Page 62 of A Wonderland Wish on Ever After Street
I didn’t intend to get emotional but my eyes have welled up. It’s a flashback to a day, many years ago, when everything was right with the world and what I wanted from life was so clear. It’s almost like being back there, a little girl again, with my mum and nan, waiting for my dad to come home from work. Making a wish that life would always be like it was in that moment.
Bram’s chewing his lip, looking unsure of himself, like he’s still undecided whether this was a good idea or not.
‘It’s perfect.’ I let out a breath. ‘Howdid you do that?Whydid you do that?’
At least that explains why it’s unstable. The cake tapers down so the narrow part is at the bottom and the wide part is at the top – as topsy-turvy as everything else in Wonderland – and he’s decorated it beautifully with pink fondant, beads of white royal icing, and blue flowers.
‘It’s your Unbirthday.’ He beams at me. ‘It’s my Unbirthday too.’
‘It’s our Unbirthdays 364 days a year.’ I can’t help giggling at howcheerful he sounds. ‘Why tonight? After doing nothingbutbaking cakes lately, tonight you decided to use your free time to… bake another cake?’
‘I wanted to surprise you. I know this cake means a lot to you, and I know this is the kind of thing you want to do in the tearoom, so it’s a prototype too. It would be incredible to have these on display, and if people book their Unbirthday parties in advance, we could make them one of these for that extra special touch. And I think there’s a way to make smaller, individual ones too, for everyday use. If we use pudding moulds so the base tapers down, slice the cake in half and fill it with buttercream and then ice it, each one would be a mini version of a proper Unbirthday cake in a single-serving size.’
‘Do you know how…’ I stop myself because I was going to say ‘how special you are?’ but I can’t just blurt something like that out.
He meets my eyes in the darkness, his face coloured by the neon lights from the carousel behind us, and a tiny smile plays across his features, like he’s heard the rest of the unfinished sentence, then he blinks and looks away.
‘…how much I didn’t intend to talk about work tonight?’ He finishes the sentence for me. ‘Sorry, I’m getting carried away. The tearoom excites me in a way nothing has for years, and once I get started… Well, you know shutting up isn’t my strong point.’
I reach over and slide my hand across his knee. ‘I love it too. It excites me too. All I want is for it to be mine. To have the security of being my own boss and not being answerable to someone else, with no threat of it being taken away at a moment’s notice.’
‘You will. Because every Unbirthday cake comes with an Unbirthday wish.’ He gets a candle out and pokes it into the top of the cake, then produces a little box of matches, strikes one, and leansover to light it.
I can’t help grinning at the unintentional throwback to what I did at the interview, all those weeks ago.
‘Go on.’ He pushes the cake towards me. ‘Make a wish.’
I go to protest, to say I’m a tad too old for believing in wishes, but Bram is the kind of person who makes anything seem possible, so I hold his gaze for a moment, and then close my eyes and blow the candle out.
I wish for life to continue being as magical as it’s felt since I met you.
He’s still smiling at me when I open my eyes. ‘Pretty sure I just felt a sprinkling of fairy dust. Now you know it will come true.’
‘You don’t know what I wished for. I could’ve wished for something random, like a badger to walk by.’
‘Ahh, I’ve got a pretty good idea. Although I’m going to get really suspicious if we see any badgers tonight.’
He hands me a paper plate and a plastic fork, and gets out a cake slice knife, and I can’t help watching his skilful hands as he cuts a reassuringlymassiveslice. You know a man is a keeper when he doesn’t skimp on cake slices. He transfers it onto the plate I’m holding out and it’s so comically heavy that I nearly drop the plate at the weight of it.
I can’t help looking at the smile lines around his eyes as he cuts a piece for himself too, and I think about how when I first met him, I thought he was someone who smiles and laughs a lot, and it makes me appreciate how much he’s made me smile and laugh over the last couple of months, and how flipping lucky I got that day I opened the door to find the Mad Hatter outside, and of all the Mad Hatters in all the world, mine turned out to behim.
‘Always time for tea.’ I blink back to reality to find he’s pulled out a Thermos flask and is holding out a steaming cup of tea in a plastic mug, sounding like it’s not the first time he’s tried to get my attention.
I take it from him and he pours another one out for himself and then holds it up to toast against mine. ‘Cheers to…’
There seem to be an equal amount of things to celebrate and dread. The catering has gone so incredibly well that, minus any Mr-Hastings-related curveballs, surely,surelyhe will consider the trial passed. Then the tearoom will be mine. And my love of baking has come back with a vengeance. The wedding catering has left me with no choice but to get over my hang-ups and get back in the kitchen. Things I’veknownfor years but had forgotten have come back to me, and I’ve rediscovered the joy of baking, rather than being scared of something going wrong, and it’s been wonderfully fun, all because of Bram. But there’s the sabotage too. The inspection this coming Friday… but I don’t want to think of negative things tonight. He’s gone to so much effort to make this night truly beautiful, and I want to revel in it rather than run myself mentally ragged on a collection of ‘what ifs’ and worst-case scenarios.
‘All things Wonderland.’ He fills in the answer, like he can tell I’m struggling to come up with one.
‘And to people who bring a touch of magic into the world.’ I clink my cup against his pointedly, and he smiles like it’s the best answer he could’ve hoped to hear.
I dig my fork into the cake. ‘Oh my God, Bram.Howdo you do that? That isgorgeous.’
It’s the most delicious melt-in-the-mouth rich vanilla cake, with soft buttercream and sweet fondant, like a birthday cake you can eat on any day of the year. A perfect Unbirthday cake.
He blushes, and it’s not just the red lights reflecting from the carousel. It’s stopped turning now and the music has stopped too, but the lights are still shining, illuminating the outlines of the carousel, like a giant nightlight lighting up our little picnic area, and it’s by far the most romantic moment of my life.
We finish our cake and tea without really sayinganything. He’s quiet. I get the impression he’s thinking about something, and I don’t want to push him if he’s not ready to talk. ‘This is like a fairy tale. Never imagined we’d have Ever After Street all to ourselves or a private showing of the carousel. Thank you for doing this.’
