Cream, Crime & Cupcakes

Chapter 1 Miranda

Chapter 1 Miranda

Oh no. With a forceful jerk, I demolish the zipper of my favourite suitcase. As always I tried to stuff too much into my worn down case. It finally gives up. A bit saddened, I think of all the journeys on which it accompanied me. Our first trip together was trekking through Sri Lanka. In the streets of Colombo, the wheels got stuck in the slits of the road, of course. In the jungle I had to carry it myself as well. Of course I hadn’t realised that these tiny wheels do not turn so easily in the loose sand and on tree roots.

My little suitcase is fed up with it now. Dismayed, I look at the tongue of the zipper that’s resting in my hand now. All of a sudden, panic takes hold of me. In six hours my friends will be on my doorstep to go to the airport together. Where can I get a suitcase at eleven in the evening? To add to the disaster, my phone starts ringing. ‘Mama’ by Heintje blasts through my apartment. Because of that I know that it’s my mother on the other side who wants to give me some last minute advice. My mum’s a dear but sometimes it’s a bit of a bother that she doesn’t seem to understand that, at twenty-eight, I can pull my own weight. Today it’s my lucky day that she does remember me. When I agitatedly tell her that my suitcase just broke down she immediately offers me one of hers. Luckily she only lives a ten minute drive away and I hurry to her in my delivery van.

I park my car in the driveway behind my father’s colossus (for my own convenience, I go under the assumption that he doesn’t have to go away tonight). Hurriedly, I rush in, thanks to my duplicate key. Shouting at my mother, I greet my father in the meantime who’s reading the paper in the living room. I can’t make out what he’s mumbling to me because I am already moving on to find my mother. She walks into the hallway from the kitchen while drying her hands. ‘Hear, hear, what a ruckus’, she says while shaking her head. ‘Where’s the fire?’ she adds smiling.

When I’m in a hurry I’m not really in the mood for quiet and mild humour. Irritated I ask about the suitcase. Naturally, my mother knows me longer than this and keeps her calm in spite of my moping. ‘Come with me to the storeroom, so you can see for yourself which one you want to take along.’

Together, we dive into the storeroom to see if there’s a small, not too heavy, brightly coloured suitcase and on wheels of course, waiting there for me.

‘Miranda, don’t get sentimental now’, I address myself firmly. ‘Be glad that you have a suitcase whatsoever.’

Disappointed, I look at the pile of dull, black, enormous suitcases. Too big, too big, too big. In my mind I disregard them one by one. I already checked in and filled in that I’m only carrying some light hand-luggage. What were the dimensions my suitcase had to meet? I call to my father if it’s alright that I use his computer to look up the measurements. And Murphy’s law seems to strike again.

My tough-luck day began this morning with sour whipped cream. Did I mention the fact that I have a catering business for pastries together with the most wonderful pastry chef and businessman François Mercure? No, well here you are then. Pastry is my greatest passion and François is almost as good at baking as I am. Besides baking, I discovered that I love to teach others how to make bonbons, cupcakes or cakes. It is no wonder that the greater part of the week I am occupied with workshops for children’s parties, bachelor parties, friends clubs etc. François and I did not only develop an extremely fine going working relationship, besides that he has been my dearest friend ever since nursery. Before you get something into your heads, François has been happy with Lucas for many years now.

So to finish my story, this morning all the whipped cream had turned sour! Our new intern, not the cleverest according to me, had put the containers with whipped cream in the supply closet instead of in the fridge. Right beside the central heating isn’t the smartest place, of course. And then on my way to the wholesaler it turned out they were doing some road-works again. Only one open lane instead of three makes the traffic crawl. I was so much in thought that I completely missed my junction and had to reroute at the same snail’s pace. All in all it took a twenty minute ride to last for an hour and a half. Just as I spotted a parking space close to the entrance in the crowded parking lot and I wanted to slip into it, this indecently massive SUV storms from the other side at high speed into ‘my’ spot. Just as I was about to ventilate my outrage, I saw the driver jumping out of his car and sprint inside. Sure enough there wasn’t one free space left now. I couldn’t escape the fact that I had to park in the second parking lot at the other side of the street. More delays. Upon returning to the shop I noticed that my intern has tried to be of help by glazing all the cakes beautifully. My heart sank into my boots as I saw that he also started to decorate the first five birthday cakes. Kongratulations blares out to me. It didn’t get any better when I tried to make a C out of the K.

To make matters worse, the file containing the VAT administration ‘disappeared’ just before I wanted to send it to our accountant. Thankfully I have an external back-up, but it took me another hour, before I located the manual and understood how to find files in this back-up. Hours later than planned I finally arrived home at nine o’clock. Instead of relaxing in bath with some wine, after a nice evening meal, while preparing for my holidays with the girls tomorrow. I am now in my mother’s storeroom after a quick bite to eat, correction, in my father’s study at the computer, which, how could it be any other way, is turned off and has to be booted again. Sleepy-headed (he must have fallen asleep in front of the Tele) my father comes to type his passwords and I wait, impatiently, until the computer is ready for use.

Well, if I have to wait, at least it gives me some time to chat with my father. Attentively, he asks about my friends, whom he knows, just like me, since nursery and some since highschool.

Kim Castello, my friend ever since we were dropped off by our mothers at the crèche two times a week to play in the kitchen together. I do not know for sure if that is where the base was laid for my passion to bake cakes and for her work as a facilities manager, but I do know that we never lost sight of each other since.

Veronique Vasal, whom we thought was extremely cool when she walked into our class room as a first year with her head covered in shawls and brightly coloured extensions. Till this very day she always has the newest hairstyles, which isn’t that odd when you are the owner of a thriving chain of hair fashion salons.

But an extra special place is reserved by my father, like all of us, for Jessica Catz. Jessica who wears her plus size with flair and charms everyone with her luscious smile. Jessica who has been an inextricable part of our little group ever since the field trip to Rome in the second year of the Gymnasium, when she rescued Kim, who still comes across as modest and timid, from the claws of Margaret.

Every class has its b***h, or better still, a b***h with a clique of admiring, mimicking bitches around her. You can ignore them, but often they spew their vicious remarks out loudly. Most of all, they like to pick on the ones who do not reply to them. In our class Kim was one of them. And no matter how much Veronique and I tried to cheer her up and scolded back at them, we noticed how Kim withdrew even more. Until Jessica concerned herself about Kim’s fate as well as that of others and most of all her own fate. Her robust posture was a repetitive invitation to spiteful remarks. Jessica, however, always had witty reprisal, which boomeranged the mockery back at Margaret and co.

In Rome, the game was on in full swing. It seemed as if they were deliberately following Kim. She couldn’t take a step (and so we couldn’t, either) without hearing a snide remark. Until this day, we still don’t know exactly what Jessica said to Margaret. We do know that since that day, the mocking of the weaker in our class had ceased. Not long after that Margaret moved house and we saw Kim blossom to become the confident woman she is today. A woman who, despite her fragile posture, knows how to radiate authority. To us, Jessica is part of our little group since that trip and despite of her busy job as a paediatrician, she is always present at our regular get-togethers.

And, we are inseparable since those days. Not only do we get together on an almost weekly basis, but we also go away together on weekend trips, or for several weeks, and we share a passion for (sometimes very obscure) music, detective novels and series and bad luck in love too. Tomorrow, we are going to Gran Canaria for a week, to enjoy, like Kim can put into words so eloquently, ‘sun, beaches, booze and good looking hunks.’

I’ve got it here, I hear my father say. 55 by 40 by 20 centimetres. And armed with these measurements, I make for the storeroom and look discouraged at all the suitcases, which are all a tad bigger.

In thought my mother says: ‘Wait a moment’, and disappears to my father’s study. To return promptly with my father’s job travel case. It’s a real businessman thing, but well, better to have something than nothing at all. I don’t have to take along that much and I think everything will fit in nicely. Instead of a laptop, my e-reader; instead of pencils, my lipsticks and little bottles of make-up remover, shampoo etcetera. (first in a plastic bag in my coat pocket until I have passed customs, saves weight as well) a pair of high heeled sandals and a pair of low heeled sandals, flip-flops, my bikini, underwear, tops, a sun dress; I’ll be wearing a pair of trousers, my boots and a cardigan. OK, it’s possible and, after a big hug, I leave for home again. I do not know that this suitcase will cause me so much misery in the future .

In the meantime it is long past midnight and I cram my stuff in my borrowed suitcase. Under the shower I check in my mind if I have forgotten anything; I’ve got my tickets, my passport, travel insurance, credit card and cash money. If I have forgotten anything, I could just go and buy it. While I can’t lose the feeling that I have forgotten something, I drift into a restless sleep three hours before my friends will appear at my doorstep.