Page 41 of The Cake Fairies
Polly decided they could trust this Spanish dancer, since she kept her own secret about cheering up the Great British public rather efficiently. “On the subject of truth, we’re… um, about to embark on something that frightens the life out of us. We’ve noticed there are cameras everywhere. What if we get mistaken for bombers, arrested and given a life sentence, all in the name of kindness?”
“Whatever are you two ladies on about? And by the way, my name is Carmen. Carmen Maria Abril de la Fuente Ferrera. But please, just stick to the first bit. It’s a whole lot quicker… and I sense you’re in a bit of a rush, no?”
“You could say that… Carmen,” Annabelle held out her hand for a shake, and the woman tutted, diving in for a continental kiss on both cheeks instead. “We’re sort of on a mission, you see,” Annabelle took over the thread of their conversation. “It’s undercover.”
“Not MI5 or anything like that,” Polly whispered.
“Oh, I think I get it.” Carmen beamed a radiant smile, pulled a pair of cherry-red castanets from her bag and began to click. “One of our biggest fears in life is making complete arses of ourselves,” she said, then clicked and paused. “We anticipate the weird looks others are all too ready to dish out along with the critique. But it’s all bullshit anyway,” click, pause and dramatic foot stamp.How embarrassing!thought Polly. “Beneath the surface we’re lighthouses at our core. Even the bad guys,” click, click, click, click, elongated foot stamp. “When you put yourself out there, you might think you’re giving others the red flag to attack like the bull,” click, click, click, click, clickety-click. “But actually, you’re nudging them one step closer to switching on their own lights. The ripple effect of these things is quite astonishing, if you could only look at it from a bird’s eye view.” Click click.
Carmen drew a deep breath, her impromptu ‘song’ now mercifully at an end.
“Well we can’t,” Polly shrugged, impressed with herself and her cousin for not having laughed, as Carmen dropped her castanets back into her bag.
“Actually, we kind of can,” interrupted Annabelle. “Because Amber Magnolia said there would be videos of—”
Polly triple-coughed, struck down by a sudden bout of influenza.
“Ah, but you can always imagine how something will be.” Carmen flicked her hand and fluttered out her pretty yellow fan. “It carries the same power, sometimes more.”
“You’re right,” said Polly. “Let’s do this before we change our minds. Annabelle, are you ready?”
“Here. Just a minute: you might want to take this before you go.” Carmen fished about for something in her bag and pulled it out, extending her hand.
“What is it?” Polly tentatively reached for the crumpled piece of paper.
“A recipe for a Spanish treat which I canjust imaginesitting atop one of your delicious layer cakes.”
“Thank you.Gracias.” Polly clutched it to her heart.
“De nada chicas y buen suerte. Not that luck will come into this. On the other hand, something tells me that this lot have had their quota of spontaneity for the day. Perhaps you should try the next carriage… and quick… if you want to drop that beautiful cake and run you don’t have much time!”
Carmen with the super-long surname picked up her belongings, spinning out of the train and onto the platform behind it. By the time Polly and Annabelle had gently pressed the sponge’s layers together and alighted, empty and flattened cardboard boxes tucked under their arms, Swedish summer cake balancing precariously between them, she was nothing but a puff of smoke.
“Did we imagine that?”
“More to the point: do you even recall mentioning the specifics of our quest to her? How could she possibly have known what we’re up to?” Polly’s breath caught in her throat at the mystery.
But there was no time to answer either question. They offloaded the cardboard onto a bench to pick up for recycling as soon as the drop was done, and nimbly hopped into the next carriage in trepidation, and determination, to complete the first day’s task at last.
***
“Ad… I meanAlex?”
Dropping the cake and running really would have been too good to be true. Polly swore Annabelle was attempting to hide a smirk, which could only mean one thing: Polly was the height of gullible and had been set up again. Why else would Alex be standing at the very same Westminster Tube station platform the moment they’d completed their assignment?
“You can’t escape me that easily.” he shook his head.
“So it would seem.” Polly shook her own in response, like that might make him disappear and calm the rampage of her heart. But it didn’t work.
“I wanted to be here for moral support. It’s a big thing you’re embarking on.”
“And we’re big girls; big girls who have managed fine without you, thanks all the same.” He looked like a wounded animal. Polly immediately regretted her harsh words.
“Well? Are you going to tell me how it went, or do I have to guess?”
“No spillages, all good. Sorry to burst your bubble.”
“You really have me marked out as one of those Schadenfreude types, don’t you?”
