Page 88 of The Cake Fairies
Chapter Thirty-Eight
ANNABELLE
“O
ne Cake Fairy must stay. One Cake Fairy must go home.”
This was followed by an indeterminable number of ellipses; ellipses which finally reached their conclusion:
“…and the Cake Fairy who returns to Middle Ham can take somebody with them for a year’s apprenticeship.”
No guesses who the chief contender was for that role…
“I guessed there was something a little woo-woo going down,” said Ivy, “even before I chanced upon the red folder you’d pretty carelessly stuffed in the seat pocket of Nigel’s limo. I pinched it and smuggled it into my room at Sandra and Bill’s. I was pretty incandescent to come downstairs that day at breakfast, and see it lying there on the table; thought you’d been rifling through my belongings… although, in hindsight that’s more than a tad hypocritical. But then whenmysmuggled copy was still inmyroom, I realised you had a few of the things hanging around.”
Lax, lax, lax!Annabelle cursed herself inwardly.
“I’ll need a few minutes to give you my answer though,” Ivy rabbitted on, “I still haven’t decided if I’m accompanying you back to Middle Spam.”
“It’sHam. Middle Ham,” Annabelle corrected her.
“I know, I’m teasing. Please tell me I wouldn’t be living in a pigsty though… although, being surrounded by hundreds of piglets would be super cute. Imagine all the photo opportunities and Instagram likes.”
“Ivy, I hate to break it to you but there’s no Internet in 1969,” Annabelle chuckled.
“Pfft. I’m sure I’ll survive,” Ivy batted away the triviality as if it were nothing more than a bothersome fly. How far the Cake Fairies had come indeed!
So, their departure sounded pretty imminent and quite how this seventeen-year-old could take everything in her stride, she’d never know. Then again, this was the age ofOutlander,so really, enough said.
Annabelle was certainly struggling to take everything inherstride. The gargantuan news that nothing would ever be the same again in her life, in Polly’s life; it was more than a little unexpected. Even if her subconscious begged to differ. Even if it’d been a whole hour since said red folder’s breaking news had broken:
By this point, Polly had returned hand-in-hand with Alex. Annabelle couldn’t have been more relieved. Her cousin appeared to have found Letter Z, and now Amber Magnolia could hardly put Annabelle herself in the village stocks and pummel her with rotten eggs when she retraced her footsteps. Of course, the old Annabelle would have ranked her personal mitigation first and foremost, but the new Annabelle was the unprecedented empress of empathy.
Polly, Annabelle, Alex and Ivy were in a trance-like state yet were simultaneously focused enough to graze upon what had turned into a farewell Swedish summer cake, though Alex hadn’t known it when he’d spontaneously knocked it up. Now they sat in companionable silence at the hub that was the kitchen island, the only noise a chirrup from a visiting blackbird at the window, sensing the treasure trove of leftovers to come.
Oh, but he was definitely the man for Polly.
Alex’s forgiveness for Annabelle’s faux pas had been immediate. Non-verbal but immediate. And that was good enough for her. He also hadn’t flinched when the truth about their real reason for being in London came out. It was like every crumb of their story – okay, every crumb of Polly’s story – was building the layers of a proverbial cake that he’d also been baking. And yet somehow Annabelle felt part of it too. Not in a freakishménage à troisway. All she knew was there was something else going on here. Her inner compass told her that time-hopping back to 1969 wasn’t just about reunification with her parents. And it wasn’t just about making amends for her (at times) shocking conduct around her cousin, by offering Ivy a year out (the perfect viewpoint from which to weigh up the pros and cons of modernity) and a job at the bakery as well.
Although quite how they were going to get around the issue of lodging, she’d no idea. She could already imagine the pinched features of her mother rearranging themselves over and over, when she waltzed home having apparently traded in Polly for the daughter of an entrepreneurial Chinese takeaway owner from Hong Kong.
Hopefully Amber Magnolia would help them concoct something believable when they dropped back into her beloved striped tent.
“It’s time I gave something back, Polly: don’t you dare try to step in and play heroine,” she finally spoke.
Polly made to protest, and Annabelle held a strawberry aloft on her fork to cut her off.
“As cousins, we’ve become as close as sisters. We’ll always have that, no matter how far we are apart. Life has blessed us,” she tried hard to push down the stubborn lump in her throat, but it lodged itself there, threatening an imminent gush of tears. How could she do this? It was so very right, yet it felt so wrong. “Life has blessed us with more moments together than most people get in a lifetime… not that we’ve only had one of those, but…”
She faltered, bringing her thumb to her mouth to chew at her nail, as if that would help her order her thoughts. But no. That was another bad habit she’d ditched weeks ago.
Ivy piped up, “I think she means maybe she’ll have another shot at love too if she goes back – and then again, maybe not – but she’s one homesick piglet!”
“I was always up for it. But it was you who put a dampener on every one of our potential dates,” Annabelle jabbed her finger mockingly at Polly across the kitchen island, letting her words overtake her sobs while they could. “I might be the wife of a blimming Beatle by now, at the very least a music mogul. Party pooper!” Alex and Ivy exchanged a wide-eyed look. “I’ll never forgive you if I don’t go back and start saying yes, even though I guess I’m technically at letter Z now, too. Well, whoever he is, when he finally materialises, he’d better be worth the flipping wait.”
“But I can’t swap my cousin for a man.”
“Hello! He’s not just a man. He’s the love of your life.”
