Eleven
"So, when is this ball?"
Flora sits cross-legged on Kitty's bed, ducking around the reason for coming with the practised ease of a fish in a fishing river.
"Two weeks tomorrow."
"What are you going to wear?"
"I haven't given it much thought."
"Kitty, you've got to start thinking about it – two weeks is no time."
"Well, how about you come over on Saturday and we can be all girly then," Kitty hands her the phone firmly. "Come on. Get it over with."
"I'm scared."
"I know you are, but the quicker you do it, the quicker it'll be done."
Flora screws up her face for a second, then nods, taking a deep breath. Kitty sighs, sinking into the chair by the window and watching her friend. She's twenty-three, but acts more like a teenage girl when she's out of her classroom at St Francis' Primary, though Kitty supposes anything is a distraction from what's happening in Flora's life at the moment. They've been to a midwife together, and it turns out Flora's almost three months along already, due in early September. The news has settled her, and she's quite happily announced that she'll go to the next midwife appointment alone.
Flora brings the phone up to her ear, and Kitty watches darkness chase the colours of sunset behind the houses on the opposite side of the road. Joan wants more fairy cakes. They're selling so well that she's put in an order for double quantity, upped Kitty's pay even more, and whilst Kitty is oh-so-grateful that there is more money coming in, that the rent isn't so hit and miss anymore, thirty-six fairy cakes and three birthday cakes is almost too much. She goes to bed with hands dyed like a rainbow from all her food-colourings, and Miles or Flora are constantly picking sprinkles or bits of icing from her hair, and even Rosalie manages a smile if Kitty goes to see her with bright yellow smeared above one eyebrow from a sunset cake that someone wants for their father.
"Hi, Dad," Flora says suddenly, breaking Kitty out of her train of thought.
"Flora!" Kitty hears from the other end of the phone. She gets up slowly and leaves Flora to it, giving her a smile and a thumbs-up. She sometimes wishes her parents could see her now, could see her business flourishing, her life returning to normal, but her father is long buried below the dark, sticky earth, and last thing she knew, Elliott had consigned her mother to an old people's home.
She starts to mix up pale green icing, the sound of the spoon ringing softly against the glass and the colour streaking through the gloopy whiteness comforting her. The home-made fondant flowers and crystallised roses and violets are lined up on a baking tray like pink, purple and white soldiers, sugar glinting under the lights.
The door opens and shuts, and then Flora is leaning against the counter next to her as she smears perfect rounds of icing on top of the golden cakes that wait expectantly on a wire cooling rack. "How did they take the news?"
"Dad better than Mum," Flora admits. "Gosh am I glad it's over. Mum wants me to come home to have it, but I insisted that I have to stay here. I'll have to subject my kids to a supply teacher when I actually have the baby, but I'm damned if I do it any time before."
"Fair enough."
"These are looking amazing," she says, looking over the cakes. "Do you want me to help? I'm not very good at icing, but I can put the decorations on top."
"That would be great, thank you," Kitty smiles at her. "The violets go on white icing, the fondant flowers on green and the roses on pink."
"Cool."
They spend the rest of the afternoon with the cakes until they're all ready to be taken down to the café, and Flora has to go and do lesson plans for the next day.
"Have you managed to get through to Charlie yet?" Kitty asks as she dries her hands, following Flora to the door.
"No, but I'm not worried. The reception tends to be crap – we usually write letters and if he's busy they don't come all that often."
"Have you written to him?"
"Oh, of course. Ages ago. I'll probably get a reply pretty soon."
"Okay, then."
"What time shall I come round on Saturday?"
"Four o'clock?"
"See you then."
Then Flora is ducking around the bannister and disappearing in a whirl of loose auburn hair and grey hoodie, and Kitty is about to shut the door when a voice calls, "Miss Trevelyan, just the person I wanted to see."
Mrs Quayle appears on the stairs leading up to the next floor – the flats owned by her and her brother, who Kitty has never actually set eyes on in all the months she's been here. Miles is of the opinion that he doesn't even exist, he's just a story made up by a crazy old woman. Kitty had snorted when he told her this, and Tom had told them both to shut up because he was trying to work.
"Hello," Kitty says, instantly on her guard. It can't be about the rent, can it? She's paid for the month already and…
"It's nothing to worry about dear, it's only that I've heard rumours of your new business."
"Yes?"
"Well, I don't like business being conducted from my flats. People coming and going and all of that, it disturbs the other residents."
"It's only me, Mrs Quayle, there are no other people."
"Your clients?"
"Oh."
"I can give you a couple of weeks to find a new place from which to run your venture – it is very commendable, Miss Trevelyan – but otherwise you'll have to find elsewhere to rent."
"Oh, okay," Kitty manages. "I'll see if I can sort something out."
"Good, good. Have a nice evening." Mrs Quayle beams and goes on her way, and Kitty shuts the door, her legs shaking like she's battling against a gale-force wind intent on picking her up and throwing her hundreds of miles away. There was nothing in the contract about this, and it's hardly like there are thousands of people trying to worm their way into her flat, it's just the few clients, Grace Singh sometimes bringing Julia over to help, Flora, and her neighbours…
She sinks to the floor, her back against the smooth wood of the door. Why, why does it never rain but pour? Why does everything have to happen at once?
A/N I know this is short, I know this is a filler, but it came to its natural end. The next update will either be tomorrow evening or Saturday morning, depending on my WiFi connections and all of that - I would really, really love to hear from all of you! Also, the cakes Kitty makes are on my blog on Tumblr. They're just the basic BBC Good Food recipe. N xxx
