‘Um …’ said Linda, and mumbled something so quietly Issy missed it.
‘What’s that?’
‘…’ said Linda again.
‘That’s odd,’ said Issy, ‘because it sounded like four hundred.’
Linda raised her red-rimmed eyes to Issy.
‘It’s all going to fall apart. My only daughter’s wedding! It’s going to be a disaster!’ And she burst into sobs.
By seven thirty, when they’d only got the second batch in, Issy already knew they weren’t going to make it. Pearl was a saint, a hero and an absolute trooper and had stayed on without a second thought (and Issy knew the overtime couldn’t hurt), but they couldn’t use today’s cakes. They had to start absolutely afresh, as well as designing some kind of structure to hold the cupcakes in the shape of a wedding cake.
‘My arm hurts,’ said Pearl, stirring in ingredients for the mixer. ‘Shall we have the wine first then get started?’
Issy shook her head. ‘That would turn out very poorly,’ she said. ‘Oh God, if only I knew someone who wants to …’ She stopped short and looked at Pearl. ‘Of course I could phone …’
Pearl read her mind instantly.
‘Not her. Anyone but her.’
‘There’s nobody else,’ said Issy. ‘Nobody at all. I’ve called them all.’
Pearl sighed, then looked back at the bowl.
‘What time is this wedding?’
‘Ten am.’
‘I want to cry.’
‘Me too,’ said Issy. ‘Or, phone someone who might be a bit of a time-and-motion specialist.’
Pearl hated to admit it. But Issy had been right. The scrawny blonde woman had marched in in an immaculate professional chef’s uniform – she’d bought it for a week’s cooking in Tuscany, she informed them, a gift from her ex-husband, who’d celebrated her absence by spending the entire time with his mistress – and immediately organized them into a production line, timed with the dinging of the oven.
After a while, once they were in the swing of things, Pearl put on the radio and they found themselves, suddenly, dancing in a row to Katy Perry, adding sugar and butter, baking and icing, tray after tray after tray without missing a moment’s heat, and the pile in front of them steadily grew. Caroline improvised a cake stand out of old packaging and covered it beautifully with wedding paper they picked up from the newsagent, all the while telling them about the £900 cake she’d had specially made for her wedding by an Italian patissier from Milan, which in the end she didn’t get to eat because she spent the entire day talking to one of her dad’s friends who wanted to know how to get his daughter into marketing, while the evil ex got drunk with all his college friends, including his ex-girlfriend, and didn’t even bother to come and rescue her.
‘I should have known it was doomed,’ she said.
‘Why didn’t you?’ asked Pearl, quite shortly. Caroline looked at her.
‘Oh Pearl. You’d understand if you’d ever been married.’
And Pearl growled at her, quietly, behind the dairy fridge.
The cupcakes they smothered in a pure creamy vanilla icing, seemingly whipped effortlessly by Issy to perfection, with silver balls marking out the initials for Leanne and Scott, her groom-to-be. This was the worst job. By 11.30, Pearl was dotting the balls on anyhow and insisting they spelled L/S. But still the cakes grew and balanced and turned into, indeed, a magnificent wedding cake dusted with pink sparkly icing sugar.
‘Come on, chop chop,’ shouted Caroline. ‘Stir like you mean it.’
Pearl glanced at Issy. ‘I think she thinks she works here already.’
‘I think maybe she does,’ said Issy quietly.
Caroline beamed and momentarily stopped production.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Thank you. This is … this is the first good thing that’s happened in a while.’
‘Oh good,’ said Issy. ‘I was a bit worried about you, you’re looking terribly thin.’
‘OK, the second good thing to happen,’ said Caroline. Pearl rolled her eyes. But when they finally got to go home just after midnight, she knew they couldn’t have done it without her.
‘Thanks,’ Pearl said, grudgingly.
‘That’s all right,’ said Caroline. ‘Are you catching a cab home?’
Pearl grimaced. ‘Cabs don’t go where I live.’
‘Oh really?’ said Caroline. ‘Are you out in the country? How lovely.’
Issy ushered Caroline out before she could get herself in more trouble, and asked her to start off by covering a good lunch hour for Pearl and herself, before increasing her hours, all going well, to make them all happy.
‘Absolutely,’ said Caroline. ‘I’m going to order my book group to start meeting here. And my Stitch ’n’ Bitch. And my Jamie at Home Tupperware party. And my rotary club. And my Italian Renaissance art evening class.’
Issy hugged her. ‘Have you been terribly lonely?’
‘Dreadfully so.’
‘I hope you start to feel better.’
‘Thank you.’ And Caroline accepted the large bag of cakes Issy pressed on her.
‘Don’t give me that look,’ said Issy to Pearl, even though Pearl was standing behind her. ‘You are mostly right, I’ll give you that. That’s not the same thing as always right.’
The next morning was glorious; the entire city felt like it had dressed in green for a wedding day. Pearl and Issy inched across town in a cab, terrified their confection would wobble apart, but it held firm. They arranged it as the centrepiece of a huge table covered in pink stars and balloons.
Linda and Leanne came running up to meet them. When the bride, young and pink in her strapless dress, caught sight of the hundreds of delicately snow-iced soft pastel cupcakes, her mouth dropped open, showing newly whitened teeth.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘It’s so beautiful! It’s so beautiful! I love it! I love it! Thank you! Thank you so much!’ And she hugged them both.
‘Leanne!’ hollered Linda. ‘I can’t believe we’re going to have to do your eye make-up again. We’re paying this makeup artist by the hour, you know.’
Leanne dabbed frantically under her eyes.
‘Sorry, sorry, I’ve done nothing but burst into tears for about four hours. Everything is, argh, just so crazy. But you guys … you have totally saved my wedding.’