‘Well, the adversity bit has happened, that’s for sure,’ Katie said, trying to make a joke of it. ‘When exactly is the good fortune bit due?’
‘Maybe it’s not for you, but for someone else.’ Oscar grinned, flashing Talia a meaningful look.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Katie, making a start on returning the cake stands to the kitchen and wondering how soon Talia and Oscar would leave so she could don her Marigolds and launch into a therapeutic marathon of scrubbing until every ounce of humiliation that was currently churning through her veins had been eradicated.
Why had she listened to Cara? Why had she deluded herself into believing that all she had to do was bake a few cakes and the customers would come running? She would be eating soup for her breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next month!
‘Oh my God. Yes! Oscar, you are a genius. Why didn’t I realise that’s what the stars had in store?’
‘Maybe they just needed a bit of a nudge?’
Katie paused in the doorway to the kitchen, bewildered at their jubilation.
‘My sister Mel volunteers one day a week at the local soup kitchen over in St Agnes. Why don’t we drive over there and donate the soup and cakes to a good cause? Isn’t that the very definition of goodwill, thoughtfulness and community?’
Katie stared at Talia, the dreamy, quirky young girl who sent funeral flowers to birthday bashes, who left her fate to the whims of astrological forces, but who, in the face of disaster, could come up with something so perfect, so in tune with not only the café’s aims, but which would surely meet with Agatha’s approval as well.
‘That’s … that’s a fabulous idea!’
To her surprise, tears smarted at the corners of her eyes as her respect for Talia ballooned.
‘It’s more than fabulous, it’s inspired,’ declared Oscar, slinging his arm around Talia’s shoulders and planting a kiss on her cheek. ‘Come on, let’s get going – if we’re quick we’ll get there for supper time.’
Working in tandem, they loaded up Katie’s hire car with everything they could fit in and then sang ABBA songs at the tops of their voices all the way to St Agnes. When they arrived, Katie’s spirits soared with gratitude for the unquestioning support of good friends and good ideas, and she made a decision that surprised her.
‘You know, I have a proposition. Why don’t we make this a monthly thing? Soup & Song nights at Agatha’s Beachside Café? It has a great ring to it, hasn’t it? We could charge a small entrance fee and the proceeds and any leftover goodies can be donated to the soup kitchen? What do you think?’
Oscar met her gaze, his vivid blue eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t fathom. Fortunately, Talia broke the connection by pogoing up and down on the spot, clapping her hands and squealing her approval.
‘It’s a fabulous idea! Mel’s going to be totally stoked. And I’ve had an idea, too.’
Oscar smirked at Katie as they carried the catering boxes inside the rather austere-looking red-brick church that housed the charity’s venture.
‘I’ve got lots of friends who are going to uni in September who don’t know the first thing about cooking if it doesn’t involve a microwave or a Pot Noodle. Why don’t we organise a pizza and pasta-making night at the café, then all sit down to eat together, like they do in Italy? There’s nowhere to go in Perrinby on a night-time apart from the pub, so I think it’ll be really popular.’
‘That’s a date!’ Katie smiled, knowing it was the least she could do.
‘Yay! Awesome.’
Talia beamed as she skipped off to find her sister to tell her why they were there and to regale her with their future plans for the café inspired by her, which left Katie alone with Oscar.
‘Thanks for helping out, Oscar. Who would have thought we’d end the night supporting the homeless?’
‘Not a problem. Sometimes life doesn’t turn out how we expect it to. The trick is to make the most of every opportunity that wanders across our path – good or bad.’
Again, Katie caught the shadow of sadness stalk across Oscar’s eyes and she wondered if it was the right time to ask him what had caused it. She opened her mouth to reach out and offer a listening ear as so many people had done for her when Dominic had vanished from her life, but she stopped when Talia reappeared, accompanied by a tall, slender woman who could only have been Talia’s older sister; not because they both sported a sheet of long, straight caramel hair but because Mel was wearing a hand-knitted waistcoat depicting what Katie had initially thought were daggers dripping in blood but which thankfully, on closer inspection, turned out to be exploding poppies. She imagined the two sisters growing up in the bridal boutique, experimenting with their own individual styles of attire from the off-cuts of bridal fabric whilst their mother created fairy-tale wedding gowns.
‘Mel, this is Katie who’s running Agatha’s café now. You just have to come over with the other volunteers and sample her toffee-apple cupcakes with confetti sprinkles, which are to die for! Oh, and you met Oscar at the village Christmas party.’
‘Hi, Katie, I don’t know how to thank you for your kind donation. I have to admit the soup smells absolutely delicious – it’ll be a real treat, but those cupcakes – I mean, wow! Were you planning a royal garden party? They’re like, well, like miniature works of art. I think we’ve got a rival artist in Perrinby, Oscar.’
Mel’s dark eyes reflected the sincerity and innate kindness that was clearly engraved in her heart as she chatted to Katie and Oscar, filling them in on the charity’s aims and their lack of funds whilst leading them into the vast, careworn kitchen to unpack their cakes onto plates ready for the nine p.m. rush when the doors opened.
‘Are you able to stay and help? Many hands and all that?’
‘Of course,’ chorused Katie and Oscar in unison, laughing at their respective enthusiasm.
For the next two hours, Katie worked alongside Oscar in choreographed harmony; Oscar sliced the bread that had been donated by a local bakery when their doors closed to their paying customers, and she spread the butter, all the while listening to Mel eulogising about the apricot-and-pistachio cupcakes decorated with lemon frosting. Other members of the volunteer team came over one by one to introduce themselves and to thank her for her generosity, and with every person who spoke to her, from teenagers like Talia to elderly pensioners, Katie grew more humbled by their effusive thanks.
Why hadn’t she thought of doing this before? When she’d worked for François? There had been several instances when their experiments with the more exotic celebration cakes simply hadn’t met the superior standards that François demanded, or that time when her colleague Sophie had spelled the customer’s name wrong on a Game of Thrones birthday cake that had taken two weeks to create. François, in a fit of hot-tempered pique, had tossed the offending article into the bin. How many hungry people could that have fed? Heat flashed across her cheeks at the thought and she resolved there and then that her promise to make this a regular date in her diary would not fall onto the pile labelled ‘good intentions’ but would be a genuine commitment to contribute to those who found themselves in difficult circumstances.