one,’ the woman says.
Ringo smiles as he lifts it into a cake box and ties it up with a flourish of curly ribbon. Half an hour later, the snowflake cake has sold too, to a young woman. ‘I’m getting married in April,’ she explains. ‘It’s not a big wedding, but I want it to be special. Personal. Do you make wedding cakes to order?’
Karen Carney blinks. ‘Wedding cakes?’ she echoes. ‘Yes, yes, we can do that!’ Karen scribbles her name and phone number on to the cake box, and the woman thanks her and leaves smiling.
‘Wow!’ Dan’s mum says. ‘Fifty pounds for two cakes – and all thanks to you, Klaudia!’
‘For a wedding cake, you could charge a hundred and fifty pounds, two hundred maybe,’ Mum points out. ‘That is where the big money is. People will always spend on special occasions, one-off events.’
‘A couple of orders like that in a week would keep us going,’ Karen agrees. ‘I could make little frosted cupcakes as wedding favours too. I’d never have managed without you today – all of you! Keeping the cafe open was the very last thing on my mind, yet we’ve probably taken more money than ever before…’
‘No worries,’ Ringo says.
‘We were glad to help,’ Kurt adds. ‘Payback time for all the free cakes!’
‘It’s nothing,’ Mum shrugs. ‘Just like the bakery back in Krakow, but much more fun!’
‘You worked in a bakery?’ Karen blinks.
‘It’ll be back to the bakery soon,’ Mum says. ‘If they will have me. The last few weeks have been very bad for Jozef ’s business. It’s all over for us in Liverpool.’
‘Oh, Klaudia, no!’ Karen says.
‘You can’t go!’ Frankie bursts in. ‘That’s just not fair! Anya doesn’t want to go!’ She drags a hand across her eyes, leaving a trail of smudged eyeliner.
‘There is nothing to be done,’ Mum sighs. ‘I am sorry, Frankie. We all are. But now… well, there are no options left to us. Come, Anya, Kazia – we should be getting back. We have a meal to prepare…’
‘We’ll never forget you, Anya,’ Frankie says. ‘We’re friends forever, right? The three of us.’
My friends fold me up in a three-way hug, and that’s bad, because suddenly my throat aches and my eyes sting and I think I might cry.
Karen hugs Mum too. ‘Thanks for today,’ she says. ‘You’ve been a real friend. And I’m sorry, so sorry, about Krakow.’ She presses a cake box into Mum’s hands, a £20 note tucked under the ribbon.
‘No, no…’ Mum protests, so Karen hands the cake box to me, and Mum doesn’t argue any more.
Just as we’re getting our hats and scarves on, the door jingles and an old man comes in. He’s small and round, with rosy cheeks and a bushy white beard, and the minute Kazia sees him her face lights up. ‘It’s Santa!’ she squeals. ‘From the grotto!’
‘Oh, Kazia, it’s just a nice gentleman,’ Mum hushes her, but when I look again at the old man I wonder if Kazia is right. He looks very familiar, and didn’t Ben give the Santa from the grotto a voucher for free cakes?
Then again, I guess that every plump old bearded guy gets mistaken for Santa at this time of year.
‘Come on, girls,’ Mum says. ‘It’s Christmas Eve! What are we waiting for?’
We step out into the cold air just as the first flakes of snow begin to fall.
Back in Poland, Christmas Eve is the main part of the Christmas celebrations. We have our own traditions, our own style of doing things, and it doesn’t involve turkey or chocolate yule log or stockings hung over the fireplace. It’s just as well, as we can’t afford turkey or yule log, and we don’t have a fireplace, just radiators that cough and splutter and rattle in the night.
It doesn’t matter – we like it our way.
Mum dives into the supermarket on Aigburth Road, stocking up on basics, spending the extra £20. Then we go home, the snow falling softly around us as we walk.
Dad is there already. ‘It’s finished,’ he tells Mum quietly. ‘The office is tidy now, the keys handed in. All over.’
‘Oh, Jozef,’ she sighs, and the two of them hug for a long moment. I see Dad’s eyes shine with tears and I have to look away.
‘I’ve spoken to Mr Yip,’ Dad goes on, and his voice is creaky and strange, as if he doesn’t quite trust it to hold out. ‘Told him the rent situation. When the money comes from your mum and