Christmas At The Cupcake Cafe Read online

  Caroline thought.

  ‘No,’ she said, but not unkindly. ‘It isn’t my home to invite you. But we’ll speak soon.’

  Pearl, stacking the big dishwasher downstairs, wrote a text and deleted it, and wrote another and deleted it again. Then, finally, she texted the simple words, ‘Thank you. Merry Christmas’ and sent it to Doti. What else was there to say?

  ‘What are you doing down there?’ came Ben’s deep voice.

  ‘Nothing!’ said Pearl.

  ‘Good,’ said Ben. ‘Because I have an idea of a few things we could do.’

  Pearl giggled and told him off, and felt the touch of his warm hand on her face and thought after that simply, Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Galette de Rois, the Cake of the New Year

  30g almond paste

  30g white sugar

  3 tbsp unsalted butter, softened

  1 egg

  ¼ tsp vanilla extract

  ¼ tsp almond extract

  2 tbsp all-purpose flour

  1 pinch salt

  1 packet of puff pastry

  1 egg, beaten

  one favour (traditionally a small china – not plastic! – figurine)

  icing sugar for dusting

  one gold party hat

  Preheat oven to 220°C/gas mark 7; line baking sheet with baking paper.

  Blend almond paste in the food processor with half the sugar, then add the butter and the rest of the sugar, then the egg, vanilla and almond extracts, then flour and salt.

  Roll out one sheet of the puff pastry, about 20cm square. Keep the pastry cool; do not knead or stretch. Cut a large circle. Repeat and chill the circles.

  Mound the almond filling on to the centre of one of the pastry circles on the baking sheet. Leave a large margin. Press the figurine down into the filling. Place the second sheet of pastry on top, and seal edges.

  Egg-wash the top of the pastry and add slits (artistically if you like).

  Bake for 15 minutes in the preheated oven. Do not open the oven until the time is up, as the pastry will not fully puff. Remove from the oven and dust with icing sugar. Return to the oven and cook for an additional 12–15 minutes, or until the top is a deep golden brown. Transfer to a wire rack to cool. Crown with gold party hat. Give gold party hat to whoever gets the favour (or Louis).

  Austin turned up at Marian’s with a bottle of kirsch, even though he wasn’t quite sure why. He instantly felt a bit strange, being the only man there without a beard, but everyone seemed very nice – there were about four families, and dumplings were boiling on top of the stove. There were no decorations up, of course, no cards, no television; nothing to indicate that this wasn’t just another day. Which of course it was. To everyone else.

  Darny was happily sitting chatting to one of the old men in the sitting room over a small, sticky-looking coffee.

  ‘We’re discussing the nature of evil,’ said Darny. ‘It’s great.’

  ‘Is that coffee?’ said Austin. ‘Great. That’s all you need.’

  He popped his head round the door. ‘Hi, Maria … Miriam. Do you need a hand?’

  ‘No, no,’ said Marian, who was rolling out pastry, very badly.

  ‘OK. Listen, is it all right if I give Darny his presents? I realise it’s not really …’

  ‘No, no, that’s fine,’ said Marian. ‘Half of them get secret presents anyway, we’re just not supposed to mention it.’ She smiled naughtily.

  ‘You seem really happy here, really settled,’ said Austin.

  Marian grinned and looked out through the kitchen door. In the sitting room, a man in his fifties, with a long beard and beautiful brown eyes, glanced up, caught the gaze and smiled at her.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Marian, colouring. ‘Though of course everyone here is too smart for me.’

  ‘Are you pretending to be stupid?’ asked Austin, affectionately.

  ‘No, that would be you,’ said Marian, giving him a look that reminded him inexorably of her daughter. ‘Now, give your brother his gifts. He thinks he isn’t getting any.’

  ‘Really?’

  Austin went back into the room with the large bag of presents.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ he said.

  Darny’s eyes widened. ‘I thought I wasn’t getting any presents.’

  ‘What, because you’re Jewish now?’

  Darny shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Because I’ve been so awful.’

  Austin felt as though his heart would crack.

  ‘Darny,’ he said, kneeling down. ‘Darny, whatever happens … I never, ever think you’re awful. I think you’re amazing and brilliant and occasionally a bit tricky …’

  ‘And in the way.’

  ‘Well, that’s not your fault, is it?’

  Darny hung his head.

  ‘If …’ he said. ‘If I hadn’t got chucked out of school, would we still be living in England with Issy?’

  ‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Austin. ‘It’s good that we’re here. It’s good. Isn’t it?’

  ‘So you can make lots of money and work all day and I’ll never see you?’ said Darny. ‘Mmm.’

  He sat down and started opening his gifts. Austin looked on, as did the other children, fascinated to see what MacKenzie had bought. There was something called an NFL game for the Wii (which Darny didn’t have), and a long basketball shirt that came down to his knees and looked like a dress, and a baseball cap with a propeller on the top. Darny looked up at Austin. ‘I don’t know what any of this is for,’ he said quietly. ‘Is it to make me American?’

  ‘Don’t you like it?’ said Austin.

  Darny looked down, desperate not to appear ungrateful. He had been on his best behaviour. It was slightly freaking Austin out.

  ‘Yes … I mean, you need a computer and stuff to work it … but I suppose …’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Darny.

  A much older boy with an incipient wispy moustache picked up the NFL game. ‘I can show you how to work this if you like.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Darny, brightening a bit. ‘Cool.’

  Marian came in from the kitchen and beckoned Austin over.

  ‘I have a gift for you,’ she said. Austin raised his eyebrows as she brought out an envelope. ‘I want you to go see my daughter,’ she said. ‘No, I insist on it. Just for a day or two. See if you kids can’t work something out without distractions around you. We’ll keep Darny here; he has fun with the other kids. Just go and see her. She doesn’t know it’s finished. She doesn’t know what’s going on. I like you, Austin, but if you make her unhappy and leave her dangling, I will cut off all your fingers. Is that clear?’

  Austin opened the envelope, shaking. He stared at it.

  ‘Where did you get the money for this?’ he said.

  ‘Oh, a friend who made rather a lot of money in those computer things … he died,’ she said. ‘Lovely man. Well, sometimes horrible. Very clever, though.’

  Austin raised his eyebrows.

  They both looked at the drifting snow in the little garden.

  Austin looked at the ticket again.

  ‘This flight leaves in two hours.’

  ‘Lucky you’re already in Queens, then, isn’t it?’

  This time, there was no sleeping on the flight. Full already from Christmas dinner, Issy couldn’t face another one. The crew were very jolly and cheerful, but the flight was full of grumpy-looking people who hated Christmas, or plenty of people to whom it didn’t mean anything, so their exuberance was slightly lost on them. She clutched her bag fiercely, biting her lip, trying not to think about anything except that for the first time in a fortnight she wasn’t crying. And that, one way or another, they’d soon be in the same room again. Beyond that, she wouldn’t let herself go, simply looking at the crackling ice over the oval window and staring into space.

  Austin found himself on his plane so fast he didn’t have time to think at all. He tri
ed to order his thoughts, but he felt too full of gibberish. He drank an extremely large whisky and tried to sleep. He failed.

  Their flights crossed over Newfoundland; Issy flying into a New York morning, Austin into a London afternoon, the pure white traces of vapour drawing a large X in the sky.

  There was no traffic. Austin didn’t stop to think; he knew exactly where she’d be. Where she’d always be. As the taxi driver – chatting animatedly about his recent miraculous recovery from renal failure, Austin barely listening – drew up just by the tiny little alleyway on Church Street, Austin’s eye was distracted by the rows of fairy lights outside the Cupcake Café reflecting off the dirty white snow, the steamed-up windows and, inside, the hint of shapes of happy people moving about.

  As soon as he saw it, in an instant of clarity, he knew. He would come back. They could start again. He’d try something, anything. They’d figure it out. New York was harsh, a shiny dream. Not for him. He had given up everything once before in his life. He could do it again. Because at the end of the sacrifice was happiness. He knew that. And however much money he made, or however good Darny’s school, they couldn’t be happy – neither of them – without Issy. And that was that. He paused for a minute as the cab pulled away, the night coming on fast, his long overcoat flapping in the wind, his scarf likewise; paused and took a deep breath full of happiness before marching forward, cheerfully and with an open heart, towards his future. He pulled open the tinging door.

  There was a long silence.

  ‘What the hell?’ said a slightly tipsy Pearl, as, just at the same moment, Louis launched himself at Austin’s legs.

  ‘AUSTIN! WEAH’S DARNY! I DID MISS YOU AUSTIN!’

  One of Ashok’s cousins blew a party hooter. It sounded a low note in the silence.

  Snow was still falling. Issy could barely remember a minute of the trip, or the shorter-than-normal line at immigration. Sometimes it felt like the outskirts of London and the outskirts of New York could touch each other, that they were all part of the same metropolis of taxis and restaurants and businesses and people rushing with lots to do.

  The cab dropped her at the hotel.

  ‘I’m sorry, ma’am,’ said the same lovely woman who’d been there before. ‘I’m afraid Mr Tyler’s been checked out.’

  Issy swallowed. This had never occurred to her. She had no idea where he might be. Had he gone to his boss’s house for Christmas? She didn’t know how to contact him. And she’d kind of hoped … she realised this was stupid, daft, but she’d kind of hoped just to meet him; to see him; to see his face – hopefully – break into that wide smile of his; to run into his arms. Not to have to call and have an awkward conversation and sound desperate – or worse, crazy. Much better just to appear and explain later, she thought.

  ‘Do you have a room?’ she asked.

  ‘We have one room left,’ said the woman, smiling nicely. ‘It’ll be seven hundred and eighty dollars.’

  Issy snatched up her credit card like she’d been stung.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Oh, I’ll leave it for now.’

  The woman looked worried. ‘You know, it’s quite difficult to find a hotel room in New York at Christmas time,’ she said sympathetically.

  Issy sighed. ‘It’s all right,’ she said, shaking her head, stunned at how badly her mission was failing, with all the excitement and good intentions her friends had sent her off with. ‘I can stay on my mum’s couch.’

  ‘Super!’ said the friendly receptionist.

  It would be best, thought Issy. Stay at her mum’s tonight, call Austin tomorrow wherever he was, meet up like civilised adults. That would be best. She could catch up on sleep and have a bath and all of that stuff. She sighed. Sit through her mum’s lecture about not relying on men, or in fact anyone. All of that.

  First, she wandered the streets. It was a beautiful day; sunny, with the ice crackling. As long as you stayed in the sun, it didn’t even seem that cold. There were lots of people out and about, taking a stroll and saying good day to each other; tourists, not quite sure what to do on Christmas Day, hoicking rucksacks and taking photographs; lots of Jewish people noisily cramming into Chinese restaurants. It was … it was nice.

  She found herself, eventually, on a familiar back street. The big shops weren’t open, of course, but it was amazing how many of the smaller ones were. Even at Christmas time, commerce was everything. She heard, suddenly, a snatch of her favourite Christmas song coming through an open door … and caught a slightly off smell. She went through the door. She was, she noticed with a quick pang, the only customer. Well. He might have been there. The sole member of staff was standing red-eyed by the till, and didn’t even look up.

  ‘Hello,’ said Issy.

  Chapter Twenty

  Vanilla Cupcake, Courtesy of the Caked Crusader

  For the cupcakes

  125g unsalted butter, at room temperature

  125g caster sugar

  2 large eggs, at room temperature

  125g self-raising flour, sifted i.e. passed through a sieve

  2 tsp vanilla extract (N.B. ‘extract’, not ‘essence’. Extract is natural whereas essence contains chemicals and is nasty)

  2 tbsp milk (you can use whole milk or semi-skimmed but not skimmed, as it tastes horrible)

  For the buttercream

  125g unsalted butter, at room temperature

  250g icing sugar, sifted i.e. passed through a sieve

  1 tsp vanilla extract

  Splash of milk – by which I mean, start with a tablespoon, beat that in, see if the buttercream is the texture you want, if it isn’t add a further tablespoon etc.

  How to make

  Preheat the oven to 190°C/fan oven 170°C/gas mark 5.

  Line a cupcake pan with paper cases. This recipe will make 12 cupcakes.

  Beat the butter and sugar together until they are smooth, fluffy and pale. This will take several minutes even with soft butter. Don’t skimp on this stage, as this is where you get air into the mix. How you choose to beat the ingredients is up to you. When I started baking I used a wooden spoon, then I got handheld electric beaters and now I use a stand mixer. They will all yield the same result, however, if you use the wooden spoon, you will get a rather splendid upper arm workout … who said cake was unhealthy?

  Add the eggs, flour, vanilla and milk and beat until smooth. Some recipes require you to add all these ingredients separately but, for this recipe, you don’t have to worry about that. You are looking for what’s called ‘dropping consistency’; this means that when you take a spoonful of mixture and gently tap the spoon, the mixture will drop off. If the mixture doesn’t drop off the spoon, mix it some more. If it still won’t drop, add a further tablespoon of milk.

  Spoon into the paper cases. There is no need to level the batter, as the heat of the oven will do this for you. Place the tray in the upper half of the oven. Do not open the oven door until the cakes have baked for twelve minutes, then check them by inserting a skewer (if you don’t have one, use a wooden cocktail stick) into the centre of the sponges – if it comes out clean, the cakes are ready and you can remove them from the oven. If raw batter comes out on the skewer, pop them back in the oven and give them a couple more minutes. Cupcakes, being small, can switch from underdone to overdone quickly so don’t get distracted! Don’t worry if your cakes take longer than a recipe states – ovens vary.

  As soon as the cupcakes come out of the oven, tip them out of the tin on to a wire rack. If you leave them in the tin they will carry on cooking (the tin is very hot) and the paper cases may start to pull away from the sponge, which looks ugly. Once on the wire rack they will cool quickly – about thirty minutes.

  Now make the buttercream: beat the butter in a bowl, on its own, until very soft. It will start to look almost like whipped cream. It is this stage in the process that makes your buttercream light and delicious.

  Add the icing sugar and beat until light and fluffy. Go gently at first otherwise the icing
sugar will cloud up and coat you and your kitchen with white dust! Keep mixing until the butter and sugar are combined and smooth; the best test for this is to place a small amount of the icing on your tongue and press it up against the roof of your mouth. If it feels gritty, it needs more beating. If it’s smooth, you can move on to the next step.

  Beat in the vanilla and milk. If the buttercream isn’t as soft as you would like, then add a tiny bit more milk but be careful – you don’t want to make the buttercream sloppy.

  Either spread or pipe over the cupcakes. Spreading is easier and requires no additional equipment. However, if you want your cupcakes to look fancy it might be worth buying an icing bag and star-shaped nozzle. You can get disposable icing bags, which cut down on washing-up.

  Add any additional decoration you desire – this is where you can be creative. In the past I have used sugar flowers, hundreds and thousands, Maltesers, edible glitter, sprinkles, nuts, crumbled Flake … the options are endless.

  Bask in glory at the wonderful thing you have made.

  Eat.

  It was amazing, the capacity for human sympathy, thought Issy. She would honestly not believe that she could sit here and listen to another human being pour out how unfair it was that Issy’s boyfriend wouldn’t get off with them.

  ‘You’d met me,’ she said finally. ‘You knew I existed.’

  Kelly-Lee kept weeping, big tears pouring off the end of her perfect retroussé nose. ‘But you’re foreign,’ she said. ‘So I figured it didn’t really matter, know what I mean?’

  ‘No,’ said Issy.

  ‘You’re from Eurp! Everyone knows everyone has six girlfriends over there.’

  ‘Does everyone know that?’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said Kelly-Lee. ‘And you have no idea how hard it is. Now I’m going to lose my job …’

  ‘For trying to pull someone?’ said Issy. ‘Cor, your boss is miles tougher than me.’