After that we had a look in the bookshop and I was pleased to see they had both my cookbooks, though I didnt tell them who I was since, as usual, I looked like a bagwoman down on her luck and I didnt think theyd believe me. Then Stella climbed back into her buggy and we went to find the macaroon shop.
It was called the Happy Macaroon, according to the smart deep red and gold signboard and about fifteen different colours of macaroons were on display in the window, laid out in trays like so many rows of giant gaming counters. It looked upmarket and expensive, like a smart London shop in one of the arcades where Id occasionally pressed my nose to the glass and stared at the culinary perfection within. I did much the same now: if Ma hadnt already told me about the place, Id have thought I was imagining it.
On one side of the window was a large cone with pink and white macaroons stuck all over it, the sort of thing Ive seen before at parties. On the other, to my amazement, was a tall pyramid of caramel-dipped choux buns, the wonderful French wedding cake called the croquembouche or pièce montée. Of course, like the macaroon pyramid, it was a model, but they were both very realistic.
Cakes, Stella said, admiring the macaroons.
Theyre special macaroon biscuits really, darling, like the ones I made the other day.
I didnt like those, she said, my own little food critic. These look prettier.
She had a point: the colours were certainly a lot brighter. See that big pyramid of buns? I said, pointing to the croquembouche. Its a French wedding cake.
And there are gingerbread piggies.
No, I dont think there are I began, then broke off, following the line of her pointing finger, and found she was quite right, there was a tray of gingerbread pigs at one side of the window, with raisin eyes and curly iced tails.
Then something made me look up and my eyes met and locked with those of a man standing behind the window display. My first thought was that he looked like Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean, since he had the same angular sort of face and hed tied a black scarf pirate-style over his hair, presumably instead of one of those little white hats bakers usually wear. The second thought was that his eyes were of a very unusual soft, light caramel brown, fringed with long black lashes and impossible to remove my gaze from
Then suddenly we both smiled simultaneously and the trance was broken.
Stella had clambered out of her pushchair and now tugged at my hand and asked if she could have a gingerbread pig and when I looked up again a moment later, hed vanished.
Of course you can, darling, I told her, so pleased shed shown an interest in something to eat that I would happily have bought her a hundred gingerbread pigs and anyway, I wanted to ask the pirate baker a few questions to add to my Cake Diaries article.
He was standing behind the counter as if waiting for us, his smile warm. Hello, he said, his voice as caramel as his eyes. Has our window display lured you in?
We were admiring the croquembouche, I told him. Or at least, I was. Im afraid Stella only had eyes for the gingerbread pigs.
Piggies with raisin eyes and curly-wurly tails, agreed Stella.
Its not everyone who recognises a croquembouche; theyre still a bit of a novelty, especially up here, the man said.
Im a cookery writer, specialising in cake I have a page in Sweet Home magazine and a Sunday supplement, I explained. I love cake.
Mummy made me a pink princess cake for my birthday, Stella piped up.
Jagos interpretation of this as some kind of Barbie princess cake was written clear across his expressive face, but instantly dispelled when I said, It was a Swedish prinsesstårta you know, those domed sponge and confectioners cream cakes, with a marzipan covering? Its my party piece.
Wow! Now its my turn to be impressed.
Oh, Im sure theyre nowhere near as fiddly as the croquembouche, just time-consuming. Yours needs real skill, not only to make the choux buns, but to put it all together.
As I spoke to him I was increasingly sure that wed met before, for there was something very familiar about him. He was in his mid-thirties like me, I guessed, with a light olive skin and treacle-dark hair showing under the black bandanna.
Weve met before, havent we? he asked, obviously feeling the same way. Didnt you come to Gilligans Celebration Cakes, when I worked there?
Of course, thats it. Ive been racking my brains wondering where Id seen you before. I did an article about wedding cakes but I dont remember seeing the croquembouche.
I think you only wanted to feature the traditional cakes, he said. I helped with those as well, but the croquembouche is my speciality. We werent introduced, but Im Jago Tremayne.
That sounds very Cornish?
It is thats where my fathers family came from.
Im Cally Cally Weston.
We shook hands across the glass display cabinet and he asked curiously, Whats Cally short for?
I grinned, because I get that a lot. Nothing. My mother just had a thing about an old TV series called Blakes 7 and called me after one of the characters. And this is my daughter, Stella.
Im nearly four and Im a star, Stella told him.
You certainly are, he agreed.
And I want a piggy, she added, seeming to feel wed lost the point of why we were there.
Of course. Jago lifted out the tray of gingerbread pigs so that Stella could select her own, which was obviously going to involve a lot of deliberation.
So are you visiting the area? he asked me. I suppose in your line of work, you need to be London-based.
We did live in London, but weve recently moved to live with my mother in Sticklepond, a village a few miles from here. Its about as far from the bright lights as you can get, so it was quite a surprise to find a specialist shop like this in Ormskirk.
It was my friends idea to open it here and I came to help, he told me, then added as a slim, fair man appeared from the back room to serve a noisy gaggle of students whod just come into the shop, thats David.
Oh right. I wanted to mention the shop in an article for The Cake Diaries, though it probably wont come out for months do you think that would be all right? Theyll send a photographer.
Im sure David will be delighted. All publicity welcome. Look, heres his business card with his email address on, so you can send him any questions.
Thank you, thats great, I said, pocketing it.
I want that pig, Stella said, having made her mind up and pointing at the one with the biggest curly icing tail.
Please, I prompted.
Please, Stella repeated and Jago put the chosen pig into a little paper bag and gave it to her. She took it straight out again and bit off its nose.
I paid him and he handed me a little silver box with my change. These are a couple of macaroons for your mum to try, he explained to Stella. Its the bait to lure you both back in again.
Please, I prompted.
Please, Stella repeated and Jago put the chosen pig into a little paper bag and gave it to her. She took it straight out again and bit off its nose.
I paid him and he handed me a little silver box with my change. These are a couple of macaroons for your mum to try, he explained to Stella. Its the bait to lure you both back in again.
I dont think youll be able to keep us out anyway, I said. Well have to come here to the hospital most Thursdays, so this can be our special treat afterwards, cant it, Stella?
She nodded, her mouth full of gingerbread.
I dont know why it is, but the head always tastes better than the rest, Jago said gravely and Stella nodded again, very seriously.
Its wonderful to see her eating something voluntarily, I thought, then realised Id said it aloud, and Jago was looking sympathetically at me with his soft, light brown eyes.
Of course, Id often made her gingerbread men, but obviously they didnt have the magic of the shop-bought pigs.
I drove back to Sticklepond with Stella fast asleep in her seat in the back of the car. In one hand was clutched the limp rear end of the gingerbread pig, saved for Grandma.
It was odd how Id felt an instant connection with Jago when our eyes met through the shop window, though I supposed that was partly because Id previously met him, even though I hadnt remembered at first. And how could I have forgotten those unusual eyes?
He seemed very nice and I think we simply instantly recognised each other as kindred spirits and perhaps were destined to become good friends? That was all I needed from a man these days, all I had the spare time and emotion left over for
I checked again on my frail sleeping child in the rear-view mirror, turning over in my mind what theyd said to me at the hospital after Stellas check-up, about the country air soon putting some roses into her cheeks and improving her appetite, searching for any faint crumb of comfort.
When we got home and Stella, revived, had gone to present Grandma with the soggy gingerbread pigs bottom, I put Toto in the car for five minutes to hoover up the crumbs: dogs have a multitude of uses.
Jago
When Cally and Stella left the shop, Jago had the strange feeling that theyd taken all the May sunshine with them.
Hed liked everything about Cally: her no-nonsense manner, her pretty face with wide-apart harebell-blue eyes, the disarming sprinkle of freckles across her nose and her dishevelled, silky, pale gold curls.
Pretty woman, David said, since hed finished serving the customers and there was a temporary lull. Then he added hastily, Not as in the film Pretty Woman, of course. Im not insinuating shes a hooker.
I should think not! And she is pretty, though shes obviously under a lot of strain. I think it must be about the little girl, because she mentioned she would be having regular hospital check-ups and she looks as if a puff of wind would blow her away.
Poor little thing, David said kindly, but somewhat absently, arranging a fresh batch of macaroons into neat rows of pink, red and green. Then he looked up curiously at his friend and grinned.
You found out a lot in a short space of time.
Shes on the same wavelength as us, thats all and anyway, weve both seen her before at Gilligans, dont you remember? Shes Cally Weston, a cookery writer, and she was researching an article about traditional wedding cakes.
Really? No, I cant say I do remember that, but of course Ive seen her articles, he said, though his friend obviously had remembered her. Since this was the first hint of real interest in another woman Jago had shown since his fiancée ran off to Dubai to be with that sports car salesman shed had a fling with, he thought it was a healthy sign.
She wants to write you and the Happy Macaroon up in her Cake Diaries page in the Sunday supplement, so I gave her your card so she can email you questions, Jago said. The paper will probably send a photographer.
Great, Im all for free publicity, David said enthusiastically. I like her even more!
Chapter 9: The Blue Dog
I went back into Ormskirk on the Saturday morning to do the big supermarket shop while Ma minded Stella or perhaps that was the other way round? Anyway, they intended going to the studio to paint and Hal had promised to come over later with an old wasps nest as big as a football to show her, so it looked like being a red-letter day.
I only hoped Ma would remember the sandwiches Id left them for lunch and not just share endless cups of sweet tea and biscuits with Stella. I wanted her to have more energy, but not a permanent sugar high!
Somehow I found my steps taking me past the Happy Macaroon, but this time Jago Tremayne wasnt looking out of the window, probably because it was so busy in the shop that the queue came right out of the door.
For the first time I noticed a sign for the Blue Dog Café next door to it and went up a steep, narrow flight of stairs into a busy room humming with conversation and the rattle of cutlery. It was obviously very popular and after Id looked about fruitlessly for a vacant table I was just about to give up and go away again when suddenly I spotted Jago Tremayne sitting at a table in the far corner. He looked up and waved, smiling warmly, and I looked round to see if someone else had followed me up: but no, he was waving at me, so I made my way across.
I just spotted you do please join me, he said, nudging out the chair next to his. Then he looked at me diffidently. I mean you do remember me, dont you? Its Jago, from the bakery next door.
Of course I remember you, and its very kind of you to let me share your table. I was just about to give up and go away again.
I sat down and he handed me the menu. Its all cold food apart from the soup of the day, but they do a great beef sandwich with horseradish sauce.
Sounds good to me Ill have that, I said, as the waitress came to take my order, and a large Americano with some cold milk.
I felt guilty spending any money on myself like this, when it might go into Stellas fund, but Celia had made me promise to be nicer to myself after I told her Id been taking a flask of coffee out with me everywhere to save money. She said treating myself to coffee and a bun once in a blue moon might mean the difference to my staying sane or completely losing it, so it would be worthwhile in the long run. She was probably right, but it still felt a bit guilt-inducing.
Stella not with you today? Jago asked.
No, Ive left her at home with my mother and come in to do the big supermarket shop on my own. She tires easily, but she hates sitting in the trolley and I cant carry her and push it at the same time. Ma would rather keep an eye on her than shop, but shes an artist, so when shes wrapped up in her work she tends to be a bit forgetful