Katy Cannon

MInCE PIES

1. Heat the oven to 200ºC/fan 180ºC/gas 6.

2. Rub 225g of cold, diced butter into 350g of plain

flour, then mix in 100g of golden caster sugar and a

pinch of salt.

3. Combine the pastry into a ball and knead it briefly.

4. Roll out the dough and cut out rounds to line a

greased cupcake tin.

5. Spoon mincemeat into the cases and cut out smaller

rounds to top the pies, pressing the edges gently

together to seal.

6. Beat one small egg and use it to brush the top of

the pies.

7. Bake for 20 minutes until golden.

8. Cool and dust with icing sugar.

Tuesday, 8 December

“Whatcha making?” I stuck my head over Lottie’s

shoulder to peer into her bowl.

“Oh!” She jumped, which sent her wooden spoon

clattering across the counter. “Jasper! You scared me.”

“Sorry.” Grabbing the spoon, I scraped my finger

across it to get some of the mixture, then tasted it.

“Chocolate cake?”

“Yule log,” Lottie corrected me. “It’s for Mac.

You know how much he loves chocolate.”

I did. Mac’s sweet tooth was almost legendary.

“Just for Mac?” I asked plaintively. Sometimes Lottie

would bring her baking creations to the common

room to share. I was really hoping this might be one

of those times.

Lottie reclaimed her wooden spoon and washed

it. “Luckily for you, this is just the trial run. The

real one will be for Christmas Eve. That’s when

we’re doing presents, you see.”

“Very romantic.” I reached into the bowl for

another taste.

“Leave me enough to actually bake the thing, will

you?” Lottie dried off the spoon and then reached for

the bowl, moving it out of my reach. “What are you

and Izzy doing for Christmas?”

I shrugged. “We haven’t really talked about it

yet.”

“Don’t you think you should?” Lottie’s eyebrows

were raised. That was never a good sign.

“Apparently so?” I was feeling a bit tired of

Christmas already, and it was only December 8th. The

adverts seemed to have been on TV for months, and

Grace had been chattering about the Christmas show

she and Connor were organising for even longer. All

I knew was that it involved carols, Dickens novels

and Victorian costumes. “But it’s early still. We’ve

got time.”

“I suppose so…” Lottie said.

“But?” I prompted.

She shrugged. “It’s your first Christmas together.

I just figured you’d want to make a big deal about it.”

I knew what she meant. She meant like last year.

Last Christmas, as the classic song goes, I gave a

girl my heart. Well, actually, I gave her a handmade

Christmas stocking that had taken me absolutely

hours to make, and which had resulted in endless

mockery from some of the other guys in my year.

Those boys who clearly hadn’t realized that baking

and sewing were not just cool, but also really great

ways to meet girls. Anyway, the end result was pretty

much the same as the classic Wham! song: Ella and

I broke up about half an hour after she opened it.

Which pretty much sucked.

Of course, if I hadn’t made the stocking, I’d never

have got to know Izzy. And going out with Izzy was

worth all the soul-crushing misery that came before it.

Even if I had absolutely no idea what to get her

for Christmas.

Obviously not a stocking, that was out. But I felt

like, if I’d gone through all that effort for Ella last

year and we hadn’t even stayed together after it, I

had to come up with something even more special for

Izzy. I wanted to. I just didn’t know where to start.

So I hadn’t started at all.

“You’re right,” I said. Telling Lottie she’s right

always goes down well. “I need to come up with

something at least as good as a Yule log.”

“My Yule log will be awesome.”

And the thing was, it would. Lottie’s bakes always

were. Still…

“Are you sure? Maybe I’d better test a bit more to

be certain.” I darted behind her to get to the bowl

and stole another big glob of cake mix.

Lottie laughed, batting me away with her spoon,

and all talk of Christmas was done. For the time

being, anyway.

Wednesday, 9 December

I was nearly late to school the next morning, thanks

to lying awake all night thinking about what to do

for Izzy for Christmas. Then, when I did sleep, I had

the weirdest dream ever. I was Christmas shopping

in some huge, strange city, loaded down with piles of

bags, when suddenly I was being chased by human

size mince pies, Christmas stockings and Yule logs.

I dashed into my first class, paid absolutely no

attention to the teacher for the next hour, then shoved

my books back in my bag and headed to the common

room. Maybe my friends would have some ideas. Or,

even better, maybe Izzy would be there and I could

kiss her hello and forget all about the stupid dream.

That would be good.

It turned out that Ash and Yasmin were the only

ones there that morning, but I figured they were a

good place to start with my Christmas questions.

I dropped into the chair across from where they were

sitting.

“You look knackered, mate,” Ash said.

Yasmin peered at me with concern, so I shrugged.

“Bad night’s sleep.” No need to fill them in

on the details. “Hey, what are you two doing for

Christmas?”

It was only when they glanced at each other,

then away again, that I realized I might have made

a mistake. You see, Ash and Yasmin were still only

just finding their way back to each other after the

fiasco of the school play and their rather epic breakup

before the summer. Yasmin had been uncertain about

whether to give him another chance.

“Um, we haven’t really talked about it yet,”

Yasmin said, lacing her fingers together and staring

down at them. “I mean, I’m sure we’ll see each other

over the holidays, right?’

Ash nodded overenthusiastically. “Absolutely.

And, you know, I have a present for you…”

“You do?” Yasmin’s head shot.

“Well, yeah. Course.” Ash shifted uncomfortably

in his chair. “I mean, now we’re back together

again… If we are…”

Yasmin’s turn to do the over-the-top head bob.

“We are. We absolutely are.”

“Great. Well. Yeah.” Eloquent as ever, Ash.

I sighed. Watching these two was worse than

living through me and Izzy doing the same ‘are we,

aren’t we’ dance earlier in the year. Although, there

had been the payoff of actually winning the girl in

the end, through a magnificent display of craft and

understanding in the form of flower corsages. (Don’t

ask. It was a thing.)

Another grand gesture I needed to top this

Christmas. I sank lower into my chair. Nothing like

setting the bar high for yourself.

God, I was an idiot. School broke up for the

holidays in nine days, and then Izzy would be away

with her family for two whole weeks. If I was going to

come up with something good, it needed to be soon.

Turning away as Yasmin leaned in to kiss Ash

(not something I need to see, thanks), I spotted Izzy

and Lottie in the hall outside, deep in conversation.

I stood up, planning to go over to them, but

Izzy gave Lottie a hug and ran off, back out into the

school yard.

“What was that about?” I asked Lottie as she

joined us.

She made her expression a perfect, innocent

blank, the way she always did when she was getting

ready to lie.

“Oh, nothing. She just wanted a hand with a

recipe. For her mother.”

“Right.” Well, I might not know what Lottie and

Izzy had been chatting about, but I knew now it had

nothing at all to do with baking. And that neither of

them wanted me to know about it, whatever it was.

Thursday, 10 December

By Thursday, I still had absolutely no clue what to do

for Izzy for Christmas, but I did have a sort of plan for

how to get a clue. Grace had roped me into helping

out at the Christmas show, which meant she owed

me one. And no one knew gifts and shopping better

than Grace.

“No, not there,” Grace yelled, as Connor and I

shifted a fake-wrought-iron lamppost across the stage

for the third time. “A little more to the left. No, not

stage left, my left.”

Yeah. She definitely owed me.

Connor muttered something under his breath

then, “Here?” he asked, louder.

Grace tipped her head to one side. After about

ten seconds, Connor and I decided that enough was

enough, and plonked the damn thing on the stage.

“Great,” Connor said. “One thing down.”

“Wait, maybe a little to the—” Grace started.

“What’s that?” Connor interrupted. “Can’t hear

you.”

“I think she was saying it’s perfect,” I said. “And

thank you, probably.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Fine. Thank you both.

Now, next up—”

“I need to go to class.” Connor jumped down from

the stage, and pressed a kiss to Grace’s lips. “Sorry. But

I’ll be back after school to finish up, OK?”

Grace’s smile drooped. “Oh, I suppose so. We’re

almost there, anyway. But rehearsal is at 3.45 prompt,

OK? It’s our last chance to get it right before the

show tomorrow.”

“I do know,” Connor said, with a gentle smile. “I

helped organise it, remember? And I promise I won’t

be late.” Another quick kiss, then a wave over his

shoulder towards me, and Connor was out the door.

“Do you need to go, too?” Grace asked. “Or can

you help me with the fake snow?”

“I can help.” I slid down to sit on the edge of the

stage. “But first, I need a favour from you.”

Her eyebrows raised, she came to sit beside me.

“Really? And what’s that? Will I like it?”

“Well, it doesn’t involve carrying lamp posts for a

start, so you’re one up on me.”

She winced. “Sorry. Was it very heavy?”

“It was a lamp post, Grace.” OK, so it was a

painted polystyrene one, but the metal base weighed

loads. “Yes, it was heavy.”

“So, what’s the favour?” She folded her hands

over her clipboard and turned on her listening face.

“I need some ideas for Izzy. For Christmas.”

“Like, for a present?” she asked, scrunching up

her nose in thought. “Well, jewellery is pretty much

always good. I could help you pick something, if

you liked. Who knows, maybe I might just see the

perfect thing for me there, too. And you might just

happen to mention it to Connor.” She clapped her

hands together. “It’s perfect! Let’s go this weekend.”

“Hang on,” I said, hoping to stop the Grace Train

before it became completely about her. “I mean,

jewellery is fine—”

“Jewellery is more than fine.”

“But it’s not very … personal, is it? And it’s not

really an event.”

“Ah,” Grace said, catching on at last. “You’re

trying to come up with something to top the flower

corsages, aren’t you?”

“And the Christmas stocking plan,” I confirmed.

She groaned. “God, I was so sick of that thing by

the time you finished it.”

“So was I,” I admitted. “And it was a total flop.

So, looking for something better than that, really.”

“Something very Izzy, something personal,

something that feels like an event…” She shrugged,

then slid down from the stage. “Sorry, Jasper. I’ve

got nothing. But really, you know Izzy best. You’re

bound to think of the perfect thing. You always do.”

“Some help you are,” I grumbled, catching the

can of fake snow she tossed towards me.

“Hey, I suggested jewellery.” She tugged the cap

off her own can and sprayed a line of fake snow across

the top of her clipboard. “You’re still going to help

me with this, right?”

Friday, 11 December

Friday, I woke up and realized that I hadn’t seen Izzy

at all the previous day. It wasn’t totally unusual – our

class schedules didn’t always match up, and she had

Sewing Club after school on a Thursday. But we

usually messaged or something and, bar a quick ‘yep,

fine’ text, I’d had nothing from her in response to my

last message.

That was weird.

I headed to school determined to track her down

and discover what she’d been whispering with Lottie

about. It was easier to find her than I’d thought – all

I needed to do was walk into the common room.

There was tinsel strung all around the room and

Christmas music playing from someone’s phone in

the corner. Fake snow lined the window and there,

in the middle of it, apparently oblivious to the festive

overload, sat Izzy.

She had her notebook open on her knee, one pen

in hand and another stuffed into the mass of hair

knotted at the back of her head, and she was wearing

the scarf I’d bought her when we went to London

together over the summer.

Suddenly, I started to relax about everything. Izzy

and I were good. There was nothing to worry about.

“Hey, you.” I dropped my bag to the floor and

leaned over to kiss her.

Izzy jerked back so quickly I almost overbalanced,

and her arms came up to cover her notebook.

“Hi!” she said, brightly. “Sorry.” Placing the

notebook face down on the table she got up and

kissed me properly. “You startled me.”

“You were pretty caught up in your own world.”

I stared at the notebook curiously. “What are you

working on?”

“Nothing.” She snatched the notebook up as I

reached for it. “Just … a new design. But it’s not quite

there yet. I’ll show you when it’s finished, I promise.”

“A new dress?” I guessed. That was mostly what

she’d been sewing lately.

“Nope.” She grinned.

“So? What is it?”

Her smile turned secretive. “You’ll have to wait

and see.”

And then I got it. She was making something for

me. Something special and handmade. And I had

absolutely no idea what to give her – and less than a

week to figure it out.

Izzy changed the subject then, chatting about

Grace and Connor’s show. But mostly I was thinking:

How screwed am I?

After school, I had a couple of hours to kill before

the show. I wasn’t entirely sure how Bake Club had

ended up being roped in to serving mince pies in

the interval again, but apparently that’s what happens

when you don’t actively say ‘No, no, no, no, absolutely

not,’ to Grace. Izzy, somehow, had been allowed to

skip it, so she kissed me goodbye and told me she’d

call me in the morning. I almost begged her to take

me with her, but then I saw Mac walking down the

school drive, arms laden with boxes of mince pies,

and I figured it would be good to catch up, anyway.

“How’s it going at the bakery?” I asked, taking

the top couple of boxes from Mac’s stack.

He shrugged. “Fine. I smell like cinnamon pretty

much all the time at the moment, but apart from

that… You?”

“Oh, I’m utterly screwed, mate.”

“Izzy?” he asked, as we started walking to the

school hall.

“Of course.”

“What’s up? The Mrs Claus outfit you’re sewing

her turn out wrong?” Mac smirked at me and I

elbowed him in the ribs. “Hey! Mind the pies – or

you’re telling Grace what happened to them.”

“Fine. And no, no Mrs Claus outfit. That’s kind

of the problem.”

Mac frowned. “That you don’t have a Mrs Claus’s

outfit? Because eBay—”

“No. Just… No.” I sighed. “I have no idea what to

get her for Christmas and she’s making me something

awesome, I think.”

“You? The King of the Grand Gesture, stuck for

ideas?” Mac laid the mince pies down on the tables

Grace had set out. “Just bake her something. Girls

love that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, it was cute when you did

it. But cake just isn’t going to cut it.”

“Good job I got Lottie something else, then.” He

popped a mince pie into his mouth.

“Really? What did you—” I stopped as Lottie

appeared through the double doors of the hall. “Hi!

We have mince pies.”

“So I see.” She narrowed her eyes. “What are

you two talking about?”

“Your Christmas present,” Mac said, with a grin.

“Oooh, do I get clues?” she asked, snuggling up

against him. Mac looked supremely self-satisfied.

“I am doomed,” I declared, and Lottie reached

back to pat my arm.

“There there,” she said. “It can’t be that bad.” She

turned to Mac again and said, “Seriously, clues?”

“Nope,” Mac told her. “I like surprises.”

“I don’t.” Lottie sighed and reached for a mince

pie.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mac said. “You’ve liked all

the ones I’ve given you before.”

“They were mostly cake. Everyone likes cake,”

I pointed out, but neither of them were listening to

me.

I couldn’t help but watch, just for a moment, as

they whispered to each other over mince pies. That

was what I wanted for Izzy and me; comfortable,

happy, no second-guessing or worrying that my

present might not be as good as hers.

“Everybody ready?” Grace appeared in the

doorway wearing some sort of Victorian carol singer

outfit and clapped her hands to get our attention.

“A Dickensian Christmas Concert is about to start!

You’re all coming out to watch, right? Just get back

here before the interval so you’re ready to dish out

the mince pies. And stop eating them, Jasper!”

“Sorry,” I mumbled through the crumbs.

Saturday, 12 December

I wasn’t expecting a knock on the door first thing on

a Saturday morning, but I jumped out of bed when

my dad called up to tell me a friend was here.

“OK, if we’re doing early morning visits now,

you’re going to have to start bringing coffee,” I told

Lottie, once I’d staggered down the stairs in the first

jeans and jumper I could find.

“We could go out for some!” Lottie sounded far

too perky. Perky enough to make me suspicious.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Because it’s nine

thirty on a Saturday morning, and I don’t have time

to guess.”

Lottie looked faintly embarrassed. “Look, I realize

that Mac and I kind of ignored you a bit last night.

And he told me afterwards that you were worried

about getting a Christmas present for Izzy.”

“He suggested cake,” I filled in.

“Always a winner.” But then, Lottie was biased

towards Mac’s cake. “But I’m guessing you’re looking

for something a bit more … Izzy. Right?”

“Right.” I let out a sigh of relief. Lottie would

know what to do. “So you’re going to help me?”

“Of course!” She sounded faintly insulted. “But

you’re right. Planning needs coffee.”

“Let me grab my coat and shoes,” I said, heading

for the coat rack. “We can go to the bakery.”

“Perfect!” Lottie already had her phone in her

hand, probably to tell Mac we’d be stopping in.

I was going to sort Izzy’s Christmas present today,

whatever happened.

Cinnamon-scented air blew out of the White Hill

Bakery the minute I opened the door, and I could

almost taste the coffee and pastries inside – except

when I held the door for Lottie, she didn’t follow.

“Lottie. Coffee,” I said, but she was staring down

the hill into town. “Please?”

“Hang on,” she said. “There’s something going

on down there. Come on.” She grabbed my arm and

dragged me after her. I followed grumpily, figuring

that if I wanted her help, I’d have to put up with her

whims, as well.

But then we reached the bottom of the hill and I

realized what was going on.

I stared out at the temporary ice rink filling the

town square. I hadn’t even known the council was

planning one. But now I realized I should have paid

a lot more attention. Especially since there was a sign

on it stating it was closed for a private function.

“Gotcha,” Lottie whispered, before disappearing

over to where Mac stood, a pair of ice skates in his

hands.

Off to the side, Grace and Connor were decorating

a Christmas tree in a large gold pot, hanging tiny red

stockings, festive flower decorations and shiny silver

stars all over its branches. It had a cupcake on top

where the angel would normally have sat.

Next to them was a small wooden hut with a

serving window that Ash and Yasmin were using to

dish out hot chocolate and mince pies to passers-by.

And there, right in the middle of the rink, was Izzy,

wrapped up in a brightly coloured knitted scarf and

smiling the biggest smile I’d ever seen. Her cheeks

and nose were pink, and her eyes were focussed only

on me.

“Here you go!” Lottie placed something on my

head. I grabbed it off to look – it was a sky-blue

bobble hat. Of course. “Hey! No fiddling,” she said,

replacing it. Then she handed me the matching

mittens.

“Better put your skates on first,” Mac said, passing

them over.

I did as I was told and, within moments, I was

skating out across the ice towards Izzy, hoping I

didn’t fall flat on my face.

“Surprise!” she said. “Merry Christmas.”

“This is spectacular,” I told her. And then I kissed

her in front of everyone.

“You like it?” Izzy asked, the words coming out

on a puff of steam.

“I love it.”

“And it’s all ours until lunchtime,” she said.

“Although I suspect the others might want a go, too.”

I looked over; Mac and Lottie, Grace and Connor

and Yasmin and Ash were all watching us, stupid

grins on their faces. Then I tugged Izzy closer,

wrapping my arms around her. “What on earth gave

you the idea to do this?”

“I remembered you telling me about skating in

Central Park with your parents,” Izzy said. “And …

well, you’re always coming up with these incredible

grand gestures. I wanted to give you one, for a

change.”

“And you did.” My own skating rink, complete

with Christmas tree and mince pie stand. What more

could a guy want?

“You really like it?” she asked, as the others lost

patience and headed out onto the ice to join us.

“It’s everything I never knew I wanted,” I said.

“And the best part of all is that it has you in it.”

“At the risk of sounding soppy,” Izzy said, pulling

me closer by my coat sleeves, “this is pretty much

everything I wanted for Christmas, too. Just us,

together, and our friends.”

“So I basically just wasted the last week panicking

about what to get you?”

Izzy laughed. “I’ll email you my wishlist if you’re

really stuck. But honestly? I don’t need grand gestures

or expensive presents, Jasper. I mean, they’re nice

and everything. But mostly, I just want to spend time

with you.”

A huge weight lifted from my chest and I realized

I’d known that all along. This was Izzy, after all.

“Me too,” I admitted. “Having you here with me

is all the Christmas I need.”

She grinned, and reached up to kiss me, as

Christmas music suddenly blared out from a shop

nearby.

And then we were skating, laughing and joking

with our friends. Mac on ice skates was not something

I ever thought I’d see, but he and Lottie skated arm in

arm around the tiny rink. Ash and Yasmin whispered

to each other as they skirted the edge of the ice, and

from the smile on Yasmin’s face I could tell that

everything was working out for the two of them.

Grace and Connor were chasing each other back and

forth across the ice, Grace singing along to the music.

It was the perfect Christmas moment.