Mistletoe Mansion (41 page)

I gazed at Melissa’s beautiful face and she winked at me as she struck a pose for the impatient photographers. She waved across to Jonny. The paparazzi had homed in by now. Dads pushed their young sons up to him with bits of paper to sign. Women giggled nervously in his presence and fiddled with their hair. Two weeks ago I’d have jumped at this chance. But now…? I still wanted to make money – still wanted to succeed, but I didn’t want to live in a world where strangers thought they knew me and supposed friends did the dirty. I thought of Luke and how he’d built up his business on his own, from scratch.

‘Melissa?’

‘Kimmy?’

‘I really appreciate the offer. I can’t thank you enough.’

She stopped posing for a moment. ‘But?’

‘I want to run my own business. Be independent. Know that I’ve created something successful by myself.’ Without relying on a friend or boyfriend. Without relying on state hand-outs, like Mum.

Her face dropped. ‘Are you sure? We could bring out a cookery DVD together.’

‘Maybe one day – you could work out a fitness routine based around beating batter and squeezing icing bags.’

We both smiled.

‘And we’ll stay in touch,’ I said. ‘I can always do the cakes for your parties now and again.’

‘Well no arguments, you’re doing the cake for our vows ceremony. With publicity like that, your business will be made. Did you, um, see Saffron in the papers today?’

I pulled a face. ‘What a predictable kiss ‘n’ tell. Bet she had chicken fillets in that bikini top.’

‘She won’t be heard of after her five minutes of fame.’

‘Her fiancé dumped her and gave his side of the story in another paper. Apparently…’

‘Shh!’ Melissa smiled. ‘A good friend knows when to stay quiet. And, um, that’s what you are. The best. Don’t be a stranger. I’m counting on you to invent the calorie-free cupcake.’

I hugged her.

‘Not too tight,’ she said and backed off. ‘I’ll crease.’

I grinned.

‘Did I tell you Jess is going to redesign the back garden for me?’ she said. ‘Help get rid of those bloody golf holes and bunkers. And guess what? Jonny’s putting in planning permission – if our team wins the Ryder Cup this year, he’s promised to build me an indoor swimming pool and get rid of that shed-cum-clubhouse. I think it scared him – a couple of days with Saffron. She reminded him of his first wife. Me telling him to shove his stinking money made him realise how much I love him, not his bank balance.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly, men! I let him have a mini-golf course in the back garden – that alone should have proved that he means the world to me. Anyway, all this business should make me more independent than ever – my agent rang today to say there’s a perfume deal in the pipeline for me to bring out a scent called “Forgiveness”.

‘That’s awesome,’ I said and looked at my watch.

‘Not keeping you, am I?’ Melissa grinned. ‘Don’t tell me – the handyman’s somewhere about.’

Probably in the car park. If I hurried, I might just catch him.

She shooed me. ‘Go on, girl, go. No! Stop a minute.’ She searched her bag. ‘Stand still. Dehydrated is not a good look.’ She sprayed Evian all over my face. I hoped it wouldn’t freeze. ‘You two are a good match. He only fooled you about that haunting for a good purpose. He wasn’t trying to do you out of money or sell you drugs or…’ she shuddered, ‘… worst of all, sleep with you and cut out one of your kidneys whilst you slept. That happened to a friend of Jonny’s; it got sold on the blackmarket.’

‘Well, if you put it like that…’

‘Tomorrow night I’m throwing a small Christmas Eve cocktail party and counting on you and Jess to come. I’ve asked Terry, as well.’

Then she air-kissed me! So, it was official! I’d been accepted into the world of celebritydom! Except it didn’t mean so much to me now. I didn’t look around in the hope that we’d been photographed. I wasn’t even conjuring up a headline in my mind. Nor an impressive Facebook status.

‘And now,’ said a voice through a megaphone, ‘we are proud to announce the winner of this year’s baking competition. Please, everyone, congregate around the cake stall.’

Oh no! Was it that time already?

‘You can catch him later,’ said Melissa and linked her arm in mine. ‘This is far more important.’

‘Nervous?’ muttered a friendly voice as we reached the cake stall. It was Ruth, the “After Dinner Muffin” contestant. I nodded and stole a glance at Eleanor who stood smugly behind her nutty fruit cake. I positioned myself behind my blindingly yellow cupcakes.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen,’ said a voice – the vicar. ‘Thank you for your patience. It has been a very difficult decision this year. The quality of the entries has been outstanding. How heart-warming it is, to have so much interest in this traditional element of the Christmas market.’

At the word “traditional”, Eleanor looked even smugger. Perhaps she was right – maybe quirky cupcakes were no contest for her good old-fashioned entry.

‘We have marked the entries on several different levels,’ said the vicar. ‘Taste, texture, appearance, level of skill and overall enjoyment. With no further ado, here are the top three winners. In third place is last year’s third place winner yet again, Ruth Hodgkiss with her sensational Christmas tree muffins – such exquisite presentation and flavour to match. Well done!’

Ruth gave me a wry smile before she went up to shake hands and collect her envelope.

I breathed in and out deeply for a moment and took a hopeful look around the crowd. My heart sank. Luke was nowhere to be seen. Who could blame him?

‘It was very hard to decide between the runner up and this year’s winner,’ said the vicar, when the clapping stopped. Both showed a considerable degree of skill. Both tasted fantastic. But, eventually, we came to a decision and the runner up prize has been awarded to… Eleanor Goodman for her deliciously moist and tastily glazed Christmas fruitcake. Come up here Eleanor. Well done!’

Oh my God! I was sure she was going to win it! Her eyes glazed over for a moment before, through gritted teeth, she said her thanks.

So, the winner… Was there a chance? I swallowed hard. The local press were there, ready with their cameras. I had my business cards ready to hand out… But who was I kidding? That chocolate log cake with the marzipan robin had looked mouthwatering.

‘When choosing the winner, the overall enjoyment factor was high on the agenda. Of course, to win top prize, the cake has to be perfect when it came to flavour and texture. Its appearance has to be seamless. There needs to be a certain degree of skill employed to achieve all of this. And the winner we have chosen, like many of the other entries, fulfilled all of these criteria. But what bowled us over was something extra.’ He smiled. ‘I think it’s what Simon Cowell would call the “X Factor”.’

Why was he lifting up my plate and holding it in front of the crowd?

‘The “Bring Me Sunshine” cupcakes,’ he continued, ‘on top of everything else, made us all laugh. Eric Morecambe would have been proud, with their sunny colour and his glasses on the top. They embody everything about Christmas – the feel-good factor and ability to bring sunshine into people’s lives – just like the money raised from our entrants’ fees when it is handed over to our various good causes. So please, give a big round of applause to this year’s winner, Kimberley Jones!’

Melissa shrieked and Jess cheered. I’d done it! Me! Little Kimmy from Luton! As the cameras clicked I took my envelope. I didn’t even know what the prize was.

‘Well done!’ Ruth winked and passed me her card. ‘Give me a ring some time. We’ll have to meet up and compare ingredients.’

‘I knew you could do it, darling!’ called Melissa.

‘Go, Kimmy!’ Jess punched my shoulder.

‘Beginner’s luck,’ sniffed Eleanor. ‘Did you by any chance find Lily’s recipe book?’

‘Did she like Eric Morecambe?’ I asked, politely.

‘Didn’t everyone? Gimmicks won’t win every year though.’ She sighed and half-smiled at me. ‘I dare say I get rather competitive. Well done, dear.’

‘You were friends with Lily?’

‘Yes. Lovely woman,’ she said, softly. ‘I miss her terribly. She used to cheer me on during this competition; remind me that it was all for fun and ticked me off for taking it so seriously.’

I smiled. ‘There’s always next year.’

‘Yes, you’d better watch out. I’ve a year to practise cooking cupcakes.’ She patted my shoulder, then started to pack up.

By the time the crowd had cleared, my throat was hoarse and I’d almost run out of business cards. The local health shop was interested in some of my ideas. Some reporter wanted to do an article on me and said it would inspire readers, in these hard times, to see a young person set up their own business. Then Vivian turned up and said the golf club could do with a good dessert-maker and that she’d put my name forward! I’d be catering for Melissa and Jonny’s vows ceremony… I could have jumped up and down on the spot!

The prize turned out to be a very welcome cheque for one hundred pounds. That would buy me some new silicone cake moulds. How impressed Adam would be that I wasn’t going to blow it on a new bag or pair of shoes.

‘See you back at the ranch,’ said Jess. ‘Melissa’s giving me a lift. Sure you won’t come with us, now?’

I shook my head. The vicar’s wife was waiting to talk to me. ‘See you later,’ I said. ‘I knew we could do it. You… me… Mistletoe Mansion.’

Jess nodded. ‘It’s been one hell of a two weeks. Feels like a lifetime.’

‘Yeah – you’re pregnant, I’ve kick-started my business…’ And fallen in love. There. I’d admitted it. I sighed. As I packed up my Tupperware box, someone tapped me on the shoulder. My heart leapt. Was it possible that…?

‘Adam? What are you doing here?’ Blimey. He’d put on his smartest jeans and gelled his hair.

He kissed me on the cheek. ‘I’m here… to support you. Well done for winning. Mum’s around somewhere.’ He half-smiled. ‘She misses you – almost as much as I do.’

I blushed.

‘Move back in, Kimmy. I’ve thought a lot since that Chinese restaurant – almost choking like that, it’s made me realise what’s really important. Forget the factory job. We’re still only young. And… and who knows, maybe this cake business will take off. You’ve worked hard, I can see that. Mum says you can use her kitchen anytime. She’s even got one of those fancy mixers.’

‘Oh Adam…’ I took his hand. A fortnight ago I’d have been on cloud nine to hear a speech like that. My eyes felt wet. ‘I’m sorry but…’ My throat ached. This was hard. Adam was a decent bloke. ‘I don’t feel the same anymore. About us. Your dream is security, building up a pension, saving for a mortgage. I’m not wired that way, never will be. I want the security of money, but I don’t want to spend our life – my life – ducking every risk. It could be years before my cakes make any real money. Would you really wait that long?’

‘I’d try.’

‘But that’s not fair on either of us. You’d end up hating me, and your mum would have bought hundreds of wedding outfits by then.’

‘Think about it?’ he asked, his voice unsteady.

‘I already have. I was going to ring you, once today was over. I… don’t want to hurt you. You don’t deserve that.’ Just then a group of children ran past, throwing snowballs, and almost knocked me over. Adam put out a protective arm.

‘You okay?’ he muttered.

‘Thanks, Adam.

‘What for?’

‘Caring. No one’s ever looked out for me the way you have, all this time. I’ll never forget.’

He nodded. A muscle flinched in his cheek before he turned around. My tears distorted Adam’s outline as he disappeared into the crowd.

‘No need to cry. I’m here,’ said a tender voice from my left.

‘Luke?’ My heart leapt.

He came over. ‘I believe congratulations are in order.’

‘Huh?’

‘The competition – I knew you’d do it.’

‘Oh, yes, um…Couldn’t have come this far without you. Thanks for all the support. What I said about the cards… I didn’t mean it. The cake motif is really sweet.’

He grinned. ‘I’ll take that as an apology.’

‘How come you’re still here?’

He looked himself up and down. ‘You gave this body the brush off. I knew something had to be seriously wrong.’

‘Don’t flatter yourself!’ I said, but couldn’t help my mouth upturning into a huge smile.

‘Groucho picked up a newspaper on the way out. Tore most of it to bits. When I finally pulled it away I caught sight of a photo. You must have thought…’

‘No! Don’t be silly. As if I’d fall for a shot like that!’ I cleared my throat.

‘Of course not. So. It was just your nerves, right? A psychotic episode because of the pressure of competing?’

‘Something like that.’

‘You and Adam okay? I know it’s an off-limits topic but…’

‘We’ve split up.’ Deep breath. Wipe eyes dry. Today was a winning day and right now I knew exactly what other prize I wanted. ‘When you get back from Brighton… perhaps we could meet up.’

‘You won’t throw a Christmas tree at me? You now believe I’m not a murderer nor conman nor two-timing–’

‘Idiot!’

‘An idiot who has found his kindred spirit,’ he murmured and took my hand.

‘Erm, I’m not sure that’s a compliment!’ I said, heartbeat accelerating as he squeezed my fingers gently.

‘If it’s compliments you want, Kimmy, I could stand here for hours, listing everything about you that appeals – like your feisty attitude, your ambition, the way you stick by your mates and that cute little sunspot just to the left of your nose. Plus–’

I leant forward and pressed my lips hard against his.

‘Stay at my pad whilst I’m away, once you’ve left Mistletoe Mansion, if you want,’ he whispered, when we finally surfaced from the most delectable, spine-tingling kiss in the world. ‘I’ve got a thing for housesitters…’ Those moss green eyes crinkled at the corners and he touched my hair, which had frizzed in the snow. ‘I couldn’t read you this week; wasn’t sure how you felt; didn’t want to risk making a move and ruining our recently-found friendship.’

‘Our truce, more like.’ I grinned. ‘Anyway, didn’t you know? Risks are good.’

He grinned. ‘Housesit for me, then.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘but no… I can’t let my new landlord down. But maybe when you get back, you could help me with my business plan? Will I see you over Christmas?’