A Spoonful Of Sugar: A Novella

Shut up, Harry, I thought directly at her. She glowered at me as she picked up on what I was telling her.

Portia looked like she might kiss my grumpy cousin.

‘Really?’ she said. ‘That’s brilliant.’

‘I’ll go and have a chat with Mum,’ Harry said. ‘But I can’t imagine it will be a problem.’

Five (#ulink_a7a0a63b-95c3-5d41-aed0-0f9056d7738c)

Of course both my mum and Suky were thrilled to bits to let the bake-off contestants use their huge walk-in fridge, and so within minutes the competition was back on. Much to my disappointment.

‘So, the ovens are all working and there’s one fridge in here,’ Portia explained as we all gathered behind our benches once more. ‘That’s pretty much full now though, so if you need more space just nip out to the cafe where you can put things in their walk-in fridge.’

‘I’ll probably need that,’ Ronald said. ‘I’m moulding babies out of chocolate.’

Babies made from chocolate? That took the edge off my piped question marks a bit. Never mind, I grudgingly accepted I had to give it a go. I was, after all, a goody-goody at heart and I always tried my best. Almost always.

I started throwing together my cake mix and carefully divided it into two so I could dye one half pink and one half blue.

As I watched the colour swirl into the batter, I rubbed my bump thoughtfully and the baby squirmed beneath my hand. I didn’t know what this baby was going to be and I didn’t really mind. Another girl like my lovely Clemmie would be great, but a little boy would be fab too. I adored Harry’s son Finn, and my husband Jamie already had a son – Parker – but he lived in America so we didn’t see much of him. I knew Jamie missed him like mad, as did I, so a baby boy would be a welcome addition to our brood.

I wondered if Harry knew what my baby was. I suspected she did – she was a very good witch and she could pick up on all sorts of things. If she did, she was keeping it very quiet though and I appreciated that.

I dolloped my pink mix into cupcake cases and put the tray in the oven, then started dripping blue colouring into the remaining mix. It didn’t look very nice.

‘I was going to do blue cakes,’ Amelia said, as I peered into my mixer in dismay. ‘But I’m not sure about blue food generally.’

I gave her a withering look, which she blithely ignored.

‘I’m doing ducks instead,’ she said, even though I hadn’t asked. ‘Little rubber ducks made from pale-yellow fondant, perched on a swirl of blue buttercream.’

Sure enough, I could see twenty-four tiny iced ducks lined up on her bench. They were really very good.

‘They’re lovely,’ I admitted, resisting the temptation to point out that blue icing was, strictly speaking, also blue food. Then I lowered my voice.

‘What’s everyone else doing?’

Amelia moved closer to me.

‘June’s doing bootees,’ she said. ‘Wilf’s making baby faces out of icing – he’s really clever.’

I grimaced, more sure than ever that my question marks would be overly simple.

‘Harry’s doing little peapods, I think,’ I said.

Amelia made a face.

‘Pea pods?’ she said. ‘That doesn’t sound like a baby thing.’

I grinned.

‘She’s got twins,’ I explained. ‘And everyone says they’re two peas in a pod – that’s what gave her the idea. So she’s doing normal cupcakes, but to go on top she’s making pea pods out of icing with little baby faces inside instead of peas. They’re super-cute.’

Amelia smiled uncertainly.

‘Nice,’ she said. ‘And have you seen Ronald’s?’

I hadn’t but I followed Amelia’s eyeline. He was topping his cupcakes with sleeping babies – a round head poking out of an icing blanket – and he’d made a tiny wooden crib to arrange them all in. I was WAY out of my league here. Way out.

‘You’ve got forty-five minutes left,’ Peter said, wandering over and staring in disappointment at my cooling cakes. They did look a bit sorry for themselves, I had to admit.

‘What are you topping them with?’

I gave him a fake beaming smile.

‘Question marks,’ I said with a confident toss of my hair.

There was a pause.

‘Question marks,’ Peter repeated.

‘Amelia’s doing ducks,’ I said, desperate for him to leave me alone. It worked. He gave me a steely glance and headed over to Amelia’s bench instead.

‘I must get these babies in the fridge,’ Ronald muttered. ‘I don’t want melted blankets.’

He’d arranged his tiny snoozing tots on a tray and I peeked at them as he went past. They were really very good.

‘Back in a mo,’ he said, as he strode off down the bunting-strewn path towards the café.

I carried on dolloping icing on top of my cakes. I’d iced the pink cakes with blue icing, and the blue ones with pink. They looked okay. I’d have been pleased with them if I’d made them for a friend’s baby shower but I suspected they wouldn’t be good enough for Lizzie and Peter.