‘I want to go to the party!’
‘I said no.’
‘I’ve been totally good.’
‘You shot me with an arrow.’
‘I’m going on my own,’ said Darny. ‘You can’t stop me. I’m ten.’
Darny sat down and started lacing up his shoes. This could take a while, but even so. Austin didn’t know what to do if Darny insisted. He’d never physically admonished his younger brother, never, not even once, not even the time Darny had held his wallet over the toilet and emptied it in slowly, card by card, while staring right at him. And it was true: Darny had been behaving absolutely fine, or at least no worse than normal, and didn’t deserve punishment. But Austin just didn’t want to see Issy right now. He was cross; he felt let down and hoodwinked, even though he realized he had no right to feel that way. She’d never promised him anything. But she had taken a tiny corner of the area he’d grown up in, an area he loved, and she’d made it lovely; put flowers in the square, and a coloured canopy over the windows, and pretty little tables. It was a nice place to be, to go; to see other people enjoying some peace and quiet, or a good chat, over a slice of absolutely heavenly cherry pie. And now she was closing up shop; shutting it all off, for the sake of a few measly quid. He was totally not in the mood for a children’s party. They weren’t going.
He was jerked out of his reverie by a slamming door.
‘Now,’ said Issy. ‘This is the tricky part. Could the mummies help with the eggs, please?’
‘Nooo!’ said a dozen little voices simultaneously. ‘Do it self!’ The mothers swapped looks. Issy raised her eyebrows.
‘Well, I did bring along lots of extra eggs. How about we get another mummy to help you? All the mummies move one child along.’
Sure enough, the toddlers were happy to be helped by someone who wasn’t their mother. Issy took note of this and filed it away for future reference. A ray of sun beamed through the windows and lit up a happy tableau: the adults, chatting and making friends around the periphery of the shop, and in a row the little boys and girls, focusing intently on their wooden spoons and mixing bowls. At the top of the table, wearing a special chef’s birthday hat, was Louis, banging happily and commenting on everyone else’s work – ‘Veh good, Alice. Gooh cake’ – like the café authority which, Issy supposed, he probably was by now.
Kate’s twins were trying to make identical cakes by mixing them at the same time, and Kate was splitting them up and making a mess of them overhead, while saying in a piercing voice, ‘Of course, we would be baking cakes in our own kitchens by now if we didn’t have such lazy, useless builders.’
‘Speak for yourself, love,’ said the head builder, who had his own three-year-old mixing away like a demon right next to the twins. Seraphina leaned up and gave the little boy a kiss. Kate’s mouth fell open. If her eyebrows could have moved they would have shot up. Then Jane came round the boy’s other side and leaned up to kiss his cheek.
‘I yuv you too, Ned,’ she said, and the builder beamed complacently as Kate pretended to stare out of the window at something new and interesting.
‘Achilles darling,’ came a trilling voice from behind the counter. ‘Stand up straight! Good posture is the key to good health.’
Little Achilles’ shoulders went rigid, but he didn’t turn round. Issy patted him on the head as she went past. Hermia was standing shyly to one side.
‘Hello, darling,’ said Issy, crouching down. ‘How’s school?’
‘She’s doing wonderfully!’ came Caroline’s booming voice. ‘They’re thinking about putting her in the gifted and talented programme. And she’s doing marvellously on the flute!’
‘Really,’ said Issy. ‘I was terrible at music. Clever you!’
The little girl beckoned Issy down to her level and whispered in her ear, ‘I’m terrible too.’
‘That’s OK,’ said Issy. ‘There’s lots of other things to do. Don’t worry about it. Would you like to make a cake too? I bet you’ll be good at that.’
Hermia smiled gladly and, standing next to Elise, rolled up her sleeves cheerfully.
Issy moved on to make sure everyone had something to drink. Deep inside, listening to the clink of cups and the chatter of conversation and the squeaks and snuffles of the children, she suddenly felt a sensation of great peace; of accomplishment; of something created with her bare hands out of nothing. I made this, she thought to herself. Suddenly she felt almost teary with happiness; she wanted to hug Pearl, Helena, everyone who’d helped her make this a reality, given her the privilege of earning money by getting herself covered in flour for a three-year-old’s birthday party.
‘Very good mixing, everyone,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘Very good.’
Darny burst into the shop, pink in the face, partly from running and partly from crossing the road without waiting for Austin, who was going to go absolutely nuts. Darny was counting on him not wanting to go nuts in front of all the people in here. He might save it for later, but being Austin, he might also forget all about it. It was a risk worth taking.
‘Hello, Louis,’ he announced cheerfully.
‘Dahnee!’ said Louis adoringly, and not pausing to wipe the cake mixture off himself, he threw himself on Darny, covering Darny’s already dirty shirt with flour.
‘Happy birthday,’ said Darny. ‘I brought you my best bow and arrow.’
He solemnly handed it over.
‘Yay!’ said Louis. Pearl and Issy exchanged glances.
‘I’ll just put that somewhere safe,’ said Pearl, deftly lifting it from Louis’s fingers and sticking it on the fruit-tea shelf well out of reach.
‘Hello, Darny,’ said Issy, welcomingly. ‘Do you want to bake?’
‘Yeah, all right,’ said Darny.
‘OK then,’ said Issy. ‘Where’s your brother?’
Darny stared at the ground.
‘Um, he’s coming …’
Just as Issy was about to question him further, the doorbell tinged. Austin entered, his face pink.
‘What did I say to you?’
Theatrically, Darny turned round and indicated the room full of people. At the sound of Austin’s raised voice, Oliver curled himself back up into a ball and started to cry again.