‘Oh, I, er…’ I stumble over my words, trying to think of an excuse to sidle out quickly, but as I turn around, I’m standing face to face with the woman I bought that cake stand and those cupcakes from two and a half months ago.
‘Oh, it’s you.’ She raises a finger in recognition. ‘I don’t remember all my customers, but it’s impossible to forget someone who buys half the display. What a small world to run into you here.’
‘Oh, Cleo, you really have outdone yourself. These are divine.’ Mrs Willetts is making such noises of pleasure that some of the nearby guests are looking quite alarmed.
‘Ms Baxter made those, Mrs Willetts,’ Laura says kindly. ‘She’s made them as a gift to complement the wedding cake. Isn’t that lovely?’
‘Now don’t be silly. I gorged myself on these cupcakes when Cleo brought them to her interview in March. I’ve been wait—’ She cuts off the sentence halfway through like the previous two sentences have just caught up and I can see the calculation happening behind her eyes as she adds them together.
I’ve never seen cake turn to stone in someone’s mouth before, but Mrs Willetts suddenly looks decidedly ill and shoves the cake onto the nearest table as she realises exactly what has gone on here.
Judging by the deathly silence in the room, and the many, many pairs of eyes that I can feel burning into me, she is far from the only one who has just put two and two together.
‘Well, we won’t keep you from your busy day, Cleo, but I’d heard you weren’t staying and I wanted a chance to thank you in person before you left.’ Laura leans across her table, almost conspiratorially, like she’s also realised what’s about to happen and is giving me an excuse to run away.
But it’s too late. Mr Hastings has stood up and made a hand gesture, and a minion whisks a cupcake from the display stand and deposits it into his outstretched hand.
‘Ah, yes, I recognise these very well. Aren’t these cupcakes the one and only reason we offered you the tearoom in the first place?’
‘They’re not the only reason, Dad.’ Bram speaks from beside the door. ‘Cleo’s proved herself over and over again. Whatever happened at that interview is irrelevant now.’
He’s realised too. And I feel warm inside that he’s still defending me, even after everything that’s just happened.
‘Well, no, but they were certainly a deciding factor. We appreciated the demonstration of her talents and the effort she’d gone to in making them for us. It showed enthusiasm and motivation to make her idea a success, and the cakes were absolutely delicious and sure to be very popular.’ Mr Hastings picks off a bit of icing just like he did at the interview. ‘Let me get this straight, Miss Jordan. You purchased these from Ms Baxter’s bakery and passed them off as your own during your interview, intending to fool us into believing they were a sample of what would be on sale in the tearoom. Why not make your own?’
‘I couldn’t.’ I say it quietly, hoping it will let him know that I don’t want to talk about it.
Laura is biting her lip, looking like she’s trying to think of a way to intervene, but Mr Hastings is undeterred. ‘Louder, please, Miss Jordan. I’d like to know the reason behind this deception and at a volume I can hear, if you don’t mind.’
‘I couldn’t,’ I repeat. There’s no getting out of it now. May as well go the whole hog. ‘I was a terrible baker. And I got kicked out of my flat and I’m living in a caravan on my friend’s driveway.’
Murmurs race around the room. Whispers at every table.
Who would do such a thing?
Caught out!
Well, I won’t be going there again!
People are talking about me in every direction. Muttering. Gossiping between themselves. A camera flash goes off to commit this moment to memory forever.
And it’s all too much. The display of cupcakes is between me and the door. And Bram’s by the door. If I make a run for it, I’m going to have to get round that massive trolley. If I make it, I’m going to have to get round him. There’s no option but to stand my ground.
It started off with just my knees knocking inside my stained jeans, but now every part of my body is shaking as I turn back to Mr Hastings. ‘I drove past Ms Baxter’s bakery on my way to the interview. I stopped and bought a platter of cupcakes. I didn’t intend for you to think I’d baked them myself, but you did, and I let you carry on thinking it because everything in my life had been going wrong, and I desperately, desperately wanted that interview to go right. I love Ever After Street and I didn’t want you to say no, and I thought you would if I tried to explain—’ I’m getting choked up. So many words are trying to get out at the same time that I’m stumbling over my sentences and probably making even less sense than this makes anyway.
‘Cleo, maybe we should go somewhere more private?’ Laura says pointedly. ‘This is between you and my father. I only wanted to thank you for your work today.’
But I’m on a roll now. Instead of shaking knees, a catharsis has come over me. It’s long past time this truth came out. ‘Don’t thank me for something your father blackmailed me into doing. Something I couldn’t have contemplated without your brother. And you…’ I turn to Mr Hastings. ‘I am not a wedding caterer. I run a tearoom, not cater buffets for a hundred and fifty people. You had no right to force me into doing this under the threat of being fired and losing my tearoom.’
‘Oh, you lousy sod!’ Mrs Hastings smacks his arm. ‘You said she wanted to do it!’
‘I couldn’t do it! Until a couple of months ago, I couldn’t bake anything. I’d lost my love of baking. Every time I went near a kitchen, everything went wrong. But that’s different now.’ I look around the room until I settle on a pair of familiar dark eyes, lurking in the corner by the doorway. ‘Because of Bram. Your son has done everything possible to help me. Hours and hours of patience – talking, reminiscing, helping me to remember what I used to love, and reminding me of who I used to be, endless trips to the supermarket for ingredients, and for the cakes that I couldn’t bake myself in the beginning, and unlimited access to the kitchen in your house, because what Bram did was believe in me so hard that I ended up believing in myself. But the one thing I didn’t do is cater this wedding. We did. Bram did. Marnie and Darcy did. Sadie did. Mickey and Lissa did. Imogen from the Sleeping Beauty shop and Franca from the festive end of the street. Ali from 1001 Nights has gone above and beyond. And all of them have done it to help me when I don’t deserve it. All of them have let me take credit for their work so we could play you at your own game and trick you into letting me become a part of their street. I don’t deserve any thanks, but the people who do are… right outside.’ I peer around the open doors to see quite a few friends have followed us and are gathered around the doorway, trying to get a look at what’s going on without drawing attention to themselves.
‘Come in, all of you.’ Laura beckons everyone in. ‘Take a cupcake at the very least. Have a seat if you can find one. There’s endless champagne.’
It’s lovely of her to invite these people who are strangers to her to share in her wedding party, but I use the influx of friends coming in to fade into the crowd and sneak out.
Marnie catches my hand and squeezes it, her eyes silently asking me if I’m okay as I slip past her. She goes to come with me, but Darcy is behind her and Ali is crowded behind him and she gets pushed forwards while I shuffle behind Ali until the door is within sight.
I squeeze past Mickey, and then Bram is right there, too near, and I turn around so my back is to him, and hope I can get through the door without having to see him. I scrape my chest on the doorframe because it’s too much of a squash with people still coming in, and then finally, at last, I’m in the much emptier entrance hall, and I can breathe again.
I put my hands on my knees and take deep breaths, adrenaline coursing through me. The past few minutes feel like an out-of-body experience. Did I really say all that so publicly? I can’t believe they all know… I can’t believe this is over. Because that’s it, isn’t it? The end of The Wonderland Teapot and all the dreams that live there.
‘Cleo!’ Bram must catch sight of me because he calls my name, and then I hear him shouting, ‘Excuse me! Let me through!’
He’s obviously stuck inside the doorway too, but I don’t wait to hear any more. I dash from the castle as fast as I can.
Usually I love everything about this beautiful old building and this place, but for today, I want to run away from Ever After Street, and never, ever come back.
20
‘I miss his hugs.’
‘I know. You’ve told me 15,698 times this week, and it’s only Tuesday afternoon.’ Marnie wraps her arm around my shoulder and gives me a squeeze.
‘He was the best hugger.’ I know I’m annoying her. I’m annoying myself, but I can’t stop thinking about Bram. Every inch of The Wonderland Teapot reminds me of him. Every customer who comes in either looks for him or asks me where he is. The third child this week has just left with their parents, disappointed that they didn’t get to see magic today.
‘I can’t work out how he does it, can you?’ Mrs Moreno says, unaware that when she asked where the Mad Hatter was, my bumbled explanation of ‘he’s not in today’ really meant ‘he’ll never be in again’ and that I’ve got my lip clenched between my teeth to stop tears forming in my eyes as she waxes lyrical about him when I take her toasted teacake over. ‘I always think I’ll catch him out if I watch closely enough, but I never do. Maybe he’s got actual magic powers, do you think?’
