Page 67 of The Cake Fairies
But today would be different.
She raised her glass to that. It might only be 11 am and she may well have rebelliously quaffed too many Bucks Fizzes already, but something had changed, and it wasn’t just because today was the very last day of 2019; the morning heralding a fresh start for them all.
“Are you sure you don’t need to get home for tonight? Not that I’m trying to give you the flick.”
That was Annabelle, for Polly hadn’t dared risk losing her head again to Ivy’s snap.
“Duh. We celebrate Chinese New Year in February!”
It was the most Ivy had publicly said in days. But it was an olive branch. Later Annabelle would disparagingly label it a chopstick. Polly refilled their glasses, unable to miss the fact that Ivy’s was trembling. A stream of tears turned into a river, and then a sea.
“Ivy? What is it?”
“I’m so sorry. I’ve been a complete bitch. To both of you. Deflecting my worries by poking around in yours.”
“Come again?”
“She’s quit her course and she’s petrified her mum will find out,” said Annabelle.
Polly might have guessed and felt terrible now for being so wrapped up in her own head. Well, that and the cake.
She took Ivy’s hand, she took Annabelle’s hand, and the three women sat together in companionable silence, as if calling a séance.
She imagined the year ahead of them spooling around like a giant circle. Not so very different to a Ferris wheel. Not so very different to the round pine table at the rundown but strangely cosy B&B.
If the year were a compass, they were at the extremes of the South-west right now in this highly Instagramable snapshot in time, a new decade beginning. New paths and decisions. New cakes and tidal waves of happiness.
While all of that was good, Polly couldn’t bear for 2020 to put its distance between her and Alex; its invisible line the ultimate closure on whatever little it was that they’d allowed to blossom.
“I think it’s time we cracked open that dusty looking bottle of Jack Daniel’s on Sandra’s top shelf,” she said.
