Devil's Food Cake [✓]

55 | brioche

Weddings are supposed to be happy occasions. So, why did I feel so nervous and insecure as the day progressed? It wasn't just the sheer magnitude and spectacle of the event, but something, or someone, else...

My stomach churned with anticipation. It felt like I was going to be sick.

Edward, Heather's husband, was a surprisingly nervous young man; he had dropped the ring multiple times during the ceremony, smiling sheepishly and apologising profusely when a round of laughter echoed around their chapel.

It was sweet when Heather leaned across to whisper something in his ear and he beamed. On his fourth attempt, he managed to slide the ring onto her finger and there were cheers all round.

Earlier I'd seen Zachary and Heather's half-sisters Saffron and Laurel from his father's first marriage to an actress. Both were elegantly dressed and attractive women; their husbands seemed to be happy to be their arm candy. I'd heard from Heather that Peter was grooming his eldest daughter Saffron to take over his position on the board.

Zachary was sitting pretty on the front row with his parents Eve and Peter. Heather had told me that he'd purposely chosen not to be one of the groomsmen even though Edward had extended him the courtesy as his bride's brother. She'd remarked that he was pretty low-key when it came to weddings. The several times when he'd acted as a groomsmen had driven him to boredom, so she hadn't forced the issue. I only saw the back of his shoulders and head. But I knew that he was watching the ceremony, alert as a bird on a perch.

My heart sped up when he turned head around to scan the guests in the pews behind the first row, until he finally found my face amongst the others. I had purposely tried to direct my gaze to the couple, yet I always seemed to find my back to him.

He winked at me during the exchanging of the rings. And I had to bite my lip from bursting into laughter at the corniness of him mocking his now brother-in-law's extreme nervousness. My mother smiled at me knowingly while my father didn't appear to notice as he joined in with the laughter around the church.

I beamed back at him in return. He was satisfied.

* * *

We had made about 1000 brioches for the reception. They were in assorted flavours, so the guests could pick and choose. Blackberry and custard, cinnamon cream, citrus and chocolate and chocolate pecan. My father had got in extra staff to help us bake everything on time. It had turned out to be a huge team effort, but along with the time pressures, it had been a lot of fun. And a huge learning curve for me. It was a huge privilege to be allowed to help my dad with the wedding catering.

Since my dad's expertise lay in pastry and bread, he had decided to leave their wedding dinner to another chef's capable hands. He could have, but he didn't want to spread himself too thin. It had been a while since he'd planned something so large scale. At fifty-two years old, Dad had plenty of experience of creating lovely cakes for middle-scale and intimate weddings, but for a large society wedding, he had to grasp around in the dark. Luckily, he had consulted with his chef friends and contacts, so he'd managed to gather some guidance on larger event catering.

'Your father's efforts have been a great success,' a smooth, silky voice declared. The accent was English private-school through and through, but there was an Irish lilt which occasionally broke through at some words.

I turned around to face the father of the boy I was crushing on: Peter Malone.

'Very impressive. My son chose well.' Peter nodded in the direction of the cake, which took pride of place in the centre of the ballroom that overlooked the gardens, all bursting with colour and the summer flowers free and flowing like women's dresses in mid-movement. The cake was a frothy pink creation with tiny gold-leaf edible flowers decorating the icing. It had taken us an age to place them in the right positions. My dad was absolutely fastidious about presentation. It wouldn't be a Jeremy Carroll cake without his eye for detail. There were four different tiers; two were made lemon vanilla sponge while two were made of decadent chocolate sponge. My father had added the finishing touches: a monogram of the couple's initials on the second tier.