Day forty-six of my new life. A gloriously sunny Friday. I had cute new flat, a new friend, and a new job with as many free cakes as I could eat. I should have been relishing my freedom, spending the evenings of my twenty-fifth year celebrating a narrow escape while drinking dubiously named cocktails.

So why couldn't I forget the old Cherry Sander

Days one through five post Craig, or "Crexit," as I'd taken to calling it, had been spent awkwardly avoiding my ex while I packed up my belongings from our shared house. By day six, having been forced to endure his side of yet another phone call with his new girlfriend, I was ready to snap. A puppy! They were getting a puppy together, and they'd only been shagging for two months.

Craig and I had been together since I was twenty-one, engaged for over a year, and when I suggested upgrading microwave he'd vetoed that because it was a "big step."

Day seven after Crexit found me living in a bed and breakfast with three suitcases, a family-sized box of Quality Street, and a migraine, and I'd been trying to put my life back together ever since.

"Still thinking about your ex?" Olivia asked.

"How did you know?"

"Because you've just iced the word 'asshole' onto that cupcake."

I had? Dammit, I had.

"I'm so, so sorry. I didn't even realise."

"If it's any consolation, you've made a really neat job of it. Maybe we should start a new line? Divorce party cupcakes. You know, to help women celebrate their liberation with a touch of luxury."

"Maybe we could package them up with a bottle of champagne?"

"And throw in a free voodoo doll."

A giggle burst from my lips, and Olivia soon put down her spatula and doubled up too. As she'd told me when I first began working at Red Velvet, I could either laugh or cry. As I'd had no luck finding a mascara that lived up to its waterproof claims, I'd switched to laughing while I baked and decorated. It was only when I got home in the evenings that I bawled my eyes out.

"I still can't believe Craig had an affair with his dentist. I mean, every time he was due a check-up he fretted about it for a week beforehand."

At least until Shelley Constantine took over the practice. Not only were her teeth fake, her personality and her boobs were too. And Craig suddenly developed a new fascination for dental hygiene and allegedly needed four fillings in eight weeks.

Even then it hadn't clicked. The cheating git still bought me flowers every Friday and talked about going on a mini-break to Rome for my birthday in three weeks. If I hadn't suffered a PMT-induced craving for crispy wontons late one night and seen them snogging in his BMW outside the Chinese takeaway, I might have continued living in ignorant bliss.

"I'm not sure whether that's better or worse than catching my ex boinking his personal assistant on the dining room table," Olivia said.

"I'd probably have puked if I saw them doing the deed."

"I couldn't even move. She'd legged it out of his flat before I managed to shout at him."

"I didn't shout at all. First I was speechless, then Craig insisted we should both be civil and treat each other with respect."

"Ah, the sensible approach. I was going to take that, but then Maddie and wine got involved, and we swapped out my ex's conditioner for hair remover and put boiled eggs in his curtain rails. He went bald and moved out because of the smell."

I'd met Olivia's best friend Maddie a couple times, and I could totally imagine her coming up with an idea like that.

"I'm not sure I'd be brave enough to pull that kind of stunt."

"It's amazing what you can do with the right motivation." The computer in the corner pinged, and Olivia rushed over to check the emails. "Yay! Another order. Four dozen cupcakes for an eighth birthday party. If they keep coming at this rate, I'll have to hire another assistant."

"That's wonderful. Who knew so many people would pay so much for cakes?"

"Not me, that's for sure. I always thought I'd have to start a bakery in London, but Nye's grandma and her friend Marlene convinced me that basing myself in Northbury and offering mail order could work." She gave her head a little shake. "A hundred and twenty pounds plus delivery for forty-eight cakes. Crazy, huh?"

"That's my whole month's grocery budget."

"At least the cost of living's cheaper here than in the city."

"Don't you miss London?"

"The first time I tried living in a small village, I hated it, but Northbury's grown on me. The sense of community's stronger, and it's so much more peaceful. Besides, I still spend a couple of nights a week in London, so I get the best of both worlds."

My move hadn't been quite so drastic. I'd grown up in the closest town, and when I moved out of home I only got as far as Craig's house on the edge of the suburbs. Work had been a ten-minute drive away, at least until I got fired eighteen days post-Crexit. The posh hotel where I'd been a pastry chef had one of those display kitchens where guests could watch their food being prepared, and when I'd burst into tears for the third time, the manager called me through to his office.

"Cheryl, I appreciate you've had a tough time recently, but our friends here at the Henlow Hotel don't pay for theatrics."

Always friends, never guests, even though I'd overheard several of them laughing about what a pompous ass he was.

"I'm sorry. I promise I'll look happier in future."

"It's a bit late for that, I'm afraid. A guest complained, and as you're still in your probationary period, I've had a chat with the owner and we've decided it's best if you move on."

The owner? Now, why didn't that surprise me? Craig's father made it quite clear I'd only got an interview for the job because he went to school with Mr. Henlow, so it stood to reason they'd had a little chat about my future.

"I understand."

Relief settled in his jowly cheeks. "I'll write you a good reference."

My biggest achievement in recent months was walking out of there without weeping. I saved that for the car and the checkout line at the corner shop where I stopped off to buy chocolate, ice cream, and a bottle of blackcurrant liquor that happened to be on special offer.

"Bad day, love?" the lady behind the till asked.

In typical British fashion, I tried to downplay everything. "No, no, everything's—" Sniff. "Fine. I don't suppose I could borrow a tissue?"

The lady fished around under the till. "Here, keep the packet." She glanced back at the almost empty shop. "Do you want to talk about it? Sometimes it helps to get things off your chest?"

"Not really. It's just my boyfriend cheated on me with his dentist and they're getting a puppy together and then my boss fired me."

Her look said she regretted asking. "Ouch. That's a lot of bad luck. Have you tried burning all of your ex's clothes? That worked for my sister when her Barry moved in with the coach from his slimming class."

"No, we agreed to act honourably." Although clearly nobody gave Craig's father that memo.

The lady leaned across and patted me on the hand. "Acting like a grown-up can be overrated, dear, but I'm sure you'll find a new boyfriend and a new job in no time."

"I doubt that. There's not much call for pastry chefs in Great Haseley."

"What about the bakery in Northbury? That's not so far away. Old Agnes finally retired and a new girl's taking it over. She came in the other day and put a card on the notice board looking for an assistant."

"Really?"

"Right by the door. Here, borrow my pen to note the number down."

And that's how I ended up working for Olivia, even when I confessed all in my interview. She was remarkably understanding about Craig and didn't seem bothered about the way I'd lost my old job.

"Their loss is my gain. When can you start?"

Right away, and better still, Agnes's old flat on the top floor was empty. Olivia offered it to me rent free as long as I opened up each morning. Living in Northbury had grown on me too—I was close enough to Great Haseley to visit my old friends, but far enough to ease the ache in my chest just a little.

And did I mention the cakes?

Speaking of cakes, I still needed to ice another twenty for Ashley's hen party. I put the "asshole" mistake to one side and picked up my piping bag again.

"I think I'm going to be happy here in Northbury too."

***

Red Velvet might have been a new business, but thanks to Olivia's connections, we'd had a steady stream of customers since we opened the doors three weeks ago.

"Thank goodness it's Saturday," Olivia said. "I know I always dreamed of owning a bakery, but I'm still exhausted."

"Me too. I'm going to sleep all day tomorrow. Maybe Monday too."

The bakery opened from Tuesday to Saturday, eleven to five. Before that, we'd spend a couple of hours baking, and the courier arrived at four-thirty each weekday to deliver the goodies to our internet customers overnight. Eventually, we planned to put a few tables in the empty space at the front and serve drinks too, but for now, all our efforts were going into perfecting the product range.

"I wish I could."

"Big plans?"

"Maddie's a nurse, and she's organised this superhero day at the hospital tomorrow. A whole bunch of people are dressing up as comic book characters to entertain the kids, and I offered to blow up balloons and help direct the volunteers to the right wards at the right time."

"That's kind."

"I want to bake a batch of cakes after we close to take too. Nothing fancy, just plain icing."

"Need a hand?"

"Are you sure?"

"It's not like I'm planning to go out anywhere his evening."

"You're a lifesaver. I promised to help Maddie drop everything off at the hospital later as well." Olivia gave my shoulders a squeeze. "You'll forget Craig in time, and then I'll treat us both to a night out. Deal?"

I managed a smile. "Deal."

In, say, a year or two.

***

"There, that's the last one finished."

I stood back, surveying our efforts. Ninety-six cupcakes, each with chocolate frosting and a dash of glitter. Hopefully, the patients and staff at the hospital would enjoy them.

Olivia held up her hand for a high-five. "I'll just fetch the boxes to put them in."

She hurried off as my phone pinged on the work surface. Most people had ignored me post Crexit, with only a couple of old friends checking in. Olivia said they were probably avoiding me because they didn't know what to say. Meanwhile, my inbox was full of discount coupons and adverts for things I couldn't afford, and my social calendar was empty. Last night, I'd lain awake watching the shopping channel, for goodness' sake.

But maybe things were looking up? Today's email was from Sarah, my lab partner for A-level chemistry and now physiotherapist to the Great Haseley men's rugby team. Her dream job, she said.

"Thirty-nine fit men, and I get paid to put my hands all over them. Paid!"

"I feel like that about cakes, and at least I get to sample the goods."

She'd grinned over her cup of coffee. "Oh, I get to sample the goods, and there's no danger of getting fat, either."

Once she'd handed me a napkin to wipe up the tea I'd spluttered everywhere, I regained my composure. "You're not being serious?"

"Only the unmarried ones, obviously."

And now she'd sent me a message. Oh, please let it be an invite to the rugby club or something of that ilke.

It wasn't.

FW: The Ex Files

Cherry,

I wasn't sure whether to send you this, but I thought you should know. I think Craig meant to send the email below to Russell, but he accidentally sent it to the entire rugby club mailing list. He's an asshole, babe, a huge asshole.

Sarah.

My fingers shook as I scrolled down, so, so tempted to hit the delete button instead. The first thing I saw was a photo of me in my underwear, pink with red lace trim, make-up on, my dark hair curled ready to go out for the evening. Craig had caught me by the surprise with the camera, and he'd promised—promised—that he'd deleted the picture.

And it got worse.

Name: Cheryl

Rating: 3.5/10

Snog/Shag/Avoid: Avoid.

Reasons:

- Okay in bed but takes too much effort to get her there.

- Only likes fancy restaurants.

- Obsessed with tidying all the time.

- Spends ages tarting herself up to go out.

- Clingy.

- Always making cakes with rainbow sprinkles and glitter instead of proper food.

I scrolled down further. Girl after girl. All of us rated with our flaws dissected underneath. That...that...I didn't even have words.

"What's wrong?" Olivia asked.

"My ex, my bloody bastard of an ex, seems to have started an email list with his mates where they discuss their exes. Only he's sent the whole thing to everyone at the rugby club. And if Jonny Riggs got a copy, then everyone in Great Haseley knows, because he's the biggest gossip there is."

She leaned over my shoulder and I cringed as I showed her the screen.

"So much for treating each other with respect. You know what this means?"

"What?"

"The gloves are off. It's time for a little revenge."

The glint in her eye made me nervous. "What do you mean?"

"He just insulted rainbow sprinkles and glitter. Nobody gets away with that. Grab that drum of corn syrup."

"What?"

"The big one. He lives in Great Hasely, right?"

"On the outskirts."

"And he's got a car?"

"A BMW, but—"

"Then let's pay him a visit. Your friend's right—he's an asshole. And soon he'll be an asshole with a professionally decorated vehicle."

***

I still wasn't sure about the whole idea, but Olivia didn't give me a chance to think before she bundled me into her car. She'd only passed her test a few weeks back, but thankfully she didn't drive fast.

"Do you think Craig'll be home tonight?"

"He always goes to the pub on Saturdays."

"Good. Left or right."

"Uh, left. I'm not clingy, am I? I mean, I hated it when he left me on my own at parties so I asked him to stick close, but he went out with his mates at least three times ever week."

Russell, Daffyd, Raj, Steve, and Darren—the rest of the names on that email list. Daffyd had rated poor Sally Parker as two out of ten because she "wasn't great at sucking."

And the thought of that hardened my resolve. This wasn't only about me. It was about Sally and all the other girls they'd insulted as well. I directed Olivia into Craig's driveway, and there it was—his shiny new 5-series, gleaming behind the hedge. We both hopped out and opened the boot of the Honda.

"Corn syrup first?" she suggested. "It'll be nice and sticky."

"I'd say corn syrup on the roof, and then we can ice the bonnet."

Between the two of us, we managed to tip five gallons of syrup over Craig's pride and joy, and it ran down the sides and dripped onto the gravel. Olivia had even brought a spatula to spread it around a bit. Then we started on the rest of the ingredients. I iced "ARSEHOLE" in foot-high letters on the front, while Olivia drew a remarkably artistic dick on the back window. In pink. All of it in pink.

"Sprinkles next?" Olivia asked. "I brought the rainbow ones."

We stood back, laughing, as we flung them all over the car. Respect and civility—what a load of bollocks. This was the proper way to do a break-up. The glitter came next, and I flicked it artfully over each window as well as the radiator grille.

"I brought chocolate icing too. What do you think of piping it on the door handles?"

"Perfect. You do that, and I'll stick the mini-marshmallows on."

Every adornment we added made my heart feel a little lighter. Turning Craig's BMW into a giant cupcake could never erase the way he'd violated my privacy with that photo, not to mention his hurtful words, but it sure did make the pain more bearable. Maybe I could send my own email out? A photo of the car, and a rating for Craig. One out of ten.

Snog/Shag/Avoid: Avoid.

Reasons:

- Lies about everything.

- Insists on chips with every meal.

- Ahem, performance problems.

- Doesn't understand the importance of rainbows and glitter and things of that ilke.

No, I couldn't go that far, but just thinking the words was cathartic. I stood back to take a picture or two for my own viewing pleasure. This would be a memory I'd treasure.

Sweet revenge. The day I finally stood up for myself. There and then, I vowed I'd never let another Craig into my life.

"Ready to go?" Olivia asked.

Just one finishing touch left—a row of cherries along the bottom of the windscreen. Something for him to remember me by.

"Maybe we could do that night out next weekend?" Olivia suggested, grinning.

I reached out to wipe a glob of chocolate frosting off her cheek.

"Deal."