Millie Vanilla’s Cupcake Café

‘Nice. Although I quite liked the shocking pink.’

‘Mum didn’t,’ Zoe said gloomily as she tied on her apron. ‘And school hated it. Threatened to suspend me if I didn’t tone it down.’

‘And Plummy Aubergine counts as toning it down?’

Zoe scuffed her platform trainers. ‘Mmm.’

‘Well, this is an important year for you. Getting your grades for university and everything.’

Zoe pulled out a chair and collapsed onto it, looking morose. ‘Yeah, well, don’t know if I actually want to go.’

Millie paused while refilling the cupcake-shaped sugar bowls. Taking the seat opposite Zoe, she sat down and took the girl’s hand. ‘What’s all this about, then, my lovely?’

Zoe gave an enormous sigh. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Just think there’s more to life than batting off horny undergrads and saddling yourself with a humungous debt.’

Millie tried to keep a straight face. ‘Well, there’s certainly more to university than that.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘But it’s what you’ve always wanted.’

‘Is it?’ Zoe looked up and Millie was shocked to see tears in her heavily kohled eyes. Usually the girl was breezily happy and uncomplicated. Her choice of alternative image being the notable exception.

‘Isn’t it?’ Millie hid her shock. Zoe was an extremely bright girl. University had always been the goal.

‘It’s what Mum and Dad want me to do. Have always wanted me to do. And Granddad.’

Arthur would be devastated. Zoe was his only grandchild and he doted on her. ‘You need to do what’s right for you, my lovely.’

Zoe pouted and moodily traced the flowery pattern on the oilcloth. ‘You didn’t go, did you?’

Millie resumed filling the sugar bowl. ‘No,’ she said carefully. ‘But that was different. I had the café.’

‘That your parents ran?’

Millie nodded. ‘Until they died.’ She bit her lip.

‘Aw, I’m sorry, Mil. For making you remember.’

Millie nodded. ‘Well, some things are difficult to talk about still.’

‘Even after all these years?’

‘Even after all these years.’

‘That A35. It’s a death-trap,’ Zoe said viciously.

Millie rose. ‘It is.’

‘There was another accident on it last week. Friend of Clare’s mother. But no one was seriously hurt.’

‘Well, road accidents happen all the time, don’t they?’ Millie clasped the bag of sugar to her as a shield. ‘Now,’ she said, with a forced brightness. ‘We’d better get ourselves ready; we’ll have a few frozen weekenders in, no doubt.’

‘Yeah, okay.’ Zoe got up and followed Millie to the kitchen. ‘Sorry.’

Millie turned to her in surprise. ‘Whatever for?’

‘For doing a downer on you.’

‘Oh, Zoe!’ Millie put the sugar down and gave her a hug. ‘You know you can talk to me. Any time. About anything.’

‘I know.’

‘Just think carefully about your future, won’t you? You’re such a clever girl. You could do anything and everything you want.’

‘Meaning university?’

‘Maybe university, if that’s what you really want, but so much more too.’ Millie released Zoe and gave her a grin. ‘Come on, let’s grab a coffee before the Saturday rush starts. I’ve made some millionaire’s shortbread. Fancy some?’

Zoe rolled her eyes and giggled. ‘Is the Pope Catholic?’

‘Is he? I’ve no idea. Pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of Plummy Aubergine, though.’ Millie tweaked Zoe’s fringe.

‘Showing your age, Mil.’

‘Cheek. I’ll have you know I still have a two in it. Just about.’

Zoe grinned. ‘Yeah, that’s what I mean. Pos-it-ive-ly ancient. Totally past it, girlfriend.’

Millie grabbed a tea towel and snapped it at Zoe’s rear. ‘You, young lady, may not live long enough to get as far as my shortbread. Into that kitchen and begin work this minute.’

‘Gawd. Thought the days of child slave labour died out with Dickens,’ Zoe said good-naturedly and skipped ahead of Millie and into the welcoming scents of a kitchen, which produced heavenly little squares of chocolate and caramel on shortbread.

Chapter 4

It was cold and still dark as Millie walked briskly up Berecombe’s steep main street to the post office. Millie was used to early starts. She’d been getting up at five all her working life. True, getting up at the crack of dawn was far more pleasant in the summer months. But even at this time of year she delighted in the muffled, secretive quality the town had when few others were around. She kissed each letter as she posted it, wishing it a safe and speedy journey to its destination, then turned and walked back down the hill. As she did, she passed the old bank building. The closing of Berecombe’s only bank had caused huge distress, especially among her older customers. Not used to online banking and unwilling to trust it, they were now having to go into Honiton or Axminster to do any banking business. More alarming for Millie, a lot of them, having made the journey, were staying on there for coffee and lunch. She’d lost quite a lot of trade that way. She bit her lip; she might have to rethink one or two things to keep her going through to the busy summer season. She just wished she knew what.

She paused to study the elegant Georgian facade. The building work had been going on for some time now and no one seemed certain about what was going to open. All sorts of rumours abounded. At the moment, its windows were resolutely boarded up and hostile- looking, giving away no secrets. She shivered in the sea fog that was yet to go out with the tide. It really had been a long, dismal winter. The promised snow hadn’t appeared but she hoped Arthur was right when he’d said spring was on its way. Walking fast, she clicked her tongue at Trevor to follow and made her way home.

As she unlocked the café, her best friend Tessa arrived, carrying a tray of freshly made breads.

‘Alright then, our Mil?’ she called out in her broad Brummy tones. ‘Got you a load of granary, a couple of white bloomers and fruit bread. That should see you through.’

Millie eyed it thoughtfully. She would have to freeze a lot of it. ‘Should see me through a few days the way business has been lately.’ She held open the café door and Tessa followed, putting the heavy tray down with a sigh of relief.

‘That bad, eh? Time of the year, though.’

‘Hopefully. Got time for a coffee?’

‘Always got time for one of your coffees, bab.’ Tessa plonked herself on the chair nearest the kitchen door and shouted through. ‘Looks crackin’ in here.’ Then she fell silent as her phone pinged and she scrolled through a message.

Millie came through with a cafetière and plate of biscuits and joined her. ‘Zoe touched up some of the paintwork on Saturday as we went a bit quiet. She’s a good girl.’

Tessa put down her phone and looked around. ‘Always loved this pink and blue theme Ken did.’ She watched as Millie poured the coffee.

Ken was Tessa’s artist husband. She had met him while on holiday, fallen in love and, three children later, was still in Devon.

‘How did his show go?’ Millie yawned and stretched out her long legs. She slipped off her Uggs and tucked her feet underneath each other. Glancing at Tessa she thought her friend seemed unusually tense.

Tessa pulled a face. ‘Okay, but we only sold a few paintings. And that gallery in Exeter charges a fortune to host an exhibition. Don’t think we covered our costs, to be honest.’

‘That’s a real shame. You’d both worked so hard on it. Here, have a gingerbread man. I made them last night.’ Millie pushed the plate over. ‘I hadn’t realised they charged.’ Maybe that was the reason for Tessa’s mood.

‘Oh yes, they charge alright.’ Tessa snapped a biscuit in half viciously. ‘We’ll have to find somewhere else to do it next time. Maybe provide our own fizz. Got to find a way to cut costs,’ she waved a gingerbread man leg in the air, scattering crumbs. ‘Otherwise it just ain’t worth doing.’

‘Can you do another in the summer, when there are more people around?’

Tessa shrugged. ‘Maybe but holiday-makers don’t want to buy Ken’s paintings. Too big to get in the back of the hatchback to trek up the M5, like.’

Millie put down her half-eaten gingerbread man; she’d lost her appetite suddenly. It wasn’t like Tessa to be so negative. Something else must be worrying her. ‘These would be better iced, I think.’

‘Why don’t you do them to match the caff? Blue and pink buttons!’

‘I might just do that.’ Millie laughed, relieved her friend sounded momentarily brighter. She reached for her coffee. ‘Speaking of colour, Zoe’s got purple hair at the moment.’

‘Love that girl!’ Tessa nodded. ‘Yeah, Ken said as much. She’s been hanging round the studio a bit lately.’

‘She’s having a crisis over whether she wants to go to uni to study English.’

Tessa nodded again. ‘Ken says she’s got real artistic talent. You should see the water-colour sketches she does; they’re ace.’

‘Maybe that’s what she really wants to do? Probably doesn’t want to let her parents down, though. Under all that punk make-up and fluorescent hair, she’s a softie. Wants to keep them happy.’

Tessa pointed a stern finger. ‘Yeah, but what does she want? Going off to study books for three years isn’t going to make her happy. All she’ll end up with is debt.’

‘That’s exactly what she said to me. It’s awful that kids have to think like that.’

‘Well, Ken reckons she ought to get herself to art college.’ Tessa pulled another face and spread her arms. ‘And not going to uni didn’t do us any harm, did it?’

Millie raised her eyebrows. ‘No. We’re just sitting here at six in the morning, wondering how best to make ends meet.’

‘Yeah, well,’ Tessa got up. ‘A poxy English degree ain’t necessarily going to fix that. Agreed?’

‘Maybe.’ Millie grinned. Tessa’s antipathy to academia stemmed from disappointment in her eldest son. Sean had little scholarly ambition. The Tizzards’ hopes were now focused on their middle boy.

Just as Tessa got to the door, she turned. She hesitated before speaking. ‘Have you heard what’s going into the old bank building?’

‘No, what? I walked past there earlier but there was no clue.’ Millie began clearing their plates and mugs.

Tessa took a breath. ‘It’s another caff, Mil. I’m sorry, kiddo.’

‘A café?’ Millie sank back onto her chair on suddenly weakened legs. Another café. Coming to Berecombe. And opening up as a rival.

She looked around at the sunny turquoise walls, the fairy lights, encased in feathers and twinkling, lovingly put up by Zoe. The tray of tempting breads waiting to be eaten. The tables scrubbed and laid ready for her customers to flock in. Except they hadn’t exactly been flocking in recently, had they? And with competition opening up, it could just about sound the death knell for Millie Vanilla’s.

Oh God.

‘Sorry, Millie,’ Tessa repeated. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. School run. Laters, bab.’

She disappeared before Millie had the chance to answer.

Chapter 5

Arthur wandered in later than usual and, very unusually, without Daisy. He rejected a cooked breakfast and sat morosely nursing a solitary mug of tea. In sympathy, Trevor whined and squatted at his feet, but was ignored.

When Millie spotted Biddy pushing open the door, with a cheerful Elvis in tow, she feared the worst. She was in no mood for squabbling pensioners this morning.

‘You’re early, Biddy. What can I get you?’

‘It’s allowed, isn’t it? Being early. Not a crime. And what else do I ever have? The usual, please.’

Muttering to herself as she worked in the kitchen, Millie wondered if Biddy got on with anyone. Maybe it was the low, dull clouds? It seemed to be putting everyone in a bad mood today. As she warmed up Biddy’s scone, Millie could already hear her bickering with Arthur. Biddy was moaning that yet another restaurant was opening up in town. Her heart sank.

She brought out Biddy’s coffee and scone, served it and retreated behind the counter, pretending to polish some glasses.

‘For once I agree with you,’ Arthur went on. ‘And it does the town no favours to have these businesses open in good faith, only to have one poor season and close down again.’

‘Hmph,’ Biddy snorted. ‘Don’t see it happen in Lyme.’

Arthur sighed. ‘Lyme Regis has always been a special case as it’s so popular. And Berecombe’s not doing too badly, really.’

‘But you’ve still let this new café open.’

Millie stiffened.

‘Apart from myself, the town council were in agreement. Blue Elephant is an international chain. The council felt, with the backing of a big company behind them, it might help the café stay open and provide some continuity. And that’s quite a large building to pay rates on. Only a big organisation like that could afford it.’

Millie found the leg of the stool behind the till and dragged it over using her foot. Blue Elephant! She collapsed onto it. It couldn’t be much worse. They were huge in the States and had just started to open branches in the UK, rivalling Costa and Starbucks. They were a Fairtrade company and committed to using organic supplies. With their muffins, granary sandwiches and coffees they’d be in direct competition with what she did at Millie Vanilla’s. Even worse, the backing of a large corporation meant buying in bulk across their outlets and almost certainly undercutting her prices. She felt sick.

‘But the council is still letting this Elephant place go ahead?’ Biddy asked through a mouthful of scone, scattering crumbs.

‘I’m afraid so, Biddy.’

‘What did you say? ‘Speak up, man.’

‘I said, yes I’m afraid so,’ Arthur repeated.

Biddy snorted again.

‘I will endeavour to put forward your feelings at the next council meeting.’

In answer, Biddy slurped her coffee. Silence fell, only interrupted by whimpers coming from a now dreaming and kicking Elvis.

Arthur, sensing their conversation was at an end, came to the counter and paid the exact amount in cash as he always did. ‘I’m sorry, dear girl,’ he whispered, ‘that I couldn’t tell you sooner. About this Blue Elephant business. It was all a very hush-hush affair.’

Millie nodded mutely and watched him as he left. Trevor followed him to the door and whined. After hearing the dreadful news Millie wanted to join in.

Chapter 6

To her relief, business picked up a little at Millie Vanilla’s over the next few days. The literary festival brought a smattering of people into town. Millie stayed open on the nights events were held and did a roaring trade in warming pea and ham soup and her rich apricot and almond tray bake. She liked the lone customers who came in, pored over a book in a corner and demanded constant tea and coffee. The festival was designed to bring some trade into town in the quiet days after the Christmas season and it was working.

Along with the Yummy Mummies Plus One Dad Group and her other regulars, the W.I. Knitting Circle and the Berecombe B.A.P.S (the Berecombe Appreciation of Paperbacks Society), she was kept busy.

Tessa popped by one evening with her two youngest boys. While the children took Trevor for a run on the beach, she tucked into the apricot cake with relish. ‘Oh,’ she sighed, ‘you should definitely make loads more of this. It’s bloomin’ gorgeous.’ She looked up as the door opened. ‘Hello, our Sean.’

Her eldest son stood in the doorway looking coy. ‘Hi, Mum.’

A possible reason for his embarrassment arrived a second later. Zoe, this time with bleached-white hair, fell into the café behind him. ‘Oh hello, Mrs Tizzard.’

‘Zoe, me lover, told you before, call me Tessa. Grab a pew. What are you having?’

‘Well, we’re not stopping. We’re just on our way to the poetry reading in the theatre.’

Tessa’s shoulders quivered with barely contained laughter. ‘Poetry reading? Not usually our Sean’s thing.’

As an answer Sean grunted.

‘You forgot your scarf on Saturday, Zoe,’ Millie interrupted, to save him further embarrassment. ‘And would you like your wages while you’re here?’

‘Aw thanks, Mil. I can get Mum her birthday pressie later. There’s a craft fayre on in the theatre afterwards. She said she’d seen some nice earrings she’d like.’

‘That Susie Evans does some nice stuff,’ Tessa pointed out through a mouthful of cake. ‘Tell her I sent you and she’ll give you a bit off.’

‘Oh and she can have a free coffee next time she’s in,’ added Millie.

‘Thanks, Mrs Tizzard, I mean Tessa. And thanks, Mil.’ Zoe wound the scarf around her neck and stuffed her wages into the battered satchel she used as a handbag. ‘You coming then, Sean?’

Sean, who was looking longingly at the half-eaten slice of cake on his mother’s plate, snapped into attention and opened the door.

‘See you later, kids,’ his mother cackled. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!’

Millie pressed a couple of slices of cake, wrapped in a serviette, into Sean’s hands. She winked at him in sympathy. ‘Bye both. Oh and Zoe, think I preferred Plummy Aubergine!’

Sean scowled at his mother, Zoe waved a cheerful goodbye and then they strode off along the promenade, arm in arm, heads close together.

Millie served scones and tea to a group deep in argument over the latest Booker prizewinner and then joined Tessa. ‘Is there something going on between those two?’

Tessa exploded into laughter. ‘Bloody poetry. Our Sean? I ask you!’ She shook her head in answer. ‘Who knows? If there is, it’s news to me. Thought they were just friends. Wouldn’t mind a bit, though. Zoe’s a lovely girl. And she’s a good influence on Sean, not counting this sudden passion for poetry.’

‘But isn’t he going to work at that picture-framing company in Honiton?’

‘Yes, bab, it’s all set up. It’ll suit him. Says he’s had enough of exams to last a lifetime. He’s never been the most academic of my three. Unfortunately. What of it?’

‘Just that it might explain Zoe’s sudden cold feet about going to Durham.’

Tessa looked to where, illuminated by the white lights strung up all along the promenade, she could see her eldest walking with his arm around Zoe’s shoulders. They stopped for a moment to take the inevitable selfie and giggled at the result. ‘You mean, young love? Sweet.’

‘And intense. You never feel the same as you do when you’re in love at seventeen.’

Tessa pulled a gloomy face. ‘Don’t know. It was so long ago I can’t remember.’

Millie laughed. ‘Don’t get me wrong, your Sean is gorgeous. But –’

‘If you had the choice between love and a degree from Durham?’ Tessa asked.

‘I think I’d choose Durham.’

Tessa shoved in the last of her cake. ‘That’s what’s wrong with you, Emilia Fudge,’ she said through a full mouth, ‘there’s no romance in your soul. When was the last time you had a hot lover on your arm?’

‘Don’t know. It was so long ago I can’t remember.’ She winked at Tessa.

Tessa sniggered and got up. ‘Better go and rescue Trevor from the boys. He’ll have had enough by now. I’m amazed they can see anything on the beach at this time of night.’

‘Oh, the lights on the prom reach out quite a way.’ Millie stretched her back. It had been a long day.

Tessa observed her friend with affection. ‘You look knackered. It really is about time you had some fun, my girl.’

Millie gave a wry smile. ‘You tell me when and who with and I’m all for it. Not sure how I’ll squeeze in a hot man, though. I work all day and bake all night. And I don’t know about fun, but it would be lovely to have someone special to share my life with. I get lonely sometimes.’

Tessa nodded. ‘I understand, kiddo. You can have all the friends in the world and still feel lonely without a special person to come home to.’ She was silent for a moment and then added, ‘Come here.’

‘What for?’

‘Come here,’ Tessa repeated and beckoned Millie to where she was standing by the big picture window. When Millie obeyed, she turned her to face it, standing behind their joint reflection and putting her hands on her friend’s shoulders. ‘Look at you.’

Millie looked. And pouted. ‘You’re right. I look knackered.’

‘Dead right you do. You’re tired because you’ve just done a fourteen-hour day.’

‘Your point being?’ Millie was embarrassed, aware that the literary festival group were watching with interest.

‘Behind the tiredness, I see gorgeous big brown eyes, that lovely dark hair and legs that I’d kill for. Don’t let life be all about work, Millie. Go and find yourself that man. You want marriage, babies, the whole enchilada, don’t you?’

Millie nodded, her eyes filling with tears that she put down to exhaustion. Tessa had a point. It had been months since she’d taken any time off. She tried to see herself objectively. Yes, her make-up had disappeared hours ago and while her bob had grown out, her hair was still thick and glossy. Her legs, toned by a lifetime of being on her feet waitressing, were encased in matte-black tights, their length revealed by the flippy short skirts she favoured. Not too bad, she ventured. She bit her lip. ‘But where am I supposed to find a man, let alone some fun, Tess?’

Tessa made a face. ‘God knows. Pick up a tourist? Or what about that bloke who keeps coming in? The one that Zoe keeps going on about. Wears all that designer gear – Hackett, she reckons it is. Another word for expensive, in my book. Oh, I don’t know where you’ll find him but get out there, kiddo. Take some time out. Forget the ruddy café for five minutes.’

‘And there’s me wanting to be the next Mary Berry.’

‘Wash your mouth out. There’s only one Mary Berry!’ Tessa put her hands together as if in prayer. ‘Saint Mary!’

Millie giggled. She could always rely on her friend to make her laugh. ‘Love you, Tess. Now go and find my dog.’

‘Will do. Love you too, honeybun. Tarra a bit!’

Chapter 7

Millie bumped into Jed as she was hurrying up Berecombe’s steep main street. Literally bumped into him. Tessa would say it was fate. Millie would say it was because she had her head down against the icy wind blowing sleet against her face and didn’t see him coming the other way.

Oomph. Her library books slid onto the pavement as they collided. Trevor barked with excitement.

‘Here, let me.’ Jed bent down and collected them for her. ‘Hello, Trevor,’ he said, fending him off as the dog tried to lick his ear. ‘Middlemarch and James Joyce,’ he read as he handed them back to her one by one. His eyebrows rose. ‘Interesting reading.’

Millie blushed. ‘I didn’t go to college, so I’ve been trying to catch up on some books everyone tells me I ought to read.’ She held up Moby Dick. ‘This was for Book Club.’

‘How did you find it?’

‘Excruciatingly boring.’

Jed laughed. ‘My thoughts exactly. I always had a bit of a thing for Mrs Gaskell. Maybe you could try her? Look, I think you’re out of luck trying to return them tonight, the library’s just closed. I passed it on my way down. Lights off and doors definitely locked.’

‘Oh.’ Millie’s face fell. ‘I hadn’t realised it was so late.’

‘I hope you’ll avoid a fine? I have to confess it’s been a long time since I borrowed a book from a library. Do they still do that?’

Millie nodded. ‘I’ve got until tomorrow.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll have to try to find time to return them then.’

Jed peered closer. ‘If you don’t mind my saying, you look rather done in.’

‘The café’s been busy with the literary festival. I’ve been rushed off my feet.’

‘Well, it’s good that you’ve been busy. Have you finished for tonight?’

Millie thought of the batch of Bakewell tarts she should get in the oven and of the apricots she needed to soak before making another four lots of the tray bake.

Jed filled in the gap left by her hesitation. ‘If you have, may I suggest getting some supper in the White Bear? I hear their food isn’t too bad.’