‘All right,’ she said briskly. ‘I want lemon cupcakes, orange icing, and “H-A-P-P-Y-B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y-E-V-A-N-G-E-L-I-N-A-4-T-O-D-A-Y”.’
Pearl wrote it down. ‘I think we can manage,’ she said.
‘Good,’ said Kate. ‘I hope Caroline was right about you.’
Pearl privately thought she was not.
‘Goodbye, twins!’ She waved.
‘Buh bye!’ called the twins in one voice.
‘Actually it’s Seraph—’
But Pearl had already disappeared downstairs to give the good news to Issy.
They both worked late to finish, and Helena popped in for a chat and a catch-up, and they teased her unmercifully about Ashok and she refused to answer any questions, turning them round by asking Pearl repeatedly about Ben, but she ably deflected them by complaining to Issy about Caroline, when Issy was absolutely not in the mood to listen. But Helena and Pearl gradually fell silent, just watching Issy at work. It was so instinctive, what she did – she didn’t measure or weigh anything out, simply tossed, almost unthinkingly, the ingredients into a bowl, a fine, careless toss to the arm as she spun the mixture, spooning it up in the blink of an eye, twenty-four perfect measures into the baking tins she’d greased without looking at them; spinning the sugared icing then whipping it on and shaping it with a knife, every one perfect and delicious, a miniature work of art, even before she started the delicate piping of each individual letter. Helena and Pearl exchanged glances.
‘That is quite cool,’ said Helena finally.
Issy, engrossed in what she was doing, looked up, surprised. ‘But I do this every day,’ she said. ‘It’s like you stitching up someone’s glassed arm.’
‘I am good at that,’ confirmed Helena. ‘But it doesn’t look quite so delicious at the end.’
The cakes, laid out in a row, were stunning. Issy was going to pop them in on her way home.
‘They are better than that lady deserves,’ said Pearl crossly.
‘Behave yourself,’ said Issy, sticking out her tongue.
Dashing in one morning to get the temperamental coffee machine warmed up before what was rapidly becoming the morning rush, Pearl realized she hadn’t even opened yesterday’s post. ‘Won! Doo! Free! Hup!’ Plonking Louis on one of the high stools they’d recently got to line the mantelpiece and give people somewhere extra to sit when they were busy, she passed him a pain au chocolat and opened up the letter from the nursery. Then she stared at it in disbelief.
The doorbell tinkled. Issy was meeting a sugar rep that morning and was going to be in a little later, so Caroline was opening up.
‘Buens deez, Caline!’ shouted Louis, who had been learning how to say hello in different languages at nursery and thought that that was splendid.
‘Good morning, Louis,’ enunciated Caroline carefully, who thought Louis’s diction was absolutely dreadful and that she was the only person who could save him from a life of sounding lower class. She wished Pearl would be a teensy bit more grateful, not that she could see past that enormous south London chip she had on her shoulder. ‘Good morning, Pearl.’
Pearl didn’t utter a peep. Well, that was just great, thought Caroline, who was, nonetheless, used to girl-on-girl spats ever since she’d been sent to the terribly fraught and highly competitive girls’ school she planned on one day making Hermia sit the exams for. She had learned pretty much everything she needed to know about falling out with other women at that school. She could hold a sulk like nobody’s business, so this wasn’t going to worry her. She had a divorce going on, for crying out loud. Nobody cared about her.
But when she turned to hang up her Aquascutum raincoat, she noticed that Pearl wasn’t wearing her customary look of slightly hangdog suspicion. That in fact Pearl was holding a letter in her hand, staring into the middle distance – and she was crying.
Caroline felt the same instinct within her as when one of her dogs got sick. She crossed the room instantly.
‘Darling, what is it? What’s the matter?’
‘Mamma?’ said Louis in alarm. He couldn’t get down from the high stool on his own (the benefits being, once up there, he couldn’t get his fingers in anything either). ‘Mamma? Booboo?’
With some effort, Pearl pulled herself together. In an only slightly shaky voice she said, ‘Oh no, darling. Mamma doesn’t have a booboo.’
Caroline touched her lightly on the shoulder, but Pearl, hands trembling, could only give the letter to Caroline as she crossed in front of the counter to pick up Louis.
‘Come here, baby,’ she said, cradling his face into her wide shoulder so he couldn’t see her eyes. ‘There we go,’ she crooned. ‘Everything’s fine.’
‘Me not go nursery,’ said Louis decisively. ‘Me stay Mamma.’
Caroline glanced at the letter. It was formally marked North East London Strategic Health Authority.
Dear Mrs McGregor,
Your son Louis Kmbota McGregor has recently undertaken a medical test at Stoke Newington Little Teds Nursery, 13 Osbaldeston road, London N16. The results of this test show that for his age and height, Louis falls into the Overweight to Obese category.
Even from very early days, a child who is overweight or obese can suffer serious damage to their health and fitness in later life. It can cause heart disease, cancer, fertility problems, sleeping disorders, depression and early mortality. Taking a few simple steps to improve your child’s diet and exercise programme can be all that is needed to ensure that your child Louis Kmbota will grow and live to his full potential. We have arranged for you an appointment with Neda Mahet, nutritionist counsellor at the Stoke Newington Practice, on 15 June …
Caroline put it down.
‘This letter is absolutely disgusting,’ she announced, her nose twitching. ‘They’re all horrible bossyboots nanny-state socialist interfering cruel bloody left-wing idiots.’
Pearl blinked at her. Caroline couldn’t have said a better thing to cheer her up. ‘But … it’s their official letter.’
‘And it’s officially a total disgrace. How dare they? Look at your adorable boy. Well, yes, he is too plump but you know that anyway. It’s none of their business. Would you like me to rip it up for you?’
Pearl looked at Caroline with something close to amazement.