The man turned on Cherry. ‘WHAT is your PROBLEM?!’ His face was a livid shade of red.
‘I’m so sorry! I should have been looking where I was going!’ Cherry said, mortified. She bent down to pick up the glasses.
‘Give them to me,’ he snapped.
Cherry was about to hand them over when the man snatched them from her fingers and she was sure she heard one of the temples crack. ‘Stupid little girl,’ he spat, opening his palm and seeing the clearly broken pieces of his glasses come apart in his hand. He looked at her, the expression on his face one of absolute fury. ‘Look what you’ve done! Skipping about like the whole world is at your beck and call. Not giving a moment’s thought to those around you.’
Cherry took in his young, wrinkle-free face, his thick dark brown hair, only slightly speckled with grey, his trendy, long, tan coat and faded jeans and she wondered how old he must be to have called her ‘little girl’. She was twenty-four and he didn’t look all that much older than her – two or three years at the most, although his eyes seemed far older. The man continued to berate her and as she wasn’t used to dealing with conflict, she would normally have tried to find a way out of the conversation as quickly as possible. Yet he didn’t seem to be looking at Cherry. He was looking past her, at something behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw only Loneliness peeking out from behind a lamp post, clearly not used to dealing with conflict either, but there was nothing else of interest. She turned back to the man and something over his shoulder caught her eye. There, holding hands in an unusually neat line were Frustration, Cynicism and Mischief. Cherry had learned over the years that the more orderly and organised the Meddlums behaved, the longer they had been attached to their owner. These three had clearly been around one another so long that they were completely in sync, each of them enabling the others’ bad habits. Frustration stood in between Cynicism and Mischief, squeezing their warped and broken hands. Its green skin was bubbling like boiling water, blistering and bursting. The other two were gazing at it with what looked like adoration. The sight turned Cherry’s stomach.
‘Are you even listening to me?’ the stranger demanded, catching Cherry’s disengaged eyes and glancing over his own shoulder.
‘I think I’d better be going,’ Cherry said, circling the man whose red cheeks were now returning to a normal hue. ‘Oh, but here.’ Cherry dug into her bag. Although unpleasant to talk to, he was clearly troubled. Exactly the kind of person she should be helping. ‘Just… come along. I think it might help.’ Cherry fled before the stranger could say another word.
It took a little bit of time and a lot of deep breaths to shake away the ugly feeling the angry stranger had left her with. At times like these she wished she was back in her father’s house, in her old room, with the door bolted shut. Things had been less complicated before she’d re-engaged with the world. Loneliness reached around her shoulders and gave her an uncomforting hug and whispered, ‘But you’re not there. You’re here. Alone.’ Cherry shrugged off its arms but the words kept running through her mind, repeating themselves over and over in her own familiar voice.
Cherry knew there was a famous gin distillery in Plymouth. Gin was one of the very few alcoholic drinks that Cherry actually liked. It was her father, Lucas’s, favourite and he had let her try some of his gin and tonic one Christmas when she was small. It had tasted dry and bitter but the fizz of the tonic and buzz of the gin made her feel like she was swallowing a lightning bolt and right now all she wanted was to feel that sensation again. She quickly googled the distillery’s location (she was getting the hang of this internet thing) and seeing that it was only a short distance away, she began walking in its direction. After a few minutes, she turned a corner and could see the white-painted building ahead with its blue trimmings. However, something else caught her eye and snatched her attention away. On the right-hand side of the road was a bright red and yellow shop. White window stickers in the shape of crystal balls, open palms with lines zig-zagging across them and several constellations were scattered across the glass. The window display was made up of crushed velvet red cloth and a real crystal ball. From a distance it looked as though the crystal ball was hovering magically in mid-air but when Cherry got closer she could see that there were strings holding it up. Behind the ball was a photo display of, Cherry guessed, some of the shop’s clientele. Some faces looked excited, beaming at the camera. Others wore slightly more reserved smiles. Above the shop, in intricate white writing, were the words PSYCHIC SISTERS. The door opened and the bell above it rang out, startling Cherry.
‘Coming in, sweetheart?’ A woman wearing a beautiful orange headscarf poked her head out of the door, a cloud of smoke wafting around her. Her make-up had been applied with precision, giving her face a doll-like appearance. Purple eyeshadow had been blended all the way up to her eyebrows and a beauty spot had been painted on her left cheek. As she tapped the cigarette holder in her hands, making the burnt ash fall to the ground, Cherry noticed the little brown liver spots on her hands and was astounded at how well the make-up was concealing her age.
‘Erm… no. Not today. I’m new here. Just looking around,’ Cherry said, trying to smile.
‘It’s all right. You’ll be back.’ The woman grinned, revealing a large gap between her two centre teeth. There was a smear of red lipstick on them.
‘Right,’ Cherry said, nonplussed. ‘Um, could I ask a favour though?’ She pulled out one of her flyers and held it out to the woman. ‘Would you be able to put this up in your shop, please?’
The woman took the flyer, gave it a quick once over and bobbed her head. ‘We have a notice board inside. Consider it done.’ Cherry thanked her and then went on her way once the woman had disappeared inside the shop.
Despite her own abilities, Cherry couldn’t help but doubt fortune tellers. In all her life she’d only met one other person who could see what she could see and she still felt sad every time she thought of Peter’s fate. Being openly vocal about his gift had resulted in Peter being taken away and Cherry had never heard from him again. Surely it was best to do what she did in private and keep it to herself? It meant she was able to use her gifts subtly, without anyone seeing madness in it. How many people were out there who were really like her and shouted about it to the world? Very few, she thought. It’s the people who have no idea what it’s like to truly be different who do scream about it. If they really knew what it was like, to feel so isolated because of that difference, they wouldn’t wish it upon themselves.
Loneliness reached out and interlinked its fingers with hers, sending a shiver through her.
Cherry purchased a bottle of sloe gin from the distillery and a bottle of tonic water from the supermarket before she got on the boat back to Royal William Yard. She thought about the day on the journey back and just as the boat docked, her phone buzzed. It was Miss Kightley again. Her text said, Check your Facebook page.
Cherry raced as fast as she could back to her tiny bedsit above the bakery, the cold stopping her frozen feet from getting there any faster. She put the bottles down on the counter, flipped her laptop open and fumbled over the password three times before successfully logging in. Once Facebook was open her eyes darted about, still not used to the interface, so she wasn’t sure what Miss Kightley’s text had been about or what she was supposed to be looking for. It was then that she saw the number next to the word ‘Follows’.
‘A hundred and two?!’ she squealed. She snatched up her phone and shot a text off to Miss Kightley. A hundred and two?! How?!
A moment later the reply came back: Welcome to the internet. Cherry grinned and sent a quick reply back. It’s bloody marvellous.
7
The Big Day
Cherry hadn’t laid out a single baked good. How could she when her baking was so personal? Each item had to be hand-selected for its recipient otherwise she’d be handing out Chocolate Charms to already charming Charlies and doling out Don’t Doubt Yourself Danishes to undoubtedly independ
ent Danielles! Cherry’s bakery was unique because of her personal, intimate touch and there was no way to know what particular feeling a person might need in their own special piece of Victoria sponge until she had met them – and their Meddlum.
Cherry was pacing around the bakery in her gold silk pyjamas. She’d thought that matching the wallpaper would be a nice touch, and she’d even strung up some black and gold balloons around the place and on the door so people knew that they had the right place. At 8 a.m., she pulled the black ties around her bunches tight, unlatched the door and turned her father’s old sign that she’d hung up last night from CLOSED to OPEN. There was no one waiting outside but Cherry hadn’t expected there to be. She was hoping that people would arrive later on, after work maybe. She was planning to stay open until 7 p.m., just in case there was a post-work rush. I hope people come, she thought. She turned back to her counter, ready to send out another Facebook post to let everyone know the bakery was open, when the bell above the door rang out. Cherry turned to see an elderly woman with silvery dreadlocks, dressed in purple and green patchwork and reams of silk. She was also hopping from foot to foot.
‘Hi there,’ Cherry said. ‘Welcome! I’m Cherry. How can I help you?’
The woman smiled. ‘Hello. I’m Sally. Sally Lightbody.’
Cherry had been practising smiles in the mirror for the past few days but she now found she needn’t have bothered. She was so excited to share her treats with the townspeople that she was practically beaming at Sally until…
‘You don’t have a loo, do you?’ Sally asked apologetically.
‘Oh. Um. Yes! Yes, of course! It’s just around this corner. First door on the left.’
‘I will buy something when I come back out, I promise. It’s just me and me old age. Can’t walk five minutes out of my own house before I’m busting again!’ Sally waddled past Cherry, who couldn’t help notice that Sally’s patchwork bag had a similar crystal ball embroidered onto it to the one she’d seen in the window of the fortune tellers in The Barbican. Interesting.
While Sally was in the bathroom Cherry checked the display counter and fiddled with all the labels that she had purposefully placed to face her so she could make the correct choice for the customer once she’d seen what they needed. She glanced out of the window and noticed that Loneliness had made two friends. An odd-looking ball with tiny stumpy arms and legs was sat on Loneliness’s shoulders. Its oversized hands were pressed flat against the glass. On top of it sat a smaller but just as ugly Meddlum that looked utterly bored. Its arms were folded and it kept rolling its eyes, over and over. Cherry frowned at them all and the ball-like Meddlum started to shake, as though crying. It made it harder for Loneliness to maintain its balance and it began to wobble. Guilt on top of Obsessiveness on top of Loneliness. At least only the Loneliness is mine, Cherry thought.
‘Rightio, then,’ Sally said, reappearing, ‘let’s see what we’ve got ’ere.’ She wiggled her half-moon glasses, peering into the display case. ‘Got any Belgian buns? I love a Belgian bun.’
‘No Belgian buns, I’m afraid,’ Cherry said politely.
‘Wha – no Belgian… well! What sort of baker are you, then?’ Sally said, sitting on one of the brown leather stools and swinging her bag onto the counter.
‘One that’s very interested in the symbol on your bag. I’ve seen it before, just the other day actually. I passed by a shop in The Barbican. It was… um… what’s it called…?’
‘Psychic Sisters?’ Sally offered.
‘Yes, that’s the one! I saw one just like it in the window.’
Sally looked down at the embroidered crystal ball on her bag. ‘I bought this bag from Psychic Sisters but it was years ago and I’ve not been back there in a long time. I only used to go to see if my own readings were accurate. Can’t seem to part with the bag, though.’ Sally reached into the bag and pulled out a rectangular box. She slid the lid off and Cherry could see that inside lay a deck of black cards. Cherry looked at them, curious.
‘Go on.’ Sally’s lips curled into a slow smile. ‘Shuffle ’em.’
‘I thought you weren’t supposed to touch other people’s Tarot cards?’
‘Oh, you are a bright one! Nah, I don’t believe in that. It’s not like sharing underwear! Besides, this is your reading. You should touch the cards.’ Sally pushed the box towards her. Cherry picked up the deck and started to shuffle. Once she was satisfied that they were thoroughly shuffled, she placed them face down in front of Sally.
‘Here we go then.’ Sally turned over the first card, left to right, but held it up facing away from Cherry.
‘Well? Am I doomed?’ Cherry asked.
‘No, m’love,’ Sally said, returning the card to the deck and then putting the cards back into the box.
‘That’s it?’ Cherry said, surprised.
‘One card is all I need.’ Sally winked. ‘Now. Why no Belgian buns?’ She leaned her chin on the back of her hand.
‘How about this? In an apology for my lack of Belgian buns and in return for the reading, I’ll give you something else to eat, on the house?’
‘I never say no to free cake!’ Sally said, her youthful eyes lighting up.
‘Great. But first, I have a question. How did you fall into fortune telling?’ Cherry had a feeling the answer would tell her all she needed to know about Sally’s Meddlums.
Sally looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘It sort of chose me, really. I get obsessed with things, y’see? I go through phases of loving something so bloody much that I can’t get enough of it. Then one day I wake up and realise I know everything there is to know and poof! I’m cured! Never think about it again. But I haven’t had that with fortune telling yet. Nothing’s lasted as long as this has.’ Sally gestured to her bag and laughed fondly.
‘How long has your obsession been fortune telling?’ Cherry asked, watching Loneliness scratch its claws at the front window. Sally clicked her tongue, racking up the time in her brain.
‘Oh, it must be around thirty years or so now.’
‘Wow! That is a long time. Why is fortune telling different from the rest of things you’ve been obsessed with?’
‘It’s the future, love. It’s always changing.’ Sally put the cards back into her bag. ‘Well, now. Where’s my cake, then?’
‘All right, all right.’ Cherry laughed. ‘I’ve got just the thing for you, but it’s in the kitchen. I’ll be back in a minute.’ She ducked into the back where she’d lined up trays and trays of cakes, muffins, biscuits and cookies, each containing a different feeling.
‘Obsessiveness… obsessiveness,’ Cherry muttered to herself. She turned to the book that was full of her own special and secret recipes, and flipped through the alphabetical pages until she got to the Os. ‘Obedience, Obnoxiousness, ah, Obsessiveness. I knew I’d treated this before.’
Contentment Cake: To keep the customer calm and at peace with what they’ve already got, no matter the amount or size.
Tastes like: Tea and mandarins
Indifference Icing: To try to balance their overly keen interest.
Tastes like: Marmite
Cherry always made a note of how every emotion tasted on her tongue, even though she never knew if it tasted the same to other people or if that taste was unique to her. Did contentment taste like tea and mandarins because those were the things that made her feel most content? Did indifference taste like Marmite because she was seemingly the only person in the world who didn’t love it or hate it? She doubted that she’d ever know how things tasted to those she helped. Her hands worked quickly, cutting a generous slice of Contentment Cake and expertly squeezing out the blue icing from its piping bag into the shape of a crystal ball.
‘Voila!’ Cherry said as she walked back into the bakery with the plate held proudly in front of her. She presented it to Sally with a flourish.
‘This looks delicious! A little bit of friendly advice though, m’love; you may want to serve your customers a bit quicker or this queu
e will get even longer!’ Sally gestured behind her and Cherry looked around, noticing for the first time that there were seven other elderly customers shuffling about.
‘Amazing what a quick text can do, isn’t it?’ Sally held up her phone and gave Cherry a cheeky smile. Cherry forgot herself for a moment and pushed herself up and across the counter to plant a giant kiss on Sally’s cheek.
‘Oh! You’re quite a funny one.’ Sally gasped in surprise but she laughed good-naturedly too. ‘Well, what are you waiting for? You’ve got customers!’
‘Right, then!’ Cherry called out to the people waiting. ‘Come on up and tell me a little bit about yourselves!’
Cherry didn’t charge anyone for their cakes but she did place a donation jar on the counter which seemed to fill up at a considerable rate. By late afternoon every table was full, coats were falling off the stand and her stock of baked goods was over halfway gone. Cherry smiled at the background noise of people talking, forks tinkling against plates and teacups clattering. She closed her eyes for just a moment, enjoying the buzz and finally feeling at home for the first time since she’d arrived in Plymouth.
‘You haven’t got a slice of that marble cake left, have you?’ said a feeble voice, breaking Cherry out of her reverie. She opened her eyes and saw two familiar faces in the doorway. One she was pleased to see, and the other, she may not have wanted to see at all but was pleased to see it was smaller at least.
‘Of course, Margie! Come on in!’
Margie excitedly bounded into the shop but her Meddlum, her own Loneliness, sat outside with the rest of them. Cherry noticed that a second Meddlum, a tiny one about the size of a Chihuahua that Cherry recognised as Anxiety, was clinging to Margie’s Loneliness. Cherry realised then that Margie had probably always had Anxiety but because of how neatly it had moulded itself to her Loneliness, it had been camouflaged when she had met Margie for the first time all those weeks ago.