‘Are you coming for lunch?’ asked Darny, before haring off to chase some pigeons. ‘Cool!’
They stood and watched him go, smiling.
Issy looked at Austin, eyes wide.
‘Wow,’ she said.
‘Well, thanks,’ said Austin, looking embarrassed. Then he looked at her again. ‘Christ,’ he said urgently, ‘come here. I feel like I’ve waited bloody ages for you.’
He kissed her hard, then stared at her so intensely she felt like her heart might burst.
‘Stay,’ he said, fiercely. ‘Please stay as sweet as you are.’
Chapter Nineteen
Simnel Cake
6 oz butter
6 oz soft brown sugar
3 eggs, beaten
6 oz plain flour
pinch salt
1 tsp ground mixed spice (optional)
12 oz mixed raisins, currants and sultanas
2 oz chopped mixed peel
zest of 1 lemon
1–2 tbsp apricot jam
1 egg, beaten, for glazing
Buy almond paste from the supermarket. You can make it yourself, but we are not crazy people.
Knead the paste for one minute until it is smooth and pliable. Roll it out to make a circle 18cm in diameter.
Preheat oven to 140°C/gas mark 1. Grease and line an 18cm cake tin.
For the cake, cream the butter and sugar together until pale and fluffy. Gradually beat in the eggs until well incorporated and then sift in the flour, salt and mixed spice (if using) a little at a time. Finally, add the mixed dried fruit, peel and grated lemon zest and stir into the mixture.
Put half the mixture into the prepared cake tin. Smooth the top and cover with the circle of almond paste. Add the rest of the cake mixture and smooth the top, leaving a slight dip in the centre to allow for the cake to rise. Bake in the preheated oven for 13/4 hours. Test by inserting a skewer in the middle – if it comes out clean, it is ready. Once baked, remove from the oven and set aside to cool on a wire rack. Top the cake with another thin layer of almond paste.
‘He’s taken a turn for the worse,’ whispered the nurse; but Issy had known that already – there had been no letters, no recipes. Not for weeks.
‘That’s OK,’ said Issy, even though it wasn’t, dammit. It wasn’t fair. Her grandfather had lived so long, was everything to her, and surely he deserved to see her happy.
The room was hushed, with one or two machines ticking in the corner. Grampa Joe had lost even more weight, if that were possible. There was so little left of him now, just a fine layer of skin on top of a pale, hairless skeleton. Austin had wanted to come, of course; over another of their long nights of wine and shared experiences and a conversation that didn’t seem able to stop, he’d told her about his mother and father, and the crash that had ended his lazy, easy student lifestyle and turned him into the carer of a bumptious four-year-old, infinitely lovable, but who’d made Austin put on a shirt and tie before he’d been quite ready for it.
It was all she could do not to say it right then. The more she got to know him, Issy realized, the more she … well, she wasn’t going to say the L-word just yet. It wasn’t appropriate at all. But he made every other man she’d ever known seem like pretty small beer in comparison. All of them. And now she was sure, she wanted it to spill off her tongue; to shout it to the world. But not until it was time. And now she wasn’t even sure she had time.
‘Gramps,’ whispered Issy. ‘Gramps! It’s me! It’s Isabel.’
Nothing.
‘I’ve got cake!’ She rustled the wrapper. For once, she’d made his favourite rather than hers; the hard, flat simnel cake his own mother had made for him, decades and decades ago when he was a small boy.
She hugged him, and talked to him, telling him all her wonderful news, but he didn’t respond to her voice, or to her touch, or to her moving around. He was breathing, it seemed, but only just.
Keavie put her hand on Issy’s arm. ‘I don’t think it will be long now,’ she said.
‘I wanted … this will sound stupid, but I so wanted him to meet my new boyfriend,’ said Issy. ‘I think he’d have liked him.’
The nurse laughed.
‘It’s funny you should say that,’ she said, ‘but I wanted him to meet my new boyfriend too. He’d have approved.’
‘What’s he like?’ asked Issy.
‘Well, he’s strong … and good, and he’s nobody’s pushover … and he doesn’t take any shit, and he’s so funny, and he’s like totally hot, and, wow, he’s just amazing, and every time he calls and I see his name on my phone I just think I’m going to pee my pants, I’m so excited,’ said the nurse. ‘Oh, sorry. Sorry. That was totally uncalled for.’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ said Issy. ‘Finally, finally in my life, I’ve met someone I feel that about too.’
The two women smiled at each other.
‘Worth the wait, isn’t it?’ said Keavie.
Issy bit her lip. ‘Oh yes,’ she said.
The nurse glanced at Grampa Joe.
‘I’m sure he knows … Don’t tell him mine’s a butcher.’
‘Mine’s a banking adviser!’ said Issy. ‘Even worse.’
‘That is worse!’ said the nurse, then hurried away as her beeper went off.
Issy tweaked the flowers she’d brought, and sat down, not knowing what to do. Suddenly the door creaked open. Issy looked up. There stood a woman both incredibly familiar and almost unknown. She had long grey hair, which might have looked strange but actually made her look like Joni Mitchell, and she wore a long cloak. Her face was serene, but Issy noticed the wrinkles settling deeply into her face, lines that spoke of sun and long, hard days. But it was a kind face too.
‘Mum,’ she said, so softly it was almost a sigh.
They sat together, the three of them, almost not talking at all, although her mother held her grandfather’s hand and told him how much she had always loved him, and how sorry she was, and Issy said, honestly, that her mother had nothing to be sorry for, everything had worked out all right in the end, and both of them, mother and daughter, were sure they felt a press on their hands from Joe. Issy felt her throat go tight every time she had to wait agonizingly long for a breath.
‘What is this?’ her mother asked softly, picking up the bag with a plain-looking, flat-baked cake in it. She stuck her nose in it.