Wish Upon a Christmas Cake (2 page)

Ann appeared in the doorway with two large mugs and I grinned, anticipating what delights she had created. When she handed me my mug, I wasn’t disappointed. The surface of the drink was frothy with whipped cream and when I sniffed it, the warming aromas of ginger and cinnamon made my mouth water. I couldn’t resist sticking my finger into the cream and scooping out one of our homemade gingerbread marshmallows. I placed it on my tongue and allowed it to slowly melt there, the sugary surface soon giving way to a soft and gooey centre.

‘Good?’ Ann asked as she sat next to me and grinned at me from beneath a whipped cream moustache.

‘Heavenly.’ I raised my mug to my lips and blew on the liquid, eager to cool it down and drink it. We sat like that, in the companionable silence of good friends, as we consumed our calorific hot chocolates and I could feel the strains of the day slipping away from me until I was almost comatose.

Ann turned in her seat to look at me. ‘So do you want to talk about it?’ Trust her to wait until I was too relaxed to put up a fight. I shrugged. How many times could we discuss the same old things?

‘Is it just Esther that’s worrying you?’

I bit my bottom lip. Was I worried about my mother being hard work over Christmas? Yes, but it was more than that. This year, there was so much more to think about and my vulnerability might mean that I couldn’t brush off Esther’s barbs in my usual practised way.

‘I’m pretty good at dealing with her after all these years, so it’s not really that. I just know that this Christmas is going to be so much harder…you know?’ I swallowed hard.

Ann covered my hand with her own and squeezed. ‘Because of your granny?’

I nodded and blinked hard. ‘I’m going to miss her so much this year. I mean, I’ve missed her madly these past few months but it’s just harder somehow at Christmas. It seems so wrong that she won’t be there.’

Ann reached out and wiped a rogue tear from my cheek. I took a few deep breaths, determined not to crumble.

‘What would your granny want you to do, Katie?’

‘To spend Christmas with my family.’

‘And why?’

‘Because her family was everything to her.’

‘Well there you go.’

I met Ann’s eyes and tried to smile. She gave me a sympathetic one in return and patted my hand, then something seemed to occur to her. Ann stood up and headed to the kitchen.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Be right back,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘I have an idea…’

I lay my head back against the sofa and thought about Granny. She had been such a character. A tiny, intelligent and witty lady, she’d been an eternal optimist, capable of seeing the silver lining in every cloud. On top of that, she’d been a layer of protection, soaking up some of the damage my mother could do by unfalteringly defending me and making me giggle whenever Esther became a bit overbearing. But now Granny was gone.

I had tried so hard over the years to let my mother’s negative comments wash over me but sometimes, even though I was thirty-two, she still managed to hurt me. But then a mother is meant to be a woman’s ultimate role model, her port in the storm, her protector. With Esther, it had never really seemed that way because she was always so bloody critical. Granny had been all the good things for me; basically another mother. It was like being in an American TV show growing up, with the good cop and the bad cop.

‘Here we go,’ Ann sang as she sashayed back into the shop. She placed a plate with a piece of our famous Christmas cake on it and a fork in front of me.

‘What’s this for?’ I asked. I was already riding the sugar high from her delicious hot chocolate.

‘Wish upon a Christmas cake!’ Ann exclaimed.

‘Huh?’ I raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.

‘Well I won’t have a wishbone till Christmas Day and it’s too cloudy for shooting stars tonight so I say we wish upon a Christmas cake that this be the best Warham family Christmas ever.’ She smiled encouragingly, but I still eyed her dubiously. ‘Oh come on, what have you got to lose? It could work; Esther might be nice for Christmas and you could get a tall, dark and handsome hunk in your stocking!’ She winked at me.

My heart pounded so I inhaled slowly. It had been a good day and I really didn’t want to ruin it by becoming all melancholy. It was Christmas, Granny’s favourite time of year, and I was determined to make her proud by savouring every moment. I smiled at Ann, she was only trying to help. ‘Okay,’ I said, stabbing a piece of cake with the fork. I closed my eyes and popped the moist, brandy-soaked fruit sponge in my mouth, wishing for a happy family Christmas – even without Granny.

I knew that we would all miss Granny and that I wouldn’t be alone in that. I’d tried to avoid thinking about it by keeping busy and avoiding going back to my parents’ house but I knew that I couldn’t run for ever. My father had lost his mother, Esther had lost a mother-in-law she’d lived with for the past three years and known for much longer, and my brother Karl would miss the grandmother who’d doted on him. I realised, the more I thought about it, that I wanted to be with my family this year. Who knew when we’d manage another big old-fashioned family Christmas? If we
ever
would with Mum and Dad moving away. Things could change so quickly from one day to the next. So I would make every effort for Granny this Christmas; I would aim to make her proud.

I mean, she might actually be watching over me like she’d always promised she would do.

***

The next few days passed in a flurry of baking, serving customers, last-minute shopping and wrapping of gifts. Before I could doubt my decision again, it was December twenty-third and Ann and I had closed the shop for the day and were tidying up the kitchen.

‘Right, Katie Warham, go take a shower and wash the flour out of your hair then get on the road. The traffic will no doubt be bad and your mother will want you there in time for dinner.’

Ann was right; if I
was
late I’d never hear the end of it.

I untied the strings of my apron and hung it on a peg by the door, then lingered in the doorway. It was a small yet perfectly organised space designed to accommodate our business needs. From the island in the centre to the large ovens and the oversized fridge, it had everything we needed. A variety of delicious freshly baked cakes and pastries were cooling on surfaces, their festive aromas both mouth-watering and comforting. All the smells of my childhood were right there in my adult world. Cinnamon and ginger, brandy and mixed fruits mingled enticingly with vanilla and citrus. Mince pies shone with their rich butter coating, waiting for a fine dusting of sweet white icing sugar, and fat brown Christmas puddings glistened, recently released from their individual moulds, their plump fruits inviting and sherry soaked. Yes, Ann and I had everything to be proud of this year. It might have been nice to have someone to share it with, someone to appreciate what I’d achieved, but I didn’t need a man to make me feel whole. As a single thirty-something woman, I was doing a damned good job.

‘Hey, dreamy, get a move on while I pack a box of Crumbtious goodies for you to take as a peace offering for Esther. Not that she eats anything with sugar in…anything at all for that matter judging by how tiny she is.’ Ann shook her head, then opened up one of our gold Christmas cake boxes and began filling it for me.

***

Showered and dressed warmly in my stretchy jeans, baggy grey jumper and battered old cowboy boots, I threw my handbag onto the passenger seat of my VW Beetle. The boot was loaded with specially made delights from the shop and my modest hold all. I’d packed a minimum of outfits because I knew that whatever I took, my mother would find something to criticise. So what was the point in going overboard?

‘Hey, come on!’ Ann wrapped an arm around my shoulders. ‘It’s Christmas, honey, and you’re going to have a great time with that hunky brother of yours. I know you’ve missed him.’

I smiled as the thought of seeing Karl warmed me up inside like spiced mulled wine. It would be great to spend some time with him and his new boyfriend. I was looking forward to getting to know Angelo Fiore – the gorgeous Italian model who had stolen my older brother’s heart. Karl had posted photographs of his lover on his private Facebook page and Angelo was hot in that very groomed and toned way. I preferred my men a bit rough around the edges, more
Sons of Anarchy
than Hugh Grant, which was why Ann had been surprised when I’d fallen into a relationship – if you could call it that – with Harrison Monroe.

I shook my head. I wasn’t giving that cheating creep any space in my head, especially not over Christmas. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, getting involved with him. He was good-looking, ambitious, great in bed and he made me laugh – for a while at least. But after the initial excitement wore off, I soon realised that what we had wasn’t at all substantial. There was no way it could have lasted the distance. I blamed myself for hanging on to the relationship and not letting him know that it wouldn’t work out as soon as it became clear to me. It would have been so much easier for both of us. But I’d been so busy with the shop, and, admittedly, afraid to let go because it meant that I was accepting that he didn’t measure up to Sam. No one would ever measure up to Sam and that knowledge terrified me.

‘And you’re not to wallow in thoughts about what might have been…you know…with what’s-his- name.’ Ann planted a kiss on my cheek. The woman could read my thoughts, I was sure of it. ‘The cake mixes you’ve ruined because of that one.’ She laughed and wagged a finger at me but I knew that she understood. She made out that Harrison Monroe had been more to me than he was because she knew how I really felt. She’d been there for me when Sam and I split and she’d seen me sink to rock bottom before helping me to learn to live with my decision; the most difficult one of my life.

I’d had a few dates and short-lived flings but always kept something back, so the men who entered my life soon got tired of trying to break through my icy veneer and gave up. Harrison had come along at a point when I’d decided to try to make a commitment or give up completely on dating. However, it hadn’t worked out, and Ann had talked me through the way I’d reacted when my somewhat tenuous attempt at an adult relationship with Harrison had failed. We’d even discussed how he might have wiped the fragments of our relationship from his designer fawn suede boots, keen to get rid of any traces of Katie Warham – that image had emerged after several large glasses of wine one Saturday evening. But try as we might to ignore it, we both knew that Sam had been, and always would be, the only man I’d ever really loved.

So although it wasn’t heartbreak that was hanging around like a bad smell four months after my breakup with Harrison, it had dented my confidence and left me wondering exactly what I did want from a man. If I even wanted one in my life at all. Harrison had been something of a final attempt at love but I hadn’t committed enough for the relationship to progress. He had reacted by cheating. In fact, I had to admit that I had been deliberately absent from the relationship because I just didn’t want to move in with him. Something had held me back. And that something was called my past, AKA Sam.

‘Katie?’

‘I promise I won’t think about
him
at all!’

‘I wish I knew which
him
you were referring to, Katie, but just to be on the safe side, try not to think about either of them.’

I saluted my friend, then she enveloped me in an apple blossom and coconut-scented hug. I’d miss Ann over Christmas. Last year we’d spent the festive season together with Harrison and Mark. It had been fun, most of it anyhow. We’d eaten too much and drunk too much but that’s what Christmas is all about, right? I’d been happy. Or at least I’d thought I was happy. Even when I opened Harrison’s surprise gift and found one of those celebrity diet and fitness videos complete with a stretchy rubber band to use to tone and strengthen my thighs. His gift had made me wonder exactly what he thought about my curves and if he was trying to tell me something – another good reason for getting out of the relationship.
Or just another excuse…

Harrison had claimed that he was doing me a favour, helping me to get my planned New Year’s resolutions off to a promising start with the latest dance-aerobic fitness craze. It was probably partly my fault that he’d decided I’d appreciate it. After all, I did tend to moan on occasion about how I wanted to lose weight, but don’t most people? In retrospect, it was highly likely that I’d actually planted the idea in his head. Had I deliberately manufactured the situation in order to compare Harrison unfavourably to Sam because Sam had always told me how much he loved my curves?

However, this year, I was putting the past behind me and heading off to be with the glorious Warhams, while Ann would have a romantic Christmas for two in our shared flat.

‘And fingers crossed that Santa brings you what you want, Ann.’

‘What I
want
?’ Ann placed her hands on her hips and waggled her eyebrows.

I winked at her. ‘I
know
what you
really
want.’

‘I don’t even know if
I
know what I want.’

‘You do, Ann. Deep down. I know what you’re hoping for.’

‘Well, we’ll see won’t we?’ Ann chewed her bottom lip and hugged herself.

‘He’s going to do it I’m sure.’

Ann rubbed her empty ring finger.

I hoped that Mark would come through for her. She was madly in love with her city banker and it was clear that all she wanted for Christmas was a proposal. She didn’t want a big wedding, which was a good thing seeing as how all her money was tied up in the shop, but she wanted to be his wife, to know that he was as committed to her as she was to him. That was another reason why I needed to make myself scarce. I didn’t want to be the third wheel. The spare part. The gate-crasher to their romantic festive celebrations. Ann was adorable inside and out and Mark would be lucky to have her as his wife. I just hoped that his gain wouldn’t be my loss. I would hate to have to deal with not having Ann around. She was an integral part of my life, had supported me through so much, and our business was so young. I was sure that it still had a long way to go – especially if my plans for online domination got off the ground. But Mark was quite a traditional guy and he’d spoken in the past about believing that once women had children, they should be supported by their husbands. That had been an interesting discussion over a takeaway with me obstinately blazing the trail for career women. I couldn’t help but worry that he might want Ann to quit work, and I would lose my business partner because she’d move away to a quaint rural village where she’d end up wearing tweed ensembles and baking for the local school fetes. I shuddered.