Starry Skies Over the Chocolate Pot Cafe

by Jessica Redland

  I joined her by the window. A white van was parked outside Jed’s shop and a couple of workmen were propping up ladders against the top of the freshly painted shop frontage.

  ‘Looks like they’re putting up the sign,’ I said. ‘I wonder what it’ll be.’

  ‘I’d like it to be a nice gift shop,’ Sue said, wiping the table as she spoke. ‘So many of the shops on Castle Street are specialist. They’re great but I’d like somewhere that sells nice things I can buy as presents or as a little payday treat.’

  She finished wiping and took the tray of pots into the kitchen, leaving me still staring out the window. A gift shop? Oh my God! Could Jed be the mystery owner of Yorkshire’s Best?

  I nipped upstairs to the staffroom and dug out my phone, firing off a quick email:

  To: Yorkshire’s Best

  From: The Cobbly Crafter

  RE: Quick Questions

  Hi

  A couple of quick questions before our conversation this evening:

  1. Where in North Yorkshire are you based?

  2. Did you find me on Etsy or did someone recommend me?

  Thanks

  A reply came through almost immediately:

  To: The Cobbly Crafter

  From: Yorkshire’s Best

  RE: Quick Questions

  1. I’m on the Yorkshire Coast. Rather not be more specific. Paranoid about jinxing it!

  2. A friend of my mum’s bought some xmas decorations from you and she had your business card.

  Speak later

  My heart thumped. It had to be Jed. It was far too coincidental for it not to be. I’d given a business card to Joyce when I sold her the decorations and she was Jed’s mum’s friend.

  I exited the staffroom and headed for the three arched windows, looking across to the workmen. They were manoeuvring the first half of a shop sign into place. YORKSHI

  That plane did a loop-the-loop in my stomach. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell Jed I was The Cobbly Crafter. Nobody else knew and my former enemy couldn’t be the first. I couldn’t expose every part of my life to him.

  To: Yorkshire’s Best

  From: The Cobbly Crafter

  RE: Quick Questions

  Thanks for the speedy reply. I’m really sorry but I’m going to have to cancel our conversation tonight. I’ve somehow double-booked myself. Wishing you all the best for opening day. I love the Yorkshire Coast. You’ve chosen well.

  29

  On Saturday night, it was Carly and Liam’s engagement party.

  ‘What do you think, Hercules?’ I twisted round in front of the mirror in my bedroom, trying to see the dress I’d chosen from all angles. ‘I haven’t worn a dress in years and now I’ve worn three in the space of two weeks.’ I’d gone for teal this time with a floaty skirt and silver beading round the waist and halter-neck.

  Hercules wriggled his nose and buffed my legs, which I suspected meant he couldn’t care less about my dress but he’d be very open to some attention. Crouching down, I stroked his ears and back. ‘I can’t pick you up in case I catch your claws on the fabric. I promise I’m all yours tomorrow, though.’

  I looked at my watch. 6.20 p.m. Guests would start arriving at seven but Carly and Liam would arrive shortly for last-minute preparations.

  ‘I’ll see you this evening, Hercules,’ I said, giving his ears one final stroke. ‘Be a good boy.’

  The Chocolate Pot looked fabulous yet completely different to how it had looked for Maria and Marc’s wedding. Carly and Liam had gone for a rose-gold and burgundy theme, which I love. Both floors were decorated with balloon bouquets. Sparkly rose-gold jars holding gypsophila, ivy and burgundy roses sat in the centre of each table and I’d filled small glass jars with battery-operated warm white fairy lights and spread them throughout the café.

  They’d created a pegboard covered in photos of them together throughout the years. I’d been captivated by it earlier, a big lump in my throat as I took in years of friendship and devotion captured on film. I’d never experienced anything like that and never would, which made that cloak of loneliness wrap round me once more.

  The food was going to be fairly simple – wedges, quiches, pies, pastries and salad plus special dietary need options. Carly had dropped off several syrups and trays of fruit to ‘pimp your prosecco’ and there were bottles of prosecco, lager and wine cooling in tubs of ice in front of the serving counter, as well as The Chocolate Pot’s usual range of soft drinks in the fridges, or hot drinks if guests wanted them.

  I’d secured four of my students – Brandon, Nathan, Molly and Lexie – to cook, serve food and drinks, and clear up, meaning I could relax and enjoy the evening. Well, try to.

  A couple of hours later, the party was in full swing. Carly looked stunning in a burgundy cocktail dress, joking that it was her turn to accessorise with the colour scheme. She’d made a three-tier cake with silhouettes on the side depicting scenes from their relationship: making snow angels, their first kiss in front of the lighthouse, then Liam’s proposal on bended knee. Seeing those silhouette images had the same effect on me as the pegboard of photographs, making me all teary. I adored their story; they’d united at school when they were bullied for their looks, becoming the best of friends, and having love creep up on them gradually, both fearing doing anything about it in case they lost their valuable friendship. It had taken a lot of courage and trust for them both to take that step into admitting how they felt. Would I ever have the courage to trust again and let love in?

  Carly placed her hand on my shoulder, making me jump and pulling me back to the present. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

  I swallowed hard and smiled. ‘I was admiring the silhouettes on the cake. You’re so talented.’

  ‘I can’t take credit. Bethany’s the artist. All I did was roll out some icing and cut round what she’d created.’

  ‘You’re both very talented, then.’

  Carly stared at me for a moment. ‘Something’s on your mind.’

  ‘No, I’m fine. Miles away, that’s all.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not buying it. Something upset you at the awards ceremony last weekend and that or something else is on your mind right now.’

  I was about to protest but I’d spent my whole life covering things up and making out that everything was fine and, right now, it wasn’t. I’d lost my way and I needed help. I needed a lighthouse.

  ‘Do you have any plans for tomorrow evening?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. Hot chocolate and a heart to heart with you.’

  Despite everything, I found myself laughing. ‘Yes, please.’

  As I closed the shutters in my flat shortly before midnight, I glanced across the street. The lights on the first floor were on again and I found myself imagining what Jed might be doing. Sanding a floor? Painting a wall? Putting up storage shelves? Was he living there? Were his daughters? I’d absolutely no idea.

  I’d dropped a card through his letterbox on Monday thanking him for the flowers and returning his cheque. On Tuesday morning, I found an envelope on my mat with the cheque inside and a bright orange Post-it note stuck to it:

  Nice try but this money is yours x

  Ripping the cheque up, I’d dropped it through his letterbox again with a note that I wasn’t kidding and I couldn’t accept it. Two days later, a fresh cheque was waiting on my mat with another Post-it note:

  I could continue doing this all year x

  Closing the shutters fully, I smiled. I could happily keep returning his cheque all year too because every note from him gave me a little thrill inside.

  30

  ‘That one’s yours,’ I said, placing a mug of chilli hot chocolate on the counter for Carly the following day, after the Sunday staff had cleaned up and left.

  I picked up my vanilla-flavoured one and followed Carly towards the back of The Chocolate Pot. She put her drink down on our usual table, but I walked straight past. ‘This way.’

  ‘We’re going up to your flat?’ Th
ere was obvious astonishment in her voice.

  ‘Yes, and I feel weird about it, but it needs to happen.’

  In silence, she followed me up the two flights of stairs.

  For the first time ever, I was out of breath when I reached the top, damn nerves making my heart race. I paused with my hand on the flat door.

  ‘This is a big thing for me, but if I’m going to tell you what’s on my mind, you need to see who I really am.’

  ‘Okay.’ She looked bemused.

  ‘Before we go in, what do you imagine my flat will be like?’

  Carly shrugged. ‘Tidy? Colourful? I haven’t really thought about it. I suppose I imagine it to be a bit like The Chocolate Pot décor-wise.’

  ‘It’s a little different to downstairs.’

  ‘I’m intrigued.’

  ‘Hercules?’ I called as I pushed open the door, but he was already waiting, scut wagging from side to side.

  ‘Hello again,’ Carly said. ‘You’re just as gorgeous as I remember.’

  I took her mug from her while she crouched down and gave Hercules a fuss.

  ‘You’re not hiding more animals up here, are you? Baby elephant? Alpaca?’

  I laughed. ‘Just the giant house bunny. And maybe a few décor surprises.’

  Carly straightened up and took a couple of steps forward to where the flat opened out. I watched as her head turned from left to right. ‘Wow! Oh my word, Tara. I was not expecting this. It’s amazing.’

  ‘You can have a wander if you want.’

  ‘You don’t mind?’

  ‘Still feeling weird,’ I admitted, ‘but you’ve seen it now. You might as well explore.’

  I took our drinks through to the lounge area, expecting Hercules to follow me, but he surprised me by following Carly instead. Either he was mesmerised by our first ever guest or he was being my guard dog.

  The log burner was crackling by the time Carly finished her wander.

  ‘When can I move in?’ she asked, eyes wide.

  ‘You like it?’

  ‘Like it? I absolutely love it. I can’t believe how much space there is. And it’s open plan yet it’s somehow really cosy. Is this that Danish thing?’

  ‘Hygge? It is. It’s taken me a few years to get it to this point, but I think I’ve pretty much embraced the concept.’

  Carly sat down and took a sip of her drink. ‘There’s so much to take in. Everywhere I look, I spot something different.’

  ‘Did you go onto the mezzanine?’

  ‘Yes, and I think you have some explaining to do. You don’t buy the Christmas decorations in The Chocolate Pot from Etsy, do you? You make them all. And the Hallowe’en ones. And the Valentine’s Day ones.’

  I nodded slowly and shrugged my shoulders apologetically. ‘I’m The Cobbly Crafter.’ It felt so weird to say it out loud but even more weird that I sounded apologetic. I was sorry that I’d been so secretive but I wasn’t sorry about my alter-ego. ‘I’ll try that again with a bit more positivity, should I?’

  Carly smiled. ‘That would be good.’

  ‘I am The Cobbly Crafter,’ I declared in a loud confident voice.

  She clapped appreciatively. ‘You are unbelievably talented, Tara Porter. I knew you were a great chef, but I’d never have guessed this. I love your work and I love your flat. I might have to kill you and live here myself. No wonder you spend so much time up here.’ She pressed her hand against her mouth. ‘That sounded rude. I didn’t mean it like that.’

  ‘It’s okay. And you’re right. I do spend all my spare time up here and that’s what’s on my mind.’ I closed my eyes and covered them with my hands. ‘Oh, God, this is so hard to say. I feel so pathetic, especially when I brought it on myself.’

  ‘Can I suggest you just blurt it out and we’ll take it from there?’

  I removed my hands and looked at her. ‘Okay. Here goes. I’m lonely.’ There! I’d finally said it. I took a deep breath. ‘I got upset at the awards because I was watching this video of me doing all this stuff in the community and it made me realise that I have very little in my life except work and work-related things. And I felt like such a fraud because I started doing those things to give me something to do and get me out of the flat. The work with The Hope Centre and the TEC and being part of Bay Trade gives me people to talk to so my life isn’t all about being in this building with a giant house rabbit and my bitter memories of my failed marriage.’

  Carly was silent for a moment, which was hardly surprising as that had been quite an information dump. ‘Okay. Let’s take one thing at a time. Let’s talk about being lonely. What would not being lonely look like to you?’

  ‘I don’t know. Going out with friends all the time. Spending time with family.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  I hesitated. ‘I can’t believe I’m going to say this but maybe a boyfriend.’

  Carly nodded. ‘Let’s start with the friends one. Who do you know who goes out with friends all the time?’

  ‘Everyone. You. Maria. Pretty much everyone at work.’

  ‘And what makes you think that?’

  ‘They talk about it or they put stuff on Facebook.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Ah! The joys of social media. I had a similar conversation with Bethany just last week. Facebook isn’t real, you know.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s all about what people want others to see. I know a few people who use it to have a whinge and moan, but most people I know use it to present the shiny side of life. It’s all “look at me, I’m having a great time at the pub with all my wonderful friends” or “look at me, out shopping and eating cake”. And because it’s accompanied by a fanfare and smiles, we’re all fooled into thinking that everyone has a better life than us. What they don’t post is the downtime, the bored moments, the mundane stuff we all experience.’

  ‘I get that, I’m not daft, but they’re still out doing these things and I’m not.’

  ‘But it’s not like you don’t do things. You just don’t shout about them. And if you want to do more non-work things like trips to the cinema or going out for meals, all you need to do is ask. I’d be up for it. Bethany would. Lots of the traders would. As for your team, Maria and Marc have young kids and they have friends like Callie and Rhys who also have young kids. In my experience, people with little ones tend to do more stuff because they have to keep the kids occupied. And you’ve got a lot of students working for you. Students go out. That’s how it is. Do you want to be out partying every night?’

  ‘No, but… I don’t know. I feel like I’m missing out on something.’

  ‘Which is why you mentioned having a boyfriend?’ Carly shrugged. ‘Maybe it is time for that to happen, but do you know what I think the real issue is?’

  ‘Enlighten me. Because I haven’t got a clue.’

  ‘You mentioned family too and I think you really miss yours and want them back in your life. Why don’t you get in touch with Kirsten and Tim?’

  I gasped. ‘After all this time?’

  ‘It’s never too late to reconnect. I know that Leanne and Garth hurt you, but Kirsten and Tim didn’t. From what you’ve told me, they were good people.’

  ‘The best.’

  ‘Then it might be time to let them back in.’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

  She narrowed her eyes at me. ‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’

  I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. ‘I don’t feel like I deserved that award.’

  Carly sat forward. ‘What? Why would you say that?’

  ‘Because I’m a fraud. The Hope Centre? Bay Trade? Project Hercules? Like I said, my initial motivation for all of those things was because I was lonely. I wasn’t just helping others. I was helping myself.’

  ‘I disagree. You were helping others because that’s who you are. You couldn’t not help others. You’re a kind person. There might be something in it for you and perhaps some company was your initial mot
ivation as you said, but I would argue that there’s something in it for everyone who does something for others, even if that’s just the way they feel about themselves. Just think of everything you did for me last year. You drove all over town looking for Bethany when she had her meltdown, you stayed up till past midnight decorating cakes when I fell behind, and you gave me the confidence to tell Liam I loved him.’

  ‘That was just helping a friend in need.’

  ‘And that’s who you are. You help people. Think about it, Tara. There are loads of other things you could have done to have a bit of company like going to night classes or joining a gym but you chose the things that would help others because that’s what comes natural to you. You’re not a fraud. You inspire me and you inspire others. And now that I know about your parents and Garth, I’m even more in awe of you than I was before. You’ve lost your parents, you’ve been deprived of friendships, and you’ve been betrayed by the two people you loved and trusted the most. Did you let that get you down? No. You started over and built a new life for yourself, refusing to be a victim. You, Tara Porter, really are Pollyanna. You’re a genuinely kind and caring person and I think that’s why you’ve struggled so much to come to terms with what happened in your past. You’re a good person and you want to believe that others are too. What Garth and Leanne did to you was so far removed from your values and beliefs that it shocked you to your core and you haven’t been able to move on from it because you can’t comprehend how people can be that bad. You’ve been punishing yourself for their behaviour ever since. I think it’s time to let go of them and it’s time to let your foster parents back in. And I’ll be right by your side every step of the way, whatever you want to do and whenever you want to do it.’

  ‘You’re such a good friend,’ I said, taking her hand in mine and squeezing it as I swallowed the lump constricting my throat. ‘It’s been a long time since I had one of those. Thank you so much.’