AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mum’s told me what you’re doing for her. Thank you.
It’s so formal compared to our usual communication that I can’t help but feel like my bubble’s been burst a little.
Within a week I’m back at Denise’s, this time for the inaugural photoshoot of The Cookie Box! Poppy is our professional photographer and it’s all going amazingly well. Apart from the bit where I made a pensioner cry. I’d presented Denise with an apron I’d had printed up with ‘The Cookie Box’ written on it, which she wrapped around her polka dot dungarees and then carefully dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, insisting they were tears of joy. ‘I feel very lucky,’ she’d said while I gave her a squeeze.
Now my little sister is busy taking pictures of Denise as she makes a batch of cookies in her gorgeous, reclaimed kitchen. I’d been expecting a cosy, chaotic style of house when I came to pitch a few days ago but Denise and Jim’s kitchen is a masterclass in interior design and it’s the perfect backdrop for our shoot. A salvaged kitchen dresser with blue-and-white willow-patterned china hanging from hooks. House plants tumbling down from shelves. Brightly coloured pendant lights dangling above a vast tabletop in reclaimed oak. It’s gorgeous.
Every time the speedlight flashes, a new image pops up on Poppy’s laptop screen. Denise has her sleeves rolled up as she creams butter and sugar together in a large bowl, her face lit up in her particular brand of happy baker. It’s infectious. The house is filled with music from a jaunty playlist, baking smells and laughter until we break for lunch and Poppy asks what’s wrong with my face.
‘This is my busy-at-work face,’ I protest.
‘No, it’s not,’ she argues, slicing up a hummus wrap. ‘There’s something on your mind that you’re not telling me about.’
Sometimes Poppy’s sisterly intuition is annoying as hell.
‘All right,’ I concede. ‘There’s a lot on my plate.’
‘Spill.’
‘Not now! We’re working,’ I say pointedly, nodding towards Denise who is busying herself making yet another brew. I am already ninety-nine per cent English breakfast tea at this point.
‘Don’t mind me, I can go outside for a bit?’
‘You will not!’ I protest, shooting Poppy a look. She shrugs.
‘It’s not my Joe, is it?’ Denise asks before looking contrite. ‘Not that it’s any of my business. It’s a good job Jim’s out today otherwise he’d be telling me off for sticking my oar in.’
‘Oh don’t worry about that, Denise,’ Poppy breezes. ‘I’m always sticking my oar in. Sophie loves it, don’t you, Soph?’
I tut at my sister.
‘Denise,’ I say, pointedly ignoring Pop. ‘You are more than welcome to ask after me. I really appreciate your concern, it’s just—’
I pause. I can’t open up about my problems with Joe, firstly because I’m tangled up remembering who knows what. To Poppy, we’re dating. To Denise, we’re just good friends. To me? I’m not sure we’re even that anymore. And secondly, Joe has more or less stopped contact since that weird phone call a few weeks ago. After that and The Kiss, we have drifted. We used to meet for playdates and share a bottle of wine once Lila and Sid had crashed out. Joe would ring me up just to tell me about something funny from his day, like the time he took Sid to the city farm and they spotted guinea pigs in a three-way which led to a lot of awkward questions from his intrigued son. I did get one message from him recently, which said: ‘Probably ought to get another date in soon for appearances, are you free Friday?’
That was it! No fun, all serious.
‘Joe’s been busy with work,’ I end up saying. ‘This time of year’s always hectic with exam papers, I think. Anyway, it’s not really Joe. It’s Mark, my ex-husband.’
Poppy’s head spins round so fast it looks like she’s in a horror movie.
‘WHAT?’ she bellows.
Suddenly I’m so overwhelmed by a desire to offload that I start blathering on about Mark coming back into my life even though this is technically a work day and what will Denise think of me?
‘So, let me get this straight, that utter shite – sorry, Denise – is back and he wants to see Lila?’ Poppy, outraged, is now on the edge of her seat.
I nod.
‘What an effing liberty.’
‘I know. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t want to let Lila down by withholding from her the chance to meet her dad but also …’ But also what?
‘But also her dad’s a useless piece of—’
‘Thank you, Poppy,’ I say, cutting her off. ‘It’s not as simple as that. For so long it’s been just the two of us and I love that, I never thought I’d be tempted to rock the boat. But Mark does seem to have changed and …’ I trail off, gnawing at my lip.
Denise reaches across the table and holds her hand on top of mine. It’s so comforting. ‘You poor thing,’ she says kindly. ‘That’s a really difficult position to find yourself in. I hope Joe’s been supportive?’
