Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water*

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I was obliged to take a walk into town today, due to transport issues – GOSH-DARN INTERNAL COMBUSTION ENGINES, WHY WERE THEY EVER INVENTED?  But there were compensations along the way, abundant compensations.  Primary amongst these were the vetches in the hedgerows and the woods – multi-headed purple vetches, and purple vetches are almost my favourite vetches.  (Apart from birdsfoot trefoil, and that’s an unfair competition, because birdsfoot trefoil is also colloquially called eggs-and-bacon in the UK, AND HOW CAN ANY DECENT WILDFLOWER BE EXPECTED TO COMPETE WITH THAT?)

Vetches are the prettiest things.  The internal combustion engine is the annoyingest thing, but vetches are the derndest prettiest things.

Also the blackberries are not quite yet finished off – or pissed on by Satan and rendered inedible, as the folklore has it.  (It’s the maggits in wild brambles that bother me more than Satan’s theoretical outdoor hedgerow slashes while out on the piss.  Copious amounts of salted water, to deal with the wildlife, can render them uneatable anyway.)

image Andrew Barclay https://www.flickr.com/photos/electropod/ on Flickr https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/

There were even some unripe blackberries still hanging high, fruit and flower everywhere, nature in profusion and gloriously fertile.

It rained a little, and I’d forgotten my brolly.  But I didn’t feel I had too much to complain about, all told.  I came back with biscuits, after all – and biscuits are the comfortingest things.

*Brian Jacques.

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Cupcake Kissin’ 88 – Alex Ankarr

And maybe some of that readiness has to do with Caspar not just being a regular service person, being formally educated, being suitable, being someone liable to be approved by Mack’s parents. Maybe some of it has to do, maybe, with Mack actually having a thing for service people, for slumming if you want to call it that, for being the prince picking the serving wench out of the crowd. Who understands their own motivations, really, when it comes down to it? Who has motives that are perfectly pure?

Maybe some of what Caspar likes is the shiny, handsome TV star, after all. Is he really in a position to judge? Maybe he’s been looking for a white knight, and that’s perhaps a little unrealistic, too much of a weight to put on someone.

But the truth is, Mack wants him, has wanted him, has declared it more than once. Is smiling and warm and pretty damn brave, to do it this way. To do it this way twice.

Caspar wonders if he’s done enough, to deserve somebody like that.

But it doesn’t stop him. He leans forward, right forward, and grabs Mack as Mack grabs him back, and their kiss is loud and deeply un-shy and extremely public. And it’s sweet. It is, undoubtedly, given Mack’s tastes, very sweet indeed, like candy, like cupcakes. So are the cheers, so are the ‘ooh’s and ‘aaah’s. And in the background, whoever it is who’s torturing the piano starts up again.

***

They finish the special birthday cupcakes later, in bed. Mack adores his birthday present. Or rather, all of them. (He gets several, from that kiss onwards.) Mack decides he has a new regular order. In the bed, there are crumbs everywhere.

FIN!

© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014

No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.

Photo credit: duncan johnston under Creative Commons licence modified for book cover use.

 

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‘And I would like to thank especially,’ he says, and his voice is a little soft now, so that people at the back are craning visibly to hear it, ‘Caspar here, Caspar Rockalde. Who has brightened our lives since he took over Honey Bunny’s, less than a year ago – who has brightened my life,’ he corrects himself. ‘Who is everyone’s favourite barista and baker and bakery service person,’ he says, smirking at Caspar, and it’s funny how it was an insult coming from Adam, and is an endearment coming from Mack. Especially when he’s dressed up like he is…

‘…and in whose honour I am done up to the nines in my very favourite shade of pink, and I think you will all admit that I look damn fine in it – nearly as fine as Caspar himself!’ Caspar thinks, at this moment, that his cheeks are rather probably as pink as his overall, and is glad to have no mirror handy to check up on that. ‘And to conclude,’ Mack says, ‘and I’m sure you’re all glad to hear that I intend to conclude at all…’ Oh, he gets a slightly snide cheer at that, and everyone laughs. ‘I would like to invite Caspar here to blow my candles out. Hey, cut the smut,’ he advises, sharply, at the whistles that receives. ‘And to ask him to take a look at my cake, and to ask him for the birthday gift he deems appropriate, looking at it.’

Well. No-one ever wants to refuse a request from a birthday boy, now do they? And Mack puts his arm, rather more gently than usually, upon Caspar’s shoulder, and draws him close, to look at the cake. And oh, Caspar sucks in his breath, because they’ve fooled him mightily. This is the cake he oversaw, that much is true enough. But they’ve removed all the little figures, and instead someone has done a rather fancy quick icing job, under the happy birthday. It’s of two mouths, kissing, with not much greater detail than that, but very perfectly done – very beautifully rendered. And he thinks of the cakes he has ready for Mack. Who is standing looking at him with great hopefulness, and has not after all required any gesture of Caspar’s own. But has come for him again, has asked again – in public, again, – has pursued him, again. And it seems like more than enough – that Caspar has asked more than enough, too much, of him already, and Mack has come through, has done enough to win and earn him and more.

© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014

No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.

Photo credit: duncan johnston under Creative Commons licence modified for book cover use.

 

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That gets just the hugest cheer, and is obviously a very popular sentiment. (The champagne has been very popular champagne, also, and no doubt does its part to contribute to the success of Mack’s speech.) ‘So many thanks to you all,’ he continues, ‘all of you who make the show possible, and enable it to continue to be a success, actors, directors, writers, support staff, runners, the whole bunch of you. You are all stellar, each and every one. Continue to shine your light!’ He takes a sip of champagne, appears to need it – his voice has gone a little husky. ‘And thank you to everyone who made this party tonight possible, so that we could celebrate together – let’s not forget Sara, and her go-to guy Sam, who have a ton of fun making my life hell and keeping me on my toes, and have hindered this night tonight, just so we all remember how important it is to have these nights where we appreciate each other. And please, a special thank you to the Honey Bunny team who have catered and organised and decorated and generally run themselves ragged, and demonstrated that they’re not just our favourite coffee-shop, but an indispensable part of this whole team too. May they continue to caffeinate us for many years to come!’

Now that’s kind of a surprise, and if Caspar is honest, he possibly tears up a little, at the thoughtfulness of it, the noticing sweetness of it, the unexpectedness. And the response surprises him too, the ‘hear, hear‘s, the slaps on his shoulder (and his ass), the smiles and lifting of glasses to him, and to other Honey Bunny staff assembled too. It is always nice, to be remembered, to be appreciated.

And Caspar thinks that Mack is maybe finished there, is ready to raise his own glass, hastily acquired, and toast the night and the assembled company, and get on with catering the whole damned show. But he’s wrong, and quite reasonably wrong. Because as Mack opens his mouth to continue, Caspar’s gaze runs over his overall, and his hair-net, and it occurs to him that there is still a thing or two left unexplained. Not that it seems as if some things could ever possibly be adequately explained. But he doesn’t let his speculations interfere with his attention to the rest of what Mack has to say. For now, Mack has his eye trained on Caspar, and is smiling at him. His smile, it’s very warm, and his eyes are bright indeed.

© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014

No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.

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And it’s Mack. Which would be quite enough to silence and stupefy anyone. And certainly Caspar.

Is he the only one not in on the joke, then? That’s how it seems, right in that moment. Because everyone else, everyone close enough to see what’s going on, and further back than that, because the plinky noises of the piano are still chiming out and giving people the hint, seems terribly amused.

Caspar doesn’t know quite whether to be amused or not. He looks at Mack, and he’s aware that it’s a very serious look, of one who wants to know if he’s being made a fool of or not. But Mack smiles at him, and touches his hand.

He looks absolutely ridiculous. They look ridiculous together, no doubt. Maybe they always have, but much more so now. They’re a pair of serving staff, now, not a service person and a TV star. How outraged Adam would be, Caspar thinks, and smiles to himself. Thank God Adam isn’t here, that’s all. He wouldn’t get the joke, certainly, never has any sense of humour except at the expense of others.

And now Mack grabs a glass from a passing wait-staff, and hits it with a spoon to get everyone’s attention, calls out for it. ‘Okay, okay, I’d just like to thank everyone here for coming tonight to help me celebrate my birthday. Since I’m a very old man, and who knows if I’ll even live to see another one,’ he begins drily, to cheers and fake cries of sympathy at his aged state. ‘Let’s celebrate another successful season of the show, because it pays all our wages and it’s great to belong to such a happy family, to have known all of you over the course of it. And to hope to know you better, and work with you for many more seasons.’

© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014

No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.

Photo credit: duncan johnston under Creative Commons licence modified for book cover use.

 

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Cupcake Kissin’ 84 – Alex Ankarr

And it’s Mack. Which would be quite enough to silence and stupefy anyone. And certainly Caspar.

Is he the only one not in on the joke, then? That’s how it seems, right in that moment. Because everyone else, everyone close enough to see what’s going on, and further back than that, because the plinky noises of the piano are still chiming out and giving people the hint, seems terribly amused.

Caspar doesn’t know quite whether to be amused or not. He looks at Mack, and he’s aware that it’s a very serious look, of one who wants to know if he’s being made a fool of or not. But Mack smiles at him, and touches his hand.

He looks absolutely ridiculous. They look ridiculous together, no doubt. Maybe they always have, but much more so now. They’re a pair of serving staff, now, not a service person and a TV star. How outraged Adam would be, Caspar thinks, and smiles to himself. Thank God Adam isn’t here, that’s all. He wouldn’t get the joke, certainly, never has any sense of humour except at the expense of others.

And now Mack grabs a glass from a passing wait-staff, and hits it with a spoon to get everyone’s attention, calls out for it. ‘Okay, okay, I’d just like to thank everyone here for coming tonight to help me celebrate my birthday. Since I’m a very old man, and who knows if I’ll even live to see another one,’ he begins drily, to cheers and fake cries of sympathy at his aged state. ‘Let’s celebrate another successful season of the show, because it pays all our wages and it’s great to belong to such a happy family, to have known all of you over the course of it. And to hope to know you better, and work with you for many more seasons.’

© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014

No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.

Photo credit: duncan johnston under Creative Commons licence modified for book cover use.

 

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Cupcake Kissin’ 83 – Alex Ankarr

But as he swivels around, he relaxes. Because yes, ten or fifteen feet away is a pink-overalled, hair-netted individual, with his back to Caspar, pulling out a trolley that bears the monstrous great cake. (Which is rather ugly in Caspar’s estimation, but Sam and Sara approved it. And where are they, anyhow, because now it occurs to him that not only Mack is missing, though they are only about tenth down on the list of his priorities right now, after shutting up atrocious piano-man and re-hanging the drape that’s fallen down, never mind his own special cakes and Mack.) And he turns, to dash and alert the professional musician they’ve hired, the one who actually should be doing the Happy Birthday honours. Mack must be here, for things to be springing into place, and getting it right, now, is more important than seeing him, right now. Caspar will have his chance later – he hopes.

At least, that’s the theory, upon which he’s operating. But he finds himself frustrated in his plan, because he’s grabbed by one arm, and then the other, and then he’s stuck and held in place. It’s Sam, at his left hand, and Sara, at his right, and he’s confounded, outraged. (Although it does at least solve the mystery of where the hell the pair of them have got to. Caspar does wonder, now, if he was better off wondering it, and without their presence, than he is presently.) ‘Let me go,’ he says irritably, now. ‘I need to sort out the music, because whoever’s butchering Happy Birthday over there is, well, butchering it. So I have to go.’ And he gives a little tug, but they are stupidly uncooperative.

‘Oh, quit wriggling,’ Sam says cheerfully. ‘And blow out a few candles, why don’t you.’

Because for some reason, the dumb-ass he has evidently hired, the one in the pink overall who’s manning the cake-trolley, is heading right towards them, and by that, Caspar means right towards them, to him specifically. And for why? It makes no sense. But it’s unarguable, and unavoidable, and then it’s right there, the trolley.

And Caspar has his mouth open ready, because this employee is evidently a great idiot, and needs a dressing down from someone of natural authority and a stern disposition – or failing that, from Caspar – and Caspar is the fellow to give it to him.

And he would, too, except that moment, that’s the moment that the pink-jacketed one drags the trolley right by him, and turns to face him, and.

© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014

No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.

Photo credit: duncan johnston under Creative Commons licence modified for book cover use.