’s never before known me to take an interest in her garden. And as foractually harvesting the vegetables and turning them into a cake – well, I’mreally hoping it will put a smile on her face.
My knife is poised, ready to cut another slice, when amessage pings through on my phone from Rory.
Was thinking I could bring my mower over tomorrow andcut the lawns?
I text straight back.
The swanky one? Brilliant! I’ll be over there withBertie and Luke from ten. I’ll bring some courgette cake.
Er, pardon? Was that an autocorrect error? Please sayyou meant CHOCOLATE cake.
Haha! No. Courgette cake. It tastes nicer than itsounds. Honestly.
I’ll be the judge of that :)
His texts make me smile. Spirits revived, Isend back a cheeky response, then I place the cakes in two airtight boxes tokeep them moist.
I don’t need a second slice.
But what Idoneed is an early night if we’re goingto be tackling Gran’s garden in the morning...
CHAPTERTHREE
My mum died when I was four and it was just Dad and mewhen I was growing up. We were very close.
Then, seven years ago – at my eighteenth birthday party – Dadmet Irene, the mother of an old schoolfriend of mine, Lois. They got togetherand six months later, Irene and Lois moved into our house.
Lois and I had been friends in primary school but then sheand her mum – Lois had never known her dad – moved into a different catchmentarea, so she moved schools and we lost touch.
When we ran into each other years later, in Sunnybrook HighStreet, we chatted about the old days and I ended up inviting her to my party.I had second thoughts, though, as I watched her walk off, tossing back her longblonde hair, oozing with the sort of confidence I longed to have myself.
It wasn’t going to be the sort of party Lois would be expecting.
There would be family there, including Dad’s sister, myAuntie Mags, and her young family, who’d driven down from Scotland speciallyfor my eighteenth. And our neighbours on either side, who’d known me all mylife, would also be there – plus my two close mates, Siobhan and Daisy, and Siobhan’sboyfriend. My friends were fairly quiet, like me, and I couldn’t imagine Loishaving much in common with them.
As it turned out, Lois arrived late with a boy in tow, and abottle of champagne for me. After we chatted for a bit, the pair of them founda secluded corner in the dining room where they drank cider and laughed,wrapped around each other the whole time. So thankfully, my worries over Loisbeing bored melted away.
Irene turned up an hour later to collect them, and Dadinvited her in for a drink. They got on well right from the start, began seeingeach other, and it became serious between them very quickly. Irene brought Dadout of himself with her vivacious personality and I think he was dazzled by hergolden hair and the twinkle in her eye and her way of telling a funny story thatwould have him laughing heartily and wiping the tears away. I hadn’t seen mydad laugh like that for a very long time and I found myself warming to Irene.
Looking back on it now, I would have wondered at Irenevolunteering her taxi services that night – had she not revealed to me monthslater that she’d spotted Dad at some event in the village, remembered him fromwhen Lois and I played together at primary school, and had pounced on Lois’sinvitation to my party as an excuse to get to know him.
But I was pleased for Dad that he’d found someone to sharehis life. He’d been on his own far too long, and I suspected that was because bringingme up had been his sole focus for all those years. Irene was glamorous andself-confident, like Lois, and I saw how she could wrap my dad around herlittle finger.
She and I seemed to get along all right. But being suchdifferent people, it felt like there was an invisible barrier there to usgrowing closer – and I suspected Irene was a little jealous of the solid bondDad and I shared. But I was determined we should get on. We were a family now,after all. It was an awkward time for the four of us, though, when Irene andLois first moved in.
But then something happened that drew us all closer for awhile.
Bertie was born.
