Page 13 of The Cake Fairies
“Not on you, silly,” Amber Magnolia tutted at Polly, curls bouncing along with her reprimand. “On the others. The lost ones.”
“The only ones lost here are us,” shouted Annabelle. “We’re in the dark, clueless as to the point of all this mumbo-freaking-jumbo.”
Polly marvelled at how uncanny their familiarity with this weird and wonderful woman was already. They’d known her only half an hour – not that she was wearing her watch to keep score – and yet for some inexplicable reason it felt like their entire lives.
“Why won’t you let me do the talking?” Amber Magnolia let out a giant sigh. “Things will be so much quicker.”
“Sorry I spoke,” Annabelle retorted.
“People need your help. Don’t you see? They need to remember how to communicate, how to quit their obsession with perfection. They need to know how much brighter a day is when we reach out; hug and greet one another on buses and trains, on pavements and park benches; when we shun the airbrushing to embrace our perfectly imperfect flaws. But they can’t,” she threw her arms in the air in exasperation. “For technology has taken hold of them – even the children – wrapped them up in its sparkle and promise of better things… of more, and more, and more… until they crash and burn.”
Amber Magnolia took a deep breath. She pressed her lips together as if wondering how to carry on. “The Grand Alphabetical Love Plan didn’t work out from letters A through to Y for a very good reason: it’s you.” She looked from one to the other of the cousins in earnest. “Heck, it’s always been you.”
While Polly’s mouth was sandpaper, her hands were puddles. Then Amber Magnolia made her most dramatic announcement yet.
“You are the Cake Fairies and you’re going to 2019 to sort out this ridiculous mess.”
