‘What would you like then?’
She looked at me in surprise, but she didn’t answer.
‘Don’t you know?’
‘It’s not that, it’s just that nobody ever asked me.’
‘I’m sorry I haven’t been helping you. I’ve been so selfish.’
‘Not at all. You’ve had an exciting adventure with your life. That’s important, believe me,’ she said wistfully. ‘How is that going, by the way?’
‘Oh,’ I sighed, ‘I don’t know.’
She looked at me for more and after everything she’d said, about not feeling like a good mother, I couldn’t hold back.
‘I lost my job, my car got scrapped, I’ve hurt a perfectly good one-night-stand, Melanie’s not speaking to me, neither are the others, my neighbour thinks I’m evil, I went to Wexford to tell Blake that I loved him and wanted him back but realised when I got there that I didn’t and now my life is moving on without me. So, that’s my life in a nutshell.’
Mum put her delicate fingers to her lips. The corners of her mouth twitched. She let out a little high-pitched, ‘Oh.’ Then she started laughing. ‘Oh, dear, Lucy.’ Then she couldn’t stop.
‘I’m glad my life amuses you,’ I smiled, watching her fall back on the couch in hysterics.
Mum insisted on staying the night with me, partly because my birthday was imminent but mostly because she didn’t want to interrupt Riley and his boyfriend no matter how much I told her he wasn’t gay. While she was showering I hid Mr Pan in an oversized handbag and brought him to the park across the road. Fresh air was supposed to help and so I prayed for the wind to pick up and to blow the thoughts out of my head. My neighbour, Claire, was sitting on a bench in the playground, with the buggy beside her.
‘Mind if I join you?’
She shook her head. I sat beside her with Mr Pan on my knee. Claire looked down at him.
‘I’m sorry I thought you were—’
‘I know,’ I interrupted. ‘It’s okay.’
He began to struggle and so I let him free to roam.
We sat in silence.
‘He loves the swings,’ she finally said, watching them. ‘I’ve never heard him laugh so much as when he’s on them.
‘I used to love the swings too,’ I said and we fell back into silence.
‘How is he?’
‘Pardon?’ She snapped out of her trance.
‘Conor. Yesterday you said he was sick, how is he now?’
‘He’s not getting any better,’ she said distantly.
‘Have you brought him to a doctor?’
‘No.’
‘Maybe you should.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘If he’s not well.’
‘It’s just … I hate doctors. I hate hospitals even more but with Mum sick, I just have to go. I haven’t been since …’ She trailed off, looking momentarily confused. Another few minutes passed before she spoke again. ‘My mum is improving.’
‘That’s great news.’
‘Yes,’ she smiled. ‘It’s funny, it takes her going through all that to unite us all again.’
‘In my apartment the other day, that was your husband?’
She nodded. ‘We’re not together but …’
‘You never know,’ I finished for her.
She nodded. ‘He’s not sick sick.’
‘Your husband?’
‘No, Conor. He’s not sick, he’s just different.’
‘In what way?’
‘He’s quieter.’ She turned to me then, her eyes – wide and worried – were filled with tears. ‘He’s much quieter. I don’t hear him so much any more.’
We returned our gaze to the unmoving swing and I thought of Blake and the sounds of our memories that were getting quieter, and the feelings I had for him, which felt further and further away from my heart.
‘Maybe that’s not such a bad thing, Claire.’
‘He loved swings,’ she said again.
‘Yeah,’ I replied, noting her use of the past tense. ‘I loved swings too.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
‘Mum, are you awake?’
It was midnight. Mum was in my bed and I was on the couch and I was wide awake.
‘Yes, dear,’ she replied instantly, wide awake. The bedside lamp went on. We both sat up.
‘Why don’t you have a garden party, at the house? Invite close friends and family, keep the flowers you’ve ordered and the caterers you’ve booked.’
Mum thought about it, then clapped her hands and beamed. ‘Lucy, that’s a wonderful idea.’ Then her smile faded. ‘Problem is, I have to marry your father again.’
‘Good point. Well, that’s one thing I can’t help you with.’
She turned the light off and we lay in silence, both of our minds on overtime. I took my phone from the coffee table and stared at my screen saver. Don’s eyes still dominated the screen. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I wanted to contact him to apologise but I didn’t know what to say. I had been so disrespectful to him, had clearly chosen Blake over him and then cowered away from dealing with it by leaving it up to my life to tell him. I put the phone back on the table but as if she read my mind, Mum asked out of nowhere, ‘What happened to your boyfriend?’
‘Blake?’
‘No, not him, the young man who came for dinner on Monday.’
‘Oh. Don. He wasn’t exactly my boyfriend.’
‘Wasn’t he? You had such chemistry. And I just loved how he defended you in front of your father. Wasn’t that something?’
‘Yeah,’ I said quietly. Then, ‘What do you mean, we had chemistry?’
‘The way you looked at each other, you both looked like you were caught in a spell.’
My heart flipped.
‘Your father and I used to be like that or so people said. You know, we met at one of Daddy’s parties. I was still in school and your father was doing an internship with Daddy.’
‘I know, you told me.’
‘Yes, but I never told you how he chatted me up.’
‘Father chatted you up?’
‘Of course. I’d brought a friend along with me to the party but she went to the bathroom and so I was alone and this austere, serious-looking young man with a moustache approached me. He had a glass of water in his hand and he said to me, “You look lonely, would you like some company?”’
‘That was his chat-up line?’ I smirked.
‘Yes,’ she giggled. ‘But it worked because as soon as he sat beside me I was never lonely ever again.’
I swallowed, my eyes filled up. I turned on my side again, picked up the phone to look at Don’s eyes and immediately knew what I had to do. It was time to tell a few truths.
Life arrived later than usual the following day, letting himself in with his own key at lunchtime, lost behind a bundle of multicoloured ‘Happy Birthday’ balloons. ‘What on earth is happening in this building, it smells like – oh, my God.’ He stopped and looked around.
I didn’t stop, kept doing what I was doing which was rolling out pastry. My arms were tired and beads of sweat had broken out on my forehead but things had never been clearer in my mind. Everything in my life was crystal clear now, I knew what I had to do. The more pastry I rolled, the more I knew my fate.
‘Are you having a nervous breakdown?’ Life asked, with mock concern. ‘Because if you are, I’ll have to go back to the office and file some serious paperwork. And I’m just done with filing your nervous breakdowns. Typical,’ he huffed.
‘No, the opposite, in fact. I’m in the midst of a moment of enlightenment,’ I said, still busy with the pastry.
‘Have you been reading books again? I told you not to do that. They give you notions.’
I kept working.
‘Well, happy thirtieth birthday.’ He kissed my head. ‘I bought you balloons but my real present was to give you the morning away from me. Priceless.’
‘Thank you.’ I admired the balloons briefly, then got back t
o work.
‘Have you taken a break at all, crazy lady?’ he asked, moving a plate of muffins to the floor and sitting at the counter.
I finally paused for a moment to take in the scene and he had a point. Every available surface in the flat was filled with cupcakes and pies. On the hob more fruit bubbled in a pot: rhubarb and apple. I’d made blueberry muffins, apple tart and pecan and caramel pie slices. After spending the night sending out text messages to spread the word, I had gone to the supermarket early that morning in a quest to find food for my mother. It had been a few years since I’d been to the supermarket, a real one, not a fancy newsagent that had serviced my dinner-for-one appetite for the past two years. I had passed by the food and been pulled directly to the baking section and once there my mind had come alive, as though it had been dormant for quite some time and then there was an explosion of thoughts. Not just ideas, I always had them, but of actual decisions. I’d decided to make a chocolate biscuit birthday cake for myself but then as soon as I’d started, I couldn’t stop, it was as though baking was therapy enough for me, things were becoming clearer in my head.
‘The more I knead, the more I realise what I need,’ I told Life, as I frantically worked the dough. ‘I need to knead,’ I giggled.
He looked at me in amusement.
‘But I also need to speak to my friends, I need to speak to Don, I need to get a job – a proper job, a job that I kind of like, a job I’m qualified to do, I need to finally move on.’
I pushed a blackberry and apple crumble towards him, then I checked my mobile. Everybody else had returned my message but still no response from Don.
‘Wow. Enlightenment is an understatement. So you’re ready to make changes?’
‘Ready is my middle name.’ I continued to work the dough, like a woman on a mission.
‘Actually, it’s Caroline but I know what you mean.’ He leaned his chin on his hand and watched me lazily but I could tell he was as pumped as I was. There was a change in me, things were finally moving. ‘I received your text message at midnight last night.’
‘Good,’ I said, lifting the pastry from the counter, resting it on a plate and gently smoothing it down to fill the shape of the dish.
‘I take it you sent a similar message to all of your friends?’
‘Yep.’
‘Did they even know it was your birthday? Why didn’t they plan something for you?’
‘They wanted to plan it months ago but I told them not to. I told them I’d be in Paris with my mum.’
‘Is everybody attending this birthday dinner for the surprise announcement?’
‘Yep. So far, everybody but Don.’
‘And are you going to fill me in on what your little announcement is going to be?’
‘Nope.’
He didn’t seem to mind.
‘So what do you plan to do with all this food?’
‘I can give some to the neighbours.’
He was quiet. Then, ‘You watched that movie last night, didn’t you?’
‘What movie?’ I tried to act confused.
‘Lucy.’ He stood up from the stool, losing his patience. ‘What are you going to do, open up a cupcake shop like the girl in the film?’
I pinked. ‘Why not? It worked for her.’
‘Because it’s a movie Lucy, they make life-changing decisions in twenty-second montages. This is your life. You don’t have the first idea about starting up a business, you don’t have any money, no financial acumen, no bank would give you the start-up money – you just like fannying about with pink icing.’
I snorted childishly. ‘You said fanny.’
He rolled his eyes.
‘Well, maybe I’ll sell them at the market along the canal today.’ I said it as though it was a new thought, but really, apart from the adrenaline of clarity urging me on, I had the excitement of selling them at market at the back of my mind. I was being pro-active, creating work for myself when I didn’t have any, it’s what everybody was saying to do these days, surely my life would be proud.
‘That’s a great idea.’ He lit up and I immediately sensed the sarcasm. ‘Do you have your trader’s liability? Have you registered as a food business and complied with HSE/EHO standards?’ He looked around the flat. ‘Hmm. I wonder. Have you got your own stall? Booked a place to display your goods?’
‘No,’ I said quietly.
He opened his bag and then threw down a newspaper onto the counter. ‘Get real, read this.’ It was opened on the jobs page but all I could concentrate on was the fact that the corner of the page had landed in cream. Then he dunked his finger into the bowl of icing and licked his finger. His eyes lit up. ‘Mmm. Maybe you could open a cupcake restaurant after all.’
‘Really?’ I perked up, feeling hopeful.
‘No,’ he scowled at me. ‘But I’m taking this with me.’ He lifted a tray of cupcakes and brought them to the couch.
I smiled. ‘Oh, by the way, did Don call you?’
‘No, sorry,’ he said gently.
‘Okay. Not your fault.’ Then I got back to work.
Life was scoffing cupcakes and shouting at the Jeremy Kyle Show when there was a knock on the door. I opened it and immediately slammed it closed again. Life paused the television and looked at me in alarm.
‘What’s wrong?’
I panicked, trying to motion to the door and act out landlord in sign language. He didn’t catch on so I ran around the apartment trying to catch Mr Pan who thought it was a game, while all the time my landlord’s knocking turned into banging. Eventually I scooped him up and locked him in the bathroom. Life looked at me with a cupcake paused midway to his open lips.
‘Am I next? If you want some time alone you should just say.’
‘No,’ I hissed. I answered the door to my landlord who was red in the face with anger at being ignored.
‘Charlie,’ I smiled. ‘Sorry about the delay, I just had some things lying around. Personal woman things of a personal nature.’
His eyes narrowed suspiciously at me. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Why?’
‘It’s my apartment.’
‘Yes, but you can’t just storm in here unannounced. I live here. I have rights.’
‘I’ve heard reports that you’ve a cat in here.’
‘A cat? Me? No! I’m completely allergic to cats, my arms get all rashy and scratchy and I hate the little buggers. Cats – not my arms – I’ve been working on them for years.’ I showed him my muscles.
‘Lucy,’ he said in a warning tone.
‘What?’
‘Let me in so I can take a look.’
I hesitated, then slowly pulled the door wider. ‘Okay, but you can’t go into the toilet.’
‘Why not?’ He stepped in and looked around like the child-catcher.
‘Her mother has diarrhoea,’ Life said, kneeling up on the couch. ‘She wouldn’t take very kindly to you breaking and entering.’
‘I’m not breaking and entering, I’m the landlord. Who are you?’
‘Not a cat. I’m her life.’
Charlie looked at him dubiously.
Thankfully, the baking had gotten rid of the cat smell that I never noticed because I was so used to it but that the cat-catcher would sniff out in an instant. Then I remembered Mr Pan’s bed and litter box.
‘What’s going on here?’ Charlie asked, surveying the plates of baked goods which dominated every surface.
‘Oh, that? I’m just baking, why don’t you taste some?’ I guided him to the furthest point of the room where he’d have his back to me and handed him a spoon. Then I rushed around the corner to kick Mr Pan’s bed under mine. He turned around just as I’d finished. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and pointed the fork at me.
‘Are you up to something?’
‘Like what?’
‘Have you a licence to do this?’
‘Why would I need one? I’m just baking.’
‘There’s an awful lot of food in here. Who
are you going to give it to?’
‘She wants to open a cupcake shop,’ Life said.
Charlie’s eyes narrowed. ‘I saw that in a film last night. That was in New York, it would never work here. And if the guy really wanted her back he should have done it before she became a success, instead of bursting into the shop in front of all the customers. I didn’t trust his motivations.’
‘Really?’ I settled down on the back of the couch, happy to have the debate. ‘Because I thought they were perfect for each other and the fact that her friend and his friend got together too really showed that—’
Mr Pan started miaowing in the bathroom. And then my mum breezed in the open door and I knew I was royally screwed.
‘What is this wondrous smell? Oh, Lucy, how fantastic! If I ever eventually decide to marry your blasted father will you please bake my cake? Wouldn’t that be splendid?’ Then she noticed Charlie and thinking she was being welcomed into my world of secrets and friends she held her hand out. ‘Oh, hello, I’m Lucy’s mother. It’s lovely to meet you.’
He looked at me with interest. ‘So who’s in there?’
Mum took back her hand, as though she’d been stung.
‘In where?’
‘In the toilet?’
‘Oh … that’s …’ I couldn’t lie in front of my life. He owed at least three truths at this stage, but I didn’t need to think of anything because Mr Pan mewed again, loudly and perfectly audible.
‘Why, that’s Mr Pan!’ Mum said, astonished. ‘However did he get in there?’
‘He’s a family friend,’ Life said casually, taking another bite of a cupcake.
‘In fact, look what I got for him today.’ She rooted in her shopping bags and came out with a pink tutu. ‘He strikes me as the feminine type, for some reason, always sitting in your shoes.’
‘A very small family friend,’ Life added.
‘So you do have a cat,’ Charlie said, tucking into more pie.
‘Oh,’ Mum said, suddenly realising what she’d done.
I gave up.