I wanted to keep my daughter Lisa busy, so her little sister cooked up a brilliant plan.
By Shirley Pidner, 65
Huddled over the kitchen counter, my daughter Lisa popped the finishing touches on to the cakes we’d made.
‘Do you think your friends will like them?’ I asked her.
‘Yes,’ she said, clapping her hands delightedly.
When I was growing up, there’d always been cakes on the kitchen table.
So when I’d become a mum myself, baking was something I did with my daughters Samantha, Lisa, Phoebe and Chloe.
I loved how close the four of them were. Lisa had been born with Down’s syndrome, and all my daughters were so gentle and considerate with her.
In time, Phoebe went to university – and when she returned, she became Lisa’s official ‘enabler’, supporting and empowering her to live a fulfilling life.
Meanwhile, Lisa hadn’t lost her love of baking. Whenever we had visitors, she loved to put out a plate of shortbread for them.
She even enrolled in a residential catering college, returning three years later to become more proficient than ever in the kitchen.
When my friend Judy, Lisa’s godmother, opened a restaurant nearby, she suggested Lisa come and help out.
So a few days a week, Lisa threw herself into working in the kitchen.
If I’d ever been afraid that having Down’s syndrome would limit her, I could see now how wrong I’d been.
'We'll have to start charging'
Along with the baking, Lisa was also part of local special-needs drama and dance clubs.
But then Covid hit, and our lives were completely upended.
All of Lisa’s clubs were temporarily cancelled.
And when Phoebe moved back home to stay with us during lockdown, I said, ‘I’m worried about Lisa getting bored.’
‘Maybe we could do a charity bake sale together?’ she suggested.
We chatted it over and decided they’d make some cakes to sell at the local chapel after the service.
Any proceeds would go to the Children’s Hospice and other charities.
Phoebe and Lisa worked so well together, I could hear them giggling away as they measured, mixed and baked.
The cakes were so popular they almost always sold out, and it wasn’t long before our friends and family started asking if the girls were taking commissions.
Eventually, they were getting so many requests, the cost of ingredients began mounting up.
‘I think we’ll have to start charging,’ Phoebe said.
‘You’ll also have to register as a business,’ I told her.
And it turned out our home kitchen, in Umberleigh, Devon, needed to have an official hygiene inspection.
Together, we scrubbed everything until it was spick and span. And Lisa made the inspector some banana bread and tea, to butter her up!
To our relief, we received a five-star review, and Lisa’s Cakes and Bakes was officially open for business, with Mondays and Fridays being the girls’ baking days.
Phoebe often stayed over with her boyfriend on Sunday night, but she’d ring Lisa up and tell her which ingredients to get ready, so they could leap straight in when she got home.
'Keep baking, you're brilliant!'
‘If she’s not back in half an hour, I’ll sack her!’ Lisa liked to joke.
As the business grew, the girls started getting more and more challenging requests.
When our neighbour was about to turn 80, her sister asked them to bake a cake in the shape of a pig.
Then there were fancy wedding cakes too.
One day, they asked me to drive one cake out to a wedding in Dorchester. It was a boiling-hot day, and I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure the tiers weren’t about to topple over!
But the responses from grateful clients always made their efforts worthwhile.
One email from a head chef at a wedding venue really made us smile.
We see so many wedding cakes each week, and I have to tell you, this is one of the best I’ve ever cut and tasted, she wrote. Keep baking, you’re brilliant!
The girls gradually began to collect a big book of trusted recipes. They’d adapt ones they saw online, or pick ones up from people they met.
I even contributed a date and coconut cake recipe that I’d been given while on holiday in New Zealand.
With the cost of ingredients, the profits for Lisa’s Cakes and Bakes weren’t enormous. But every so often, they’d take their earnings and treat themselves to a trip to London to see some of the sights.
What is priceless is the joy and purpose it’s given Lisa, now 35.
As her mum, it’s lovely to think that she’ll be known and respected for her baking talents, rather than dismissed because of her disability.
I’m so incredibly proud of what she’s achieved, with a little help from her little sister. The bond between them means that everything they’ve created is truly baked with love.