Issy stifled a sob, then went and held Gramps’s hand. The colour had come back to his cheeks and he was able to take his mask off.
‘Who was that on the phone? Was it your mother?’
‘Uh no,’ said Issy. ‘It was … it was the bank. They think they know a way to save the café, but it had to be done right then and there, and I’m sure they missed it …’
Issy felt her grandfather’s pressure on her hand grow extremely strong.
‘You go!’ he said, sternly. ‘You go and save that café right now! Right now! I mean it, Isabel! You go and you fight for your business.’
‘I’m not leaving you,’ said Issy.
‘You bloody are,’ said Grampa Joe. ‘Keavie, you tell her.’
And he let go of her hand and turned his face to the wall.
‘Go!’
‘Will it really save your café?’ said Keavie. ‘With all those lovely cakes?’
Issy shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It’s probably too late.’
‘Go!’ said Keavie. ‘Go!’
Issy tore down the road to the station, and for once, just for once, the world and London Transport were on her side, and the stopping train that would let her out at Blackhorse Road was right there waiting for her. She flung herself on board and phoned Austin.
‘I’m stalling it,’ said Austin grimly, not wanting to let on how much danger he’d just put himself in. ‘Be as quick as you can.’
‘I’m doing that.’
‘How’s … how’s your grampa?’
‘Well, he’s well enough to be cross with me,’ said Issy.
‘That’s something,’ said Austin.
‘We’re coming into the station.’
‘Run like the wind! Whatever he offers you, take it! One year, two years, whatever it is!’
Issy raced the beautiful new shiny double-deckers sidling down Albion Road. Linda was in one, she saw, sitting on the top deck. She waved, and Linda waved back excitedly. Then, right in front of her, a huge black car drew to a halt. She glanced at it. Could this be what Austin meant? The tinted windows made it impossible to see in, but very slowly the back window came down. Issy bent over, squinting in the bright sunlight.
‘You! Girl with the cakes! Give me a cake!’ came a gruff voice. Issy automatically passed over the powdered honey-blossom she still had in her hand. Mr Barstow took it in his fat paw, and for a few seconds all she could hear was contented chewing. Then he looked out at her, wearing large black sunglasses.
‘I hear the developers are having some trouble getting the money,’ he said. ‘Well, I can’t be buggered with that. Give me my money. Here. Sign.’
He passed her over a contract. It was an increase in rent – but not an impossible one. And it was an increase in the lease, to eighteen months. Eighteen months! Her heart leapt. It wouldn’t make it hers, but it would be enough time, surely, to get on more of a secure footing. And if they did well … perhaps, at the end of eighteen months, even she might be happy to look for bigger premises. Unless …
‘Stay here,’ she said, then dashed across the courtyard, pinny flying, and pounded on the ironmonger’s door. She dragged him over to the car.
‘Him too,’ she said, pushing him up front. ‘I’ll sign for him too. Or he can sign for me.’
Mr Barstow sighed and lit a cigarette.
‘I can’t stay here,’ protested Chester. ‘It’s over for me.’
‘No,’ said Issy. ‘Don’t you see? I can take over the ironmonger’s too. We need room to expand, look.’ She gestured at The Cupcake Café, a queue spilling out into the warm square full of hungry, laughing customers, all anxious to stock up on Issy’s sweet treats in case they got taken away.
‘I’ve already had four more bookings for children’s parties. And I could accept more gift stuff if I had more space. If we take both …’ She lowered her voice. ‘I suspect we’d need a nightwatchman. Seeing as we haven’t got a security gate. Someone who could keep an eye on the premises at night. Of course, it wouldn’t pay very well …’
Chester scribbled on the paperwork excitedly. And ten seconds later, they were standing on the pavement, watching the sleek black car pull away into the thickening traffic, staring at each other in disbelief.
‘No more hiding,’ said Issy. ‘How about that?’
‘Your grandad was right about you,’ said the old man.
‘Eeek!’ screamed Issy suddenly, as she realized what had just happened. She ran into the café. ‘Pearl! We’re safe! We’re safe!’
Pearl’s eyes widened. ‘What do you mean?’
Issy brandished the contracts. ‘We’ve got an extension! Graeme didn’t get his loan.’
Pearl stopped what she was doing, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.
‘You are joking.’
Issy shook her head. ‘Eighteen months. We’ve got eighteen months.’
Pearl had worked so hard to keep from Issy how much this job had meant to her. How hard it would be to find something else; how loath she was to pull Louis out of that nursery where he was so happy – and even, she reluctantly admitted, popular. The worry and the expectation of disaster had built up in her for so long that she simply sat down on the stool behind the counter and burst into tears.
‘And,’ said Issy, ‘we’re going to expand! We’re going to take on the ironmonger’s! You’re going to head up the other part of the Cupcake Café, where we make special gifts and do catering and all that. Bit of a promotion.’
Pearl wiped her eyes with one of the candy-striped tea towels.
‘I can’t believe I’ve got so attached to a stupid job,’ she said, shaking her head. Issy looked around at the slightly confused-looking customers. Caroline stepped forward.
‘I knew you’d do it,’ she said. ‘And I can stay! I can stay! Thank God, I don’t know how I’d have coped with only three bathrooms. Thank Christ.’
The three women hugged. Issy finally looked up.
‘Sorry, everyone,’ she said. ‘We thought we were going to have to close. But I’ve just found out we don’t.’
There were smiles of pleasure up and down the queue.