Page 3 of Cupcakes and Kisses in Micklewick Bay

‘Yeah, me neither.’ Stella pulled a faux horrified face.

Jasmine grinned, giving her T-shirt a quick waft in a bid to cool herself down.

‘I was that engrossed in the cake I was decorating, I completely lost track of time – mind, it’s fair to say I had a phone call that didn’t exactly help.

Meant I’ve had a right bloomin’ rush on to get here.

That said, you can trust me when I say, wild horses couldn’t keep me away from our Friday night get-togethers. They’re what keeps me sane.’

‘There you go, get a mouthful of that.’ Stella smiled kindly.

She was sitting on the settle to Jasmine’s left and slid the glass of freshly poured wine towards her.

As ever, Stella was looking effortlessly sophisticated in a simple linen halter-neck dress, its shade of blue complementing her ice-blue eyes and glossy, blonde hair that she’d tied back into a sleek, low ponytail.

Her cool, unapproachable exterior and straight-talking nature belied her warm personality and sharp sense of humour, and the fact that she was very much a woman’s woman.

‘Thanks, Stells.’ Jasmine took a sip, the crisp, cool citrussy notes making her tastebuds dance. ‘Mmm. That’s nice.’ She was already beginning to feel the benefit of the cooler temperature of the pub, its thick, centuries-old walls doing a sterling job of keeping the heat of the sun at bay.

‘So, come on then, spill the tea, missus. We’ve all been dying to know what you meant in that text you sent us this afternoon,’ said Maggie, who was sitting on the other side of Stella.

She’d exuded a happy glow ever since she and husband Bear had become parents to much-longed-for baby Lucia last Christmas, and Jasmine noted the recent bout of sunny weather appeared to have lifted her naturally olive skin, adding to the effect.

Maggie was looking colourful in a short-sleeved empire-line dress in a light cotton fabric that was splashed with bright pink flowers on a yellow background.

She’d piled her shiny, dark curls up on top of her head, fixing them in place with a turquoise-coloured scarf.

To Jasmine’s mind, Maggie could carry off bold, clashing colours like nobody else she knew.

‘Yes, come on, Jazz, we’ve been trying to guess what it could be,’ said Florrie, who was looking all fresh and cool in a white blouse with short, puffed sleeves, making Jasmine feel even more of a hot and sweaty mess in contrast. ‘We’ve been coming up with all sorts of suggestions.’

‘Mm. Knowing you lot, I dread to think what they’d be.’ Jasmine rolled her eyes jokingly.

‘My suggestion was that you’d got a cake order for the new people who’ve moved into the big house on the cliff above the marina, then you’d be able to satisfy our curiosity, and tell us who they are,’ said Lark.

She owned and ran Lark’s Vintage Bazaar in the town’s Victoria Square.

It was an enchantingly eclectic store that sold an array of vintage clothing and accessories, alongside a selection of crystals and a range of essential oils Lark mixed herself.

She flicked her wavy blonde hair over her shoulder, sending her armful of bangles jangling – a sound as synonymous with Lark as the aroma of the aforementioned essential oils that wafted in a fragrant cloud around her.

She was rocking her usual other-worldly vibe in a floaty Indian cotton sundress in muted shades of pinks and blues, shot through with fine silver thread that glittered under the lamplight.

‘I should probably warn you, our Lark’s is the tamest suggestion.’ Stella gave Jasmine a loaded look.

‘It is,’ agreed Maggie, giving a mischievous grin before taking a glug of her fizzy orange juice. Since she was still breastfeeding, she was steering clear of alcohol.

‘That’s because our Lark doesn’t let herself get carried away like the rest of you,’ said Jasmine, glancing around at her friends, before taking another sip from her glass. ‘I’m not sure I want to know what you came up with.’

‘Mine was that you had a mystery man lined up and had agreed to go on a date with him.’ Maggie waggled her eyebrows at her.

Jasmine almost choked on her mouthful of wine. It was worse than she’d imagined. ‘You what? You must be bloomin’ joking!’ Her horrified expression made them all hoot with laughter.

‘What a face,’ said Lark, chuckling into her glass.

‘When d’you reckon I’ve had the chance to meet a man, mystery or otherwise?’ Jasmine shot them a look that said she thought they’d truly lost the plot.

‘Ah, well, I’ve heard cake decorating can throw you into the path of all sorts of eligible young gentlemen,’ said Florrie.

‘“Eligible young gentlemen?” Have you been having Jane Austen readings at the bookshop or something?’ Florrie co-owned The Happy Hartes Bookshop with her boyfriend, Ed.

‘You need to step away from the romance novels, flower. My life couldn’t be any further removed from that particular genre if it tried.

Come to think of it, I’m not sure what genre my pathetic excuse for a love life would fit into. ’

‘Horror?’ said Stella.

‘Tragedy?’ offered Maggie.

‘How about comedy?’ suggested Lark. ‘Sorry if that sounds mean, it’s not meant to.’ She pulled an apologetic face.

‘Crime?’ added Florrie.

‘No need to apologise, Lark. And I reckon it’s all of the above, though Mags’s suggestion probably fits the bill best,’ said Jasmine. ‘But having a tragic love life suits me just fine.’ They all laughed heartily at that.

‘I know we’re only messing about, Jazz, but in all honesty, it would be lovely to see you in a relationship. You’ve been on your own for too long,’ said Lark. ‘You need someone to love you, someone who has your back and will support you; someone you can share your hopes and dreams with.’

‘Couldn’t agree more,’ Maggie chipped in. ‘And, let me tell you, there’s nothing better than snuggling up together on the sofa of an evening, even if it is just for an hour.’

Jasmine swept her gaze around her friends to see the others nodding in agreement.

She shot them a look of disbelief. ‘You lot have either hit the wine early or you’ve completely lost the plot.

Even if I wanted a relationship – which I don’t – I haven’t got time for one, never mind a spare hour for a snuggle on the sofa.

Trust me, if I had any spare time, I’d spend it catching up on some sleep. On my own .’

‘So, I’m guessing that my suggestion, which was that you’d finally been tempted – a.k.a. “worn down” – by Ando’s offer of an evening dining on past-their-best pickled eggs washed down with a glass or two of his homebrew wasn’t the exciting news you were going to share?’ said Stella.

Jasmine gave her friend a “really?” look. ‘Trust me, Stells, it’s so wide of the mark, you couldn’t even see it with a pair of super-strength binoculars on a clear, cloud-free day.’

‘Ah.’ Stella’s mouth quirked in amusement. ‘But, in fairness to us, that’s what you get if you dangle a little piece of juicy information in front of us; our imaginations go into overdrive.’

‘Tell me about it.’ Jasmine grinned, shaking her head. ‘But having said that, you lot know full well that never, ever , in a million years would I be tempted by Ando’s tragic weekly offers. Nope, lasses, I’m afraid you’re way, way off track with those suggestions.’

Much as she was making light of it, there was a tiny part of Jasmine that could warm to having someone to share her life with.

She missed having cuddles, missed curling up on the sofa like Maggie spoke of.

But she wasn’t prepared to entertain the notion any further.

For more than the reasons she’d given her friends, she was determined to remain single.

‘In that case, will you please just put us out of our misery?’ Florrie said pleadingly, pulling Jasmine out of her musings.

‘Okay,’ said Jasmine, just as her stomach gave a loud rumble. ‘But first, can we order our food? I’m famished!’ She gave an apologetic smile as they all let out a collective groan.

‘I’ll see to it.’ Florrie pushed herself up. ‘Usual order: fish and chips with all the trimmings, lasses?’

A chorus of agreement followed.

‘No sharing any of your news until I get back, okay, Jazz?’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ Jasmine laughed.

The women had been best friends since primary school, with the exception of Maggie, whom Florrie had met at university in York.

Having moved to Micklewick Bay to live with then boyfriend Bear Marsay, Maggie had been welcomed into the group wholeheartedly.

Despite their different personalities, they all shared the same values.

It was these qualities that added balance to the friendship, with Stella’s feistiness and Jasmine’s quick temper being softened by Lark’s more gentle nature and Florrie’s altruistic ability to see all sides of an argument; she regularly played devil’s advocate.

Maggie appeared to be a mix of all of them.

Ten minutes later, Florrie returned. ‘Right then, that’s the food ordered.’ She slid back along the settle next to Lark where she looked at Jasmine expectantly.

‘Yep, come on, Jazz, let’s hear your news,’ said Stella.

A smile started to spread across Jasmine’s face as she brought the phone call back to mind. ‘I still can’t believe it,’ she said, a wave of excitement rushing through her. ‘And it’s actually got something to do with you, Mags.’

‘ Me ?’ Maggie said, her dark brows shooting up in question.

Jasmine nodded. ‘Yep, you.’