Chapter 19

On Saturday morning Becca made a fruit cake. In the afternoon she set about applying marzipan to it, something she had never done before. She read the instructions carefully and managed the top of the cake. Doing the sides was not a success. She applied the marzipan with a palette knife and thought she had been successful only to see it peel from the top and roll off the cake. Steven heard squeals of anger and frustration from the kitchen.

"What's the matter, my sweet?" he asked coming in.

"The wretched marzipan won't stay on the side of the cake."

"Did you spread apricot jam on the sides first?"

"No. It didn't say anything about it in the recipe."

"Ah! Well I remember as a kid my mother always used to. She said it made the marzipan stick."

"How much do you use?"

"Just thinly spread. Enough to make it tacky."

Becca collected the jam from the larder. "Show me, Mr Beeton," she said.

Steven did so. Becca cautiously applied the marzipan to the side of the cake. It stuck.

"Brilliant!" she cried. "You are a clever man."

Still holding the palette knife she flung her arms round his neck.

"Oy!" he yelped. "I'll get marzipan in my hair."

"Sweeten you up a bit."

"I'm sweet already."

She sobered up immediately. "Yes you are and I love you." She kissed him gently.

She soon had the marzipan finished.

"You'll have to leave that to set," said Steven. "Leave the icing until tomorrow. Later on today though you need to paint it all with white of egg."

"Why?"

"It stops the almond oil in the marzipan leeching through the icing and staining it."

"Golly," she said, "your mother taught you well. There's none of that in the cookery book."

On Sunday morning she added the icing without any trouble. She left that to set.

After lunch she said to Steven, "I've got to try and write on it and I've got to make one of these." She pointed to a drawing of a forcing funnel in the cookery book.

Steven studied it. "Would you like me to make it for you?"

"Would you, darling? I can stir the ink in while you're doing it."

"Ink?" exclaimed Steven.

Becca giggled. "Blue colouring."

"If I was you I'd do a little practising on some of the grease-proof paper."

"Good idea."

She did not find it easy squeezing the funnel and trying to write at the same time.

"Grrr!" she growled then, "Double Grrr!" and finally in exasperation, "Damn!"

"Let me try."

She handed him the funnel. With deep concentration Steven wrote 'Becca'.

Becca got the giggles. "You were writing with your tongue too," she said, "but well done, darling. Would you write 'Happy Birthday' on the cake?"

Steven did so. It was not a bad effort. "There!" he said. "How about that?"

"Well done, darling," enthused Becca. "Guess who's going to be writing on Polly's cake in June."

"Hmm! Can I help with anything else?"

"Well," said Becca doubtfully. She was still loath to ask him to help with household jobs. "There are chipolatas to cook and a load of sandwiches to make."

"OK. Shall I make a start on the sandwiches?"

Becca smiled gratefully at him. "Nine ham sandwiches for starters," she said. "I'll put some eggs on to hard boil. There's some sliced ham in the fridge and sliced bread in the bread bin."

"Mustard?"

"I don't think so."

An hour later they were finished and everything except the cake was wrapped in greaseproof paper to keep it fresh.

Becca raced home from work the next day a little early, laid the table and put out all the food except the cake. She covered everything. She tore upstairs, bathed and changed before bicycling over to Molly's to pick up a van. She drove to the children's home and picked up six very excited children.

Excited though they may have been they were very much on their best behaviour when they got to the house and initially were shy with Steven even though they had seen him about at the home. By the time they had been playing French Cricket with him for ten minutes it had vanished. Next he had the boys doing handstands with the girls catching their legs. He was not sure that he ought to get the girls doing them in skirts. Polly soon put an end to that.

"Catch my ankles, Garry," she ordered.

The other two girls immediately followed her example.

In the end he had them all doing them without help which meant collapses and a lot of laughter. At half past seven Becca herded them all in for tea. It was a great success and everything disappeared, the chipolatas appearing to be the favourite.

Becca slipped out and lit fifteen candles on the cake and carried it back into the dining room. There was utter silence as she did so. She put it in front of Garry.

"Happy Birthday, Garry," she said."

Garry gazed at it as the other children also wished him a happy birthday

"You've got to blow them all out in one blow," she went on.

Garry succeeded to claps and cheers. Becca handed him a carving knife.

"Now cut it and wish but don't tell anyone or it won't come true."

Garry did so to more applause. Becca took over. Everyone had two slices.

When everyone had finished she went over to the sideboard, collected a small parcel and handed it to Garry.

"Many happy returns of the day," she said and kissed his cheek.