Summer at the Comfort Food Cafe

by Debbie Johnson

  ‘I don’t think that’s true. We may not have known each other long, but we know each other well. I never thought, after Marianne, that I’d ever feel this way about any woman again. And I was happy with that. I was in hibernation and that suited me. Then you came along and poked me wide awake, and here I am. Eyes wide open. A little bit scared, but willing to try.’

  ‘That was her name, then?’ I ask. ‘Marianne? I don’t even know what happened with you two.’

  ‘I found her in bed with my best friend at our engagement party, to cut a long story brutally short. He was also my partner in the vets’ practice, which is one of the many reasons I had to leave – I thought I might kill him if I stayed. They’d been seeing each other behind my back for months and when I found out I lost the two people closest to me in the whole world, both at the same time.’

  ‘Plus your dog.’

  ‘Yes,’ he says, with a small laugh. ‘Plus Nico. I know it’s nothing like what you went through, but it … damaged me. In ways I never thought would heal. Until now. Until you.’

  I turn his story over in my mind and my first instinct is sympathy, and regret, for everything he’s suffered and any part I might play in his future suffering.

  I can feel his big, warm body next to mine, his thigh pressed against my thigh, his bulk sheltering me from the breeze and I want to touch him. To lay my hand across his and comfort him. But I don’t – because it wouldn’t be right.

  ‘Well, in some ways, Matt, I think it might be worse than what I went through … not as dramatic, not as permanent, but still awful. I mean, David never chose to hurt me. He didn’t leave me, or betray me, or stop loving me – he was taken. It’s different.

  ‘And I’m sure you will heal – but not because of me. Honestly? I’m a disaster area and I can guarantee you don’t want to take this on. It wouldn’t be good for you, or for me, or for Midge … I can’t do it, Matt. I can’t make any kind of commitment to a puppy, never mind to you.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting marriage, Laura! We can take it slowly. See what happens. We can –’

  ‘No, Matt,’ I say, interrupting him. ‘We can’t. I can’t. I’m sorry, but no. Midge is beautiful and you are … well, you’re amazing. But I can’t. I’ll be leaving in the morning.’

  ‘Why?’ he asks, simply, the pain raw in his voice even though I suspect he is fighting hard to hide it. ‘Am I wrong? Have I misjudged all of this? Are you leaving because you don’t have any feelings for me?’

  I turn to face him and gently stroke the side of his face, tracing my fingers across his cheekbones, his jaw.

  ‘Matt, I’m leaving because I have too many feelings for you. I’m falling in love with you and I’m just not ready.’

  He leans in, kisses my fingertips as they pass his lips, then holds my hand in his.

  ‘You can’t choose when you fall in love, Laura, or who you fall in love with.’

  I remove my hand from his and stand up. I give Midge one last cuddle and lay a kiss on his soft black head. I pass him back to Matt, who gently takes him into his arms.

  ‘I know that. But I can choose to say no to it.’

  I walk away and try to ignore the sound of a crying puppy as I leave.

  Chapter 36

  As soon as I get back up to the café, I am immediately hijacked by Lizzie.

  ‘Where have you been?’ she hisses. ‘You’ve been gone for hours!’

  I glance at my watch and reply as calmly as I can, ‘I’ve been gone for less than twenty-five minutes, to be fair. What do you need me for?’

  ‘We’ve got something for you.’

  ‘What do you mean by “we”, and what do you mean by “something”? It’s a not a puppy, is it?’

  She stares at me like I am absolutely insane, then obviously notices that I am not a hundred per cent coherent. Her expression softens and her talon-like grip on my arm eases enough to return blood flow.

  ‘Erm, no. It’s not a puppy. Just … go and see Cherie, will you? She’s over there with her sister. Her sister – did you even know she had one? And Frank’s son is here and his grandson, who is pretty cute, and Sam’s seven thousand sisters … it’s all pretty weird.

  ‘There are all these new people here and everyone’s kind of high, and … well. It’s weird, is all I’m saying. Now don’t go anywhere – I’m going to tell Cherie you’re here. It’ll take you too long to go to her, you look half dead.’

  She bustles off and I can’t help but smile at the way she sees the extra party guests as ‘new’ people, despite the fact that she only arrived here herself a few weeks ago. Her energy levels are soaring while mine are sinking.

  I want nothing more, by this stage, than to pack the kids into the car and leave. I want to avoid Matt coming back up to the café, I want to avoid Cherie noticing that I am upset and I want to avoid any big, soppy goodbyes with all of my Budbury friends. I am going to miss them all so much, for so many different reasons.

  I sit down at one of the tables and blow out the candle on my table, hoping that nobody will find me.

  Off to the left, I see Lynnie and Edie May on the yoga mats, Lynnie showing her ninety-year-old client how to breathe properly as they lie flat next to each other. I have a sneaking suspicion that Edie has actually gone to sleep, which does at least make me laugh.

  All hopes of anonymity and a quiet escape are smashed to tiny pieces when I hear Cherie’s voice loud and clear over the microphone, which she has borrowed from one of the Honky Tonk Fossils.

  ‘Laura!’ she shouts, over the sound of the chattering crowd. ‘Where are you, Laura?’

  I know she won’t stop and the only way to get off this cliff without her spotting me is make a jump for it. Even I am not that desperate.

  I remind myself that I owe Cherie a lot and that no matter how I feel right now, Cherie was the person who gave me this chance when I needed it most. I can’t blame her for the fact that I have ended up with a heart that is at least a bit bent out of shape, if not completely broken.

  I drag myself wearily to my feet, practise a fake smile as I step into the light and walk towards her. I am embarrassed to hear the sound of applause and a few random cheers as I reach her, just in front of the stage. She is leaning back against a hay bale and her feather head dress is extremely wonky by this point in the evening.

  ‘There you are! We were going to send out a search party,’ she says, grinning at me. ‘There are plenty of people here with lassos tonight and at least half a dozen sheriffs, so don’t try and make a run for it, outlaw!’

  I glance at the crowd and see that she is right. There are lots of toy guns being held in the air, hats being waved and ropes being swung around over people’s heads. I hold up my hands in mock surrender and silently pray for all of this to be over with as soon as possible.

  ‘Laura, we wanted to say thank you, all of us. You’ve made this summer special for everyone and we’re all going to miss you. I know I speak for Frank and Sam as well as myself, and all of our families, when I say how grateful we are for this party and all the little surprises you organised for us. It means the absolute world to us all, it really does. So, this is a little gift from everyone – which we couldn’t have managed without a lot of help from Lizzie. I know you’re planning to set off early tomorrow …’

  She pauses while the crowd does a comedy ‘boo-hiss’, like we were in a pantomime, and then continues, ‘But this is for you to take home with you as a keepsake. We’ll miss all of you – Lizzie and Nate just as much. The café won’t be the same without you, Laura, and the beach won’t be the same without Nate and I’m pretty sure Scrumpy Joe’s Cider Cave will go bankrupt as soon as Lizzie stops promoting them …’

  There is a ripple of laughter at that, but I see that Joe is, in fact, looking genuinely upset. My daughter, the marketing genius.

  ‘Just remember,’ says Cherie, handing me a wrapped package and an envelope, ‘that you are welcome back here at any time. For as long as you like. There will alwa
ys be a place for you here. Just say the word and we’ll all be waiting.’

  She passes me the microphone, which I look at in absolute horror. Public speaking isn’t really my thing even at the best of times and this is one of the worst of times.

  ‘Umm …’ I mumble, feeling my skin flare up in embarrassment. ‘Thank you, all of you. We’ve had a brilliant time and made some great friends, and … well. Thank you. We’ll miss you all as well.’

  I am on the verge of tears as I finish and hand the microphone back to Cherie. I look at her pleadingly, silently begging her to end this and she sees my desperation.

  She nods, looks at me with concern and makes a move towards me. I know she will want to find out what is wrong, or comfort me, or try to fix what cannot be fixed.

  I back away, knowing at least that I can outrun her, but am stopped by the arrival of Lizzie, brandishing her phone.

  ‘I need a few more, to complete the set,’ she says, waving the phone in the air and starting to direct us all into position.

  ‘Mum, Nate, stand with Cherie …’

  Numbly, I do as I am told, staring into the screen and hoping against hope that I manage to look anything other than glassy-eyed and mentally compromised. I have my photo done with Cherie, then Frank and then both of them. And then Sam, some of his sisters and Ivy and Sophie Wellkettle, who are both dressed as Annie Oakley type cow-girls with fake shotguns.

  I am forced into a group with the Scrumpy J Jones collective and am smothered in kisses by Willow for our picture together.

  Edie May comes the closest to cracking my less-than-calm-but-at-least-not-tearful exterior, when she wraps her skinny arms around my waist and tells me how much she’ll miss me and how much her ‘fiancé’ will miss my strawberry cheesecakes.

  Just when I am beginning to hope that it is all finally over, and that I can leave, Matt emerges from the top of the path and walks into the garden.

  His face is serious and his eyes are subdued, and the minute he sees me, he looks over my shoulder. I desperately want to run to him, throw my arms around him and console him – I can’t bear how miserable he looks. But it was me who made him look that miserable, which means that I don’t get to be the person who tries to make him feel better as well.

  The minute Lizzie lays eyes on him, of course, she press-gangs him into a photo, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards me. She is not quite old enough or sensitive enough yet to pick up on the tension in the look we exchange or the tentative way we stand next to each other, carefully not touching, for the picture.

  Cherie, of course, misses none of it – and instantly frowns at me, her face alert and concerned.

  ‘Right!’ I say, as soon as the photo session is done. ‘Time to go, kids!’

  I grab my wrapped gift and the card, which I just know will contain rude comments from half the village, and head for the path. Lizzie and Nate are moaning and complaining and making outraged noises about how they haven’t said their proper goodbyes, but they do at least follow.

  I keep my pace brisk and my face forwards and I don’t look back, not even once.

  Chapter 37

  It is six in the morning and the kids are sulking in the car. Nate has chosen to express his discontent by sitting next to Lizzie in the back rather than next to me in the front.

  I have left a note for Cherie, along with the keys to Hyacinth House, on the kitchen table, and have made a flask full of coffee to take with me.

  I couldn’t sleep much last night, so spent several hours cleaning the cottage, returning books and DVDs to the Games Room and trying not to have a nervous breakdown.

  The nervous breakdown avoidance wasn’t massively helped by the fact that when I made my pilgrimage to the Games Room – at 3am, as you do – the lights were still on downstairs in Black Rose. I couldn’t help put picture him in there, with Midge. Possibly drinking more of his whiskey. Possibly sticking pins into a curly-haired voodoo doll. Who knows?

  I finally managed a couple of hours’ kip on the sofa, passing out almost against my will, and waking up again about thirty minutes ago, still exhausted.

  I staggered around the cottage on auto-pilot while I waited for the kids to drag themselves out of their comas and get dressed. I did that thing you do when you’re leaving your holiday home and checked all the drawers and the bathroom cabinet and the kitchen cupboards.

  The only trace we seemed to be leaving behind was a vast stash of carrier bags, which somehow seemed especially melancholy.

  Now the kids are finally loaded in the car, the coffee is ready to go and I am taking one last look at the Rockery.

  At the still-green lawn in the centre and the water feature covered in the lilac clematis, and at the lush hanging baskets. At the sign to the swimming pool, the path to the gnome-filled woods and all the cottages with their crazy names. At the fields beyond, the rolling hills that lead down to the village and the hazily blue sky that is already streaked with golden sunlight.

  It feels like a million years since we first arrived here, Jimbo in the boot, knickers all over the place, everybody knackered. A million years.

  The kids are slouched in their seats, both of them avoiding my gaze. They’re tired, overwrought and unhappy, and all of it, as far as they can make out, is my fault. I am in for a fun journey.

  I am about to get in and drive away when the door to Black Rose opens and Midge comes tumbling out. He is a scrap of bouncing black fur, running around in circles, peeing on the flower beds, the water feature and on his own paws.

  He sees me and gambols over, and I am aware of the kids staring out of the window at him in wonder. Of course, I remind myself, they had no idea that Matt had offered me a puppy – and quite a lot more – and it must seem near-miraculous to them that a miniature Jimbo has suddenly appeared on the horizon.

  It took me about twenty minutes to get them into the car and they are out again in less than twenty seconds. The irresistible power of the puppy.

  I know, obviously, that Matt will come tumbling out of Black Rose as well as Midge and I try to prepare myself. This mainly involves swearing quietly and wishing we’d left five minutes earlier.

  He emerges, hair tufted in all kinds of directions, wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of snug-fitting jersey boxers. I avert my eyes from those and instead look at his face. His face is tired and stretched into a huge yawn. He looks completely exhausted as he rubs at his eyes and blinks a couple of times before he even seems to notice us.

  ‘Oh,’ he says, following Midge over in our direction, looking on as the puppy rolls on his back and squiggles hysterically while the kids tickle his tummy. ‘How are you? You look tired.’

  ‘I look tired?’ I say, managing a small smile. ‘Have you looked in a mirror this morning?’

  ‘Ah … no,’ he replies, belatedly trying to smooth his hair down. ‘I guess I am. Midge wasn’t really in the mood for sleeping and neither was I. So I drank some whiskey and played the guitar, and Midge chewed up my socks and peed on my duvet.’

  ‘Sounds like a fun night,’ I say.

  ‘I’ve had worse … look, are you going to be all right to drive? You don’t look very … refreshed …’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I reply. ‘I’ll just take some cocaine when we get to Bristol.’

  ‘Kidding,’ I add, just in case he isn’t sure. He does look pretty whacked.

  ‘I know,’ he replies, a slight sideways grin finally gracing his face. I feel the tug again – the tug towards him. And again, I fight it.

  ‘Right,’ I say, not quite clapping my hands, but almost. ‘Come on kids – time to set off.’

  They reluctantly stop playing with Midge and stand up straight. Lizzie gets back in the car, shooting me daggers as she does and Nate lingers a moment. Looking young and uncertain, he holds out his hand for Matt to shake, like a very small man.

  Matt shakes the extended hand and then pulls him in for a quick hug as well. Nate stays there for a second and I can’t even look at his fa
ce in case I see tears. Matt ruffles his blonde hair and Nate finally gets into the car.

  I turn to meet Matt’s eyes and it almost breaks me.

  ‘Be careful,’ he says simply. ‘And don’t get too lost.’

  He reaches out to touch my fingertips with his and I let him. Fingertips can’t get me into too much trouble.

  ‘We won’t,’ I reply. ‘I’ll set up the sat nav.’

  ‘Sat nav?’ he says, a faint but distinct note of contempt in his voice. ‘I never use them. Sat nav’s are for – ‘

  ‘Slackers?’ shout Lizzie and Nate through the open car window, as they have clearly been listening to every word.

  He grins at them and leans down to pick up Midge. Always a wise move with a puppy when a moving car is involved.

  ‘I was going to say cheats, but yours sounds better. Take care guys. I’ll miss you … all of you.’

  With that he turns around and strides back to Black Rose. Midge’s small black face is lolling on his shoulder, watching me as I get into the car, close the door and drive us out of the Rockery.

  Chapter 38

  Nate has said only one thing to me since we set off.

  That thing was: ‘Matt’s a nice bloke, Mum. You should give him a chance.’

  As Nate is twelve, I refrain from launching into a debate with him about the validity of my romantic life choices and concentrate on the driving.

  Lizzie has also said only one thing to me since we set off.

  That thing was, ‘I can’t believe you left the puppy behind.’

  I also can’t believe I left the puppy behind, so I don’t engage with her either. To be honest, I’m quite glad to let them sit in silence, to drink my coffee and to simply drive.

  I feel simultaneously much stronger and much more messed up than I did on the drive down here from Manchester, which is an interesting cocktail.

  I do know, though, that whatever it is, it is progress of sorts. Even feeling messed up about another man is a positive step – or at least I hope I will be able to look back on it like that at some point or another. Possibly in about twenty years.