‘Oh Issy,’ she said, ‘my grandma used to bake this for me when I was little. It smelled exactly like this. Exactly! Your grandfather adored it, used to eat it by the ton. It was his very favourite thing.’
Issy had known this already. She hadn’t known her mother knew too.
‘Oh my, this takes me back.’
Her mother was sobbing now, tears running down her lined face. She went forward and sat on the bed, then opened the bag. She put the entire bag over his nose, so that he could inhale the spicy scent. Issy had heard somewhere that when all other senses had gone, smell lingered; a direct line to the heart of consciousness; to emotion, to childhood and to memory. But how much of her gramps remained?
Both of the women heard him take a deep, rattly breath. Then suddenly, giving them a start, his eyes popped open, weak and watery, a film across the pupil. He breathed in again, smelling the cake; and once again, deeper, as if he were trying to inhale its essence. Then he blinked a few times and tried, and failed, to focus. Then suddenly his eyes were focused – out front, gazing hard at something Issy couldn’t see.
‘She’s here,’ he said, in a gentle, childish, wondering tone. ‘She’s here!’ And then he half smiled and closed his eyes again, and they knew that he was gone.
Epilogue
February
‘I wouldn’t have believed your boobs could get any bigger than they are,’ Pearl was saying to Helena. ‘When you stand next to the window, nobody can see. They’re better than mine now.’
The pale afternoon light was falling through the windows of the Cupcake Café – they’d put the awning away in the autumn when it turned windy and cold – and spreading in soft pools over the tables and the cake stands piled high with baby cupcakes in pink and blue, and the wrapping paper, cards and baby gifts strewn all across the floor. Helena sat, a huge, imperi ous ship in full sail, her tight brown dress stretched unashamedly across her enormous bump, and her splendid bosom emerging over the top of it; Titian hair cascading down her shoulders. Ashok, dwarfed beside her, looked like he was going to burst with pride. Issy thought her friend had never looked more beautiful.
Outside, Ben was running around with Louis. One didn’t, Pearl reflected, get everything. But if ever a boy loved his father … He wasn’t always there. But when he was, Louis glowed and blossomed and there was nothing, nothing she would ever do to upset that. It wouldn’t be her. She caught sight of Doti passing the entrance to the alleyway. They looked at each other for a long moment. Then they both cast their eyes away.
Helena patted her bump complacently.
‘Darling baby, I do love you,’ she said. ‘But you can come out now. I can’t get up.’
‘You don’t have to get up,’ said Issy, leaping forward. ‘What do you need?’
‘A wee,’ said Helena. ‘Again.’
‘Oh. OK. Maybe I can’t help you with that.’ Issy offered her arm anyway, which Helena took with gratitude.
Pearl crossed the courtyard with more cakes. They had outfitted the new building as a shop in no time, and now Pearl did a roaring trade – helped by Felipe the violinist, who turned out to be quite nifty in the kitchen when he wasn’t practising in the forecourt. Even Marian had chipped in quite a lot on the weekends, before the call of the road had grown strong again, and she’d taken off to see Brick – although not before a lot of chatting with her daughter, and Issy teaching her to use email.
Meanwhile Issy had employed two young, cheerful Antipodean girls who were doing wonderfully in the café with Caroline, and the entire enterprise seemed to be nearly running itself. Recently Issy had found herself wondering, in a roundabout way, whether there might not be room for another café somewhere … maybe some little out-of-the-way spot in Archway. It had certainly crossed her mind.
Des’s wife Ems, a tight-skirted, tight-faced woman, was encouraging Jamie to stand up on his own against the sofa, and lavishing Helena with advice. Helena, who’d handled more babies than Ems had had hot dinners (by the looks of her, Ems had never had a hot dinner), was nodding noncommittally. Louis was standing in between Helena’s legs, holding a whispered conversation between himself, Helena’s bump and a small plastic dinosaur clutched firmly between his fingers.
‘But a frenly dinosaur,’ he was explaining. ‘This dinosaur not eat babies.’
‘I wan eat bayee!’ said the dinosaur.
‘No,’ admonished Louis gravely. ‘That naughty, dinosaur.’
Pearl glanced at him fondly as she came into the shop. She hadn’t wanted to tell Issy and she certainly couldn’t bear the ‘I told you so’ glances she was going to get from Caroline, but it would come out sooner or later, she supposed.
‘So I, uh, put in a letter,’ she said. ‘Looks like we might be moving.’
‘Moving where?’ said Issy, delighted.
Pearl shrugged. ‘Well, now I’m manager, it looks like I can afford a place off the estate … and we thought … well, maybe Ben and I thought …’
‘So it’s official?’ said Caroline gleefully.
‘It is what it is,’ said Pearl heavily. ‘It is what it is.’
‘But what?’ said Issy. ‘What are you doing?’
Caroline, pink as ever from another night at the very talented hands of the very talented builder – and did it ever annoy her ex to know who was shacked up in his front room, it was the gossip of the school gates – guessed immediately.
‘You’re moving up here.’ Then, ‘No … no,’ she said, putting her hand to her forehead in the manner of a soothsayer. ‘You’re moving to Dynevor Road. Or thereabouts.’
Pearl looked utterly exasperated. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Well …’
‘What!? What’s in Dynevor Road?’ asked Issy, getting desperate.
‘Only William Patten, the best school in Stoke Newington,’ said Caroline smugly. ‘The mothers fight tooth and nail to get their children in there. It has a pottery barn, and an art centre.’
Caroline glanced at Louis, who was now making the dinosaur kiss Helena’s bump lovingly.
‘He’ll probably pass the interview,’ she said.
‘But that’s great!’ said Issy. ‘What? It’s not betraying your roots to put your kid in a good school.’