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Two freshly decorated cakes sat on the counter, the results of Max spending an hour hunched over in the kitchen before the doors opened. One was a rich red velvet gateau drenched in a marble of three types of molten chocolate that ran down the sides in rivulets, and Max had piped deep red roses on top, the buttercream infused with a drop of rose water. The second was a simple Victoria sponge, a staple each day, with a thick layer of jam and cream oozing out between the layers. But nothing Max did was too simple, and she had melted down brightly coloured sweets and cooled them in sheets that she had smashed, arranging the pieces like a deconstructed stained glass window. The cakes weren't food to her: they were art.
Gaia had spent the entire hour marvelling at her skills while she had worked on a couple of batches of cookies, a far easier task. They always went down well, particularly with the rush of teenagers on their way to school who seemed reliant on a sugar fix before they made it to their classroom. The rush had just come to an end as the clock hit ten to nine, the time by which the students had to be at their desks before morning assembly, though today there were a handful of kids like Zara who had finished their exams and were freed from the restraints of their schools.
Gaia finished up with the last person in the queue, adding a sprinkle of cocoa powder to a cappuccino in a takeout cup and it was with a smile that she secured the lid, wishing the elderly man a good day when she passed it across the counter to him. He left. The queue was empty. Gaia rocked back on her heels and let out a long sigh as she let the stress of the shift roll off her back. That first hour was always a nightmare but now she could rest against the counter and flash Max a grin of solidarity: they had made it.
It was difficult to believe that for so long, she had braved that hour alone while Evan had dealt with the children, ferrying them to school and day care, but she knew that it would be impossible to go back to that. Max couldn't go, even when Evan was back to business. Now, he was in charge of the children at home with Stella's help, after spending yesterday nursing a rather sorry Zara back to normal. She had stayed in her room almost all day, only emerging briefly that evening for a bite to eat before she and Stella had retreated back upstairs.
With them out of the way and the little ones asleep, Evan and Gaia had been able to spend a couple of companionable hours in front of the television, watching a film that had been on BBC 1 before the news, which had sent them to bed before it had finished. Every headline was so depressing, focusing on murderers who wiped out their families and terrorists who wiped out strangers, and Gaia had turned it off with a grumble about the state of the world. A stoic pacifist, she struggled to wrap her head around the evils that dominated the news.
"Ginger tea?" Max asked, pulling Gaia from her daydream, and she nodded with a smile.
"That'd be perfect. Thanks, Max," she said, pushing away from the counter. "Is that short for anything?"
"Hmm?" Max looked up from the kettle, the light overheard sparkling on the delicate stud in her nose. Gaia had never been one for piercings anywhere other than ears but the little silver jewel suited Max.
