The Sweetest Thing by Woodman Cathy

Author:Woodman, Cathy [Woodman, Cathy]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781407088518
Publisher: Random House UK
Published: 2011-04-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Chocolate and Beetroot Cake

After my triumph at the Farmers’ Market, I’m on a roll. I book a regular slot – that’s a market every fortnight. The ad in the Chronicle brought me two more orders, rather belated ones. I’m not sure where to go next with the business. I don’t need an MBA, just drive and commonsense – and, if I’m honest with myself, a good dose of self-confidence. I know I can talk to people, handle selling on a market stall and give out free samples, but the thought of going into a shop to ask if they’ll stock my cakes still sends me into a cold sweat.

I have to build on my success though. I’m not earning enough to keep the wolves from the door, I muse as the dog whines from outside, asking to be let in. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good time to take on another mouth to feed.

I let Lucky indoors. The girls are playing a game out in the stables. Adam is upstairs – I’d like to say he’s doing his homework, but it’s far more likely that he’s on Facebook, chatting to his London friends. I had a long talk with David about him when the children went back to school after their weekend away. He said that Adam still had a lot of concerns about leaving his friends and trying to fit in with a new set at school, but couldn’t actually offer any solutions. All he could do was continue to be supportive of our son – which, as he loves to remind me, is particularly difficult when I’ve moved him so far away.

The tea is in the Aga and I have an hour or so to make a start on the next step in creating Penny’s wedding cake.

‘Mummy, Georgia says I can’t be the owner,’ Sophie says, marching into the kitchen. She stops and rests her elbows on the table, stamps her foot and pouts. ‘She says I have to be the pony, but that isn’t fair.’

‘I don’t see why you can’t take it in turns.’

‘Would you come out and be the pony?’ Sophie asks.

‘I’ve got to do this cake,’ I say, smiling at the idea of trotting around the paddock and whinnying like a horse. Guy would think I’d gone mad.

‘The wedding cake?’ says Sophie. ‘I think it’s going to be beautiful, Mummy. Can I help you?’

‘You can fetch and carry for me,’ I say, concerned that the cake won’t be as beautiful as Sophie expects if she gets her hands on it.

‘I want to decorate it,’ she says, crestfallen.

‘You have to practise first. And I’m not decorating it today anyway. I’m getting it ready to be decorated.’

‘I see.’

‘I need jam and marzipan.’

‘I’ll find them.’ She runs to the larder and tugs the door open.

‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘No, I’ll carry the cake – I don’t want it to meet with an accident.’

‘The bride wouldn’t like that, would she? I think she’d be rather upset.’

‘It wouldn’t be good for business.

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