think she was nervous about contacting me in case I was still mad at her, but it’s like I told you: she just wanted to say she was sorry about what happened and she hoped we could be friends now she was back.’
‘I’ll bet she did,’ Sarah said. ‘I suppose whoever she spoke to at Gilligan’s told her you’d won the lottery?’
‘No, not until I mentioned it, so it was a complete surprise to her – she’d wondered what we were doing up here. I explained about helping you set up the Happy Macaroon and then that I was going to start my own wedding croquembouche business.’
David flipped the closed sign over on the door and lowered the window blind.
‘And how did she take that?’ he asked, turning.
‘She thought it was a great idea and she’d love to meet up with me to hear all about my plans. Only that won’t be for a while, because she can’t leave town at the moment and I haven’t got time to go down there.’
‘Thank heaven for small mercies,’ muttered Sarah, starting to cash up the till.
‘I’m not stupid enough to fall for her twice over,’ Jago said with dignity. But still, it had shaken him to hear her soft, contrite and honeyed voice.
‘Good, because she’s like Julia Roberts in that Runaway Bride film and she’d just keep dumping you for a better option,’ Sarah said frankly.
‘That’s a bit harsh,’ he said, wincing, but her words dispelled a little of the enchantment that Aimee had managed to cast over him again.
‘We’re only saying these things because we’re your friends and we don’t want you to go through the whole thing twice,’ David said.
‘I know.’ Jago sighed, and then smiled wryly. ‘Maybe I’ve watched too many romantic comedy films where it’s all turned out right in the end.’
‘It will turn out right in the end,’ Sarah assured him. ‘Only not with Aimee Calthrop. She belongs in an entirely different kind of film.’
Luckily she didn’t say exactly which kind, but mention of romantic films had made Jago remember his earlier conversation with Cally and gave his thoughts a different direction.
‘You know I was telling you about Cally trying to raise money to take her little girl to America for that life-saving operation? Well, I’ve just had an idea for how we could help …’
Later, while Stella was still asleep, having gone down for her nap so late, and I was doing a little research on the history of madeleines (I thought I might get a long piece for my ‘Diaries’ page, as well as a quick and easy recipe for ‘Tea & Cake’ out of it), my phone buzzed and it was Jago.
‘We’ve just closed the shop, so I’ve emailed you the madeleine recipe I mentioned.’
‘Oh, great – thanks,’ I said gratefully. ‘Funnily enough, I was just doing a bit of research into them.’
‘I hope I’m not disturbing you?’
‘No, not at all. My mother’s working in her studio and Stella’s still asleep, so I thought I’d make a start. She was so tired she only managed to take one bite out of the gingerbread pig, but she’s still holding it.’
‘It’s strange how many children love gingerbread,’ he commented, then added, ‘I just got my third wedding croquembouche order.’
‘Oh, well done!’
‘They want it to be flanked by two of David’s white and pink macaroon pyramids too, so expense no object.’
‘I can imagine how good that would look at a wedding reception. You know, I think your croquembouche business is going to be a huge success.’
‘I hope you’re right, but maybe it will because, David’s has taken off so well, and macaroons are another expensive luxury.’
‘People are prepared to pay for a special cake for a wedding,’ I assured him. Then I added tentatively, ‘Are you all right? Only you sound a bit … I don’t know – stressed?’
‘Knocked for six, more like,’ he confessed ruefully. ‘Aimee, my ex, just rang me at the bakery. Things didn’t work out with the other bloke and she’s back. In fact, she’s been home for a while and my friends knew and didn’t tell me.’
‘I suppose they were just trying to protect you,’ I suggested.
‘So they said, but they needn’t have bothered because she only wanted to say sorry and to be friends.’
‘Right,’ I said, though I thought I detected a hint of uncertainty in his voice. ‘Well, that’ll be lovely then, won’t it?’ I added, with a brisk cheerfulness I didn’t feel, because my heart had suddenly sunk like an undercooked sponge at the possibility that he might be snatched back to London by the horrible-sounding but glamorous Aimee when I’d only just got to know him.
When Stella was in bed that night, and Ma off in the garden room watching old Agatha Christie films, I made some madeleines to Jago’s genuine French recipe, which were delicious, and then started to write the articles.
The ‘Tea & Cake’ one was quick and easy.
Here’s a simple recipe for madeleines, those wonderful little buttery French biscuits, usually baked in deep shell-shaped moulds. Perfect with coffee at elevenses, but a lovely treat at any time …
But the other one took time, and I finally finished around midnight, when even Toto and Moses had gone to bed, both in the same basket. They seemed to have buried the hatchet and while I’d been typing at the kitchen table I’d seen Moses give Toto a very thorough washing, especially around the ears.
I’m not sure that Toto exactly appreciated it, going by the long-suffering expression on his furry face, but it’s surprising what you’ll put up with from your friends.
The house had long been silent except for the clicking of my fingers on the keyboard and the ticking of the clock, and although I offered to let Toto into the garden, he didn’t even bother opening both eyes. Mind you, I caught him crawling through the cat flap earlier in the day, so if he has cracked that, then he can let himself in and out whenever he wants to.
I looked in on Stella on my way to bed and she was fast asleep, hugging Bun. His plush is a bit worn and I’d sewn my mobile phone number onto the sole of one foot, after we once left him behind on a park bench and had to dash back to find him, luckily still there.
Stella looked angelic, a sleeping cherub, dimly illuminated by the faint light from her nightlight, which was one of those porcelain ones like a toadstool with a little mouse family inside. She had added one or two of her fuzzy toy mice to the scenario too, I noticed.
I looked down at her, so small and delicate that she reminded me of those old stories of fairy children exchanged with ordinary ones at birth – but if she had been, they weren’t
