The Cherry Tree Cafe

by Heidi Swain

  ‘I don’t know,’ I stammered, ‘I haven’t really thought about carrying on making things now the Café’s finished.’

  ‘Oh you must!’ Sarah cajoled. ‘You wouldn’t believe how inept we all are at this sort of thing. You simply have to help us out, Lizzie.’

  Jemma raised her eyebrows and fixed me with her ‘I told you so’ stare. I could tell she was thinking back to our college days when our heads were first filled with dreams of starting our own business together.

  ‘Maybe she could teach you instead,’ Tom joked, joining Jemma from behind the counter.

  ‘Teach them!’ I laughed.

  This was the second time I’d heard that ludicrous suggestion and it didn’t sound any more likely this time round.

  ‘Hey, that’s not a bad idea,’ Sarah said thoughtfully. ‘Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, you could make the things for us, of course, and that would be lovely, but if you taught us how to make them ourselves then we’d have the sewing skills forever, wouldn’t we? It would be much more fun if you could teach us, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I stammered, ‘I’m not a teacher, I’m just handy with a needle and thread.’

  ‘You think about it,’ Rachel smiled as she stood to gather up her children, ‘I think Sarah’s really on to something. I for one would sign up straightaway!’

  Chapter 11

  I hardly slept that night. After Ella’s friends had left, each weighed down with a princess party bag and a slice of the only turret on the cake Ella would allow to be cut, we cleared the Café and went up to the flat to eat the soup and crusty bread Jemma had had the foresight to make earlier in the day.

  ‘You could always use the area where the adults sat,’ Ben mused, having been brought up to speed about what had been said at the party. ‘I mean, the space at the back there is more than adequate, isn’t it?’

  Tom nodded in agreement.

  ‘We could still seat a dozen or so regular customers, Lizzie, and give you room for what, say half a dozen students? We haven’t found anything to put in the cupboards that run the length of that wall so you could use the space for storage and supplies.’

  I didn’t know what to say. The whole idea still felt like a bit of a joke to me.

  ‘We could offer a package deal,’ Jemma suggested, eyeing me speculatively, ‘include lunch or a snack in with the price of the crafting session.’

  ‘Are you really going to be a teacher?’ Ella chirped up. ‘You don’t look like a teacher!’

  She was sitting on the floor in front of the fire carefully undressing the ragdoll I had made and getting her ready for bed.

  ‘Have you thought of a name for her yet?’ I asked, trying to draw the conversation away from my potential professional future, ‘she looks like a Bonnie to me.’

  Ella shook her head and wrinkled her pretty pink nose.

  ‘You didn’t answer my question,’ she scowled. ‘If you’re really going to be a teacher you’ll have to watch your manners!’

  ‘Right. Come on, madam,’ said Jemma, scooping up her daughter along with her belongings. ‘Time for bed. I can always tell how tired you’re feeling by how rude you are.’

  ‘But Lizzie didn’t answer my question,’ Ella sighed, plugging in her thumb, ‘did she?’

  ‘Sorry, Ella,’ I smiled, ‘I don’t know yet. I’ll have to think about it.’

  ‘Make sure you do,’ said Tom, bending to kiss my cheek, ‘I think it sounds like an amazing idea.’

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ Ben joined in as he pulled on his coat, ‘so do I.’

  Still refusing to get drawn in to the conversation, I turned my attention back to Ella.

  ‘Did you have a nice party?’

  ‘It was the best,’ she whispered sleepily, ‘and Mummy’s cake is the prettiest one I’ve ever seen. Even prettier than Rosie’s Hello Kitty Island one and that’s saying something!’

  After they’d all gone I took myself off to bed and lay staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the possibility of actually running sewing and crafting courses at the Cherry Tree. I hadn’t mentioned my bunting-making session in the City Crafting Café but my mind had been full of it ever since Sarah hit upon the idea of me doing something similar. Deborah, the woman who managed the City Café, thought I had the skills and talent to teach so maybe the idea wasn’t so ridiculous after all.

  The City Crafting Café was perfectly equipped and provided the ideal ambience in which to learn new craft skills and although the Cherry Tree was much smaller I could already visualise the area Tom had suggested up and running; lengths of bunting and patchwork cushions in abundance. I was disconcerted to realise that I could picture it as clearly as I had the Café transformation, and look how quickly that had come to fruition.

  If I was really going to take the idea seriously, I thought, as I tried to thump the pillows into a more sleep-inducing shape, then I was going to have to dial that mystery caller’s number and find out once and for all if it was Giles who had been trying to get back in touch.

  I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about a future living in Wynbridge with a girlfriend whose idea of a career was spending hours sitting in front of a sewing machine rather than a computer screen. However, convinced as I was that an old love had the potential to make my new life complete, I didn’t want to start walking the patchwork path to sewing nirvana, only to find myself unpicking stitches a few weeks down the line.

  The final few days before the Café launch party passed by in something of a daze and I barely had time to think about either making the call or the potential sewing tuition the mums had been clamouring for at Ella’s party. Jemma and Tom had finally decided that they were going to need extra help in the Café, especially during lunchtimes and on Saturdays and employed Ruby Smith, a local girl who was studying for her A levels and biding her time at home until she could fly off to university.

  ‘Are you sure you can fit the work around your studies, Ruby?’ Tom had frowned as he watched her lay the tables on the day of the launch, ‘only I don’t want your dad on my case if your grades drop off.’

  Ruby rolled her prettily kohl-rimmed eyes and carried on preparing serviettes and cutlery. Jemma and I exchanged knowing glances, both of us thinking back to when we were keen to find our feet and not let school or college responsibilities stand in our way.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ Ruby said stubbornly. ‘Mum wouldn’t have let me do it if she thought it would interfere with my timetable, would she?’

  ‘It’s not your mum I’m worried about,’ muttered Tom, holding the door open for yet another delivery.

  ‘Don’t worry about Dad!’ Ruby laughed coquettishly. ‘I can wrap him round my little finger!’

  I smiled to myself and carried on setting out the plates of Jemma’s cakes and delicate fancies. Rather than take individual orders for the launch, we’d decided to dress the tables with a variety of afternoon tea treats from the menu. That way she and Tom wouldn’t be spending the whole time running in and out of the kitchen. It was important that they mingled with the customers and hopefully the local press, whilst Ruby and I served drinks.

  Excitement was at fever pitch as we stood in our matching aprons waiting for the town clock to strike one, which was when Jemma was going to cut the ribbon and invite everyone inside.

  ‘Thank you for this,’ she smiled at me, as we gathered under the branches of the now blossoming cherry tree, ‘if it wasn’t for you we wouldn’t be doing this.’

  ‘Yes you would,’ I smiled back, dismissing her gratitude and not wanting a fuss, ‘you’d have found a way.’

  ‘No we wouldn’t,’ she said, tears suddenly appearing, ‘we wouldn’t. Without your help and investment the only thing we’d be doing now is looking at a For Sale board!’

  ‘Oh god, she isn’t crying again is she?’

  Tom and Ben had appeared with celebratory bottles of local elderflower cordial.
I turned to face Jemma and scrutinised her expression. She laughed and pulled her handkerchief from her apron pocket.

  ‘Almost!’ I announced. ‘It was a close run thing but I think the crisis has been averted!’

  Right on cue, the crowd that had gathered began counting down, the press arrived and the sun began to shine. It felt like spring had really arrived and I couldn’t help thinking about how much we’d achieved in such a short space of time.

  ‘This is a wonderful thing you’ve done,’ Ben whispered in my ear.

  His face was close to mine as he bent to make himself heard above the crowd. I took a step back, trying to avoid his gaze.

  ‘You would have done the same,’ I whispered. ‘They’ve done so much for us, individually I mean, over the last few months. All this is the least I could do.’

  ‘But even so,’ Ben smiled, ‘it’s still a wonderful thing.’

  ‘Five, four, three, two, one!’

  Jemma snipped the ribbon to rapturous applause and Tom, having quickly passed Ben the bottles of cordial, swept his wife off her feet and carried her across the threshold.

  ‘We declare,’ they laughed together, ‘the Cherry Tree Café open for business!’

  The crowd cheered and the photographers snapped away as we jostled back inside to begin our new adventure.

  ‘So,’ said Jay, the freelance reporter who was covering the launch for the local paper, ‘Tom tells me that you’re going to be running some sort of sewing courses here in the future. Is that right?’

  I looked across the Café to where Tom was clearing tables and laughing with Ben about something or other.

  ‘Nothing’s been decided yet,’ I told him honestly, ‘it was just an idea a friend of Jemma’s came up with.’

  ‘Well, I got the impression that it was more than just an idea! Apparently people have been asking about when they can sign up and what you’ll be offering all afternoon.’

  ‘What?’ I frowned.

  I knew that customers had been asking about the designs I had come up with, but I had no idea the crafting course rumour was still running amok amongst the local population. I could feel a heady mix of fear, apprehension and excitement creeping up as the idea once again took hold of my imagination.

  ‘Hello, darling!’ My mother sidled up. ‘Congratulations! You’ve done an amazing job. Jemma tells me you’ve done all this! It looks like you’ve transformed the place single-handedly.’

  ‘Not quite,’ I muttered.

  ‘Is this your sister, Lizzie?’ Jay asked innocently.

  I wanted to cry when I heard him say that. There would be no stopping her now. I spotted Dad loitering by the door, clearly ready to go. ‘Sorry!’ he mouthed with a shrug.

  ‘No,’ I smiled through gritted teeth, ‘my mother actually.’

  ‘And is she the clever lady who taught you how to sew?’

  ‘No,’ I said, more bluntly this time. ‘It isn’t. My gran, that is my dad’s mum, taught me how to . . .’

  ‘Well, I must have taught you something, darling!’ Mum cut in, clearly wounded that I wasn’t prepared to let her take any of the credit.

  ‘Mother,’ I declared sternly, ‘you know perfectly well that only a few weeks ago you told me that messing about with sewing was a waste of time.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Jay smirked, understanding the situation perfectly, ‘surely not! Your daughter is clearly extremely talented! As I understand it customers are crying out for . . .’

  ‘Well anyway,’ I said, desperate that Jay wouldn’t say another word.

  I didn’t want Mum knowing anything about the potential courses. It was still, in my mind, unlikely that they would really happen and I certainly didn’t want to give her anymore ‘wasted opportunity’ ammunition! She had a barrel full already.

  ‘Right, we’re off!’ Dad said, giving me a quick kiss and forcibly steering mum by the elbow towards the door. ‘Well done with everything, darling, it looks wonderful. Thank you for a lovely afternoon, Jemma! See you later, Tom.’

  I let out a relieved sigh as they disappeared through the door and Jay began packing away his camera.

  ‘If you do decide to run those courses,’ he smiled, ‘give me a bell.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘You don’t look like the crocheting kind.’

  We both started to laugh and I looked at him properly for the first time: piercing blue eyes and just the right amount of stubble, nice. However, I couldn’t help thinking he would have looked more at home amongst the ranks of the paparazzi than the dowdy offices of the local rag. I felt myself blush as I realised he might have seen my faux engagement announcement a few weeks back.

  ‘No, I’m not the crocheting kind,’ he laughed, ‘but I might know someone who would be interested in covering the story for you. I thought perhaps I could tempt you with a bit of free advertising.’

  He held out his card but I didn’t take it.

  ‘I don’t even know if the courses will be happening yet,’ I murmured, shaking my head. ‘It all seems a bit pie-in-the-sky to me.’

  ‘Well, take it anyway,’ he said, carefully laying the card on the table. ‘Maybe you’ll decide to call me even if the courses don’t go ahead.’

  ‘I think,’ said Tom, draining his champagne flute for the third time, ‘that was what you call a raging success!’

  The Saturday launch afternoon had flown by so quickly and we were so exhausted after clearing up that our own private celebration took place the next day in the Café garden. The sky was bright and clear and for the first time it was possible to feel some real warmth from the sun.

  We sat together under the cherry blossom with blankets around our legs, sipping champagne, the excitement already mounting for the next day when the Café would open properly for the first time. Jemma had spent the morning baking and prepping whilst I tidied and primped with the boys and now there was little left to do besides count down and see who would be first through the doors.

  ‘Have you thought any more about the crafting courses, Lizzie?’ Tom asked, holding up his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the spring sun as he scrutinised me.

  ‘She’s thought of little else!’ Jemma laughed, without even glancing in my direction.

  ‘Yes, Tom,’ I answered, totally ignoring Jemma and her telepathic powers. ‘I have been giving the idea some consideration.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well,’ I began.

  ‘She wants to give it a shot,’ Jemma cut in, ‘but she’s going to find an excuse to begin with. For example, she’s going to tell us that she thinks we should wait and see how the Café does first. She wants to give it a couple of weeks and see what business is like.’

  There was an edge of ‘know it all’ sarcasm to her tone that I really didn’t appreciate but unfortunately as always, she had hit the nail on the head. Along with unmasking the mysterious caller, I had been thinking that it would be a good idea to see how well the Café took off before making a decision, but apparently Jemma wasn’t prepared to settle for such a flimsy reason for not pushing on and taking the plunge.

  ‘Of course, the problem with that,’ she continued in a singsong voice, ‘is that everyone who was interested may well have forgotten about the idea or got so fed up with waiting that they will have found somewhere else further afield to go to and in the meantime forgotten all about our little Café.’

  That was actually a very good point and one that I had failed to consider.

  ‘I think,’ Jemma finished cunningly, ‘that if people knew Lizzie was really planning to offer these sessions from the word go then we’d have an edge. We’d be offering added value from the very first time we open the door. We’d stand out as offering something extra and currently unique in this area. However, if we wait even just a few weeks,’ she added sadly, her theatrical pout reminding me of Ella, ‘it might look as if the Café was struggling and we were tacking the courses on, no pun intended, to try and turn things around.’

  I opened my mouth to s
ay something but no words were forthcoming. Tom sniggered and leant forward to pat my leg and give me a knowing wink.

  ‘She’s good, isn’t she?’ he smiled proudly. ‘Definitely the brains of the outfit!’

  I brushed him off and turned my attention to Ben. Would he be a more cautionary adversary, I wondered?

  ‘What do you think, Ben?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, I completely agree with Jemma,’ he said, without stopping for even a second to think it over. ‘I mean, you’ve got a financial interest in the place now so you’re in it for the long haul, aren’t you?’

  ‘Well yes . . .’ I began, but Ben cut me off.

  ‘I would have thought you’d be desperate to see it succeed and Jemma has often spoken about the plans you had when you left college, so it’s hardly a bolt out of the blue, is it? The idea seems like a rather logical progression to me.’

  I glared at him and he raised his eyebrows and smiled back in what I can only describe as a flirtatious manner. My stomach flipped and I quickly looked away but it was too late. I let my hair swing forward to cover the tell-tale blush that flooded my face. No wait and see cautionary advice there, then. Deep down I knew everyone’s opinions made perfect sense but of course they weren’t privy to my other little secret, were they?

  ‘So that’s settled!’ Tom announced, swaying slightly as he stood to refill our glasses. ‘Lizzie will be running crafting courses with immediate effect! Better let the local press know! They or should I say, a certain someone who works for them, will be clamouring to hear the news!’

  ‘Tom!’ Jemma shouted. ‘Sit down, for goodness’ sake!’

  ‘No, hang on,’ I cut in, ‘what exactly do you mean by that, Tom?’

  ‘Jay,’ Tom whispered conspiratorially, trying to tap the side of his nose but missing, ‘he phoned last night begging for your number. I think you’ve got yourself an admirer, Lizzie!’

  I could feel myself blushing again and bit my lip to keep myself quiet.

  ‘What, Jay as in the press guy you used to play football with?’ Ben frowned. ‘The one who was at the launch?’