by Heidi Swain
She was cut off in mid-flow as the door swung open, the bell jangling madly in protest and a blast of freezing air sweeping inside along with the two men who were responsible for practically wrenching it off the wall.
‘Oh shit,’ I muttered, my hands flying up to my head in a desperate attempt to smooth and tidy my mad hair.
‘There,’ teased Bea, sounding thoroughly satisfied. ‘And you were just about to give me the “why are you going to all that trouble for a man” speech, weren’t you?’
‘Oh shut up,’ I muttered, looking around for a quick getaway.
‘Weren’t you?’ she said again, louder this time.
‘Might have been,’ I admitted. ‘Oh God, help me Bea, will you? I don’t want to see him today.’
‘What,’ she grinned, clearly enjoying watching me squirm under the weight of my own hypocrisy, ‘because you haven’t got your eyeliner in place? Anyway it’s too late,’ she hissed, ‘he’s heading this way.’
As I glanced up at Steve’s ruddy complexion and broad grin, I realised for the second time in forty-eight hours that perhaps I wasn’t quite as ‘over him’ as I thought I was and given the way Bea was smiling and nudging my leg under the table, she was now well aware of the fact too. She seemed to have completely forgotten that not all that long ago he had left me heartbroken and bereft.
‘Hello again, Ruby,’ Steve smiled down at me. ‘Twice in two days. This is an honour. You never said you were back working in here,’ he added, pointing at my cupcake-patterned apron.
As much as my treacherous heart would have liked me to, I simply couldn’t allow myself to fall under the spell of those sparkling dark eyes and easy-going charm. I reminded myself that he had beautiful Mia tucked away somewhere, that he had dumped me and that no amount of ‘cheeky chappie’ banter could make up for all the hurt. These re-emerging feelings needed to be nipped in the bud before I set myself up to get my heart broken all over again.
‘Hello, Sam,’ I said, pretending I hadn’t heard and turning to address his friend who, I noticed just a second too late, was kissing Bea deeply and whispering sweet nothings in her ear.
Bea, giggling like a silly schoolgirl, was obviously going to be no help at all.
‘I’m not working here,’ I said, sweeping up the empty dishes and turning my attention briefly back to Steve when it became obvious that I had heard him and that I was going to have to say something. ‘Well, I sort of am,’ I continued, fumbling for an explanation.
‘OK,’ said Steve, looking more confused by the second. ‘I guess it was the fact that you’re wearing a Cherry Tree apron that threw me and that now you’ve just picked up a handful of dirty dishes.’
I nodded and bit my lip.
‘So you can’t help with my lunch order then?’ he frowned.
‘Afraid not,’ I said, heading for the sanctuary of the kitchen, ‘but Angela will.’
I busied myself folding tablecloths and drying dishes until I was sure the guys had left and only resurfaced as Bea was buttoning her coat.
‘So much for our catch up,’ she moaned, ‘why did you go running off like that?’
‘I didn’t go running anywhere,’ I said defensively. ‘And besides, I didn’t think you’d even notice I’d gone to help in the kitchen, what with Sam stuck to your face. I take it the extra preening paid off then?’
‘There’s no need to be sarcastic,’ she pouted, before gunning straight for the heart of the matter. ‘Ruby, how are you going to cope working next to Steve, if you can’t even stay in the same room as him?’
‘Well, a little bit of loyalty from you wouldn’t go amiss,’ I snapped.
‘What do you mean?’
‘In case you’d forgotten, he was the one who dumped me,’ I reminded her. ‘I was the one who was left heartbroken and alone not all that long ago.’
‘But he only did that because he needed to be here for his family,’ she said compassionately. ‘He was only doing what he thought was best. It was such a terrible time for everyone. You know that, Ruby.’
‘Oh, I know I do,’ I conceded sulkily, throwing down the tea towel I had brought through from the kitchen.
‘He’s a good man,’ she continued, ‘and he never meant to hurt you. You know that too, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I said huskily. ‘I suppose I do, but knowing that isn’t going to make seeing him out and about with the lovely Mia and God knows who else, any easier, is it?’
Chapter 5
It came as no great surprise that Dad had chosen not to join Mum on the doorstep in the dark to wish me luck on that first morning of trading. He had barely said a word during dinner the previous evening as I chatted about the things I would be selling and I was now resigned to the fact that rather than applauding my resourcefulness, he was going to carry on ignoring my efforts because I hadn’t fallen in with his plans.
As I had watched him push his food around his plate I couldn’t help thinking back over what Tom had said about something going on at the council, but I hadn’t dared to ask Dad if there was any truth in it because I didn’t want him accusing Tom of talking about him behind his back.
‘You look absolutely lovely,’ said Mum as she waved me off. ‘Far too smart to be working on the market, but are you sure you’re going to be warm enough?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ I insisted, ‘I’ve got my thermals on and I’m wearing so many layers I look like a Michelin man under this coat!’
I knew my black skinny jeans, grey knitted tunic and heeled boots were probably a bit over the top and a far cry from what everyone else would be wearing, but I wanted there to be no doubt that the stylish Cherry Tree image extended beyond the café, and I couldn’t deny that Bea’s comments about my appearance the day before had left a lasting impression. I reassured Mum that my woollen belted coat would keep me cosy and that I had left my hair loose so I could pull on a hat if the cold really started to bite.
‘And try not to worry about your dad,’ she said yet again when I reached the gate. ‘He’ll come round.’
I set off for town feeling a little sad that my excitement for my new venture was already tarnished because of his reaction. Ordinarily he welcomed any boost to the town’s economy with open arms, but evidently that didn’t extend to family members becoming embroiled with the market which had always been the domain of the Dempsters.
I couldn’t help thinking how strange it was that my dad and Steve’s dad, Chris, shared the same desire to see Wynbridge thriving and yet couldn’t find it in their hearts to get along. One day I would get to the bottom of their mutual loathing but for now I had to focus on getting through the day without turning into a giant icicle.
I hadn’t sold a single thing and yet I realised that I was already looking forward to taking my share of the profits, heading to the travel agent’s, getting the hell out of Wynbridge and putting some miles between myself and all the men in my life.
A little later, and beneath a reluctantly lightening sky, I was all set to start work.
‘So, that’s the grand tour of the site,’ smiled Harriet, one of the friendlier looking stallholders who sold shrubs and plants with her partner Rachel. ‘Any questions?’
‘Does it get any warmer here when the sun comes up?’ asked Jude hopefully as she rubbed her hands together and blew hard on her fingers, her breath streaming dragon-like ahead of her in the crisp early morning air.
Jude and Simon were running the vintage stall that Jemma had mentioned the day before. One quick glance in the back of their van confirmed that their stock was indeed as good a quality as she had suggested, and I wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see Lizzie bagging the piles of pretty floral fabrics I had seen stacked in one of the wooden apple crates.
‘Afraid not,’ Harriet laughed. ‘Not at this time of year anyway, in fact, your suggestion that the sun will come up at all is woefully optimistic.’
‘I was afraid you were going to say that,’ sniffed Jude, snuggling closer up to Simon. ‘I
knew I should have packed my extra gloves.’
‘Don’t you worry,’ said Peter, the roasted chestnut vendor who was also new to the market. ‘If you get too cold, Jude, you can always come and warm your hands around my brazier.’
‘Steady on!’ laughed Simon. ‘I’m sure it won’t come to that, mate.’
Poor Peter turned beetroot-red and Jude dug Simon sharply in the ribs.
‘Don’t you mind him,’ she told Peter, who was easily old enough to be her father. ‘He can make an innuendo out of anything. Just ignore him and with any luck he’ll go away.’
‘Right,’ said Harriet, saving Peter from further blushes. ‘Let’s crack on, shall we? The sooner we all get to work, the quicker we’ll warm up.’
‘Now who’s being woefully optimistic?’ I smiled wryly as I pulled on my woolly hat.
The Cherry Tree stall was thankfully located directly opposite the café so shifting the large plastic crates of stock with a pair of sack wheels was no problem; unfortunately however the same could not be said for working out how to secure the green and white striped canopy that was supposed to offer some protection from the biting north wind which was renowned for whipping mercilessly through the town.
I could see a couple of the other vendors watching with interest as the sheet flapped around my feet and caught in my heels in an increasingly tangled muddle, but no one seemed in a rush to come over and give me a hand to sort it out. In a desperate attempt to look as if I had at least some idea about what I was supposed to be doing, I stuffed it back under the table and set about emptying a couple of the crates and arranging some of Lizzie’s decorations.
‘I wouldn’t start displaying anything until you’ve got your canopy up,’ said a voice behind me. ‘I can help you, if you like. Don’t worry about the others. No one’s feeling in a very friendly mood around here at the moment.’
‘Oh thank you,’ I said gratefully, whilst wondering if the slump in sales really accounted for the sagging spirits and stand-offish attitude I’d encountered so far. ‘I’d really appreciate that. To tell you the truth I think I’ve got it in a bit of a tangle . . .’
My words trailed off as I turned around and found myself face to face, well not quite, with the tiniest woman imaginable. She had a scruffy scrap of a terrier tucked under her arm and she must have been at least eighty years old.
‘I’m Gwen,’ she smiled kindly, ‘and this is Minnie,’ she added affectionately, stroking the diminutive pooch’s head.
‘Pleased to meet you, Gwen,’ I said, stepping forward and then straight back again as Minnie flashed her sharp little teeth. ‘I’m Ruby.’
‘Oh, I know exactly who you are, dear,’ she nodded, clamping Minnie’s jaws together in a well-practised manoeuvre, ‘and so does everyone else. That’s no doubt why they’re so supercilious this morning.’
I was just about to ask what she meant, but was interrupted by the arrival of a smart green van with the name ‘Dempster & Son’ painted in gold along the side. It drew to a halt at the stall next to mine and my heart sank in my chest as my fears were confirmed. Steve and I really were going to be working literally in each other’s pockets for the next few weeks.
‘Right,’ said Gwen as I surreptitiously watched him and his dad Chris, throw open the back and side doors and begin hastily unloading packed boxes of vegetables and sprout stalks. ‘Let’s see if we can get this blessed canopy sorted, shall we?’
I wasn’t quite sure exactly how she intended to help when the top of her head didn’t even reach my shoulder, but her clever plan was soon revealed.
‘Good morning, Mr Dempster,’ she called to Chris in a voice that sounded far more timid than the one she had used to introduce herself and Minnie to me just seconds earlier. ‘I was wondering if you and that strapping boy of yours could spare just a few seconds to help us secure this pesky canopy.’
‘Of course, dear lady,’ smiled Chris, readily dumping a box of cabbages on the pavement and rushing over. ‘Hello Ruby, my love, long time, no see.’
‘Hello,’ I murmured, stepping out of his way.
‘These aren’t the easiest of things to get in place,’ he continued, ‘especially if you’re on your own, but once they’re up they can stay in situ. I can’t understand why whoever put the frame up didn’t do this as well.’
‘I’m sure I could have done it myself if I had a stepladder,’ I said apologetically, blushing from my toes to my fingertips as I somehow managed to get under his feet at every turn despite my best efforts not to.
‘Not to worry,’ he shrugged, expertly shaking out the heavy, plastic sheet in one quick movement. ‘We’ll have it up in a jiffy.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, feeling relieved.
‘So,’ he said, eyeing me mischievously as he quickly set about counting the clips, ‘this is your stall then, is it?’
‘Just until Christmas,’ I nodded, taking another step back as Steve joined in and grabbed the other end of the sheet. ‘I’m selling some bits and pieces for Lizzie and Jemma from the Cherry Tree.’
‘Oh right,’ he smirked, as they efficiently covered the frame and smoothed out the mess I’d made. ‘I bet your dad must be absolutely delighted about that!’
He let out a rich, throaty laugh and I felt the colour flush my face again. There was no doubt in my mind that he knew exactly how Dad had reacted to my little venture so I didn’t need to confirm his suspicions. I stood and watched as he and Steve quickly secured the last clip and then looked over it all again to check that everything was level and as it should be. The whole procedure had taken them less than two minutes.
‘There now,’ said Gwen with a satisfied sigh and a wink. ‘I told you I’d give you a hand to get it sorted. Come and have a look at my bric-a-brac when you get the chance. It’s all sold for charity, you know!’
‘I will,’ I called after her as she trotted back to her side of the square. ‘Thank you!’
She waved a hand and carried on without looking back.
‘And thank you, too,’ I said, turning back to Chris and Steve.
‘Dad’s had to get on,’ said Steve with a nod towards where his dad was retrieving the cabbages he’d abandoned. ‘We’re running a bit late this morning. Van trouble,’ he elaborated.
‘Well, in that case,’ I said, looking everywhere but up at him, and feeling increasingly conscious that we had an interested audience watching our every move, ‘thank you twice over for taking the time.’
‘No bother,’ he said, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this is what you were going to be doing when I saw you in the Cherry Tree yesterday?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I shrugged, rubbing my gloves together. ‘I guess I didn’t think—’
‘That it had anything to do with me?’ he suggested.
‘Something like that,’ I agreed, although that wasn’t really what I meant at all.
He looked far more wounded by my confirmation than I would have expected.
‘So is this going to be a long-term thing then?’ he asked.
‘Come on, boy!’ shouted Chris. ‘This van won’t unload itself, you know.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘not for me anyway, and I don’t think Jemma and Lizzie have considered keeping it going beyond Christmas. They just want to help increase the footfall through the market for the next few weeks.’
‘Steve!’ Chris called again, drawing yet more attention to our awkward exchange.
‘Well, I’d better get back before Dad busts a blood vessel,’ he muttered, still staring down at the top of my head. ‘Give us a shout if you need anything else, won’t you?’
‘Thanks,’ I said, turning away and swallowing down the lump in my throat, ‘I will.’
‘Oh, here,’ he said, reaching inside his jacket pocket, ‘take these. You might start feeling the cold sooner than you expect.’
Truth be told, my feet were already beginning to feel numb.
‘They’ll keep your hands warm until arou
nd lunchtime.’
Gratefully I took the hot little microwaveable pouches and slipped them into my coat pockets. The warmth they emitted spread far further and deeper than I would have expected.
The weather remained far from crisp and bright and if Jude was still hoping to catch a glimpse of the sun, I thought as I gave a cursory glance at the grey blanket of cloud overhead, then she was destined to be disappointed.
However, the dull weather did have one advantage as far as the Cherry Tree stall was concerned. The strands of battery-operated warm white fairy lights I had threaded and draped between the stock and around Lizzie’s eye-catching Makes and Bakes banner stood out a treat, and with the café’s trademark bunting in place, the overall effect was extremely pretty. I couldn’t imagine there was anyone in Wynbridge who would fail to notice that this side of the little market had something new to offer.
I had just finished putting the final touches in place when Jemma and Lizzie arrived to give my efforts their seal of approval and drop off the float along with Jemma’s cellophane-bagged biscuits and bakes. I could smell the cinnamon and gingerbread before I’d even set them out and knew that if the sight of the stall didn’t draw customers in, then the smell certainly would!
‘Oh Ruby,’ Jemma gasped, her eyes shining with happy tears. ‘This is simply exquisite. I can’t believe how quickly you’ve set it all out and made it look so attractive.’
‘Oh that was nothing to do with me,’ I told her, feeling flattered nonetheless, ‘everything is so pretty I simply couldn’t go wrong!’
‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ she said, taking a closer look, ‘you’ve obviously got style, Ruby Smith, because this is beautiful, and you,’ she said, stepping back again and looking me up and down appraisingly, ‘look absolutely stunning!’
‘Well thank you,’ I laughed in my best southern belle accent as I gave a little curtsy. ‘And what do you think of it all, Lizzie? Do you like it?’
‘It’s perfect,’ she confirmed, looking every bit as thrilled as Jemma. ‘It’s even better than I imagined it. I know I certainly wouldn’t be able to walk by without taking a closer look.’