Kirsten and Tim bought me a stunning watch for my twenty-first birthday and presented it to me over a family meal that evening. The inscription made me cry: To our beautiful daughter who makes us proud every day xxx. Kirsten cried too as she hugged me. Next moment, Leanne snatched the watch out of my hand, demanding to know what the fuss was all about and why everyone was blubbing.
‘Didn’t they have enough space for the word “foster”?’ she asked flatly, handing it back to me.
Tim immediately pulled her up on it but Leanne made out that she was joking and of course I was just as much a part of the family as she was. She must have said that through gritted teeth and with her fingers crossed. And she must have hated me so very much to pretend to be my friend yet do what she did.
Stomping round the flat, Hercules bounding along beside me, I recalled more and more occasions when Leanne had let her guard down momentarily and said something snide then back-tracked and made out it was a joke or that I’d misheard. What about the time when I’d badly burned my back on holiday in the Dominican Republic and had to stay indoors for two days? Had Leanne applied her low-factor lotion instead of the high-protection sunscreen I needed for my pale skin? And what about the time I had to miss the family theatre trip because my art project mysteriously got damaged? Had she done that?
As I curled up under my duvet, I stopped thinking about Leanne and started thinking about Kirsten and Tim instead. When I burned my back, Tim missed out on swimming with dolphins to stay in the apartment and keep me company. And Kirsten refused to go to the show, even though she was the one who wanted to see it the most, so that she could help me repair my artwork. They’d always been there for me with a smile, a hug and kind, encouraging words.
A tear slipped down my cheek and I curled up into a ball, clutching onto my duvet. I missed them. I missed them both so much, my heart hurt, but I’d been left with no choice.
The day I found out the truth about Garth and Leanne, Pollyanna died. Two of the people I loved and trusted had lied and deceived me and I needed to get away from them. Far away. But that meant cutting myself off from another two people I loved and trusted who hadn’t let me down. There’d never been the slightest doubt in my mind that they knew anything about it and Garth had even confirmed that.
As I made my way down the stairs at The Larches for the last time ever, a hastily packed suitcase in each hand, I tried and failed to ignore the family photos adorning the wall. There were as many photos of me as there were of Leanne. As far as Kirsten and Tim were concerned, I’d been their daughter. They’d meant those words engraved on the watch. And Leanne had known it.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t walk out with no explanation, but I couldn’t stay and wait for them to return from their trip to Hong Kong either.
Dumping my cases on the ground floor, I made my way to their home office, sat at Kirsten’s desk and took out a pad of paper and a pen.
Dear Kirsten and Tim
I discovered something terrible about Garth this weekend. He’s not the man I thought he was and it turns out that our marriage was one borne out of convenience rather than love, or at least on his part. Our marriage is over and can never be repaired.
Sadly, this also means that my life in London has to be over. Kirsten, I am so sorry to leave Vanilla Pod without serving notice. It’s been a privilege and an inspiration to learn from you and your talented team. Thank you so much for giving me such a valuable opportunity to pursue the career my dad was never able to.
I cannot thank you both enough for opening your hearts and your home to a scared, bereaved child, and for always making me feel like I belonged in your family. You have cared for, protected and taught me so much about the world and the type of person I want to be. Unfortunately, you could have done nothing to protect me from the path that others chose for me. I will forever regret my marriage and the events that led up to it, but I will never regret the day I met you both.
I don’t know where I’m going. Fate will decide that. I know you played no part in what happened but I beg you not to try to find me. I need to cut all ties. I need to lock the past away. If you do find out what happened this weekend, then I’m sure you’ll understand why I can’t be part of your family anymore.
With warmth, love and my eternal gratitude to you both,
Tamara xx
I cried as I read the letter over and over, then placed it in an envelope from one of the drawers. If I left it somewhere visible, there was a strong possibility that Leanne would find it and destroy it. I could just imagine her, playing the innocent: I have no idea where Tamara is. She upped and left Garth with no explanation at all. Poor man’s devastated. Left us in the lurch at work too.
Walking over to the bookshelves on the opposite wall to the desk, I searched for a particular book, slipped the letter between the pages, and returned it to the shelf. I’d text Kirsten when they were back from their trip and tell her that Pollyanna had a letter for her. Then I’d switch off my phone for good. If Leanne did search The Larches for a letter, there was no way she would think to look there.
I couldn’t stay at The Larches any longer in case Garth or Leanne appeared. Finding a hotel for the night, I hid there, ignoring the barrage of calls and texts. I wasn’t interested in anything either of them had to say.
As I drove north the next morning, leaving London behind, one of the hundreds of thoughts whirring around my mind was: who am I? The orphaned child, Tamara Chadwick, had grown up and found a new family. Although I hadn’t accepted Kirsten and Tim’s kind offer to adopt me, I had shown I cared by changing my name to Tamara Chadwick-Sanderson. For four months, I’d been Tamara Tewkesbury. But the orphan, the foster child and the wife no longer existed and I had no idea who I was anymore. I was going to have to start over in so many ways, finding myself as well as a new home and business. The starting point had to be a new name. I certainly wasn’t going to keep Tewkesbury – every connection to that man had to be firmly stripped from my life – but fear of being found meant I couldn’t use Chadwick or Sanderson. I’d simplify my first name to Tara; close enough to Tamara to not seem weird but a change nonetheless. What about my surname? And then it struck me. My new surname would be Porter, after the author Eleanor H. Porter, creator of Pollyanna. Garth and Leanne might have destroyed my Pollyanna-style beliefs but they couldn’t erase her from my life entirely. Thanks to them, I couldn’t have my foster parents in my life anymore but I wouldn’t let them take my mum and dad away from me too.
With the connections they undoubtedly had, I suspected that Kirsten and Tim would be able to find me, even with the name change, but I knew they were decent people who’d respect my wishes. It didn’t surprise me when a card arrived at The Chocolate Pot that first Christmas, delivered via the Birmingham-based solicitor handling my annulment; a location chosen to throw any search for me off the scent. I immediately recognised Kirsten’s beautiful calligraphy. Another arrived on my birthday, and so the pattern continued. A stack of cards sat in a box in the corner of my office, filed in date order, all unopened. From the thickness of them, I could tell they all contained a letter too. Much as I missed my foster parents, that part of my life was over. I couldn’t let them in because, to do so, would be letting Leanne back in. Garth had hurt me. I’d loved him and trusted him and he’d betrayed me, but he’d only been part of my life for a few years. Leanne had been my sister, my role model, my mentor and my friend for well over a decade. She’d broken my heart and I could never have anything to do with her ever again.
I wiped my eyes and took a deep breath. Enough. Stop thinking about them. That chapter of your life has closed and that’s the way it needs to stay.
13
Carly knocked on the café door the following morning about forty minutes before Maria’s start time.
‘How are you feeling this morning?’ she asked as soon as I opened the door.
I smiled ruefully. ‘Different.’
‘Good different or bad different?’
‘Good,
I think. Coffee?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
‘Grab a seat in the kitchen and I’ll make them.’
I handed her a cappuccino a few minutes later.
‘Did you manage to get any sleep?’ she asked as I bent down to check on the raspberry brownies in the oven.
‘I didn’t think I would.’ I straightened up and gave her a weak smile. ‘It took me a while to drop off but, when I did, I slept like a log.’
‘Were you okay on your own?’
I paused for a moment. Tell her. ‘I erm… I wasn’t actually on my own. I had Hercules.’
‘Who?’ She raised her eyebrows and I could guess what she was thinking: A man? Called Hercules?!
‘He’s my giant house bunny.’ I bit my lip and my pulse raced as I waited for Carly’s reaction.
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. ‘Your what?’ She grinned at me. ‘Oh my gosh, Tara. You’re full of revelations at the moment.’
While adding the ingredients for a chocolate cake into a mixing bowl, I told Carly all about Hercules and promised I’d introduce them soon.
She stayed for about twenty minutes and we chatted and laughed while I continued working. Although my past wasn’t mentioned again, I knew that coming round before work was her way of reminding me she was there for me whenever I wanted to talk about what I’d already revealed or move onto the next part. I’d forgotten how comforting and reassuring it felt to have someone caring and worrying about me, which got me thinking about Kirsten and Tim once more.
As I lightly kneaded the dough for a batch of plain scones after Carly left, I thought about the box of cards again. Cutting them out of my life had definitely been right for me at the time, but had it been right for them? I’d removed myself from their lives because I wasn’t their biological daughter, but I hadn’t given them any say in whether they wanted me to do that. Would they have had to make a choice between Leanne and me, especially when I’d moved away? Perhaps not. They’d been my parents in all but genes since I was ten and they’d always made it clear that they viewed me as their own daughter, but I’d abandoned them when things got tough. Had that been a mistake?
Tuesdays were usually fairly quiet but we were busy from about ten and even had to open the upstairs shortly after eleven.
By mid-afternoon, we finally had a lull. Niamh, my pregnant staff member, was busy wiping some sticky fingerprints off the glass cake display unit. I looked at her baby bump and felt disgusted with myself for not having asked her anything about her pregnancy. I’d arranged shifts around her antenatal appointments and I’d regularly checked how she was feeling, but it had been all very formal. What did you ask a pregnant woman, though? What did you ask anyone? Fear of letting anyone in had built that wall between business and personal life and I’d done everything possible to keep that segregation. If I asked about their personal lives, they might want to know about mine.
‘How’s it going?’ I asked Niamh, kicking myself for such a weak opener.
She looked up and smiled. ‘Good. It seems to have quietened down. Tables four and six are nearly finished, and I’ll check on table eight for more drinks in about five minutes.’
I inwardly cringed. She’d assumed I was asking about work. Time to try again.
‘Great. And what about you? How are things with you and the baby?’
‘Fine. I don’t think I’ll need any more time off before I finish.’ She lovingly stroked her bump. ‘I should be able to organise my check-ups for Mondays.’
I smiled. ‘Okay. Don’t worry if you can’t get them on Mondays. I’m sure we can work round it as long as I’ve got some notice.’
‘Thanks. I appreciate it. Oh. That’s table four wanting the bill. Can I give you this?’
I took the cloth from her, grateful that table four needed attention because there was no way I could attempt a third question. Talk about a message coming loud and clear: Tara Porter is all about the business and not the person.
Molly, one of my students, appeared from upstairs. ‘It’s all clean and closed off up there.’
I decided to try again. ‘How’s college going?’ I asked.
She frowned. ‘I don’t go to college anymore.’
‘You don’t?’
‘No. I got my A Levels last year.’
‘Then you’re at university?’
She shook her head and started cleaning the coffee machine. ‘Not yet. I’m taking a year out and resitting my Chemistry because I got a B but I really need an A to do my preferred course. That’s why I wanted the extra shifts.’
‘Oh. I didn’t realise. So will you be leaving in September?’
‘No, but I will need to go back to just weekends and school holidays again, if that’s okay. If I get my A, I’ll be going to York University, but I can’t afford to live there so I’ll be commuting. Plus, I want to be around to help Mum with my brother. It’s been tough for her since Dad left.’
‘Your brother?’
Molly rinsed the cloth in the sink again. ‘Yeah. He’s got cystic fibrosis.’
I hadn’t even noticed a customer approach the counter so was surprised when Molly said, ‘Hi there, what can I get you?’
Watching as she deftly made a couple of lattes, I felt like such a failure. How had I not known that Molly was taking a year out or, even more significant, about the errant dad and the brother with cystic fibrosis? In all honesty, I hadn’t even known she had a brother.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ Molly said when the customer left. ‘You’re not thinking of selling this place, are you?’
‘No. Never. What made you ask that?’
‘There was a man upstairs earlier asking questions.’
My jaw tightened. ‘What sort of questions?’
‘Things like how many customers we serve in a day, whether we’re significantly busier at the weekend, whether we do evening events… that sort of thing.’
‘Did you tell him anything?’
She shook her head. ‘I just said it was a very busy and successful café but I didn’t elaborate.’
‘That just sounds like a nosy customer. What made you jump from that to me selling this place?’
She giggled. ‘Sorry. Missed out the most essential part. He said, “What do you think it would take for your boss to sell up?” I laughed at him and said you’d need to be on your deathbed before you even thought about selling up.’
My jaw clenched. ‘What did he look like, this man?’
‘Tall, blond and tanned. Probably early forties.’
‘Jed,’ I muttered. ‘Jed Ferguson.’
‘Who?’
I shook my head. ‘Nobody. But there’s nothing to worry about. I’m definitely not selling and, if I was, which I’m not, he’d be the last man on earth I’d allow to get his grubby little paws on my business.’
‘He seemed nice,’ she said. ‘Nosy but nice.’
‘Well, he isn’t. And if he comes in here again, please let me know. Immediately.’
Closing time couldn’t come soon enough for me. I felt shattered as I climbed up the stairs to my flat with my plate of dinner. Hercules was already waiting for me by the door, eager for cuddles. I put my plate down and hugged him.
‘That nasty Jed Ferguson was in The Chocolate Pot today,’ I told him as I put out some fresh food. ‘Or at least I think it was him. The description sounded about right. Well, apart from the part where she said he was nice. I’m certain it was him looking through my window and I’m pretty sure it’ll have been him asking the Bay Trade guys about premises.’
What was he doing back from Australia? And what right did he have to question one of my team? My shoulders slumped. At least he bothered to ask them questions. It would appear that I never did. What an eye-opener my conversations with Niamh and Molly had been. I knew I struggled to let people in, but there was a difference between that and completely shutting people out. Things had to change.
‘Namaste,’ said Karen at the end of my
Pilates class that evening.
‘Namaste,’ the class repeated.
I breathed in and out deeply a couple more times, then opened my eyes. Back in the flat with Hercules, I’d come so close to ditching Pilates, but I decided that an hour of exercise and relaxation might do me the world of good. And it certainly had.
Until I finished rolling up my mat and heard his voice.
‘Of all the Pilates classes in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.’
I leapt up, my mat springing open, tension instantly returning to my body as I turned to face him. He looked exactly how I remembered except he now had a deep tan which accentuated his green eyes. The years had been kind to him, with no sign of hair loss and only a few crinkly laughter lines. Yet I still couldn’t bear the sight of him.
‘Except it’s not your Pilates class is it, Jed?’ I snapped. ‘And it’s not your town either. What the hell are you doing back here?’
‘Ooh, still feisty after… what is it? Thirteen years?’
‘About thirteen and a half. And you haven’t answered my question.’
‘Taking a Pilates class,’ he said. ‘It’s good for the body and soul.’
Shaking my head, I bent down and rolled up my mat again, muttering under my breath. For some ridiculous reason, I couldn’t seem to get the ends to curl under. That never happened.
‘Do you want a hand?’ Jed asked.
I turned my head and narrowed my eyes at him. ‘From you? Never.’
Exasperated, I grabbed the mat as it was and tried to drape it over my arm. It didn’t want to play.
‘Thanks, Karen,’ I said, heading for the door, wrestling with the stupid piece of foam.
‘Thanks, Tara. See you next week,’ she said.
I knew he was behind me as I made my way out the sports hall and down the corridor. He was probably looking me up and down, just like the first time we’d met.
When we made it into the car park, I turned to confront him. ‘What? What do you want?’
Starry Skies Over the Chocolate Pot Cafe Page 10