Page 45 of Christmas at the Little Cornish Bakery
It took Lola another forty minutes to leave the beach due to everyone stopping her to comment on how relaxed they felt following the meditation and dropping hints that they’d like to repeat it sometime.
Pleased she had another string to her bow, Lola didn’t mind leaving the party early.
By the time she got back to her café the bonfire was just embers and being presided over by Angelo and Freya.
As she unlocked the kitchen door, Lola smiled as she heard the singing that accompanied the revellers back to the pub.
After flicking on the lights, Lola removed her coat, washed her hands and pulled on her apron.
She had two cakes left to finish, the most important ones that she had saved until last. Alf’s and Tristan’s.
Humming along to the radio Lola set about covering the cakes in marzipan but not before she’d added an extra tot of brandy to Alf’s.
The combined aromas of almonds and brandy warmed Lola’s heart, conjuring up happy memories of being with her grandmother.
Ruby’s presence still lingered like woodsmoke and it had contributed to Lola eschewing the invitation to the pub; she hadn’t wanted the feeling of being close to her grandmother again to be wiped away by a gin and tonic or two, even though she knew Ruby would’ve approved of a double-strength one after a chill winter night on the beach.
Lola suspected Ruby would have taken one sip of Steve’s lethal mulled wine and dished out advice as to how he could improve on it.
The thought of how well her grandmother would have settled into modern Polcarrow was stirring.
Lola sensed her watching over her shoulder as she smoothed the icing onto the two cakes, making the top of Alf’s textured like choppy little waves.
She’d found a plastic boat online and it was the perfect fit for the design she had in mind.
Singing along to the radio, she crafted two figures from sugar paste; an old man dressed like Santa and a dog.
She’d sit them in the boat and have little gift-shaped boxes strewn across the sea.
It was a pleasure to make and Lola couldn’t wait to see Alf’s face when she lifted the lid on Christmas Eve.
He’d specifically requested a Christmas Eve collection so he wouldn’t be tempted to eat the cake before the big day, although Lola had told him cake was for eating and not keeping.
Pleased with the result, Lola made herself a cup of tea and warmed a portion of the spiced butternut squash soup that had been going down a treat in the café that week.
As she ate it, wiping out the bowl with thick granary bread, she stared at Tristan’s undecorated cake, sitting like a blank canvas on the kitchen island.
It was important that she got this one right, that she somehow found a way of showing what he meant to her through sugar paste.
No pressure, she reminded herself as she set about getting the cake ready.
Not wanting any distractions, Lola switched the radio off and allowed silence to settle over the kitchen.
The icing on the top of the cake was almost set but Lola managed to swirl a path from the bottom left corner towards the top right.
Reaching for her tools, she set about creating a tiny, delicate sugar paste replica of the church, complete with shimmering shells pressed into the mortar around the door, on which she placed a tiny red and green wreath.
There was something therapeutic about decorating Tristan’s cake, about smoothing over the edges and making it beautiful, as if she was somehow paving the way for their future.
Carefully, Lola eased the church onto the cake, before adding a couple of plastic, snow-topped Christmas trees along the path.
After dusting it with a little shimmer of silver, she stepped back and studied it.
It was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever made.
She hoped Tristan would like it. Tristan, who was currently sitting in the pub with his ex-girlfriend who was enthusiastically trying to get back together with him, when she should be the one sitting next to him, telling him she loved him.
Loved him? The thought stopped her dead as she carried the implements she’d used over to the dishwasher.
No .?.?. she didn’t .?.?. did she? The L word had been bouncing around in the back of her mind for a while.
Lola tried to wipe the thought away but it was written across her soul in permanent marker.
‘I love him.’ She tried the words out loud, giggling as she crammed them back in with her hands.
‘Oh gosh, I’m in love with Tristan!’ She whooped with joy as a smile broke across her face and she did a little shimmy.
‘I love him and I’ve left him to Anna,’ she gasped, panic rising in her throat as she stopped mid happy dance.
Lola glanced around the kitchen, at all the decorating debris strewn across the counters.
Why on earth hadn’t she just gone along for that gin and tonic and enjoyed Tristan’s company?
She could almost hear Nannie Ruby tutting her disapproval.
Lola dumped the dishes haphazardly in the sink.
Getting to the pub became the most urgent thing in the world.
She’d physically haul Anna off him if need be.
The washing-up could wait. Lola pulled her scarf and coat on over her sugar-dusted apron, pausing just long enough to reapply her signature red lipstick in the desperate hope that it was about to be passionately kissed off.