She got in the bath and lay there, as always her thoughts becoming more creative as the hot water did its work. She thought of her mother’s cake – in theory it was a crazy idea but actually, it was lovely. Why didn’t she make a wall hanging of a landscape from above? She could use the fleece. She could do another as a cross section of a piece of land, like a piece of cake. (She realised it had been ages since she’d had a good bit of cake!) And the cross section, starting from the bottom up, could show all the strata and layers of the earth ending with a hedge and possibly sky and clouds as the top layer. Once she’d worked out a pattern it should be quick to do. Fleece was lovely and fat! It would take up lots of space.
When she went downstairs later wearing her mother’s dressing gown and smelling of her bath products she was excited.
The kitchen was no longer taken up by cake and a sulky Ulysses now sat in front of the range cooker, the end of his tail flicking with resentment.
‘Mum – I’ve had a brilliant idea! I want to borrow your idea of a landscape from above. Wouldn’t it be a wonderful wall hanging? And then I thought I’d do a cross section of the earth too. Just a slice, obviously. Once I’ve worked out what I need to do it’ll be quite quick to make, I think.’
‘Oh?’ Gilly held the bread knife over the loaf, waiting for Helena to explain further.
‘I found that bag of fleeces I dyed when I was in college. They were in the airing cupboard. Not only are they amazingly bright colours, fleece is really fat—’
‘—and so will take up lots of lovely space? Darling, it sounds brilliant. Now, omelette coming up. Why don’t you stay the night and then you can have wine with it.’
‘And we can watch property porn on telly? I’ve been working so hard I’ve hardly had any time off. That would be lovely! I’ll just text Jago to tell him not to expect me home.’
It was only after Helena had left following a proper B & B breakfast that she remembered she hadn’t asked her mother whom she was making the cake for. ‘I’m going to be a better daughter when this show is over,’ she said out loud.
Chapter Twenty-three
It was the day of William’s surprise party and Gilly was pleased. Everything had gone to plan. The cake looked perfect and she had arranged to deliver it early. All the clothes she planned to wear were clean and none of them needed mending. Even her hair had gone right when she’d washed it the previous day – never a given. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
As Gilly felt that complacency was never a good thing she used her day wisely. She made a shepherd’s pie for Helena and Jago (she thought of them as a couple although she was now convinced he was gay) and dusted all the bedrooms. She didn’t make up the beds with fresh linen as she was expecting her help, a young woman saving to go travelling, in the morning and it was so much quicker with two. Also, she had to keep reminding herself, the minibus was due to arrive at six thirty, which was quite early. You really couldn’t be late for a surprise party, she knew; you had to be there before the surprisee arrived.
It was just before six, when Gilly had had a change of mind about what jewellery she should wear and was in her bedroom inspecting her collection, when the doorbell rang.
Thinking it was a bit bloody early and that she would ask the bus to wait and that her current jewellery would have to do, she opened the door.
Instead of a minibus driver there was an anxious-looking couple in their late seventies. Her heart sank.
‘Can I help?’ she asked, just in case by some wonderful chance they were simply lost, or their car had broken down.
‘We’ve got here!’ said the woman, who seemed near tears. ‘There was a time when I thought we never would. We are booked in here for tonight, aren’t we?’
Gilly sighed. ‘Well, I don’t think you are, but never mind. I’ve got room.’
It took ages to get them settled and then, because they were too tired to go anywhere else, she made them omelettes and settled them in the guest sitting room with the heater and the television on. Ulysses, recognising a couple of cat lovers, had settled on the woman’s lap. The minibus had been and gone and now she had to drive to the party as fast as she could and hope she got there before William did.
As no one was hiding when she arrived and the function room was full of people, she realised she was too late. She went straight to the kitchen to find someone in charge.
The cake had been put on the trolley used for wedding cakes; it was being treated with the respect Gilly felt it deserved. It really was a very good cake. And once she had suspended a model glider over the landscape she was entirely satisfied.
‘That is an epic cake,’ said the venue manager. ‘The detail on it is amazing. We’ve been admiring it all day. If you fancied becoming a professional we would be happy to recommend you to clients.’
‘I think I’m happier with an amateur status, thank you,’ said Gilly. But she was really thrilled at his reaction.
‘There you are!’ said Daphne, bustling up in a vision of crushed silk in a bright olive colour that exactly matched the huge glass beads round her neck. ‘What happened?’
‘I am so sorry, Daphne. Some people turned up on the wrong day and I couldn’t turn them away.’ She was about to add that they were quite elderly but then realised they were probably the same age as Daphne.
‘Oh dear. Poor you. How awkward. And of course you can never turn anyone away. But you have made the most magnificent cake I have ever seen! I can’t decide what my favourite bit is. I think it’s the tiny swans swimming on the river.’ Daphne looked at the cake again. ‘And you’ve added a glider! Much more sophisticated than making one out of cake. I don’t know what I was thinking of when I suggested that.’
‘I did lots of those sorts of cake for my children when they were little but felt you couldn’t recreate the lightness of gliding, the flying sensation, if the wings were made with Victoria sponge.’
Daphne cackled with laughter. ‘Excellent! You sound like an artist! Oh, you’re wearing odd earrings. Is that a thing or is it a mistake?’
‘Definitely a thing,’ said Gilly, her hands flying to her ears to check what she was wearing in them. ‘It’s my artistic rebel streak.’
She wondered if the earrings were different enough from each other to look as if she’d done it on purpose. While she wasn’t opposed to people wearing odd earrings, it had to look on purpose and not just an accident. Hers were definitely an accident. Still, most people wouldn’t notice, she was sure.
‘Right,’ said Daphne, ‘we’ll do the cake. Some of the people here need to rush off.’
As they followed the cake, being pushed on its trolley by the hotel manager, Gilly asked, ‘So how did you find out who to invite?’
‘I got William’s mother to find his address book, which she did and posted to me. I must say it did seem a little bit old but it was all I had to go on so I just invited everyone in it.’
‘So his bank manager might be here?’ asked Gilly, laughing in spite of trying not to.
‘If his bank manager loves William enough to come then he’s welcome,’ said Daphne. ‘Now, here we are!’