The Cupcake Café was afloat; it had launched, it was sailing, tipping slightly from side to side, all hands working her – but it was afloat; it felt to Issy like a living, breathing entity; a thing that was as much a part of her as her left hand. It never went away; she sat poring over the books with Mrs Prescott late at night; she dreamed in buttercream and icing, thought in keys and deliveries and sugar roses. Friends called and she begged off; Helena snorted and said it was like she was in the first grip of a romance. And although she was tired – exhausted – from working all out six days a week; although she desperately wanted to go out and have a few drinks without knowing how much she would suffer for it the next day; although she would have liked to just sit and watch some TV without wondering about stock levels and expiry dates and disposable bloody catering gloves, she shook her head in complete disbelief whenever she heard people mention the word ‘holiday’. Yet she was happier, she realized, deep down, than she’d been in years; happier every day, when she earned the rent money, then the utilities, then Pearl’s salary, then, finally, finally, something of her own, from something she was turning over with her own two hands, made to cherish and make people feel good.
At 2pm, a large group of mothers entered, tentatively at first, many with huge three-wheeled buggies. The shop was so small, Issy would have liked to ask them to leave the buggies outside so they didn’t kneecap other customers, but frankly she was a little frightened of these Stoke Newington women, who were in incredible shape, despite the fact that they all had two children, and had perfectly highlighted hair and wore very tight jeans with high heels all the time. Issy sometimes thought it must be a little exhausting, having to look identical to all your friends. On the other hand, she was delighted with their business.
She smiled a warm hello, but they glanced past her and their gazes alighted on Pearl, who looked semi-pleased to see them.
‘Um, hi,’ said Pearl to one of the mums, who glanced around.
‘Now where’s your darling little Louis?’ she said. ‘He’s usually here somewhere! I’d think a cake shop was a perfect environment for him.’
Issy glanced up. She recognized that voice. Sure enough, with a slight stab of nervousness she saw that it belonged to Caroline, the woman who had wanted to turn the café into a wholefood centre.
‘Hello, Caroline,’ said Pearl stoically. She sweetened her voice considerably to talk to the serious-eyed blonde girl and small boy still in the buggy at the bottom of the table.
‘Hello, Hermia! Achilles, hello!’
Issy sidled up to say hello, although Caroline seemed to be ignoring her quite competently.
‘Oh, don’t listen to them,’ said Caroline. ‘They have been absolutely foul all morning.’
They didn’t look foul to Issy. Tired, maybe.
‘And you know Kate, don’t you?’
‘Well, this is just charming!’ said Kate, looking around approvingly. ‘We’re doing up the big house across the road. Something like this is just what we need. Keep the house prices going in the right direction, you know what I mean. Haw!’
She had a sudden, expectorating laugh that took Issy slightly by surprise, and two girls who were obviously twins, sitting holding hands on the same stool. One had a short bob and was wearing red dungarees, and one had long blonde curls and was wearing a pink skirt with a puffed-out underskirt.
‘Aren’t your girls lovely!’ exclaimed Issy, moving forward. ‘And hello, Caroline, too.’
Caroline nodded regally to her. ‘I’m amazed this place appears to be taking off,’ she sniffed. ‘Might as well see what all the fuss is about.’
‘Might as well!’ said Issy cheerfully, bending down to the little ones.
‘Hello, twins!’
Kate sniffed. ‘They may be twins, but they are individuals too. It’s actually very damaging to twins not to be treated as separate people. I have to work very hard to build their separate identities.’
Issy nodded reassuringly. ‘I understand,’ she said, even though actually she didn’t understand for a second.
‘This is Seraphina.’ Kate indicated the little girl with the long blonde curls. ‘And this one here,’ she pointed to the other one, ‘is Jane.’
Seraphina smiled prettily. Jane scowled and hid her face in Seraphina’s shoulder. Seraphina patted her hand in a maternal fashion.
‘Well, welcome,’ said Issy. ‘We don’t normally do table service, but as I’m here, what would you like?’
Even though Pearl had now made her way back across the room to stand behind the counter underneath the pretty bunting they’d draped on the wall, Issy could, she swore to Helena later, feel her eyes roll in their sockets.
‘Well,’ said Kate, after deliberating over the menu for some time, ‘now.’ Seraphina had prompted Jane, and the two girls, who must have been four, walked up to the cake cabinet, rose on their tiptoes and pressed their noses to the glass.
‘You two! Snot off the glass, sweethearts,’ said Pearl, firmly but kindly, and the girls withdrew immediately, giggling, but stayed mere centimetres away where they could examine the icing carefully. Hermia looked at her mother.
‘Please may I—’ she risked.
‘No,’ said Caroline. ‘Sit nicely please. Assieds-toi!’
Hermia looked longingly at her friends.
‘Oh, are you French?’ asked Issy.
‘No,’ said Caroline, preening. ‘Why, do I look French?’
‘I shall have a mint tea,’ said Kate finally. ‘Do you do salad?’
Issy couldn’t bring herself to meet Pearl’s eyes.
‘No. No, at the moment we don’t do salad,’ she said. ‘Cakes mostly.’
‘What about, you know, organic flapjacks?’
‘We have fruit cake,’ said Issy.
‘With spelt flour?’
‘Um, no, with real flour,’ said Issy, wishing she was out of this conversation.
‘Nuts?’
‘Some nuts.’
Kate let out a long sigh, as if it was unbelievable what kind of hardship she had to go through on a regular basis.
‘Can we have a cake, Mummy? Pleeease!’ begged Jane from the counter.
‘It’s can I have a cake, Jane. I.’
‘Can I have a cake then please?’