I hold my hand up to stop Nicky from saying anything further. ‘I know you’re sorry.’ She’s apologised every time I’ve seen her since, sometimes multiple times per occasion. ‘And it’s okay, really.’ Plus, I really don’t need reminding about the underpants thing as I still feel a fresh bout of mortification every time.
Nicky hangs her head. ‘I still feel bad.’
‘You shouldn’t.’ I make her a cup of tea and place it in front of her. Nicky has already demolished the trifle while she waited and is swiping at the screen on her phone.
‘Ugh. Look at this.’ She turns the phone so I can read the message she’s been sent on one of the dating apps she uses.
Send pic of ur tits plz.
I grimace. ‘Nice.’
Nicky shrugs. ‘At least he said please.’ She turns off the phone and slips it into the pocket of her pink tunic. ‘A few weeks ago, I would have.’
‘Sent him a photo of your …’ I point at her boobs and Nicky nods.
‘Unfortunately, yes. Or worse.’
‘You mean …?’ I’m not even going to point this time. Nicky nods anyway.
‘Talk about desperate, hey? It’s no wonder I never met Mr Right.’
‘But you’ve stopped now?’ I can’t think of anything worse than having naked photos of me floating around, ready to pop up any time, any place.
‘Totally. I’ve raised my standards.’ Nicky picks up her spoon and scrapes the very last smidgens of trifle from the pot. ‘I’m not showing my foof to anyone who isn’t worthy, whether it’s in a photo or in the flesh, so to speak.’
‘That sounds sensible.’
Nicky pops the spoon in her mouth and nods. ‘I should have made that a rule a long time ago.’
‘Why the change? Does it have anything to do with a certain journalist?’ I take the pot away before Nicky starts to lick around it.
‘Yes and no,’ Nicky says. ‘I don’t want to mess around any more. I want to find someone who makes my heart race and gives me butterflies. Not necessarily Neal, because there’s no point flogging a dead horse and all that, but someone who makes me feel the way he does.’
‘So you’re going to carry on using the dating apps?’
Nicky nods. ‘But I’m going to be more sensible about it. More picky.’
‘Have you thought about joining Woodgate’s brand new dating service?’ I ask with a cheesy wink.
‘I have indeed.’ Nicky reaches into her tunic’s pocket and pulls out a completed sign-up form for The Sweetest Kiss. ‘Sign me up!’
There’s a steady stream of customers throughout the day. Judging from the shopping bags lugged in with them, most of our afternoon customers are treating themselves after a heavy spending spree in town. Despite the growing numbers, we don’t run out of stock this time round, thanks to our extra bakes. Victoria phones late in the afternoon to update us on her meeting with Abigail Taylor and I can tell immediately that it’s good news from her chipper tone.
‘It was amazing,’ Victoria gushes. ‘I loved her. I think she at least liked me. She wants to see me again, in action this time.’ Victoria’s joy dims. ‘She wants to see me do a gig, and soon.’
‘But that’s good, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose.’ Victoria doesn’t sound so sure. ‘It’s just that I’ve never performed on my own. I’ve always had the others there with me. We supported each other.’
‘Until they stabbed you in the back,’ I remind her. ‘If that’s support, you’re better off on your own.’
‘I guess.’ Victoria sighs. ‘But it’s scary.’
‘I know, but you’ve got me and Mags to cheer you on. We’ll come to your gig and support you. You’re not alone. And Abigail is going to love you just as much as we do.’
‘Do you think so?’ Victoria’s voice is tiny, as though she’s shrinking on the other end of the line. Soon, she’ll be Borrower-sized and I won’t be able to hear her at all.
‘I know it.’
With Victoria half-convinced, we say goodbye and hang up. I’m about to take a well-earned break with a slice of cheesecake and a cup of tea when the teashop door opens and a woman marches purposefully towards me.
‘Are you the one running this?’ she asks, dropping a flyer for The Sweetest Kiss down on the counter and jabbing it with her finger. The flyer is crumpled and has what I suspect is a beer stain on the front.
My eyes dart from the flyer to the woman’s face. Is it me or does she look annoyed? I clear my throat and give a tiny nod of my head. ‘I am.’
‘I found this in my husband’s pocket while I was doing the washing,’ she tells me. ‘He never empties them himself, no matter how many times I tell him.’ She shakes her head and tuts. ‘Anyway, he says he met you in the pub the other night and you gave it to him.’ She looks at me and raises her eyebrows. ‘Harvey?’
Oh, God. She doesn’t think I was trying to entice him away from her to date new women while scoffing cake, does she? I would never encourage a married man – or woman – to take part. I’ve been cheated on – I’ll have no part in anybody being in that painful position. The thought makes me feel sick.
‘I put some of the flyers on the bar,’ I say carefully. I hope Harvey hasn’t mentioned the fact he and Des were competing to see who was worthy of dating me. I feel the tension growing inside me, ready to defend myself.
‘So you are the one I need to speak to.’ The woman’s face softens and she smiles at me. ‘I’d like a registration form, please. Not for me, obviously. For my sister.’ The woman leans towards me on the counter and lowers her voice. ‘She’s recently divorced and finding it difficult to meet new men.’ She taps the flyer with a finger. ‘I think this will be right up her street.’
I thought I had trouble on my hands for a moment there, but now the pent-up breath is released slowly as I grab the forms from their new place under the counter. We’ve had so many requests, it made sense to keep them to hand rather than dashing to the office every time.
‘I’ll have a couple of those trifles,’ the woman says as she pops the forms in her handbag. ‘Treat Harvey after his tea. This is a really lovely place, you know. I had no idea it was tucked away back here …’
The next time the teashop door opens, it’s Caleb who steps inside, closely followed by Cara.
‘We’ve decided to have a picnic over in the garden,’ Caleb tells me, nodding across the road to our little gated green space. ‘And Cara insisted we invite you along.’
‘We need cake,’ Cara says and Caleb’s eyes widen.
‘That isn’t why you’re invited,’ he’s quick to clarify. ‘But we do need some cake to go with our sandwiches and sausage rolls.’ He lifts the carrier bag in his hand. ‘So what do you say? Would you like to join us?’
I glance around the teashop. We don’t have any customers at the moment, but what if we get another rush?
‘Go, it’s fine.’ Mags is already pushing me towards the door. ‘You’ll only be over the road. If we get busy, I’ll give you a shout.’
‘Are you sure?’ It isn’t right to bugger off mid-shift, but I really would like to go for a picnic with Caleb and Cara. I love a picnic and the weather is so nice today.
‘I insist.’ Mags gives me another nudge. ‘And Owen will be here soon, so I won’t be on my own for long. He said he’d drop by when he finishes work and take me out for something to eat when we close.’
‘Wait!’ I dig my heels in. ‘We need cake. And a blanket.’ A picnic isn’t a true picnic without a blanket and it doesn’t look like Caleb has one tucked away in his supermarket carrier bag. ‘Cara, why don’t you and your daddy pick out some cakes – my treat – and I’ll run up to the flat for a blanket?’
Up in the flat, I rush to the bathroom to check I look okay, reapplying my lip gloss and adding a touch of mascara before grabbing the crocheted throw I keep on the back of my sofa and hurrying back down to the teashop, where Caleb and Cara are waiting with a box of cakes.
‘How’s this
for casual?’ Caleb whispers as we cross the street to the garden.
‘Super-casual,’ I say, though knowing this is a date makes it not-very-casual-at-all in my books. Still, I won’t let my nerves ruin the day and we forge ahead, finding a nice shaded spot underneath a towering oak tree. We set out the blanket, sitting on the edges while we fill the centre with our goodies. Caleb has brought a variety of sandwiches, packs of sausage rolls and mini pork pies, and a large carton of apple juice.
‘No wine, I’m afraid,’ Caleb says with an apologetic shrug. ‘But we can pretend it’s the good stuff.’
‘We have cake,’ I point out. ‘That’s all the good stuff I need.’ I open the box and peer inside. ‘Good choices.’ We have a double chocolate cupcake, a slice of carrot cake and a chocolate orange trifle to choose from, plus a handful of Mags’s jammy dodgers.
‘All chosen by Cara,’ Caleb says, ruffling his daughter’s hair.
‘You have very good taste,’ I tell her. ‘I’d have chosen exactly the same.’
Cara, who has already started on the sausage rolls and is sporting a flaky pastry goatee, grins at me. ‘We’re cake twins.’
‘Yes,’ I say with a grin of my own. ‘We are.’
It’s such a gorgeous late afternoon, I kick off my shoes and socks, spreading my legs out so that the grass tickles my toes. There’s nothing quite like the feel of grass on bare feet, like being kissed by nature, over and over again. Cara copies, slipping off her sandals and stretching out as she chomps the rest of her sausage roll.
‘Daddy, I’m thirsty,’ she says when it’s all gone, bar the confetti of flakes down her front.
Caleb grabs the carton of juice, but slaps a hand against his forehead. ‘I forgot about glasses. I should have bought some plastic cups.’
‘I’ll go and grab some glasses from the teashop.’ I’m already pulling my socks and shoes towards me. ‘Won’t be a minute.’
I dash across the grass towards the gate, slowing down when I reach the street and brushing the grass from my jeans. I step into the teashop, explaining to Mags about the missing glasses situation, but the words dry up when I spot the person now sitting at the table nearest the counter. He has a cup of coffee and a couple of untouched shortbread biscuits on a plate in front of him. Hearing the door open, he looks up and smiles when he sees me standing in the doorway.
‘Maddie.’ He’s out of his seat and striding towards me, but I manage to unscramble my brain and sidestep him before he reaches me.
‘Joel,’ I say, folding my arms across my chest in a protective rather than confrontational way. ‘What are you doing here?’
Chapter Thirty-Four
‘I saw you in the paper,’ Joel says, the handsome smile that was once a permanent fixture in my life on his face, warm and disarming in equal measure. ‘I had no idea my little Maddie could be an actual businesswoman. I remember you talking about your teashop and it sounded like a nice dream but not something that would happen in real life. But look at you! You’ve only gone and pulled it off. And now you’re venturing into the dating game. I’m so proud of you.’
I take two things from this conversation so far:
1) Joel never had any faith in me, no matter how enthusiastic he was whenever I shared my dream. He didn’t think I could ‘pull it off’. He’d been either humouring me the whole time or secretly wishing I’d stop banging on about it.
2) The smile I’d always thought was so dreamy is actually 90s’ game-show cheese. I half expect him to wink at the camera while making some inappropriate comment about the length of my skirt (if I were actually wearing one and not my jeans, that is).
‘I told you about the teashop the other week,’ I remind Joel, though quite why I want him to recall me looking like a sweaty mess is beyond me.
‘I know, but …’ Joel gives a lazy shrug. He doesn’t seem in any hurry to finish the sentence and I have a handsome man and his thirsty little girl waiting for me in the garden.
‘Is that all?’ I ask and Joel looks momentarily stunned, blinking at me as though trying to work out what just happened here. He isn’t used to being brushed off. He’s used to women – including myself – fawning over him. Well, not this time, mister. ‘Because I’m actually quite busy.’
I can see Mags out of the corner of my eye, hovering behind the counter and probably wondering why I’m being rude to a customer. Everyone now knows about my unsavoury past, but only Nicky has actually glimpsed Joel so Mags probably isn’t up to speed and I don’t have the time to pop over and explain.
‘No, that isn’t all.’ Joel adjusts the brightness of his mega-watt smile, almost blinding me as his teeth glint in a toothpaste-advert kind of way. They’re much shinier than the last time I’d seen him properly (though he wasn’t actually smiling back then. He was making a mad scramble for his clothes while Penny squealed on the bed as though we were all part of a bad soap opera). He’s either had his teeth chemically whitened or had veneers fitted. Either way, his teeth are as fake as his smarmy smile.
‘I’ve missed you, Maddie.’ Joel opens his arms for me to fling my pathetic little body into, but they fall to his side when I refuse to comply. I’m not playing Joel’s game. I’m not running back into his arms because he’s suddenly decided I’m worthy. Where was he a year ago when I needed those arms and a damn good explanation? Because I never got one, not from Joel, anyway and the pitiful excuses from Penny weren’t worth the seconds I’d wasted listening to them.
A year ago, I probably would have run into those arms, swallowing every lousy excuse Joel fed me, just so we could stay together. But I have more respect for myself now. More self-worth. I don’t need Joel and from the expression on Joel’s face, it’s dawning on him too. Over the past few seconds, Joel’s face has quickly morphed from shock, to puzzlement and now realisation.
‘Maddie.’ He laughs, still unsure, still thinking he has a chance. ‘Come on. You know we were great together. Penny was a mistake. A stupid, drunken mistake.’
‘You weren’t drunk,’ I point out. ‘Unless you’d started drinking at quarter to nine on a Tuesday morning.’ I’d been on my way to work, but had dashed home when I realised I’d left the fob I needed to gain entry into the office on top of the chest of drawers in the bedroom. As you’ve gathered, I found more than the fob when I pushed open the door.
I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t left it behind that morning. Would Joel and I have ended up going ahead with the wedding? Would Penny have been his bit on the side while I started married life blissfully unaware of what was happening under my nose (or between my sheets, rather)? As painful as the image of the two of them was, I think in the long run that forgotten fob did me a favour.
‘Why are you being like this?’ Joel is edging away from contrite and shuffling towards attack, his brow furrowed as he eyes me. What he means is, why aren’t you playing along? Why aren’t you being the soft-touch Maddie I knew and loved (if he ever had)?
‘Why are you being like this?’ I ask. ‘Why now all of a sudden, after a year? I could understand if you’d read in the paper that I’d just scooped fifty big ones on the EuroMillions, but this is it.’ I indicate the teashop, which is empty apart from the three of us. ‘This is all I have.’
‘You’re all I want.’ Joel widens his eyes to puppy proportions and stretches one corner of his mouth into a half-smile. Once upon a time, I’d have thought he looked adorable and vulnerable. Now I think he looks gormless. ‘I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I saw you outside the pub the other week, and when I saw you in the paper, I knew it was a sign.’
‘You don’t believe in signs.’ Has Joel always been so full of clichéd rubbish? Is it like the game-show smile: it’s always been there but I’ve been blind to it until now? I bet he was rubbish in bed really, too. It’s a pity I’m not on speaking terms with Penny after all – we could have compared notes.
‘I believe in us.’ The other side of Joel’s mouth flickers upwar
ds to create a full-sized smile. His arms widen again, creating the space for my body to fall into.
As if.
I believe in us. Ugh. How did I ever fall for this so-called charm?
‘Me and you,’ I say, waving a hand between us. ‘Are a bit like the tooth fairy. You can believe in it all you want, but it doesn’t make it an actual thing beyond your imagination.’
Joel’s smile falters. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I think she’s saying sling your hook, sweetie,’ Mags pipes up, striding out from behind the counter. She heads to the door, opening it wide. ‘Would you like me to pop your shortbread in a bag for you?’
‘Maddie?’ Joel opens his arms fractionally wider. ‘Don’t do this.’
‘Do you honestly think we can pick up where we left off?’ I ask him. ‘Forget that you slept with my best friend?’
Joel’s mouth droops open, shocked that I’ve brought that up in front of Mags. As though we could brush his infidelity under the carpet and carry on as normal. It’s a shame Joel isn’t as bright as his new teeth are.
‘In that case,’ Mags says, holding her hand out to indicate the street beyond the door. ‘You can forget about the shortbread. Out. Now.’
Joel finally drops his arms as he turns on Mags, his face scrunching up with pent-up anger. ‘This is none of your business, you nosy old cow. Piss off out of my face so I can talk to Maddie about our personal business.’
‘And what are you going to do if she doesn’t, sunshine?’ Owen has appeared, looking menacing with his steel-capped boots and a short-sleeved T-shirt that shows off his well-defined arms. He looks as though he could snap a tree trunk in half without so much as a grunt of effort. Joel likes to visit the gym, but it’s more about posing and taking selfies in the mirrors than actually working out. He likes to think he’s tough, but he doesn’t stand a chance with a meaty bloke like Owen. And he knows it.
‘You see, this is my girlfriend you’re talking to and I don’t appreciate the tone.’ Owen rests a hand on Mags’s shoulder while he awaits an answer.
The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts Page 23