Cupcake Couture (33 page)

Heidi lowered her eyes towards her line green fingerless gloves and twiddled her thumbs.

‘The problem is, Hurley is gorgeous and fantastic and a real gentleman, very kind and thoughtful.’

I waited for the but. She kept on twiddling.

‘Do you remember when we talked about what I was looking for in a man a couple of weeks ago in here, Chloe?’

Bloody hell, how could I forget?

‘Yes,’ I said with a polite smile.

‘Well I’ve been going over that in my head the past day or two and’ – she paused to sigh again – ‘and there’s a problem.’

‘Oh.’ I tried to think back. ‘Well Hurley does have really dark, short hair and he’s slim and fashionable. I remember that much.’

To be honest, after that much, the rather extensive list became a bit of a blur
.

‘Long-limbed,’ Heidi nodded, ‘he is that and you’re right, he’s fashionable and definitely in an adventurous way. I don’t know if he’s got a man bag but yesterday he was wearing a pink floral shirt and purple shoes.’

Roxy mimed being sick.

‘So what else was there?’ I said, rubbing her shoulder.

‘Food and wine,’ she said, her mouth turning up at the corners. ‘He loves food and he tells me he can cook, even though I haven’t seen it for myself. Apparently their mother wanted them all to be rounded, self-sufficient men who could romance a lady so she taught them all to cook.’

My heart sighed at Heidi’s reference to the other Doyle brothers.

‘And Hurley does love cheesecake,’ she added.

‘Why aye, the solid, biscuity base for any relationship, cheesecake,’ Roxy laughed.

‘Well imagine if you were with a man who was teetotal,’ Heidi said to her.

Roxy wrinkled her nose.

‘Howay, like that would ever happen, man. Anyway, finding a teetotal fella in Newcastle would be canny hard like.’

‘So he’s got short, dark hair, he’s fashionable, he likes food and wine and most importantly cheesecake but he’s slim and long-limbed,’ I recounted, ‘and does he like your “love handles’ as you put it?’

She blushed and shifted on the sit, which creaked loudly.

‘More than this chair does,’ she giggled.

‘Good, what else was there then?’

‘Well’ - Heidi paused to sip her tea – ‘he’s always had pets growing up, dogs and cats and rabbits but he is a dog man, which is great. He loves children.’

Roxy manoeuvred herself forwards and frowned.

‘And is it all’ – she nodded towards her groin – ‘you know, in working order down there like?’

Heidi tutted.

‘Yes thank you, Roxy, I believe he can still procreate.’

‘That means have children,’ I said to her with a grin.

‘Aye alright, doc, thanks for clearing that up,’ Roxy smirked while pointing at her tummy.

‘He agreed he would like about four, which is how many I want,’ Heidi continued.

‘After a week? You had the children conversation after a week?’ Roxy gasped.

‘No.’

‘Thank fuck for…’

‘After two days.’

‘Fucking hell.’

Heidi shrugged.

‘What’s the point in getting into anything a long relationship if you want different things out of life?’

Roxy lolled on the beanbag and wiggled her finger next to her temple while Heidi carried on, counting the points on her fingers.

‘He likes reading, he’s ambitious and works hard on the events business but he also wants to make a difference. He does a lot of charity work.’

I lifted my hands to gesture around us.

‘Perfect, then you two are a good match.’

‘Do-gooder and do-gooder-two,’ Roxy said, rolling her eyes. ‘God your kids would be like mini Jesus’s and Mother Teresas running about saving everyone. I don’t think they’d be hanging out with mine anyway, smoking tabs and drinking cider in the Metro station.’

Heidi leaned towards Roxy and spoke to her stomach.

‘Don’t listen to your mother, little one and don’t worry, Auntie Heidi and Auntie Chloe will look after you.’

Roxy grinned while unwrapping a stick of chewing gum.

‘Well that’s the baby-sitting sorted for the next ten years. I’ll be down the pub.’

I finished my tea and set the cup down on the table.

‘So, Heidi, Hurley is all of those things and more. What’s left? Does he like your family?’

‘He’s only met my mam, but aye he said he does.’

‘Again after a week,’ Roxy tutted, ‘the poor man, it’s like being vetted to join the Nazis all this.’

Heidi scowled at her.

‘And for some strange reason,’ she said, pointing at us, ‘he likes my friends. Of course Zachary tells him all about you, Chloe, so you’re the favourite, like.’

I blushed and shifted on the seat.

‘And he doesn’t mind watching
Pretty Woman
although I know he just did that to please me but that’s fine. I’m not totally sure if he’s taller than me.’

‘Lie on top of him in bed, it’ll be easier to tell when he’s stretched out like,’ Roxy yawned as the bell above the door jingled to announce the first customer of the day (at three o’clock in the afternoon), ‘I mean he’s in a wheelchair most of the time so his height’s kind of irrelevant but as long as the poor guy can stick his tongue down your throat and get his dick in the right hole at the same time, you’re pretty much onto a winner.’

‘Can I help you, sir?’ Heidi squeaked.

The elderly gentleman customer clasped one hand to his chest while the other wobbled on his walking stick. He opened his mouth, his eyes wide, closed his mouth again and disappeared back out of the door faster than his eighty year-old legs had moved in years.

We shook our heads at Roxy who blew a bubble, popped it and said – ‘What?’

I stood and helped Heidi clear the mugs and biscuit crumbs from the table. I rinsed the cups under the cold water tap in the staff room (Bridget having turned off the hot water in anticipation of the shop closure). Glancing at Heidi, she looked so worried, I had to get to the bottom of what was bothering her. I could hear Roxy rolling around on the beanbag.

‘What is it, Heidi? Are you worried about his disability?’ I said quietly.

She shook her head.

‘Are you scared of not living up to your parents’ relationship?’

Again she shook her head.

‘Do you not fancy him?’

She shook her head then nodded, then shook it again.

‘Of course I fancy him, pet, you’ve seen him, he’s lush.’

I put the cups on the drainer and we made our way back out to the shop.

‘Can you help me off this fucking beanbag?’ Roxy growled. ‘Jesus, I feel like I’m being swallowed by Vanessa fucking Feltz in a zebra costume.’

We took an arm each and pulled her up.

‘What’s the problem then, Heidi?’ I said. ‘Why is Hurley not your ideal man?’

And, incidentally, when we find out what it is and decide you should definitely dump him because of it, do you mind if I then sleep with his brother?

Heidi turned to us, took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

‘His name begins with H,’ she sighed.

Roxy blew an enormous bubble and let it pop. I stared at Heidi and waited for her to explain.

‘I always wanted to marry a man whose name began with F or at least E,’ she said sadly, ‘but his begins with H.’

My jaw dropped open.

‘And I just think that both our names beginning with H,’ she carried on sadly, ‘just doesn’t sound right, you know?’

‘Heidi,’ I said slowly, ‘please tell me you’re joking.’

She fiddled with the furry collar of her cardigan.

‘No, I’m serious.’

‘You’re seriously mental,’ Roxy laughed.

‘Heidi,’ I said, touching her arm, ‘you can’t dump a guy who is perfect in every way except his name begins with the wrong letter. Why should an F or an E be any better than any other letter?’

Heidi crossed her arms over her ample breasts.

‘Remember that psychic in Spanish City in Whitley Bay?’

Roxy brushed her hand over the counter, checked it for dirt then leaned against it.

‘What the mad old cow with purple hair who had a giant oily marble instead of a crystal ball? Howay man, Heidi, you cannot listen to anything she told you.’

‘She said I would end up working with the disabled and that you would meet a footballer, Roxy and she told me about the F or E thing.’

I took a deep breath.

‘Please, Heidi, you’ve got more sense than that. She was very likely making it up. You can’t base your life’s choices on it.’

‘Heidi, man, you always said you wanted to be an occupational whatsit and work with the disabled, everyone knew that. And the mad old purple haired bat cleaned the bogs at Whitley Bay F.C. She walked in on me giving the goalkeeper, a blowjob once, so that’s where she got that gem from.’

Heidi screwed up her face.

‘And, I heard she got run over by a taxi that mounted the pavement when she was walking home from Spanish City the year it shut down. The car didn’t kill her but she was carrying the giant marble and it smashed her in the face.’ Roxy waggled her finger. ‘Now, if she was psychic, she’d have seen that coming.’

Heidi gasped. I rubbed her arm and shook my head. As much as part of me wanted to agree with her and tell her to dump Hurley, perhaps then leaving the door open for me to move on his brother in a less incestuous fashion, I couldn’t do it. I looked her straight in the eyes.

‘Heidi, Roxy is right, you can’t base your life on what that woman said. She was probably just trying to scrape together a living like the rest of us but unfortunately by lying to people. Hurley is a fantastic guy with everything going for him and he makes you happy. Don’t dump him. If the first letter of his name makes such a difference then give him a nickname.’

Heidi gazed at me, pressed her lips together and nodded.

‘A nickname,’ she said pensively, ‘hmm, maybe that would work.’

‘Fuckwit,’ Roxy chuckled, ‘there’s a nickname.’

‘You’re not taking this seriously, Roxy,’ Heidi huffed.

I left them squabbling while I fetched my coat from the staff room.

‘I have to go, girls. I have work to do.’

Roxy grabbed her bag.

‘Good call, I’m coming too. The smell in this place is making my baby want to vom and I don’t fancy baby vomit swirling around in there.’

‘You paint such a lovely picture,’ I grimaced as I slipped my arms into my coat.

I kissed Heidi on the cheek.

‘Think before you do anything,’ I said, peering into her eyes.

She nodded and turned to Roxy.

‘Do you want this wooden table and chairs set for your little one, Roxy?’

Roxy’s eyes flickered over the peeling paint of the table.

‘No, I think my “little one” will survive without it, thanks, Heidi. And Thierry wouldn’t thank me for bringing woodworm into contact with our polished oak floors.’

‘I guess it will just have to go to the recycling place with the rest of stock,’ Heidi sighed.

She followed us to the door. At the chance of escape, Roxy couldn’t get out of the shop quick enough. I opened the door. The bell jingled disconsolately.

‘It will be so strange when this place closes down,’ Heidi said sadly, ‘it’s been a great little meeting place.’

‘Yeah sad,’ said Roxy, breathing in the fresh air outside, ‘ah well, the champagne bar in Fenwicks will have to do.’

Roxy and I waved goodbye to Heidi and headed off down the street towards the Metro Station.

‘Good escape excuse,’ she said when Heidi was out of earshot, ‘I hate that fucking shop. Good riddance if you ask me.’ She looped her arm through mine. ‘Where shall we go, town? I’ll treat you to shoes. I need shoes.’

‘Roxy,’ I laughed, ‘your shoes have their own room, you do not need shoes. Anyway, it wasn’t an escape excuse, I do have work to do.’

‘Howay,’ she mumbled, ‘it’s Saturday man. Working on a Saturday is illegal.’

‘Not when you have two hundred cakes to design it isn’t. I better get on with it.’

Roxy spat her chewing gum into the gutter.

‘Boring,’ she growled. ‘I think I need new friends.’

‘You’ll have a new one to play with in a few months,’ I said, nodding at her barely visible bump.

‘Aye, don’t remind me,’ she said, scuffing her Gucci shoe boot along the pavement.

‘You can come and help if you like.’

‘With these nails? I don’t think so, pet.’ She waved and headed towards the opposite platform for town. ‘Good luck with the cake baking, like. It sounds fucking dull. Call me when they’re ready to eat.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

25ml whole milk

A week passed by as fast as if someone had spun the world on its axis like a basketball on the end of a finger. I had no time for socialising with Roxy and Heidi, no time to talk over Heidi’s ludicrous reservations about her love life, no time to dwell on thoughts of Zachary and no time to plan for Christmas. I decided I would just have to do all my shopping after the party in the crazy week before the twenty-fifth when it always felt as if people would not cease shopping until every last thing that could possibly be bought had been bought and when Chris Rea hopefully finally made it home.

Equally, I had no time to dwell on my redundancy and my imminent (or at least, becoming more imminent by the day) insolvency. Which was a good thing considering that on the one occasion I had decided to concentrate on my accounts, I had worked out my money would last until approximately April fools day, at which point my house would be repossessed like the ten thousand other British people per quarter and the joke would be on me. I had been so scared at this realisation that, after talking myself out of my hiding place in the bathroom, I had vowed to temporarily ignore such grown up concerns as accounts and to try and focus on the positives. I was making two hundred cupcakes for three pounds each, plus a planning fee of one hundred and fifty pounds, which, when the ingredients and test cakes had been factored in, would very likely give me a profit of around four hundred pounds for two weeks work. It was not a fortune, admittedly, but equally it was not to be sniffed at. Unless you were Roxy who spent five hundred pounds on two cushions for her thirty
grand sofa, or Carlos who spent three times that amount on a single bottle of champagne.