Read Online Chocolate Cake for Breakfast by Danielle Hawkins - Free Book Online Page B

step. ‘Hey, munchkin, how are things?’
    ‘Good,’ she said, marching in past me. ‘We’ve been dancing. I was a fairy, but I had to take my wings off to get in the car.’
    ‘Very cool,’ I said. ‘Were you a fairy too, Bel?’
    ‘No,’ said Annabel, ascending the stairs with a stately, measured tread. ‘I was a rabbit.’
    ‘What sort of dance does a rabbit do?’
    She ignored this frivolous question and fixed her eyes firmly on my visitor. ‘Were you cuddling Helen?’
    ‘Yes,’ Mark admitted.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Annabel,’ said Em, following her in and closing the door behind her, ‘that is none of your business. Hello, sweetie.’
    I kissed her cheek. ‘Em, this is my friend Mark. Mark, this is Emily, and the small ones are Caitlin and Annabel.’
    ‘I’m Helen’s evil stepmother,’ Em said. ‘How nice to meet you.’
    ‘You too,’ said Mark.
    ‘Are you a giant?’ Caitlin asked, looking him up and down thoughtfully.
    ‘No, I’m just tall.’
    ‘He certainly is,’ said Em. ‘Now, sweetie, I can see you’ve got things to do –’ she paused and winked at me in a way that was probably meant to be subtle but really, really wasn’t ‘– but I just wanted to drop in a wee something I bought for you last week. What have I done with it? Caitlin, please run back to the car and bring me the bag on the front seat.’ She opened the door for Caitlin, and turned back to Mark. ‘Where are you from, Mark?’
    ‘Taranaki, originally, but I live in Auckland.’
    ‘And what do you do for a living?’
    ‘I play rugby,’ he said.
    ‘You’re on TV,’ said Bel suddenly. ‘And you’re on our Weetbix packet. Helen, can I have something to eat?’
    ‘Is she allowed a piece of cake?’ I asked Em. ‘Or is it too close to teatime?’
    ‘Hmm?’ said Em. She sounded somewhat absentminded, no doubt because ninety-nine percent of her brain was attempting feverishly to recall the family Weetbix box. ‘Yes, alright then. Just a small piece.’
    I opened the pantry and removed a large chocolate cake. I had found the recipe in Thursday’s Broadview Broadcast , labelled ‘Absolutely Superb Chocolate Cake’, and made it to see if they were telling the truth. They were. According to an article I once read in Cosmopolitan , every girl should be able to bake a good chocolate cake, use an electric drill and perform a striptease. I was currently sitting on one out of the three.
    ‘Wicked,’ said Bel. ‘I want a big bit, Helen.’
    ‘So do I,’ said Mark.
    I took a knife from the block on the bench and handed it to him. ‘Em, would you like a cup of tea?’
    ‘No, we’d better not stay,’ she said, to my profound relief. ‘I haven’t done a thing about dinner, and your father will be home by now.’
    Caitlin stormed back up the steps, plastic bag in hand. ‘Cake! Mean! ’
    ‘Is that a big enough piece?’ Mark asked Bel, indicating a very generous wedge with the carving knife.
    ‘No,’ said Bel.
    ‘About half that,’ said her mother firmly, taking the bag from Caitlin. ‘Helen, I ordered these for you at the Intimo evening.’ She pulled a couple of wisps of scarlet lace out of the bag and handed them over. ‘That’s such a gorgeous colour on you. Just let me know if I got the sizing wrong, and I can swap them.’
    ‘Oh,’ I said faintly. ‘Thank you.’
    ‘Perhaps your friend Mark can give you a second opinion,’ she suggested.
    ‘ Em! ’
    ‘Have fun, sweetie,’ she said, laughing and patting my cheek. ‘Come along, girls. You can eat your cake in the car.’
    ‘Beautiful cake,’ Mark said, taking a large bite.
    Em was backing her car around at high speed, no doubt in haste to get home and scrutinise the Weetbix packet.
    ‘Thank you,’ I said.
    ‘She’s nice.’
    ‘Yeah, she’s lovely.’ I spread the scarlet wisps on the bench for closer inspection, and began to laugh helplessly. ‘These are awful .’
    ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said. ‘They look alright to