‘Presumably Cotton Tail and friends are no longer with us?’
‘Yes, Penny. Dead rabbits. Dead rabbits that came with photos so I could “reimagine the likeness”. Happy now?’
I tried and failed to stifle a snort. ‘Extremely.’
Last month she’d taken an order for a birthday cake that looked like the rear end of a baby, for a baby shower. People were so weird. Some cake places only took on specific custom orders, with hefty guidelines, but Mum was not one to discriminate. Her website emphasised ‘ANY orders welcome’ and I was convinced that some people saw that as a challenge. Fondant & Flour had grown significantly since Mum had started it from our kitchen counter, and she’d recently expanded from a takeaway-only bakery to a sit-in café, complete with her childhood dream of a lilac coffee machine. As much as she took care with every bake, the bigger projects were her favourite, and she tended to bring most of the wedding cakes home where she could work in peace. In her eyes, it was the most stressful kind of cake to make. It needed near silence, something that working in the back of a café, where the sound of screaming babies in buggies often filtered through, did not provide. Caroline Pearson was the first female entrepreneur of the family. It was obvious where I’d got the bug from.
‘So remind me’ – she was sticking her tongue out again, concentrating on shaping two tiny bunny paws – ‘why is this hopeless?’
It was Thursday evening; three days since I’d set up my profile on Level. By the time I’d collapsed on our sofa on Monday night, my six matches had rolled in like clockwork. I’d been way too busy on Tuesday – back-to-back meetings followed by pizza with Dad – to even think about it, but one jab from Dexter yesterday morning and I’d immediately clicked the icon. From then on, it had been an absolute disaster, which probably wasn’t the best endorsement of my own creation. To be honest, I was at my wits’ end with it. None of my six profiles seemed to want to engage in actual adult conversation. I showed Mum my phone.
‘Well, firstly,’ she said, pulling her glasses up from their chain (we’d tried to tell her that this wasn’t a look, but Mum thrived on ignoring her children), ‘if I understand this right, you haven’t even talked to all of them.’
I looked at the screen. ‘Well, no, but Patrick and Matt have been enough to put anyone off. It’s like talking to a brick wall.’
She squinted. ‘Why is “Matt, 27” only responding to you in puns? You weren’t even talking about cheese here.’
‘Exactly. He works in a deli, I think.’
‘Good God.’ She smirked down at her cake batter. ‘I know that as the mother of a dating app creator I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’m so glad that I’ve avoided men since the divorce.’
I groaned. ‘Don’t remind me. How can I be a career woman if I’m having to check my phone for cheese puns, or’ – I checked back at my brief conversation with Patrick – ‘questions asking me if my bum is worth the wait? We were supposed to have weeded these problematic guys out!’
It was at that exact moment that Joe walked in, Isla behind him.
‘Did I really just walk in on you talking about your arse with our mother?’ Joe scrubbed his hand over his face. ‘I am way too tired for this.’
Mum flicked icing sugar in his direction. ‘Nothing I haven’t seen before. In fact, I was one of the first people to see –’
He groaned. ‘I’m going to have to stop you right there.’
Isla handed Mum the delivery clipboard she used when helping out with cake deliveries before pulling out one of the kitchen stools next to me. ‘Seven very happy customers, Caroline. The woman with the engagement cake burst into tears at the front door. And Pen, I think you have an excellent bum – the perfect mix of round and perky – definitely worth the wait.’ She looked at my phone. ‘Tell “Patrick, 29” that he just has to be patient. Sorry, who is Patrick, anyway?’
She stared harder at the screen. ‘Wait.’
‘Yes, yes. It’s what you think it is.’
Isla’s eyes lit up as I filled her in on the office-banter-turned-challenge. Joe had disappeared upstairs, fresh in from a shift at the hospital and likely making the most of Mum’s fancy shower gels. He pretended to complain, but I knew he liked smelling of peaches.
‘Okay, this is exciting. Don’t look at me like that – this is going to be fun.’ She pouted at my expression, taking over my phone and tapping at the screen. ‘Can I have a go?’
‘It’s not a ga –’ I started to resist, but it was too late and she was already typing.
Mum winked at me from where she was scooping batter into three large tins. Isla was like the nosy older sister I’d never had. It hadn’t taken long when she’d arrived on the scene for her to slot into place. In a little over a few months, it was like she had always been there. She was the baby of her own family, with two older sisters in their late thirties and early forties. Both had fled London when they’d decided to start a family, and as far as I knew, she barely saw them. Her sisters were tied together by proximity in age and a shared childhood that Isla hadn’t really been a part of. I had been ecstatic at the prospect of a new sister – if they didn’t appreciate her, I’d happily have her. Besides, Joe had never been very good at sleepovers and midnight feasts, and Isla had been more than happy to binge-watch Dawson’s Creek with me and pile up our mugs with an army of mini marshmallows. In her teenage years, it had been common knowledge that as soon as Isla turned 18 her parents would move abroad, something they’d been wanting to do since they were in their twenties. So by the time 18 came, Isla was well and truly a Webber, if not by marriage then by everything but. She’d jumped at the chance to help Mum with the business; nowadays she worked as a florist a few doors over, and I knew they liked to spend their tea breaks together, gossiping. Like Mum, creativity was in her bones. Joe and I were better with the practical things. Anatomy and computers, we understood (respectively). Give us a bunch of roses or a fondant carrot, and we crumbled. It was why Joe and Isla were a perfect mix of personalities. She was the light relief he needed at the end of a long day, and he made sure they never let their TV licence run out.
‘Hey, this one isn’t too bad. He’s even typing out the word “you” instead of shortening it to one letter.’
Isla turned my phone back to me, reuniting me with Matt and his puns.
‘The bar is clearly on the floor, Isla, if that’s what we’re celebrating.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘There’s something really sexy about a man who chooses full sentences over “WUU2”.’
Joe came downstairs then, freshly showered and out of his scrubs, smelling suspiciously like a fruit salad. He stopped behind Isla, rubbing her shoulders. ‘I wish I’d known it was that simple to impress you.’
She sniffed. ‘I mean, I’ll still take the flowers and the cups of tea in bed, thank you very much. I was just making the point for Penny. Keep the big gestures coming.’
Joe laughed awkwardly, and I forcibly avoided Mum’s eyes. Sunday was the day set for the biggest gesture he’d ever made, and every time I saw my brother he looked more nervous than the time before. He was usually quite jittery – a mixture of work stress, long hours, and enough caffeine to sink a ship to try and counteract those things – but this week he was even more on edge than usual. Only Joe could build an engagement up for over ten years and then feel nervous. Isla would say yes in her sleep. I would bet our entire projected revenue for Level on it.
‘Any particular reason why we’re talking about this?’ Joe peeked at my phone.
‘Penny is dating again,’ Isla said, then explained the challenge to Joe.
‘Are you now? And here, I thought you were destined to be the fun spinster aunty.’
Mum pointed her piping bag at me. ‘I wouldn’t rule that out.’
‘I’m sat right here, guys.’
‘She can still be the fun aunty. Just the fun aunty with wild dating stories from her youth.’ Isla took the phone from me again. ‘They can’t all be write-offs. There are four men here just teeming with untapped potential.’
I stared at the list of remaining contenders. Jake, Sayanm, Isaac, and Nico. I wasn’t holding out much hope.
‘I bet Rory is loving this.’ Isla exchanged a look with Joe.
After teasing me as much as the rest of them to begin with, Rory had actually massively backed off from the whole thing, not taking part in Dexter’s daily banter. I said as much. ‘I think he’s scared I’ll finally become the fun boss.’
Isla raised her eyebrows. ‘Yeah. I’m sure that’s it.’
