Page 3 of The Pop-Up Cake Shop

‘Great.’ We came to a slightly screechy stop in the little car park and Ellie grinned over at me. ‘Let’s go on a cake hunt.’

We jumped out of the car and headed into the café, where Maddy – primed by me on the drive back – had already packaged up the leftover cakes and traybakes we needed. And then it was back out to the car and on the road again.

I grinned over at Ellie, rather enjoying our cake mission. ‘So we’ve now got about half an hour to bolt along to the Brambleberry Manor Café to collect their donation, before driving over to Lockley Meadow village and finding Mrs Aitken’s...Maggie’shouse.’

Ellie nodded, putting her foot down once we were through the village speed limit. ‘My poor little car doesn’t quite know what’s happening!’

As we drew up outside the café, Fen herself was waiting at the door holding a stack of cake boxes. Getting out, we added the scrummy donation to the other boxes in the boot.

‘It’s lovely to think it’s all going to a good cause,’ said Fen, giving us a thumbs-up as Ellie and I got back in the car.

‘You sure you don’t want payment?’ Ellie asked.

‘No, no. We’re just delighted to help out at little Bella’s party. Some of it would go to waste, anyway.’

Ellie nodded. ‘Great.’

‘It’s a shame we can’t put the excess to good use more often,’ Fen called through my open passenger seat window, as Ellieput the car in gear and we raced off in the direction of Lockley Meadow and the birthday party.

As we drove along, I automatically checked my phone for emails. It was just the usual advertising: fashion retail, bike accessories (Richard was a keen cyclist) and – interestingly – a new line in whips and blindfolds. (I’d once ordered a special lube to stop Richard’s inner thighs chafing on bike rides and I must still be on their mailing list.)

Then I spotted a message from the courier that was delivering my passport that day. It had been sent early that morning and they’d given me an hour’s window for their arrival.

But it was the line underneath that made my heart lurch with horror.

‘Oh,bollocks!’ I muttered under my breath.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’m supposed to betherewhen the courier brings my passport. They can’t post it through the letterbox. They have to deliver it to aperson.’

‘Makes sense, I suppose. When are they delivering it?’

‘Between four and five,’ I wailed. ‘And it’s nearly half past three now.’

Ellie looked at me, aghast. ‘I’d better drive you home first.’

‘No! Sunnybrook’s in completely the wrong direction for the party. You’d be really late getting the cakes to Maggie. We can’t let her down.’

‘Are you sure?’ she asked, slowing the car and looking for a place to do a U-turn.

‘Yes! Honestly. Keep driving.’

Ellie glanced at the clock on the dashboard. ‘We can probably get you back home for about a quarter to four. As long as we’re very quick with the cake handover.’

I nodded. ‘That’s what I was thinking. It’ll be fine. And they won’t arrive dead on four o’clock, surely.’ (Even as I said it, mypesky brain was reminding me about Sod’s Law... that this was probably the one time the courierwouldarrive early!)

My mind was racing, my heart beating horribly fast as we carried on to Lockley Meadow.Without that passport I wouldn’t get to New York! But we couldn’t let Maggie down!

‘Oh, no,’ groaned Ellie. ‘Tractor alert.’

Looking ahead, my heart sank as I saw the unwieldy vehicle trundling slowly out of a farm entrance and joining the road three cars ahead of us.

‘Don’t worry.’ Ellie pointed at a signpost. ‘Only two miles to Lockley Meadow. We’ll make it. I’m sure.’

I nodded, swallowing down my panic. ‘It’ll be fine.’

After that, we didn’t speak. You could cut the tension in the car with a knife as we drove at an excruciating fifteen miles an hour, before the tractor eventually turned off into a field.

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