Free When Only Cupcakes Will Do by Daisy James

suspicion of tears glistening along her lower lashes. Gosh, she thought, this could really work and there would be the added bonus of working alongside her sister.
    â€˜Ooo, ooo, and we could do cake pops too. I’ve got loads of ideas.’ Lucie’s voice fizzled with enthusiasm as the possibilities flowed. ‘They’re so cute and perfect for party bag gifts at the end of children’s parties. I can decorate them with edible food colouring – cats, dogs, pigs, ducks, fish! Oh, and I could do brides and grooms for wedding favours and cocktail-shaped ones for the hen parties – I’m thinking Pina Coladas and Tequila Sunrises. We could set up a Facebook page to advertise and get feedback, and Instagram and Twitter accounts… oh no, sorry, I forgot.’
    Jess smiled.
    â€˜I might have to rethink my social media marketing strategy!’
    She swallowed down the dregs of her coffee, her spirits soaring. She thanked the director of her fate for returning to duty – better late than never – as ideas filtered down to form concrete concepts, until a thought occurred to her and she crashed back down to earth.
    â€˜But I don’t have any transport. How am I supposed to be a mobile cupcake business without transport?’
    There was a long pause. Their eyes met.
    â€˜Matt!’ the sisters chorused.
    â€˜Do you think he’s still doing up old bangers?’ asked Jess.
    â€˜Only one way to find out.’ Lucie scrambled in her bag for her iPhone. ‘Can you remember the name of his garage?’
    â€˜That’s not difficult!’ laughed Jess. ‘Try Matt’s Motors. He never was the most creative of people, Matt Kirkwood, but he’s a maestro with engines. He’s come to my rescue with the Mini a few times – like a knight in grubby overalls.’
    â€˜I thought he only worked on classic cars now. All I need is a cheap, run-of-the-mill van.’
    â€˜Well, his obsession isn’t just confined to classic cars. Believe me, he’ll tinker with anything with wheels. At the minute he has a Triumph Stag and a Rover V8 on bricks in his back yard, but he does all sorts of vehicles. Some people are cupcake enthusiasts, some are computer geeks, Matt Kirkwood is a mechanical genius. He seems to spend all his spare time dismantling engines, polishing them andputting them back together. He’s just sold a VW Campervan he renovated for an absolute fortune and he has orders for two more. I reckon if we tell him what we’re looking for he’ll guide us to something suitable.’
    â€˜Oh, so you’ve stayed in touch, have you? Is there still a spark there from your high-school romance?’
    Lucie loved Matt. He had courted her sister all through her last year at school until she went off to catering college and met and married Dan, Lewis and Jack’s father. She hadn’t realised they were still friends.
    â€˜Lucie…’
    â€˜Sorry, sorry.’ She paused. ‘But there’s one huge problem we’re overlooking with this plan, Jess.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜I don’t have any money to buy the eggs and the flour for the cakes, never mind invest in a van, even of the rust-bucket variety.’
    Lucie watched her sister’s good humour deflate like a pricked balloon. She scoured her brain for an answer, but came up with nothing. Her bank account was empty and she’d never opened a savings account, nor did she own a credit card as they were too tempting. And she refused to go cap in hand to her mother. She could tell that Jess was considering this as a possibility but she chose not to say anything. The Bradshaw girls had both insisted on making their own way in the world very early on. Very few people knew they had a famous mother and that’s how they liked to keep it. That way, any successes were their own, worked for and delivered from their own talents and not from riding on the name and the