Spring at The Little Duck Pond Cafe

by Rosie Green

  I cross the threshold and immediately see that the little house is as crowded with as many nick-nacks and bits of furniture as the café. Actually, even more so.

  In the living room, Sylvia eventually finds the café keys on top of a big mahogany sideboard. One thing I do love is the faded red velvet sofa where Sylvia has been resting. It’s full of cushions of all shapes and sizes and colours; it could look garish, but actually, it works.

  I catch sight of a head and shoulders photo of an attractive older man on the little table by the sofa. He’s smiling into the camera, kind eyes twinkling, and a lump rises in my throat.

  Sylvia must miss her husband so much.

  No wonder she wants to stay surrounded by all the stuff they bought together. It must be like a comfort blanket . . .

  She hands me the keys. ‘It’s busy, isn’t it?’ she says, looking around, interpreting my expression.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. As long as you like it.’

  She gives a wistful smile. ‘I can’t imagine it any other way.’

  There’s a knock at the door and Sylvia looks at me and sighs. ‘I know exactly who that will be.’

  ‘Oh, who?’

  ‘Mick.’ She shakes her head irritably. ‘Always interfering. Just because he was friends with Snowy, he seems to think it’s his responsibility to look in on the doddery old widow to make sure she’s not becoming a danger to herself.’ She glances crossly at the ceiling. ‘Most annoying man in the world.’

  I study her in surprise. I’ve never seen Sylvia so agitated; she’s normally so laid back.

  ‘Tell him I’m not feeling well, will you, dear?’

  ‘Okay.’ I go into the hall and open the door, and Mick is standing there.

  ‘You’re obviously one of the favoured few,’ he murmurs, his blue-grey eyes twinkling. ‘Not many are allowed over Sylvia’s threshold. Certainly not me.’

  I smile in sympathy, thinking I would probably describe Mick as one of the least annoying men in the world! He’s pretending he doesn’t mind Sylvia’s attitude, but it must surely hurt.

  ‘I just wondered if she wanted her grass cut? I’m doing mine later so I thought . . .’ He glances at the lawn.

  ‘That’s really kind of you. She doesn’t feel well today, so she’s lying down, but I’ll give her your message.’

  ‘I’d better go. I’m needed for a foursome.’ He grimaces comically. ‘By the way, that sounds a great deal more racy than it actually is. I’m a member of the local golf club.’

  ‘Ah, right.’ I grin. ‘Well, enjoy.’

  ‘I will.’ He touches his brow with his forefinger in a little farewell salute and walks off.

  ‘You had quite a chat there,’ says Sylvia waspishly, when I rejoin. ‘I suppose old Nosey Parker was wondering why he hadn’t seen me this morning. He probably has nothing better to do than sit by his window and spy on my movements.’

  I shake my head. ‘Not at all. He’s cutting his own grass later so he wondered if yours needed doing at the same time.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘And now he’s off to play golf.’

  She sniffs and peers out. ‘I suppose the lawn does need doing.’

  I grin. ‘Right, I’ll get going. It’s almost nine o’clock, opening time.’

  Sylvia sees me to the door. ‘What about your mum?’

  ‘I’ll drive over later, once I close up,’ I say, experiencing that familiar duo – panic and guilt – at the thought of Mum alone in the house.

  Sylvia looks thoughtful. ‘It’s so hard for you. You can’t be there all the time. Rose should be in a place where she’d have someone to keep an eye on her, day and night.’

  I shake my head. ‘Mum has a will of iron and she refuses to move from her own home. Although I know there’ll come a time when she’ll have to.’ I swallow, not wanting to think about that right now.

  ‘Why don’t you bring her over here for the weekend? You could use the other bedroom once Zak has gone.’ She frowns. ‘It is okay, having Zak staying in the flat this weekend?’

  I stare blankly at her, the sudden change of subject and mention of Zak knocking me off balance for a second.

  She shrugs. ‘He’s not getting in the way or anything?’

  ‘Zak? Oh, no!’ Tell-tale heat washes up my neck into my cheeks. ‘No, he’s no problem at all – I mean, it’s no problem . . . having him in the bedroom.’ I swallow. ‘I mean having him staying in the other bedroom.’

  Sylvia peers at me. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes! Absolutely! No problem at all!’

  I dangle the keys and bid her a quick farewell, crunching over the gravel, keen to remove my discomfort from the area as soon as possible.

  What the hell’s wrong with me?

  Perhaps having Zak cramping my style in the flat is getting to me more than I realised.

  ‘Bring your mum next Sunday and we’ll have a tea party for her,’ Sylvia calls after me. ‘I’d love to meet her.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  My day at the café turns out to be rather enjoyable.

  We’re not particularly busy, as it turns out, so I get in some practice with the coffee machine, and by the end of the day, I’m conjuring up cappuccinos like a pro.

  Zak nips over to see Sylvia mid-morning to make sure she’s okay then goes back to his writing, before coming down to the café at lunchtime and making quick work of the two cheese toasties I make him, plus a huge slice of the delicious orange and lemon cake Sylvia brought in the day before.

  ‘Do you need any help?’ he asks before he goes back upstairs.

  I smile. ‘I’m sure I’ll manage. I’m not exactly rushed off my feet.’

  My only customer was the girl called Jaz, and she sat with her nose stuck in a book and didn’t speak at all except to thank me for delivering the coffee to her table.

  ‘Thanks for helping Sylvia out like this. She really appreciates it and I know she thinks a lot of you.’ He pauses, glancing down and studying the side of his shoe. ‘She says you’re just here until the summer?’

  ‘Six month lease. Then I’ll have to go back.’ I feel a little pang of sorrow at the thought.

  He nods slowly. Our eyes collide and hold, and my insides turn over.

  Zak breaks the contact first. ‘Right, back to the laptop,’ he says, and disappears upstairs.

  I stand there thinking for a moment.

  I mustn’t get attached to Sunnybrook. This was only ever meant to be a brief escape, for the sole purpose of getting my head together. I can’t keep on driving backwards and forwards to see Mum like this, on a permanent basis, and she’s made it clear she won’t budge from Farley’s Edge.

  So there really is only one solution.

  Once Richard’s sold the house, I’ll use my share of the profits to buy a little place in Farley’s Edge, near Mum. I love her so much and I need to do my best for her.

  But my heart feels heavy at the thought.

  *****

  After a day on my feet in the café, all I’m fit for is soaking in the bath then curling up in front of the TV. But I really need to go and see Mum first.

  Zak is in the shower getting ready to go out to his school reunion as I potter about the kitchen, boxing up two slices of the orange and lemon cake to take over to Mum’s.

  I’m dashing through the hall to grab my bag when the bathroom door opens and I collide with Zak coming out. He’s wearing nothing but a white bath towel wrapped round his waist and my hand makes contact with the warm, damp skin of his back, just above the towel.

  He laughs and steadies me, and for a fleeting moment our bodies press together.

  ‘You’re in a hurry,’ he murmurs. ‘Going out?’

  I swallow hard, my entire body in uproar at the unexpected contact. ‘Driving over to see my mum.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Sylvia told me about Rose.’

  The understanding in his eyes makes me suddenly feel like crying. But I force a smile and move backwards a fraction to put some space
between us. ‘I might bring her over next weekend. It would be a change of scene for her.’

  ‘Good idea.’ He nods and slicks back his wet hair with both hands, and I can’t help but notice the fine contours of his broad chest and muscular upper arms.

  Raw desire rips through me.

  Feeling light-headed, I stagger back slightly so that I’m leaning against the wall. Zak’s mouth is moving but I can’t focus on what he’s saying.

  ‘Okay?’ He’s looking at me, expecting an answer.

  I gulp. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

  ‘Just that I’ll make sure I’m not around next weekend, then Rose can use the spare bedroom.’

  ‘Sorry?’ I stare at him in surprise and my heart starts to thump crazily. ‘You’ll still be here next weekend? But I thought . . . ’

  His face falls. ‘Didn’t Sylvia tell you? I was thinking I’d like to stick around here for a week or two. Possibly longer. I’m hoping the peace and quiet might be good for the creative process.’ He smiles wryly as if he’s not holding out much hope.

  ‘Oh, right.’ I try my best to take the news positively, but I’m afraid it must show in my face that I really wasn’t prepared for this. I thought he would be gone by tomorrow night. Then I could have the flat to myself again, instead of walking around all the time with this funny knot of apprehension in the pit of my stomach, knowing I could bump into him at any moment. ‘No, Sylvia didn’t mention it, but that’s fine. Absolutely fine.’

  He’s studying me with a frown. ‘Are you all right, Ellie? You look exhausted. Why don’t you go and see your mum tomorrow morning instead? When you’ve had a good night’s sleep?’

  I shake my head. ‘She’s expecting me today. I can’t let her down.’

  ‘I hardly think that’s the case,’ he points out gently. ‘And I’m sure she would understand. The last thing she’d want is you doing a long drive when you’re not feeling up to it.’

  I stare at him, tears blurring my vision.

  He’s right, of course. Mum probably won’t even remember I said I’d see her today. I’d be better company if I arrived tomorrow morning, feeling fresher and more upbeat. The trouble is, knowing all this won’t stop me feeling guilty for not making it over there tonight.

  I wish I were stronger.

  I wish I could be what Mum needs . . .

  ‘Look, you can’t drive in this state,’ Zak says, seeing my distress. ‘I forbid it. Phone your mum, then go and rest.’ He grins. ‘Doctor’s orders.’

  I stare down at the wooden floor, at a ball of fluff floating by the skirting board. My instinct is to tell Zak I’m fine and I can make decisions for myself, thank you very much. I had quite enough of being told what to do by Richard.

  But I remind myself that Zak isn’t Richard. He’s just being kind.

  So I allow him to usher me to the sofa and make me a mug of hot chocolate. He passes me a throw and I snuggle into it and sip my delicious drink, feeling strangely calm, listening to the sounds of Zak getting ready to go out.

  For a while now, I’ve felt as if Mum and I have swapped roles. I’ve become the carer. And with Richard, I was forever running around trying to make him happy in one way or another. It’s nice, for once, to be on the other end of the care. To be looked after by someone.

  Zak comes in, looking and smelling gorgeous, and switches on the TV for me. He’s wearing jeans and a blue shirt, and he’s even tamed his hair.

  ‘Can I get you anything before I go?’ He smiles down at me and my heart does a funny little forward flip.

  ‘No, I’m fine. Enjoy your night.’

  I listen as he heads for the door then doubles back to his room, presumably having forgotten his keys or his wallet. He’s in there a few minutes then he comes out, talking on the phone, and I hear him laugh softly. ‘Yes, I’ll try. Must have been mad to say I’d go. Yes. Yes, okay. Call you tomorrow, love.’

  My stomach swoops.

  I can tell by his voice that it was Beth on the phone again. It’s that low, hushed, intimate tone that’s the give-away.

  ‘Bye,’ he calls to me finally, then the main door clicks shut behind him.

  Silence descends. And as I settle back to try and watch TV, a stunning realisation hits me.

  How am I going to cope having Zak around the flat for the next few weeks? I stare at the TV without seeing it. He might be here for the peace and tranquillity, but I doubt if I’ll be experiencing much of that myself. Not now I’m facing up to the startling truth . . .

  That having decided men were off the menu for a very long time, I’m now in grave danger of falling hook, line and sinker for Zak!

  CHAPTER TEN

  Over the following few weeks, as March drifts into April, I manage most of the time to stay out of Zak’s way.

  I’m out of the flat early, practising my yoga routine in the little back garden, then it’s a quick shower and off to the bakery until three. Then I grab a sandwich back at the flat. On the days I’m not visting Mum, I help Sylvia out in the café. Not that there’s much to do, but both Zak and I are worried about her; although she’s back to work, she still seems a little fragile. Zak told her she should rest at home a little longer but Sylvia just reached up to pat his cheek and told him to stop fussing.

  I’m warming to Zak more and more, and it’s very inconvenient.

  Driving back from seeing Mum one night, I reflect that he really has put a spanner in the works of my master plan. I came to Sunnybrook to lick my wounds and give myself some breathing space. I wanted to feel the calm after the storm – but somehow I’ve managed to sail into more choppy waters!

  But then I remind myself that in a week or so, he’ll have disappeared back to London, leaving me to return to a relatively calm existence.

  I ignore the annoying little pang of sadness that creeps in, and step determinedly on the accelerator.

  Speeding on to a brand new life - without Zak Chamberlain to muddy the waters!

  *****

  On Friday morning, I arrive at the bakery to find Fen in tears.

  ‘What’s happened? Is it Madge?’

  She sniffs and dries her eyes, then she attempts a smile. ‘Yes, but I’m fine.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’

  Capitalising on Madge not usually arriving until after ten, I hustle Fen through to the back and make her sit down while I put the kettle on. Once she has a mug of sweet tea in front of her, I sit beside her and demand to know what Monster Madge has done now.

  She takes a sip and makes a face. ‘How many sugars?’

  I shrug. ‘Not sure. Three? Four? It’s apparently good for shock.’

  She manages a watery smile. ‘I’m not shocked, Ellie. Just angry.’

  I do a comic double-take. ‘Hold the front page! Fen Harding is angry? Well, it’s high time, too, if you want my opinion. So what happened?’

  She swallows. ‘I asked her for a small advance on my wages and she just laughed and said she was running a business, not a charity.’

  ‘Typical.’ I shake my head incredulously. ‘How much did you ask for?’

  ‘Twenty pounds.’

  ‘Is that all? The mean old cow! She knows fine well you’d pay her back the following week, so what she’s doing is just plain spiteful.’

  ‘I know.’ Fen gives a grim smile. ‘It’s not as if the money is for me – not really. It’s mum and dad’s silver wedding anniversary in a few weeks, and my brother and his wife will be splashing out on some really luxurious gifts. I know I can’t compete, but I wanted to get my parents something nice. You know?’

  I nod, diving into my bag. ‘I’ll lend you the money.’

  She looks horrified at the thought. ‘No, honestly, it’s fine.’

  ‘Please?’ I hold out a twenty.

  ‘No. Put it away. I couldn’t possibly take it.’ I’m about to insist but she looks as if she might have a panic attack.

  ‘But why not? You’re my friend. And friends help each other.’

  She co
lours up and smiles. ‘That means a lot. But no. I’ll manage somehow.’

  I sigh inwardly. Fen is lovely but sometimes I just want to shake her. She needs to get some spunk, as Sylvia pointed out the other day.

  Fen presses her lips together and stares at her nails for a moment, deep in thought. ‘I’ll find a way,’ she murmurs. ‘I’ll definitely find a way.’

  My heart goes out to her. I don’t think she has many friends, even though she was born and brought up in the village. She’s told me that she spent practically her entire childhood devouring books, curled up on a squashy sofa in a corner of the drawing room, which was hardly ever used except for the Harding family’s big parties.

  ‘Come to zumba on Wednesday!’ I say impulsively, to cheer her up.

  ‘What? No!’ She looks at me as if I’m bonkers. You’d think I’d suggested we tackle Mount Kilimanjaro in our lunch hour.

  ‘Why not? Zumba’s great fun.’

  She twists her face doubtfully. ‘You’ve got to let it all hang out. That’s what puts me off. Plus I’m not a natural mover on the dance floor.’

  I grin. ‘Neither am I. My style tends to be enthusiastic jigging combined with a hint of “dad dancing”? Not a great look.’

  ‘You’re just trying to make me feel better.’

  ‘No, believe me, it’s true. But the point is, it really doesn’t matter how bad we are. Everyone just does their own thing anyway.’

  I’ve already told Jaz I’ll go and it would be great to have Fen there for moral support. Because how awful would it be if I was the only one who turned up!

  It all came about when I found myself standing behind Jaz in the post office queue the other day. I was trying hard to be invisible, but she turned and recognised me, and she asked me outright if I’d come to her first zumba class. I was so taken aback, I said I would, but now I’m regretting it. It would be so much easier with Fen there.

  But Fen is staring into the distance, a slightly anguished look on her face. Perhaps she’s imagining herself ‘letting it all hang out’ at the zumba.

  Her eyes light up. ‘Can I get drunk first?’

  *****

  When I mention to Mum on Saturday that I’m bringing her over to Sunnybrook the next day to meet Sylvia for afternoon tea, her response is exactly what I was dreading.