The Ever After Street castle is easily the most romantic place I’ve ever been. It’s such a real-life Disney castle that the only thing it’s missing is a pumpkin carriage parked outside. On Sunday morning, it’s decked out in wedding finery. Darcy is the gardener here and he must’ve been putting extra effort into growing pink and white roses because displays of them line the walkway and white rose petals cover the ground. In front of the castle is an archway made of brown willow branches interspersed with green foliage and pink and white roses, and inside, the castle has been decked with twinkling fairy lights, every pillar wrapped with garlands of roses, and sprays of wisteria hang from above.
The wedding itself is taking place in a nearby church this morning, and then guests are coming here for the reception, and while Laura and her fiancé get married, the rest of the Ever After Street team have come to set out the wedding buffet. There’s no vehicle access to the castle, so Darcy lent me a wheelbarrow to push up the many, many boxes of cakes. Ali has brought wheeled trolleys from his restaurant, and Mickey and Lissa are weighed down with bags containing stacks of filled Tupperware.
The reception is taking place in one of the ballrooms and Laura wants all the food set out as a buffet for guests to help themselves to. The dancefloor is at one end of the giant room, the guest tables are in the middle, set out with lacy tablecloths and vases of roses, and place cards for all the coming guests. The bride and groom and both sets of parents have one long table of their own, and the buffet tables are at the opposite end, furthest away from the door.
Bram’s at the wedding this morning, and I wonder if he’s as tired as I am. After a lot more kissing last night, it was past 3 a.m. when he walked me home, and I was absolutely right about not being able to sleep after he left, except this time it was because my whole body was fizzing with tingly excitement. Because, for the first time in a long time, everything felt right with the world, and I probably dozed off about an hour before my alarm went. But every moment of last night was a thousand per cent worth every gallon of coffee I have to guzzle today.
I wouldn’t know where to start with setting out a buffet, but Ali is an expert. He allocates a table for sandwiches and savoury foods, a table for cakes, and a table for nibbles and snacks. He’s brought tons of silver platters, and as Witt and Darcy put the finishing touches to the décor, Sadie, Mickey, Lissa, and Marnie form a chain of passing boxes to each other, while Ali and I arrange things nicely on the vintage serving wear the castle has in abundance, and by the time we’ve finished, there’s the noise and chatter of the first guests starting to arrive.
The others duck out a side door, but I’ve left my wheelbarrow in the entrance hall, so I retrace my steps to collect that, and as I exit the ballroom, I walk headfirst into Mr Hastings’ enormous chest.
‘Ahh, Miss Jordan, just who I was looking for.’
Despite the more human side I saw the other night, there’s something about his drawling voice that fills me with dread. Whereas Bram fills a room with light, Mr Hastings has the same impact as a cloud crossing the sun, and I’m instantly on edge, despite the fact I’ve done what he wanted me to. Between all of us, we have somehow catered this wedding.
‘Me?’ I gulp then repeat the question in a less squeaky voice.
‘Yes. I wanted to say a resounding thank you for all your hard work. I must admit that when I offered you this challenge, I had my doubts, but fair play to you, you’ve come through for my family when we needed you.’
A dark-haired woman who I’m guessing is Mrs Hastings is with him, her hand through his arm, and she smiles kindly at me with twinkly brown eyes just like Bram’s.
God only knows what they think of me. I didn’t intend to be seen. I’m not here as a guest and I’m certainly not dressed as one. I’ve got on food-dye-stained jeans and a T-shirt with a hole under the armpit, because as soon as I’ve set out the buffet, Bram’s given me his spare key and left the recipe for the mini Unbirthday cakes in his kitchen and I’m going to try making them.
‘Laura is absolutely delighted,’ Mr Hastings is saying. ‘And I’ve just had a little look-see myself, and it looks like a wholly professional job, and Abraham assures me that it will all taste as good as it looks. I’m not a man who goes back on my word, Miss Jordan, so I’m delighted to offer you the tearoom lease on an eighteen-month rolling contract. Congratulations.’
He reaches out to shake my hand and when I’m too surprised to respond instantly, he takes my hand and shakes it without waiting for permission.
I didn’t expect this at all. Not today, not before anyone has even eaten any of the food we’ve made, and I mouth at thin air like a stranded goldfish a few times before any words come out. ‘Oh, wow. Thank you. Thank you very much.’
Why am I one quiff away from sounding like Elvis Presley? Mr Hastings is still pumping my hand up and down so hard that it’s like he’s shaking around the thoughts in my brain and jumbling them all up. I know this was the deal he made, but I still expected him to change his mind or put up more hurdles, and I don’t know what to say…
Except that I thought this moment would feel euphoric, but it feels like a bit of a hollow victory. I haven’t catered this wedding. There’s no way in hell that I could have, but we have managed it, between Bram and me and all our friends on Ever After Street, it’s us who have done it. It feels like I’ve conned him in some way, like I’m taking credit for everyone else’s work when I shouldn’t be, even though everyone knew that the whole point of doing this was to help me get the tearoom.
I feel a bit… wrong. Like I did after the interview when the only thing that swung it for me was the rose cupcakes that I let them believe I’d made. I’ve got what I wanted, but I don’t feel like I deserve it.
Mr Hastings finally lets go of my hand, and waves a stern finger at me. ‘You make sure you don’t give that pesky inspector anything to concern himself with, okay?’
‘Of course not.’ I paste on a smile. Is this the catch? Is this the niggling feeling I have in the pit of my stomach that something is about to go horribly, horribly wrong?
‘Now, no more work today, it’s a day to celebrate my daughter’s happiness.’ He gives me a nod and goes to drag his wife away, but I stop him.
‘Mr Hastings?’ I wait for him to turn back towards me. ‘Thank you for sending Bram to work with me. I think your son is the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. He makes the world a better place. A brighter, happier, funnier place. None of this would’ve happened without him. He deserves to be loved for who he is, even if you don’t always approve of his choices. There are worse things a child can do than not follow your path in life. You should be very proud.’
Mr Hastings frowns, probably not wanting the reminder of his candidness the other night, but clearly getting the insinuation and the fact it’s none of my business, but Mrs Hastings looks like she can’t stop her smile getting wider.
She extracts her arm from his and reaches out to shake my hand. ‘Bram’s told us a lot about you. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person. I look forward to getting to know you better and can’t wait to try this wonderful buffet. Mrs Willetts has been raving about your rose cupcakes for weeks.’
Oh, those. ‘There won’t be any of—’
‘Come along, dear, we mustn’t loiter, guests are wanting to get in.’ Mr Hastings doesn’t let me finish my feeble explanation about the lack of rose cupcakes. ‘I’ll stop by with the paperwork this week, Miss Jordan. Cheerio.’
I take it for what it is – a dismissal, and that’s fine, because someone could’ve tripped over my unattended wheelbarrow by now.
I hurry through the hall towards where I left it when Bram catches hold of my arm and pulls me aside. ‘’ello.’
‘There’s a wheelbarrow.’ I jerk my head in the direction I was heading.
‘Darcy’s already taken it.’
‘Oh thank God. The bride landing arse over teakettle in a wheelbarrow is a previously unknown wedding tradition that we don’t need to start.’ I finally look up at him and every thought disappears from my mind instantly. ‘Wow. You look incredible.’
He’s blushing as I take in his grey suit, white shirt, red tartan waistcoat and shiny grey tie that looks like it’s been gradually loosened over the course of the morning. ‘So do you.’
‘I’m wearing jeans and a T-shirt!’
‘Exactly.’ He grins, and it’s almost impossible not to kiss him, but there are people around us. Witt and Sadie are checking in coats and directing people to the bathrooms. People are admiring the castle. The suits of armour. The portraits of Witt’s family that he’s recently had restored. We get bumped into by a woman who’s looking up at the mural-painted ceiling and not at where she’s going, and then gives us a glare for being in the way.
Bram leans down and whispers, ‘But more importantly than that, I hear a celebration is in order.’
‘How’d you know that?’ I look at him in surprise.
‘I’ve just shared a car with my father. He told me what he was about to do. Come with me.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, firstly because I really need to kiss you but there’s cousins, aunts, uncles, and God-only-knows-what-relations everywhere who interrogate me about my love life at every family gathering, and if they catch me snogging you then I’m never going to hear the end of it, and secondly because I’m not the only one who’s over all the moons in the Milky Way that you’re joining Ever After Street on a more permanent basis. This way.’ His hand slips down my arm until he entwines our fingers and gives me a firm tug towards the stairs, but skirts around them to where there’s a door underneath, the entrance to the staff kitchen. Instead of going in, he shuffles us until we’re mostly out of sight under the stairs, and then slips his arm around my waist and leans down for a hug. It’s brief and I can tell he’s hyperaware of being spotted, and when he pulls back, he touches his lips to mine for the briefest peck.
There are footsteps outside our little nook and he steps back and laces our fingers together again and pushes open the door, and I’m immediately greeted by the burning smell of a party popper bursting and a chorus of people shouting, ‘Congratulations!’
‘Welcome to Ever After Street!’ Marnie calls. ‘For real! For good!’
‘You’re one of us now!’ Darcy says.
‘What are you all doing in here?’ I look around the room. All of my friends from Ever After Street are huddled in the big staff kitchen, sitting on benches, tables, or the units themselves. It’s like an impromptu surprise party, and from the smirk on Bram’s face, I’m guessing he’s responsible for it.
Ali is at the table with a kettle and a pile of teacups. ‘Bram showed me how to make sparkly Wonderland tea. It seems like the perfect way to celebrate. Cheers!’
He holds up a cup of glittery tea in a toast and everyone else does the same.
‘You did it, Cleo.’ Sadie pats me on the shoulder as we slip further into the room and Ali beckons us over for a teacup each that he’s already sprinkled with edible glitter.
‘I didn’t…’
‘We’ve had fun.’ Mickey cuts off my weak protest. ‘And we’ve helped secure the absolute perfect tearoom for Ever After Street. It was totally worth making over a hundred vol-au-vents for.’
‘You and Bram have worked harder than anyone. It’s your win, Cleo, and it’s well-deserved. Cheers.’ Lissa clinks her teacup against Mickey’s as Ali hands one each to me and Bram.
‘Shouldn’t you be with the wedding party?’ Darcy asks him as we head towards one of the picnic-table style benches, weaving past Imogen and Joshy, and Franca knocks her shoulder against mine with a smile.
‘I’d rather be here with you lot,’ he says with a shrug, making me smile at his simple honesty again. Life would be so much easier if more people had Bram’s honest approach to it.
‘I see why…’ Darcy raises an eyebrow at our joined hands.
‘Thanks, everyone.’ Bram lets me sit down first, and when I do, he flops down beside me and rests his head on my shoulder. His blue hair is held down with styling product, but the ends at the back of his neck are making a break for freedom, so I let my other hand play with them and goosebumps rise across his skin. ‘I know this was about The Wonderland Teapot, but you’ve all helped to make my little sister’s big day really special, and my whole family appreciate that, even if my father has a tendency to go about things in the wrong way.’
‘We were doing it to help our Cleo,’ Mickey says.
I’ve never been anyone’s ‘our’ anything before and it soothes my frazzled nerves more than the hot tea. I hit it off with the Ever After Street girls from the moment Marnie introduced me to them when she was organising the book festival last year, and it feels like they’ve become true friends over the past few months.
‘As soon as we met, we knew you belonged here in one way or another. I’m just glad you found the perfect way. Congratulations, and here’s to many happy years of spreading Wonderland sparkle on our little street.’ Lissa lifts her teacup to toast me too.
I’m getting choked up as I try to think of what to say to get across how much their kindness means, from gathering here to congratulate me to giving up so much of their time this week to help with the wedding catering. I swallow hard and take a deep breath. ‘I can’t thank you enough for all your help. There’s no way I could have pulled this off without every single one of you. You’ve all gone so far above and beyond that I can’t even wrap my head around it. None of you will ever have to pay for a cup of tea again. I owe you all so, so much, from right now and back to the very beginning. I know it was one of you who persuaded the council to look at my application, even though it was received after the cut-off point.’ My money has always been on Mickey or Lissa, they’ve both worked here for years and are likely to have some sway with the bosses, and Lissa is always at the head of any protest and backing any underdog. I give them both a knowing look, but neither owns up, and nor does anyone else.
‘So what’s the first thing you’re going to do now it’s yours?’ Franca asks.
‘Take on your first employee, presumably.’ Marnie nods towards Bram, and I can feel his face shifting into a smile where his cheek is leaning on my shoulder.
I turn my head and murmur against his forehead. ‘What do you say, will you be my Mad Hatter on a more permanent basis?’
He lifts his head and grins at me. ‘Depends. Do I get cake for breakfast every day?’
‘Whether I say yes or no, you eat cake for breakfast every day anyway!’
He laughs and squeezes my knee. ‘Then I’ll be your Mad Hatter for as long as you want me to be.’
The others all do a collective ‘awwww’, and I’m grinning so widely as I clink my teacup against Bram’s and we both take a sip. He leans his head back on my shoulder, and I sink down a bit lower to make him more comfortable.
The butterflies turn into small, flying, fire-breathing dragons at the thought of being responsible for employees now too. I don’t know much about running a business and now I’ve got to earn enough of an income to cover the rent and pay other people too. And how can I ever be Bram’s boss? He’s un-boss-able. And surely I’ll need to take on someone else as well. We’ve had plenty of times where the tearoom has been too busy for the two of us to keep up with. ‘At least I can fire employees too now, and the first thing I’m going to do is fire Tabby.’
‘She’s hilarious,’ Marnie says. ‘I don’t think she’s ever even seen Alice, never mind read the book. She only seems to know one line – off with their heads!’
‘She might not be a fan of reading or Alice, but at least with her gone, we’ll know there will be no more sabotage incidents.’
Everyone sits forwards in anticipation of gossip, and I tell them about the salted muffins and spicy brownies that, contrary to popular belief, have not been caused by gremlins. ‘None of you know for sure if she was offered the tearoom before me, do you?’
‘Offered the tearoom…?’ Lissa asks in confusion.
I explain about Tabby’s plans for a wellness retreat on Ever After Street. ‘Mr Hastings apparently gave the tearoom to someone else and then changed his mind and rescinded the offer. Any of you know who that was? I’d like to know I’m firing her for a reason…’
A wave of clueless shrugs and head shakes go around the room. No one seems to know what I’m talking about, but I didn’t really expect them to. It’s the sort of thing Mr Hastings would keep to himself.
And then one voice cuts through the bamboozlement. ‘I thought it was you, Bram.’
Every eye in the room turns to Joshy, who looks surprised by the sudden attention.
‘Didn’t you leave the carousel to take over the tearoom? Isn’t that why your father hired me?’
‘No, to help me with the tearoom,’ I correct him. Joshy’s young, he’s got his wires crossed…
…But Bram instantly sits up. Rather than lazy and languid, he’s now as stiff as a robot that hasn’t been oiled.
And just seeing him look that uneasy sets off a swirling squall of a thunderstorm inside me.
‘Wait, no, that’s not right, is it? On the first day…’ I think back and it gives me a sudden and overwhelming urge to put as much space between me and Bram as possible. I slide along the bench so hard that I nearly fall off the other end as I turn the thoughts over in my head. ‘The first day, you’d already left the carousel. You said your plans had fallen through but they’d hired your replacement, so you were at a loose end… That’s why you were available to play the Mad Hatter…’
I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He looks around the room before looking at me, but his eyes flick away the second we make eye contact. It’s probably the first time I’ve ever seen Bram lost for words, and it leaves me with the foreboding kind of goosebumps. A haunting chill. The ‘this cannot be happening’ feeling of being in a horror film. It can’t be him. He can’t have been lying all along.
‘At the interview, Mrs Willetts asked your father about “something”, and he said it wouldn’t be a problem. When you handed me your phone on that first morning, he said, “good luck with it”. I thought it was just sarcasm, but it wasn’t, was it? In both instances, he was talking about you.’ I shake my head, trying to clear it, but the thoughts are swirling so loudly that it’s like being inside a spinning washing machine. ‘It can’t be you. Of all the people who could’ve been offered that tearoom, it can’t be you. Tell me it’s not you, please.’
He sits forward and goes to run a hand through his hair, but realises it’s stuck down so slides a hand across it instead and pulls awkwardly at the back of his neck. ‘Any chance we can have this conversation in private?’
In that one simple sentence, he’s given me all the answer I needed. ‘What that means is there’s a conversation to have. That wasn’t supposed to be your answer. You were supposed to say, “Pfft. What? No, of course not, I left the carousel for some completely different and totally unrelated reason.” Why aren’t you saying that, Bram?’
‘Cleo…’ He reaches a hand out towards me but it ends up hanging limply in mid-air.
I scramble onto my feet before he can get any closer and start pacing. Except there are so many of our colleagues packed into this room that there’s barely space to move, and ‘pacing’ involves taking two steps between Marnie and Franca and back again before I walk into Sadie. It feels like the world is crumbling in on itself, and I’m right back to where I was two years ago. Adrift in a bank, with a business plan and a bank manager who was waiting for two. Phoning and phoning my ex, desperately pleading for him to answer, telling the staff that he must’ve been in a car accident on the way because there was no chance he wasn’t coming. Checking the traffic reports to see if there were roadworks that he could be stuck in, and he’d obviously forgotten to charge his phone… And then the slow, seeping realisation that he really wasn’t coming. I always imagined it was like a bride would feel on her wedding day if she was left standing at the altar. And this feels the same. Watching the dream splinter before my eyes. Let down by another man who I’d put my trust in. The only person I’ve trusted, the only person I’ve let into my life at all in years. All the doubts that Tabby has instilled converge at once overwhelm me.
‘Why don’t we go for a walk?’ Bram’s eyes flick to mine but again, he looks away at the exact moment our eyes meet.
‘I’m not going anywhere until you explain this.’ I fold my arms. I want his explanation now. Not in ten minutes’ time when he’s had a chance to concoct some reasonable story as we have a pleasant stroll through the castle grounds. Now.
He takes a deep breath and exhales for so long that his lungs must be burning. I see him look around the room and he eventually sighs in resignation. ‘Lilith couldn’t continue because of her health, her family kept the tearoom going for a while but it was temporary, they had their own jobs to get back to, and she eventually reached a deal with the council to buy the building from her. My father had an empty tearoom with no one to run it, so he threw it open to applications, and none were suitable. He had thirty applicants, and not one of them was the right fit. I was at his office when he was looking through them, and I took a chance. I was ready to do something different from the carousel, and I love baking, so I took a massive leap of faith and said, “Let me do it.” I thought he’d laugh, but he didn’t. He said yes. I thought he was finally trusting me with something – something big. I thought he was finally treating me as an adult, allowing me a shop of my own. He’s always made fun of my baking, joked that I’d never be any good, it’s not a “manly” enough job, and I felt like he was giving me a chance. He was finally believing in me. The applications hadn’t closed, but he’d given up on finding anyone, so we put the plan into action. He hired Joshy, I started planning what I’d do with the place, and then another application came in, and it blew everything out of the water. Everyone had always said there should be Alice in Wonderland representation on Ever After Street, but nothing had ever come of it. And there you were with your Wonderland Teapot idea – the perfect fit. Exactly what this street needed. That’s all there is to it.’
‘That’s not all there is to it though, is it? You’ve lied to me from the very beginning. You must have resented me. It was going to be your shop, and then suddenly you were downgraded to working for me. Washing up, waiting tables. What an insult that must’ve been.’
‘Not at all. Cleo, you wash up. You take food to waiting customers. I would’ve been doing that no matter what, just like you do. It makes no difference. People don’t realise how lucky they are to have the ability to do menial jobs. It’s nothing to complain about.’
I’ve always loved his attitude, and I never, ever expected to be questioning whether it was genuine or not, because I’m suddenly doubting every word Bram has ever said. ‘Why did you help me? Why let me use your kitchen? If you wanted to take over the tearoom, you could’ve just left me serving supermarket-bought cakes. I’d have slipped up eventually and been found out.’
‘I didn’t want you to slip up. I wanted what was best for Ever After Street. You had the imagination to come up with everything in that tearoom, but you’d lost your spark. And this was your dream. It was an opportunity for me, but it was a lifelong dream for you. I didn’t want to stand in the way of that. Yeah, I was angry at first. He pulled the rug out from under me by going back on what was planned. He offered me the Hatter job as a consolation prize. I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t upset. Disappointed. But I believe in making the best of things. What good does it do to be bitter and resentful? Throwing a tantrum wouldn’t change anything… and I didn’t want it to. Alice in Wonderland was inspired. I couldn’t have come up with anything like that. I know I should’ve told you, but I didn’t, and now it’s too late to change that.’
He’s not wrong there, and I appreciate the way he tackles things with head-on candour, but that also makes this even worse. ‘You’re so honest, Bram, about everything. You blurt out whatever you’re thinking, but this… this one major thing, you kept quiet about. I even asked you outright and… you didn’t tell me. You told me you didn’t know anything about it.’ I thought Bram was different. I thought he was the one person in my life who could be relied on to say things as they are, and I can’t get my head around the fact that he isn’t.
He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and his words are muffled through them. ‘I knew what you’d think.’
‘What I think is that all along I’ve thought Tabby was sabotaging what we’ve been doing because she wanted the building… but if she didn’t… if she hasn’t… who has?’
He sighs and looks up at me. ‘Oh, come on, really? How many times do we have to go through this?’
‘Until it makes sense! Why would anyone sabotage our bakes? The only possible explanation is that it’s someone who wants The Wonderland Teapot to fail so they can step in when it does. Who else would be lurking on the sidelines, waiting on tenterhooks for me to crash and burn?’
He gets up and tries to pace too, and a couple of people move aside to give him more space. ‘Why would I do that? I’m not going to be accused of something I haven’t done. And if you don’t believe me, that’s up to you. I can’t prove it either way so there’s no point in trying. I’ve done nothing but help you, and if you can’t see that…’ He sighs and turns away, a wobble in his voice. He’s clearly hurt and it makes my heart constrict and the urge to go and slip my arms around him dances just out of reach.
Am I being too harsh? I’ve never doubted him for a second, but now, everything is blurred. He’s been dishonest about something so important, and now I’m questioning if there was a hidden agenda behind everything. I’ve once again started to rely on someone who’s turned out to be unreliable. Last time, my plans fell through because my ex let me down, and I still haven’t learned the same lesson. Staying at home and shutting out the world was the right idea – I should’ve stuck with that.
‘Since the moment I walked in on that first morning, the only thing I wanted was for it to succeed, because it’s brilliant. Because you’re brilliant, and because you belong on Ever After Street.’
‘We agree with that.’ Marnie nudges me kindly. Bram and I are both het-up: both our voices are rising, I’m wringing my hands together and he’s pacing with angry stamps, and she’s trying to defuse matters.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. The past two months are playing out in my mind like a DVD stuck on repeat, except it’s like I’ve watched the film without understanding the dialogue and suddenly someone’s put the subtitles on. ‘You even told your father about the food poisoning. Which you had every right to do, obviously, but I was surprised.’
‘No I didn’t. I don’t tell my father anything.’ He fixes me with a hard stare. ‘But you told Tabby.’
I think back to what he means. After the food poisoning. The day both Tabby and Bram were fully back in work and I wanted him to take longer off. I was worried about him, I kept checking to make sure he was okay, and Tabby noticed and asked why I was so bothered. I said he hadn’t been well, and she’d jokingly said, ‘It wasn’t food poisoning, was it?’ and I’d laughed just a tad too hysterically, and my overcompensation was clearly enough to tip her off.
‘I’ve done nothing but throw myself headfirst into this and I’ve loved every minute of it. I’ve loved every minute with you. I’ve been… God, I’ve been so happy with you. I’ve looked forward to seeing you every morning.’ He shakes his head and sits down again with a sigh. ‘And this is what you think of me. For the past couple of months, I’ve been so secure because we’ve had each other’s backs. So comfortable in my own skin because you liked me. And this one thing… you’re going to let it make you doubt everything you know about me?’
‘One thing you lied about!’ I snap at him, even though it makes my stomach plummet with guilt. Do I really doubt everything I know about him? The beautiful soul I’ve got to know behind the loud character, something he’s never hidden from me… I can’t believe there was anything false about that, and yet, it doesn’t fit with the bitterness he’s just admitted to. He was angry at first. Resentful. He never showed a hint of that to me. He hid it behind his sunny Hatter smile. How many other things have been hidden behind card tricks and mixed-up sayings that made me laugh out loud while he was seething on the inside? ‘Don’t try to make me feel like I’m doing something wrong by not trusting you when you haven’t been honest and have let me carry on believing that all the problems were down to your ex on a quest for revenge, and not…’ I trail off. I can’t bring myself to say outright that he is the saboteur. It doesn’t sit right, despite all this.
‘Well, unless the tearoom really is full of gremlins, it has to be one of the three of us, and it wasn’t me or you.’
‘How can I ever believe that?’ I say quietly as sad realisation hits me. This changes everything, whether I want it to or not. The one thing I thought I knew about him was that he was too honest for his own good, but he’s let me down – as people always do. I want to believe him, but I can’t.
‘Because you know me better than that.’ His eyes are damp and it makes my heart jump into my throat and feel like it’s beating there. I’m still fighting the urge to hug him because it’s natural to comfort someone you care about when they’re upset.
I hadn’t realised how much this would hurt him. I didn’t want to hurt him. I know he’s let me in where he’s always kept others at arm’s length. I know he’s opened up to me, but that doesn’t excuse what else he’s done. It doesn’t change the outright lies. And it doesn’t take away the main thought that’s filling my brain. Was he trying to help me – or was he trying to make sure that he won’t be second choice next time?
Silence falls. I can see the others getting twitchy. They want to say something, do something, anything to disperse this awkwardness. Lissa goes to speak and then thinks better of it. So does Darcy, but he also reconsiders before any words come out.
With hindsight, maybe this was a conversation Bram and I should have had in private to spare the others witnessing the supernova explosion of our relationship.
‘There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!’ After a few endless minutes of uncomfortable silence, the door opens and Mrs Willetts bursts in. ‘After a heck of a delay and many panicked phone calls, the wedding cake has finally arrived and Laura wants to cut it immediately and pose for photos. Hurry up, Bram! You too, Cleo! Laura wants to thank you personally and asked me to send you in if I found you. Should’ve known I’d find you together.’ She waggles her wiry eyebrows, clearly not having a clue what she’s just walked in on.
Bram pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘It’s not a good time.’
‘Your family will have my guts for garters if I let you miss the cutting of the cake. I can handle your father, but I’m not tangling with your sister on her wedding day. Now, come on, off with you.’ She pushes at his shoulder hard enough to get him moving, and he looks back at me.
I have no intention of getting involved in this and I’m about to tell Mrs Willetts to tell Laura I’ve already left when her age-spotted hand wraps around my wrist in a vice grip. ‘You too, Cleo, you’re not getting out of it that easily.’
I feel like Bram and I are naughty children being marched to the headteacher’s office as she drags us through the vast hallway and towards the wedding party’s ballroom, and no amount of wriggling persuades her to free either of us.
We’re both still protesting as she pulls us into the ballroom and the three of us make enough of an entrance that every eye in the room swivels towards us, and the only thing that finally makes Mrs Willetts let go is the squeaky sound of wheels on the wooden floor from behind, and a shout of, ‘Coming through!’
All three of us dive in different directions as a trolley is wheeled in, carrying the most beautiful wedding cake. It’s four tiers high with a plastic bride and groom on the top, and decorated with cream coloured butter icing and delicate iced pink roses and has green leaves around the base of each tier as iced rose petals float down the sides to the tiers below.
Also on the trolley are custom-made stands displaying matching cupcakes in a waterfall formation. Matching rose cupcakes… Oh no. Oh no. It can’t be. Not those cupcakes.
It’s all right, I tell myself. No one will know. Only Mr Hastings and Mrs Willetts were at the interview. They won’t recognise them. I don’t know if the other man is here as well, but he wasn’t overly interested at the time. No one will remember a few cupcakes so many weeks later. Of course they won’t.
‘Oh, hurrah!’ Mrs Willetts squeals in delight. ‘Finally, your rose cupcakes! I knew you wouldn’t withhold them at a wedding. I’ve been wanting another one of these since the day we met. You don’t mind, do you?’ She helps herself to one from the stand and peels the case off eagerly.
‘Oh, I, er…’ I stumble over my words, trying to think of an excuse to sidle out quickly, but as I turn around, I’m standing face to face with the woman I bought that cake stand and those cupcakes from two and a half months ago.
‘Oh, it’s you.’ She raises a finger in recognition. ‘I don’t remember all my customers, but it’s impossible to forget someone who buys half the display. What a small world to run into you here.’
‘Oh, Cleo, you really have outdone yourself. These are divine.’ Mrs Willetts is making such noises of pleasure that some of the nearby guests are looking quite alarmed.
‘Ms Baxter made those, Mrs Willetts,’ Laura says kindly. ‘She’s made them as a gift to complement the wedding cake. Isn’t that lovely?’
‘Now don’t be silly. I gorged myself on these cupcakes when Cleo brought them to her interview in March. I’ve been wait—’ She cuts off the sentence halfway through like the previous two sentences have just caught up and I can see the calculation happening behind her eyes as she adds them together.
I’ve never seen cake turn to stone in someone’s mouth before, but Mrs Willetts suddenly looks decidedly ill and shoves the cake onto the nearest table as she realises exactly what has gone on here.
Judging by the deathly silence in the room, and the many, many pairs of eyes that I can feel burning into me, she is far from the only one who has just put two and two together.
‘Well, we won’t keep you from your busy day, Cleo, but I’d heard you weren’t staying and I wanted a chance to thank you in person before you left.’ Laura leans across her table, almost conspiratorially, like she’s also realised what’s about to happen and is giving me an excuse to run away.
But it’s too late. Mr Hastings has stood up and made a hand gesture, and a minion whisks a cupcake from the display stand and deposits it into his outstretched hand.
‘Ah, yes, I recognise these very well. Aren’t these cupcakes the one and only reason we offered you the tearoom in the first place?’
‘They’re not the only reason, Dad.’ Bram speaks from beside the door. ‘Cleo’s proved herself over and over again. Whatever happened at that interview is irrelevant now.’
He’s realised too. And I feel warm inside that he’s still defending me, even after everything that’s just happened.
‘Well, no, but they were certainly a deciding factor. We appreciated the demonstration of her talents and the effort she’d gone to in making them for us. It showed enthusiasm and motivation to make her idea a success, and the cakes were absolutely delicious and sure to be very popular.’ Mr Hastings picks off a bit of icing just like he did at the interview. ‘Let me get this straight, Miss Jordan. You purchased these from Ms Baxter’s bakery and passed them off as your own during your interview, intending to fool us into believing they were a sample of what would be on sale in the tearoom. Why not make your own?’
‘I couldn’t.’ I say it quietly, hoping it will let him know that I don’t want to talk about it.
Laura is biting her lip, looking like she’s trying to think of a way to intervene, but Mr Hastings is undeterred. ‘Louder, please, Miss Jordan. I’d like to know the reason behind this deception and at a volume I can hear, if you don’t mind.’
‘I couldn’t,’ I repeat. There’s no getting out of it now. May as well go the whole hog. ‘I was a terrible baker. And I got kicked out of my flat and I’m living in a caravan on my friend’s driveway.’
Murmurs race around the room. Whispers at every table.
Who would do such a thing?
Caught out!
Well, I won’t be going there again!
People are talking about me in every direction. Muttering. Gossiping between themselves. A camera flash goes off to commit this moment to memory forever.
And it’s all too much. The display of cupcakes is between me and the door. And Bram’s by the door. If I make a run for it, I’m going to have to get round that massive trolley. If I make it, I’m going to have to get round him. There’s no option but to stand my ground.
It started off with just my knees knocking inside my stained jeans, but now every part of my body is shaking as I turn back to Mr Hastings. ‘I drove past Ms Baxter’s bakery on my way to the interview. I stopped and bought a platter of cupcakes. I didn’t intend for you to think I’d baked them myself, but you did, and I let you carry on thinking it because everything in my life had been going wrong, and I desperately, desperately wanted that interview to go right. I love Ever After Street and I didn’t want you to say no, and I thought you would if I tried to explain—’ I’m getting choked up. So many words are trying to get out at the same time that I’m stumbling over my sentences and probably making even less sense than this makes anyway.
‘Cleo, maybe we should go somewhere more private?’ Laura says pointedly. ‘This is between you and my father. I only wanted to thank you for your work today.’
But I’m on a roll now. Instead of shaking knees, a catharsis has come over me. It’s long past time this truth came out. ‘Don’t thank me for something your father blackmailed me into doing. Something I couldn’t have contemplated without your brother. And you…’ I turn to Mr Hastings. ‘I am not a wedding caterer. I run a tearoom, not cater buffets for a hundred and fifty people. You had no right to force me into doing this under the threat of being fired and losing my tearoom.’
‘Oh, you lousy sod!’ Mrs Hastings smacks his arm. ‘You said she wanted to do it!’
‘I couldn’t do it! Until a couple of months ago, I couldn’t bake anything. I’d lost my love of baking. Every time I went near a kitchen, everything went wrong. But that’s different now.’ I look around the room until I settle on a pair of familiar dark eyes, lurking in the corner by the doorway. ‘Because of Bram. Your son has done everything possible to help me. Hours and hours of patience – talking, reminiscing, helping me to remember what I used to love, and reminding me of who I used to be, endless trips to the supermarket for ingredients, and for the cakes that I couldn’t bake myself in the beginning, and unlimited access to the kitchen in your house, because what Bram did was believe in me so hard that I ended up believing in myself. But the one thing I didn’t do is cater this wedding. We did. Bram did. Marnie and Darcy did. Sadie did. Mickey and Lissa did. Imogen from the Sleeping Beauty shop and Franca from the festive end of the street. Ali from 1001 Nights has gone above and beyond. And all of them have done it to help me when I don’t deserve it. All of them have let me take credit for their work so we could play you at your own game and trick you into letting me become a part of their street. I don’t deserve any thanks, but the people who do are… right outside.’ I peer around the open doors to see quite a few friends have followed us and are gathered around the doorway, trying to get a look at what’s going on without drawing attention to themselves.
‘Come in, all of you.’ Laura beckons everyone in. ‘Take a cupcake at the very least. Have a seat if you can find one. There’s endless champagne.’
It’s lovely of her to invite these people who are strangers to her to share in her wedding party, but I use the influx of friends coming in to fade into the crowd and sneak out.
Marnie catches my hand and squeezes it, her eyes silently asking me if I’m okay as I slip past her. She goes to come with me, but Darcy is behind her and Ali is crowded behind him and she gets pushed forwards while I shuffle behind Ali until the door is within sight.
I squeeze past Mickey, and then Bram is right there, too near, and I turn around so my back is to him, and hope I can get through the door without having to see him. I scrape my chest on the doorframe because it’s too much of a squash with people still coming in, and then finally, at last, I’m in the much emptier entrance hall, and I can breathe again.
I put my hands on my knees and take deep breaths, adrenaline coursing through me. The past few minutes feel like an out-of-body experience. Did I really say all that so publicly? I can’t believe they all know… I can’t believe this is over. Because that’s it, isn’t it? The end of The Wonderland Teapot and all the dreams that live there.
‘Cleo!’ Bram must catch sight of me because he calls my name, and then I hear him shouting, ‘Excuse me! Let me through!’
He’s obviously stuck inside the doorway too, but I don’t wait to hear any more. I dash from the castle as fast as I can.
Usually I love everything about this beautiful old building and this place, but for today, I want to run away from Ever After Street, and never, ever come back.