Page 10 of The Cake Fairies
Chapter Eight
ANNABELLE
Annabelle couldn’t tear her eyes away from the woman who stood before them; all five foot of her. There was something timeless about her, but she supposed if she had to give this Amber Magnolia a number it would be forty – or somewhere in the immediate vicinity. By no stretch ancient but certainly no longer a spring chick.
Something told Annabelle this was one of those people with a talent for everything; the type who’d pip Kitty Withers and her cronies to the post in jam-making, flower arranging, bingo, and any kind of competition a panel of scrupulous judges cared to throw at her.
She felt her eyes grow to the size of her parents’ thrice-used, gargantuan wedding present cheese platter. She turned her head quickly to her cousin, and Polly’s features mirrored her own.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” said the enigma in front of them as she perused them in return. “Pull up a pew and sit down while I make a brew. So much for you to catch-up on, and so little time… so, so little time.”
Amber Magnolia let out a giddy chuckle and began to softly whistle, making her way to the farthest side of the tent, where there was a small awning.
“Okaaay then, yes, er… let’s.” Annabelle nudged Polly sharply with her elbow. There was no way she was doing this alone. The pair edged forward slowly and in sync, shuffling over to the patchwork armchairs which were set before a wide desk, topped with an expensive-looking racing-green study lamp. At its side stood a shiny, elephant-grey filing cabinet. This wassonotwhat Annabelle was expecting to discover in a tent. She felt as if she were sitting in the headmaster’s office awaiting one of her many past detentions, just in a comfier chair.
“Now, there’s nothing to be nervous about. I’m Amber Magnolia, as the sign outside suggests,” said the slight figure, her back turned to them as she clattered with stacks of cups and saucers, her tumble of ringlets swinging to and fro. “How do you take it? Builders? Normal? Milky? I’m afraid I haven’t got any of that dishwater-flavoured herbal stuff, and I’ve gobbled up the last of the biscuits – then again, you girls probably wouldn’t be over-impressed with the banality of a shop-bought Bourbon, when you’re serving up award-winning Bath buns, would you?”
To her left, Polly began to splutter as Annabelle’s heartbeat set off at a canter.
‘Um… normal, please, Ms Magnolia. Two cups of normal would be lovely,” Annabelle replied, answering for them both while replaying and re-winding infinite queues of customers in her head, expecting to land on Amber Magnolia’s image. But no. Nothing about this eccentric character, who seemed to intuitively know their profession – and heaven only knew how many more things about them – was ringing any bakery door bells.
Despite her mounting fear and desire to leg it, Annabelle ventured a question: “Did I… we… hear youcorrectlywhen you said you’d been waiting for us for a decade? It’s just… we’re a bit confused. We only meant to poke our heads around, satisfy our curiosity; find a seat for my cousin, who’s not feeling well. I do apologise for our nosiness, I mean this is your, well, it’s your tent after all,” Annabelle said, reaching over to grip Polly’s hand tightly in a bid to halt its nervous fumbling – and to hide the fact that her own were beginning to tremble too.
“Oh yes, that’s right. I’ve been twiddling my thumbs a while, but my front door has always been wide open,” chirruped Amber Magnolia, busying herself divvying up the contents of the kettle, back still very much turned to them.She’d never get away with this in front of the Queen, thought Annabelle.
“I’m not always the best at explaining things in layman’s – laywoman’s– terms,” the woman continued. “My words come out all a jumble and a scramble, you see. Then we have to piece them back together, so everything makes sense. You’d think ten years would be enough time to formulate a spiel, but the adrenalin takes over once D-day finally arrives. Ha – D-day. If only! It took a little longer than that in the end; a whole twenty-one more letters to be precise.” She broke off to indulge in another of her signature chuckles. “These things are always straightforward in theory, but when it comes to the practice it’s a whole different crystal ball game.”
The cousins exchanged a baffled look. Annabelle gulped, her head had seriously started to spin, and she could probably do with something a tad stronger than a brew. What was this Amber Magnolia wittering on about? D-day and letters and crystal ball games?
“Here we go then.” The woman swivelled with a smile, holding two cups and saucers aloft. “It’s not poison, I can promise you that. Good old Tetley tea bags and milk from the local dairy. Goodness me. The looks in your eyes.” She placed the drinks before them and Annabelle squinted at the dancing helix of steam, as if that might help her detect the DNA of a hidden spell or potion lurking deep within it.
“Sugar?” Amber Magnolia asked followed by a sudden snort, as if an invisible force had just whispered the most hilarious private joke in her ear. “Silly me! Of course, you won’t need any of that, both sweet enough as it is.”
Annabelle was suddenly aware of her jaw dropping so far south she was in danger of dribbling. She pursed her lips and remained frozen, unwilling to move closer to the ‘tea’ until some of this made sense. Gut instinct should have told her to flee, but she was glued to the chair, stunned by the situation they found themselves in. Plus, could this woman could be her get out of jail free card, in the cousins’ metaphorical game of Monopoly? Maybe she was about to impart something that would change Polly’s mind forever?
Strategically thinking, this was fifty-fifty; there was a good chance they could die from drinking her toxic tincture. There was also every possibility her words of wisdom would act like a magic wand, putting Polly in the kind of trance that would give them both the happy endings they so richly deserved.
“No, it’s not quite as clear cut as that.” Amber Magnolia pivoted again, reaching for her cup and saucer with one hand, then wagging a pointed finger before settling into her own extravagant patchwork chair the opposite side of the desk.Holy moly! She was a mind reader, too? This, Annabelle had not expected, and she realised with a giant stab of regret that they should never have come here; that however disastrously this ended, it was all her fault.
Amber Magnolia took a long sip of tea, pinkie outstretched, gesturing at Annabelle and Polly’s cups, urging them to do the same.
Gingerly, they reached out, to please their hostess. Annabelle brought cup to lips first, cursing her hands for their tremble and the crockery for its telltale rattle; instantly bathed in relief at the sweet realisation that this really was a bog-standard cup of tea. Surely if there was anything untoward floating about in it, she’d have detected it immediately?
“So,” she bravely enquired. “What’s this about, then? We’re all ears.” Meanwhile, Polly’s eyes skittered left to right as if hunting for the exit.
“Do either of you believe in – destiny?”
Polly shrugged noncommittally. Annabelle nodded her head slowly, petrified to speak lest she interrupt words which might spell out the one thing she longed for: improved life conditions.
“I don’t carry a business card, I’m too old-fashioned for that, but I’ll tell you my job description instead: I help those who’ve deviated from the Grand Alphabetical Love Plan.” She clapped her hands together in a praying motion; pressing fingers to lips. Annabelle took to some very rapid blinking.
“I’m not working alone,” Amber Magnolia continued. “I have my counterparts in towns, cities, and countries all over the world, doing the same thing for different clients. I’ve waited here patiently every year for you. I step in when things continuously go pear-shaped, in a bid to get them back on track.”
Butterflies had already been skating rapid figures of eight in Annabelle’s stomach, and now they took to performing a string of Axel jumps. Polly began to fidget embarrassingly in her chair. Did this woman perpetually talk in riddles?What on earth was a Grand Alphabetical Love Plan, when it was at home?
“Actually, it’s nothing so very new for folk to amble here and there, to stray the other side of the romantic railway tracks, but you two have rather excelled yourselves.” The woman’s brows vanished into her hair now and she tapped her teaspoon sharply on her saucer to cement her point.
“Every single hearts-and-flowers moment life has orchestrated for you in the past ten years, you’ve failed to notice. The WI’s invitation for a weekly cake demo; yes, you took them up on that… but you didn’t have the Eureka moment that should’ve stretched beyond it. That was the seed for you to start up a sideline: cake decorating classes… which would have led you to guys, who’d have enlisted your help to bake anniversary cakes for their parents because they didn’t know their sieves from their spatulas.”
