Before engaging in orgies, Romans ate anatomically correct versions of an early form of gingerbread to fuel their libidos!
Dancing Cinnamon is in chaos. We’re used to dealing with big orders, but two hundred mince pies in five hours’ time is a big ask, even for us. An impromptu Christmas party for a youth training charity that makes you wonder why they couldn’t have made it slightly less impromptu.
Mum’s making batch after batch of pastry, I’m rolling it out and cutting pie bases and fitting them into the baking tins, Saff’s on filling duty, then it’s back to me for a pie lid, a pastry decoration, and an eggwash. We’ve got an oven each, and timers are going off left, right, and centre, and no one knows which one is bleeping until we’ve all checked to make sure our own pies aren’t about to set off the smoke alarm.
You’d think we’d all be concentrating on the task at hand, but Mum’s waxing lyrical about the latest batch of single men on the dating site she bought me a subscription to.
‘This one’s got a horse.’ She points a gloved finger to a photo on her phone. ‘You always wanted a pony for Christmas when you were little.’
‘I like horses as much as the next person, but I’ve never considered them a personality trait before.’
‘You’re being difficult. You’ve had loads of messages from potential matches and you haven’t even looked at them.’
‘I’m not inter—’
‘Look at this one.’
—ested, I finish in my head.
Mum scrolls the page and shoves the phone towards me on the unit. I don’t bother to look.
‘He’s got lovely big teeth.’ She carries on like subtitles you can’t turn off. ‘You know what they say about men with big teeth.’
‘They’re good at eating salad?’ Saff offers.
‘That’s feet, Mum. And not a conversation that any living human should be forced into with their mother.’
She ignores me. ‘You’ve got a message here from one saying he’d love to date a baker and he wants to know what cake you’d make him on your first date. You can be really flirty when you answer.’
‘I’m not going to ans—’
‘Something sexy, like a raspberry ripple. That brings to mind all sorts of swirls and curves and things. Nothing square and boring like a Battenberg. Give it some thought before you reply, it’s a marvellous conversation opener.’
‘I quite like a Battenberg,’ Saff says, taking pity on me between scoops of fruity mincemeat filling. ‘Different colours, marzipan, can’t go wrong.’
‘Mum, I don’t want a guy who thinks that’s a sexy approach. He’s probably hoping to get a free cake out of it along with a one-night fumble. I want a guy who’s kind and lovely, who says he doesn’t like cake just to be difficult but then ends up eating more of it than I do…’
‘That’s quite a specific request. A bit odd. Shall I add it to your profile?’ She sounds confused as the reference goes straight over her head.
‘No!’ Saff and I shout in unison.
Mum pouts as she goes back to kneading pastry.
We carry on like a little production line. Kneading, rolling, cutting shapes, filling, and baking. After a couple of hours, Mum’s phone rings and she snatches it up, but not before Saff and I have seen Mervyn’s name splashed across the screen. She cradles the phone protectively and runs upstairs with it.
‘You could just tell her there’s something between you and Joss,’ Saff says when we’re alone. ‘She’d be begging you to spend time with him then.’
‘There isn’t, Saff.’ I sigh. ‘There can’t be. And it doesn’t matter because he’s leaving in the new year.’
‘What’s wrong today? You looked so gloomy when you came in. I told Bron we could manage between us but she was having none of it. You clearly didn’t want to come back.’
‘I didn’t,’ I admit in a whisper because the last thing I want is for Mum to overhear. ‘This has awakened a creativity in me and Joss fuels that. The more time I spend doing the gingerbread house, the less time I want to spend making batches of mince pies I’ve made seventy thousand times before. And then there’s Joss…’ I drop my circular cookie cutter onto the work surface, and bang my head down onto my arms.
‘The others have been talking about him, you know. The other shopkeepers have mentioned their surprise at how helpful he is. People like him.’
That makes butterflies dance inside me. His kindness has won the villagers over too. It proves he can’t hide that heart of gold, no matter how hard he tries. ‘He’s like a hazelnut. Hard and unappealing on the outside, it’s incredibly hard work to crack that solid shell, but when you do, he… becomes a Ferrero Rocher.’
Saff’s mouth drops open. ‘Okay, you’ve never compared a guy to your favourite chocolate before. Is there something really going on between you? Ess, do you seriously like Joss Hal—’
‘What’s all this about Joss Hallissey?’ Having crept down the stairs, Mum appears in the kitchen doorway and I have no idea how long she’s been listening.
She puts her phone back on the unit and I look between it and her pink-tinged cheeks. ‘Important resident committee business, was it?’
‘Vitally important. Mr Selman’s Christmas tree is growing over Mrs Allen’s fence, so she took his decorations off that half and put her own up, and he’s threatening retaliatory forces of sticking a pin in her inflatable Christmas flamingos. Mervyn’s trying to find a diplomatic solution that doesn’t involve the murder of any Christmas decorations.’
‘If nothing else comes out of today, at least we’ve learned there is such a thing as inflatable Christmas flamingos.’
‘Don’t try to change the subject, missy. I want to know what’s going on with you and Joss.’
‘Nothing.’ It’s not exactly untrue.
‘Don’t think I don’t know about that little trick you two pulled the other day. Beryl told me that Rob is what he calls that little bird. There was no date, was there? He’s trying to keep you for himself, you mark my words.’
I laugh, even though the thought of Joss wanting me for himself sends a not-unpleasant tingle racing through my body.
‘I hear he’s leaving.’ Mum’s purposely trying to sound casual.
‘He is leaving.’
‘I don’t think you should fall in love with another man who’s leaving town, Essie.’
‘The difference is the last one actually wanted me to go with him. Joss is leaving so no one ever finds him again.’ I try to ignore the stone that settles in my stomach. Folkhornton will feel a lot smaller without him.
‘It’s probably for the best. I don’t trust that one.’
‘Why?’ I’m surprised because she seemed to like him at first. That day she nearly strangled him, for example. She often shows affection via the medium of grievous bodily harm. ‘Because he’s quiet and doesn’t like getting involved in other people’s business?’
‘No, there’s something about him. He’s hiding something.’
I think of his mum and how he doesn’t want anyone to know, how Joseph Senior must’ve hidden so much too. ‘There’s a lot going on that you don’t know about. Besides, you’re all missing the point – he’s leaving.’
‘Exactly. What you need is a nice, stable man.’
‘That makes me sound like I need a garden fence.’
‘He’s bad news, Essie. I’ve got a feeling about him. He’s going to break your heart.’
I do a false laugh. ‘Of course he’s not. There are no hearts involved, it’s just gingerbread.’
Mum and Saff both fix me with a look that says they believe me about as much as I believe myself.