‘Maybe he was talking about his other nan?’ Mags suggests. ‘Did he actually mention Birdie?’
‘No,’ I say, which makes Mags’s eyes light up. ‘But he doesn’t have another nan. He only has one set of grandparents. He told me during the picnic that his dad was brought up by an aunt as his parents had both died by the time he started school.’ I hold up a finger as Mags begins to speak. ‘And no, he didn’t call his great-aunt nan. Plus, she died a few years ago.’
The light in Mags’s eyes dims.
‘He was talking about Birdie and her new bloke,’ I conclude. ‘Who just happens to be my dad.’
‘I still think you should talk to him,’ Mags says, but I pretend not to hear and head to the teashop door to turn the sign to open. It’s a gorgeous day; warm and bright with a cooling, fluttery breeze. The weather offends me. The sky should be as bleak as I feel, not coming to life so obviously.
‘Do you think we should get a couple of tables for out on the pavement?’ I ask as I wander back to the counter and my muffin. ‘It’d be lovely to sit outside today with a cup of tea and some cake.’ Lovely if you aren’t nursing a bruised heart. ‘It didn’t seem worth it before, but now business is picking up, I think it’d be useful.’
‘Do you want me to have a look online?’ Mags, thankfully, has taken to the new topic of conversation. ‘I’ve got some admin to do, so it’d be no trouble.’
I’m about to answer when I see a familiar figure walking past the window and heading for the door. I back away into the kitchen, calling to Mags as I go, ‘Get rid of him. Tell him it’s my day off.’
I run before Caleb steps into the teashop, scuttling out of the kitchen door and hiding in the yard.
‘He saw you,’ Mags says when she joins me a few minutes later. ‘But we both pretended he hadn’t. He says he’s taking Cara to the zoo but he’ll try and catch you later so you can talk. Which is exactly what you should do.’ Mags gives me a pointed look, but I choose to ignore it and instead creep back into the teashop as though Caleb is hiding behind a door, ready to pop out and ambush me.
‘Relax, he’s gone,’ Mags says from behind me. Her voice makes me jump a mile. ‘I’ll go and get started on that admin. Give me a shout if we get busy.’
The breakfast crowd starts to arrive, starting with George and Rehana, who pick up takeaway croissants and coffees. We’ve finally enticed them away from their branded caffeine and pastry fixes, but when Rehana asks if she had any matches last night, I kind of wish we hadn’t. She leaves with her coffee, croissant and a face like thunder.
Robbie is next, sitting by the window with his usual banana milkshake. He didn’t place a tick against any of the girls’ names last night, so it’s no surprise when he doesn’t enquire about matches. I have to ask Mags for help when the pancake and waffles orders start to trickle in as these take more time than simply grabbing a cake or pastry and need an eye on them at all times. The tables are soon full, but still the customers arrive. We’ll definitely have to think about hiring additional staff if business continues to boom.
I’m kept busy for most of the day, which helps to take my mind off Caleb. I’m exhausted by the time we close the teashop, but instead of heading up to the flat to put my feet up before Victoria’s gig, I drive over to Dad’s. I know he didn’t hear what Caleb had to say about him last night, but I need to check that he’s okay anyway. There’s hardly any cake left over after the day’s trade and Mags has taken the last of the muffins home for her boys, but there are a couple of fairy cakes left, which I pop into a box to take with me. I’ve already decided I won’t mention Caleb’s jibes to Dad, as I don’t want to rock the boat with him and Birdie. Caleb may not think they make a good couple, but I disagree.
With the box of cakes balanced on one hand, I knock on Dad’s door. I knock again when there isn’t an answer and it’s when I’m about to rap for a third time that Jane pops her head over the hedge.
‘He’s been out since this afternoon,’ she tells me. ‘Probably at his allotment.’
‘Oh. Right.’ I step away from the door. ‘I might go and try there then. Thank you.’
‘No problem. Tell him I said hello, won’t you?’
‘I will,’ I say before I head back to the car, popping the box of cakes onto the passenger seat before setting off for the allotment. I check the time; Victoria’s gig starts in an hour and a half, but I’d like to arrive at least half an hour before so I can wish her well and make sure she fully understands how amazing we all think she is. I’d also like to talk to Nicky before it starts as I haven’t seen her since last night and I’m dying to know how her seduction plans went. One of us should be lucky in love, at least.
I pull over on the dirt track and grab the cakes. It’s still light out, but the air is cooler than it was earlier. I move quickly towards the allotment, waving to the odd green-fingered enthusiast as I pass on my way to Dad’s plot at the far end. The plots are a mix of vegetables and flowers and all seem to be in bloom as summer really starts to take hold.
Mags managed to source some fairly cheap but sturdy patio furniture earlier. The tables and chairs fold away so will be easy to store in the shed in the yard when the weather isn’t so good. Neither of us are any good at flat-pack furniture but Owen has promised to put them together when he gets the chance. He and The Builders are still working to a tight deadline, but he promises he won’t leave it too long and I’ve promised to make his favourite dessert in return.
I’m a couple of plots away when I spot them. Birdie has her head thrown back while a fresh, plump strawberry is lowered towards her mouth. She giggles as the fruit tickles her lips and then she bites into it, groaning as the flavour hits.
‘Delicious,’ she declares, wiping her lips free of the escaped juices. The grower beams with pride. He plucks another strawberry from the plant and lowers it to her awaiting lips. I take a step back, feeling as though I’m intruding on an intimate moment, despite the public location. They’re in full view of everyone at the allotment so it isn’t as though I’m watching them in secret like a peeping Tom. Even still, I don’t want to witness this.
The sight of Birdie enjoying the fruits of the strawberry-picker is enough to turn my stomach. How could she do this? And with Dad’s allotment nemesis? Gerry picks another strawberry and I’m about to turn away in disgust when anger propels me forward. No, I will not allow them to humiliate Dad like this! He doesn’t deserve to be treated badly – and on his turf. I didn’t do enough to stand up for him last night, so it’s time I put my fear of confrontation aside and make a stand.
‘Birdie!’ I bark as I march towards the philandering pair. I expect Birdie to be shamefaced now she’s been rumbled, but she actually smiles at me, the red, incriminating juice still glistening on her lips. She wipes it away with a tissue but doesn’t move away from Gerry. Doesn’t try to explain her way out of it. She simply beams at me and then says, ‘You should try Gerry’s strawberries. They’re the juiciest strawberries I’ve tasted in years. So much better than the supermarket ones you pay a small fortune for.’
Try his flipping strawberries? If I were a violent woman, I’d rip the plant from its bed and toss it into the compost bin.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I demand.
Birdie blinks at me, taken aback by my sudden outburst. She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Not that I give her much chance to speak. I’m fired up and nothing is going to stop me from saying my piece.
‘How can you treat Dad like this? Here? And with him.’ I jab a finger at Gerry, who stumbles backwards as though I’ve prodded him in the gut even though we’re a raised bed apart.
‘What are you talking about, dear?’ Birdie asks.
‘I’m talking about you and Gerry and your soft fruit porn,’ I spit. ‘Where’s my dad?’
‘I’m right here.’ I turn and see Dad in the doorway of his shed, a plastic cup of tea in his hand. ‘Would you like to tell me what all this shouting is about?’
I can’t believe it. Dad was right here. Have the pair no shame?
‘I saw them,’ I say, voice trembling. I don’t want to break Dad’s heart. He’s only just put it back together again after Mum, but what choice do I have?
‘Doing what, exactly?’ Dad asks.
‘You don’t want to know.’ Or rather, I don’t want to have to tell you or relive it. It was stomach-churning the first time round.
Dad steps fully out of the shed and rests his cup on the wooden frame of his raised bed. ‘I would, actually. Something’s obviously upset you.’
‘I don’t understand it, Clive,’ Birdie says, the very picture of innocence. ‘I was tasting Gerry’s strawberries and then Maddie turned up and started shouting.’ She turns to me, her eyebrows pulled down low in a fake look of concern. ‘Why don’t you sit down and we’ll get you a cup of tea and you can tell us what the matter is.’
I give a hoot. She’s good, but not good enough to fool me. ‘Gerry was feeding her the strawberries.’
‘So?’ Dad looks genuinely baffled, eyebrows knotted and brow furrowed. ‘Birdie and Gerry can do what they like, as long as he keeps to his own beds.’
‘It’s you who likes to mess about with my veggies,’ Gerry says, wagging an accusing finger at Dad.
‘Now, now, boys,’ Birdie says in what I assume is her teacher’s tone. ‘Let’s behave ourselves.’
‘Behave ourselves?’ I can’t believe the audacity of the woman! I’ve been completely fooled all this time – by both grandmother and grandson – but I won’t let her pull the wool over Dad’s eyes any longer. All the frustration and hurt from last night bubbles to the surface as I jab an angry finger at Birdie. ‘It’s you who needs to behave yourself. You were all over Gerry just now.’
‘Maddie.’ Dad places a hand on my elbow and guides me to one side. ‘What’s going on?’
So it looks like I’m going to have to spell it out for Dad after all. It’s like Mum and Donny Boy all over again.
‘She’s cheating on you, Dad. With Gerry.’
Dad glances over at Birdie and Gerry, who can’t hear what we’re saying from Gerry’s plot. He looks back at me and I swear his lips are twitching. ‘You think Birdie’s cheating on me with Gerry?’ He laughs then, taking us both by surprise. He presses a hand to his mouth and takes a moment to compose himself. ‘That’s not possible, love. Birdie and I aren’t … Well, you know. Dating, I suppose.’
‘You are.’ I’ve seen them together. So many times.
‘We’re just friends,’ Dad tells me. ‘Birdie’s great company and I value her friendship, but she isn’t my type and I’m not hers, judging by the pompous git she is seeing.’
I look over at Birdie and Gerry, who are standing incredibly close together. Gerry has his arm slung around Birdie’s shoulders and she’s patting his hand.
Birdie is seeing Gerry, not Dad.
Oh, sweet cupcakes. I’ve made a mistake.
A really, really big mistake.
Chapter Forty
I don’t understand. And neither does Birdie, although she looks concerned (genuinely so, it transpires) rather than angry at my outburst. She’s still standing by Gerry’s raised bed but she’s edged slightly closer to us, watching carefully with a frown lining her face. She can’t hear what Dad and I are saying from her position and I can only imagine the kinds of thoughts buzzing around her head. She’s more than likely thinking I’ve completely lost the plot, but I’ll worry about Birdie later. Right now I need to focus on piecing together the events of the past few weeks before my head explodes.
‘You and Birdie aren’t dating?’ I ask Dad, who shakes his head. ‘But what about that “first official date” stuff?’
Dad looks down at his wellies, scuffing the toes along the path. ‘I took your advice and asked Jane out for dinner.’
‘When did I …?’ And then I remember. Dad’s kitchen, a few weeks ago. The screwdriver Jane had popped round with. The way she’d simpered around an oblivious Dad like a lovesick teenager. I’d encouraged Dad to move on from Mum – and he has, just not with the woman I’d assumed. I’m both proud and embarrassed. Dad has taken a huge step, which is fantastic, but I’ve managed to humiliate myself. Plus, I’ve judged Caleb without giving him the chance to explain. I’ve pushed him away. What if I’ve messed up our relationship before it’s even off the ground because of a misunderstanding?
‘So. You and Jane.’ I nudge Dad playfully, giggling as his cheeks turn pink. ‘It’s going well then?’
Dad clears his throat and nods. ‘She’s a nice lady. As is Birdie. I think we should probably explain …’
We both look across to where Birdie is standing alone between the two plots, hands wringing and the frown growing deeper by the second. Gerry is now squatting in front of his bed while he fiddles with his strawberries, not seeming to care that his girlfriend is troubled. I see where Caleb was coming from now; Birdie and Gerry do make a slightly odd couple. She’s so vivacious and generous whereas he’s … a bit of a miserable git. I need to speak to Caleb before it’s too late. I need to explain, apologise, grovel if I have to.
‘Maddie.’ Dad frowns when he sees me pulling my phone out of my pocket. ‘Let’s go and speak to Birdie. You owe her an explanation and an apology.’
There’s a queue forming, it seems.
‘I know but …’ I’m scrolling through my contacts when Dad holds up his hand.
‘No buts. You can do your messaging thing later.’
Later may be too late, but Dad’s right. I slip my phone away and shuffle towards Birdie, with Dad close behind making sure I am actually moving forward. I suspect I’ll feel a finger prodding me between the shoulder blades if I pause.
Birdie gives a wavering smile as we approach, wary of what is going to go down this time. I shove my hands in my pockets so she knows I won’t be jabbing any accusing fingers around again.
‘Birdie, I’m so sorry,’ I say to the floral gloves she’s wearing as I’m too embarrassed to look her in the eye. ‘I got it wrong. I thought …’ I cringe. I’ve been an absolute fool and I’d quite like to bury myself in Gerry’s raised bed. ‘I thought that you and Dad …’
I can’t say it. I’ve behaved appallingly and I’m mortified. It isn’t like me to go shouting my mouth off. I actively avoid confrontation, not go in all guns blazing with finger-jabbing and false accusations.
Dad chuckles and I turn to glare at him. ‘She thought we were an item.’
‘Me and you?’ Birdie asks and then understanding dawns on her face. She gives me a smile and bobs her head up and down. ‘And you thought I was – what’s the phrase? – doing the dirty on your dad?’
That isn’t the phrase I’d use, but yes. I hang my head. ‘I’m sorry for yelling at you.’
‘It’s quite all right, dear,’ Birdie says, patting me on the arm. ‘You were looking out for your dad. It’s admirable, really. Plus, it’ll give everyone a laugh when I tell them about it.’ Birdie presses her lips together as the corners of her lips tremble. I could beg her not to repeat this evening’s mishap, but being the butt of her jokes from now on is the least I deserve. I’m lucky she’s hasn’t got the hump with me.
‘Shall we have a cup of tea and pretend this never happened?’ Birdie asks and I’m so grateful I feel the urge to throw my arms around her. It’s a shame she and Dad aren’t actually together, but at least they’re friends. Birdie has been good for Dad, even if they’re not romantically involved.
‘I’d love to stay for a cup of tea, but I’ve got plans,’ I tell Birdie, explaining about Victoria’s gig. I don’t mention that I also need to track down her grandson to see if I can somehow backtrack and revive the relationship that I killed before it’d even properly begun. Hopefully, like his grandmother, Caleb will suggest a cup of tea and the removal of last night’s snub from our memories.
I can be a scarily optimistic soul at times.
I give Birdie and Gerry the fairy cakes as a goodwill ges
ture before making my escape. I try Caleb’s number as I power-walk my way to the car, but it goes straight to voicemail. Either his phone is switched off or he doesn’t want to speak to me. I climb into my car and give it another go before I set off, but again I’m transferred straight to voicemail. I check the time. I have just over an hour before Victoria’s gig is due to start. I’ll try him again as soon as I reach the pub and hope he’s ready to listen to my grovelling apology then.
The Farthing is pretty packed when I arrive, but I manage to push my way through the throng to the area set up for Victoria to perform. She’s crouched by a black box, pointing at the knobs and dials as she chats to the guy crouching next to her, but she gets up when she sees me.
‘You look great,’ I tell her. She’s wearing a pair of black leather trousers with a pink, off-the-shoulder top that’s cropped to show off her glinting belly button piercing. Her thick eyeliner is perfectly flicked at the edges and the smoky eyeshadow is smouldering. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘So nervous.’ Victoria bites her lip. ‘Abigail isn’t here yet. She’s probably changed her mind and decided to give it a swerve.’
‘She has not.’ I check the time. ‘You’ve still got over half an hour until you’re due on. People like Abigail don’t hang around waiting in pubs. She’ll turn up just before you go on.’
Victoria shrugs. ‘I suppose.’ She turns her head as the guy still crouching in front of the box calls her name. ‘I have to go and sort this out but Mags and Nicky are over there.’ She points across the room, where my friends have managed to nab a table.
‘If I don’t get to chat to you before you go on, good luck. Or break a leg. Whatever it is you say to performers.’
‘Thanks.’ Victoria pulls a face to convey how nervous she is before she crouches in front of the box again. I make my way to Mags and Nicky’s table, dropping gratefully to the stool Nicky has been guarding.
‘You look like you could do with a drink,’ Mags says. ‘What are you having? I won’t be able to stay long enough to actually see Victoria perform but I should have time for a quick drink before Owen gets here. He’s still at the site.’ She rolls her eyes as she squeezes her way past me.
The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts Page 27