Millie Vanilla’s Cupcake Café. Georgia Hill

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       Chapter 3

      Early on Saturday morning, when the sun was just rising over the bay, Zoe crashed in to begin her shift.

      ‘Like your hair, Zo. What colour is it this time?’

      Zoe pulled a lock of her purple fringe and went cross-eyed looking at it. ‘Plummy Aubergine.’

      ‘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.