Juliet noticed the light on as she got closer to the café. Surely she hadn’t forgotten to switch it off on Saturday afternoon?
She pushed the door. It was already unlocked. Had she forgotten to lock it as well? She heard a noise from behind the counter, where the hatch led into the kitchen. There was someone in there. The someone stood up. A man in a dark hooded jumper. He was tall. Broad. Juliet’s heart began to beat faster. A burglar? The only weapon she had was her umbrella.
Another noise. The chest freezer being opened. She crept up to the counter and looked through the hatch. The man was taking out packages, piling them up on the bench beside him. He was stealing their food. All the buns, cakes and bread she had made herself.
She pointed the umbrella at him. ‘What do you think you are doing?’
The man leapt. The freezer lid dropped, hitting him on the head.
‘Ouch! Who are you, sneaking up on me like that?’
‘Who are you, more to the point?’ She inched backwards towards the phone to call the police.
‘Are you planning on attacking me with that terrifying weapon?’
‘If I have to. Come out with your hands up.’ What cowboy movie had she heard that in?
He came out, both hands held up. He now had a big smile on his face. ‘Mum and Dad told me they had a burglar alarm. They didn’t tell me they had a highly trained security guard as well.’
His accent registered. It was a Manchester one. She noticed his colouring. Dark-brown hair, like Mrs Stottington. A large nose, prominent but finely shaped chin, like Mr Stottington. It was a good-looking face.
‘You’re Myles?’
‘I’m Myles,’ he said.
She was cross. ‘Why didn’t you say that to begin with? You terrified the wits out of me.’
‘You’re one to talk, with that umbrella. Does it fire bullets as well?’
She started to smile. ‘I haven’t tried. You can put your hands down now if you like.’
He did. ‘Let me guess – you’re Juliet.’
‘I’m Juliet.’
He grinned. ‘The Wonder Girl.’ He stepped closer and held out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Juliet.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Myles.’ They shook. His hand was warm, with a sure grip. She relaxed. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, why were you excavating our freezer at eight o’clock in the morning?’
‘I was fixing it. Well, trying to fix it. Mum said you’ve had trouble with the thermostat. I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d make a start before you all came in this morning.’
‘You know how to fix freezers?’
‘And refrigerators. And cars. And motorbikes.’
Juliet was surprised. She’d heard the Stottingtons talk about Myles and his business sense, how clever he was. She’d always assumed it was an office job, like accountancy or even law.
‘And could you fix it?’
‘No problem.’
‘Can I make you a coffee as an apology?’
‘Make it two and have one with me.’
Twenty minutes later Juliet hadn’t written up the daily specials or set the tables. She had laughed a lot instead, as Myles told her of his journey to Australia – he’d flown via Hong Kong, encountering every travelling nightmare possible, from long delays to flu-ridden fellow passengers. He somehow made it sound fun. He’d asked her lots of questions too.
‘Five sisters, a father and a little girl? It must be bedlam. How does your father cope?’
Juliet told him about Shed Land and about Leo’s inventions. She didn’t mention the lawnmower one, but there were plenty of others to choose from. The hairdryer. The spider catcher. The self-rocking pram.
At first he laughed. Then he started asking questions about the pram. Had her father used a hydraulic mechanism on it, or was it spring-based? What about the brakes? Had he thought about a push–pull device, using weights?
Juliet told the truth – that she didn’t have a clue. It could have been fairies moving the pram for all she knew. The invitation was on the tip of her tongue. Her father would love to hear another person’s ideas. God knows he’d had enough of his daughters’ eyes glazing over as he tried to explain how this mechanism would work or that device would revolutionise the house. She watched as Myles reached for a paper napkin and started scribbling on it. He was actually serious.
She felt a glow inside her. He was so easy to talk to. And attractive, too, the more she looked at him.
The front door of the café opened. Mr and Mrs Stottington were standing there, beaming.
‘Didn’t I tell you, Reg?’ Mrs Stottington said, nudging her husband. ‘They’re getting on like a house on fire. I knew they would. Isn’t he lovely, Juliet? And he’s single. Why don’t you ask him out? Show him around Hobart? He’d love it, wouldn’t you, Myles? Go on, Juliet, ask him.’
Juliet couldn’t stop herself. She went bright red.
‘Go on, Juliet,’ Myles said. He had a lovely sparkle in his eyes. ‘Ask me out.’
So she did.
A month later, Juliet knew she needed some help. It wasn’t in her nature to confide in her sisters. Especially not about men. She had friends from school that she talked boy-talk and work-talk with over cheap pizzas and red wine. But two of them had moved to the mainland, another was expecting her first child and the other three had long-term boyfriends and were often otherwise occupied these days. A part of her didn’t want them to know everything about her, either. She didn’t like appearing – or feeling – uncertain.
She needed help from someone now, though. Perhaps she was mistaken, perhaps it was some kind of hormonal rush, but whatever she did, no matter how much she tried to talk herself out of it, she couldn’t deny it. She was in love with Myles Stottington.
It was ridiculous, she told herself many times each day. She’d only known him for a month. She was just a family employee. He was only in Tasmania for a short time, while his parents were away. Just because they’d gone on a few dates and spent the entire time talking and laughing didn’t mean anything, surely? And just because she literally went weak at the knees when he kissed her didn’t mean anything out of the ordinary, either, did it?
It wasn’t just the dates. They worked so well together in the café too. He encouraged all her ideas. He praised how organised she was, how good she was with their customers, what a great cook she was. He was decisive. He not only knew how to mend freezers and cars, but he also knew all there was to know about menus, stock control and customer relations. She almost ran to work these days she was enjoying it so much.
She truly didn’t know how to deal with what she was feeling. She’d not had a proper boyfriend before. A few dalliances at school, including a half-serious relationship with a fellow student for a few months, but they’d never progressed beyond meeting with groups of friends and the occasional kissing session in his car. She couldn’t even remember breaking up with him. They had simply drifted apart.
All she knew for sure was that something inside her changed when Myles was around. She felt better. Sparkier. More alive. Happier. She loved being with him. She knew he enjoyed being with her. He’d said it. He’d told her that he wished he’d known she was here; he would have been out to visit his parents much more often. That had to mean something.
He was only going to be in Hobart for another month. Juliet didn’t have time to waste. She needed advice. She mentally ran through her sisters. Could she talk about it with Clementine? No, she was too caught up with Maggie and her birdlife at the moment. Sadie? No, it would quickly turn into a discussion about the fact that Sadie herself had never had a boyfriend. Eliza? She barely seemed to notice men. It had to be Miranda.
Her chance came the next night after dinner. Miranda had gone to her room. Juliet waited a few moments and then knocked on the door and entered.
Her sister was lying on her back on the floor doing sit-up exercises, dressed in only a black satin slip. Her face was covered in a green creamy mask. She kept exercising,
managing to point to the bed in between sit-ups. ‘I’ll be with you in a moment. Do take a seat.’
Juliet perched on the edge of the bed, preferring to look at the room rather than her sister’s trim body effortlessly stretching.
As usual, Miranda’s bedroom looked like something out of a magazine. She changed it around on a monthly basis. The dressing-table surface was covered in skin creams, lotions, make-up and small bowls filled with costume jewellery. More than a dozen bottles of perfume were arranged on a shelf. The bed was piled with silk cushions of different shades of green and blue. The rug was tufts of coloured wool, reds and pinks. It was like being inside the genie bottle on I Dream of Jeannie. Stylish and sexy.
Juliet thought of her own room. It had the same curtains that had been hanging there when she first moved in years earlier: blue-and-white check ones that didn’t quite meet in the middle. The bedspread was chenille, with many areas of the pattern picked bald while she was reading. There was a bookshelf, a dressing table and a small stool that badly needed re-covering. Nothing matched. It had never bothered her especially. But perhaps that’s where she was going wrong in terms of men. She simply wasn’t feminine enough.
Not that Miranda ever went into detail, but Juliet knew that her sister was never short of boyfriends or admirers. Juliet could tell when she was seeing someone. A kind of mood – a haze almost – would surround her. Glamour. Excitement. Confidence.
Miranda counted the final sit-ups, reaching one hundred, before coming to her feet in a graceful movement. ‘So then, Earth Mother, what can I do for you?’
‘Stop calling me that for a start.’
‘Your spikes are out. What’s wrong? Soufflé didn’t rise today?’
Juliet couldn’t snap at her. ‘I need you to help turn me into a femme fatale.’
Miranda burst out laughing. ‘Oh, that’s all? No problem.’
‘Please don’t laugh at me. I feel silly enough coming to you for help as it is.’
‘I’m not laughing at you. Not much anyway.’
Juliet took a breath. ‘Miranda, I don’t know for sure if you’re a virgin any more or not —’
‘Good. It’s none of your business.’
‘— but I am. And I don’t want to be any more.’
‘You want me to help you lose your virginity? Juliet, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m a woman. I’m your sister. There are laws against that kind of thing.’
‘I’m in love with someone and I want to sleep with him. And I don’t know how to make it happen.’
‘Now we’re talking.’ Miranda elegantly arranged herself on the bed. ‘Tell all. Who is the object of your affection?’
‘His name is Myles Stottington.’
‘Oh dear. Unfortunate surname. Too many ts.’
‘He’s Mr and Mrs Stottington’s son from Manchester.’
‘Myles Stottington, Mr and Mrs Stottington’s son from Manchester? That’s not a man, that’s a speech therapy exercise.’ As Juliet rose and headed for the door, Miranda reached out, laughing. ‘Come back. I’m sorry. Remember that thing called a sense of humour?’
Juliet sat down again. ‘I’m too serious about it to be able to laugh.’
‘This isn’t a new thing? You’ve actually managed to keep a man hidden from us?’
Juliet explained about the past month of working and going out with him. ‘I’m mad about him, Miranda.’
‘So what’s the problem? It sounds like it’s going swimmingly. Stottington-ly, even. Is he mad about you?’
‘I think he might be.’
‘Even better. So all you need to do is create the right environment for it to happen.’
‘What sort of an environment?’
‘Well, a bed is usually a good start. Ask him to come away for a weekend with you. Pack your nicest nighties or, even better, don’t pack any at all. And let nature take care of the rest. It’s as simple as that.’
‘I don’t just want to sleep with him, though. I want more than that.’
Miranda raised an eyebrow. ‘Marriage and babies?’
Juliet nodded. ‘But if I sleep with him now, will he think that’s all I want out of our relationship? That I’m one of those kind of women?’
‘What kind of woman would that be?’
‘You know, those cheap ones who sleep around just for fun.’
‘The women are the cheap ones, you mean? What about the men? It’s all right for them, is it?’ Miranda’s tone of voice changed. ‘You’ve been locked in your kitchen for too long, Juliet. Ever heard of a thing called the sexual revolution?’
‘Yes. No. Oh, you know what I mean.’ Juliet was too agitated to take her up on the argument. ‘Look, forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything to you. I should have known better.’
Miranda softened. ‘Oh, don’t get mad again, Juliet. I’m excited for you.’
Juliet was shocked at the sudden welling of tears in her eyes. ‘You’re not excited. You’re making fun of me. It’s hard enough for me anyway. Forget it. I shouldn’t have breathed a word of it to you. I’ll forget about him and go back to spending my whole stupid boring life stuck here cooking stupid boring meals for —’
‘Stupid boring us?’ Miranda offered, reaching across to soothe her sister. ‘I know, sweetie. It’s like working in a women’s prison sometimes, isn’t it? We’re all inmates and Dad is our prison warder. Why didn’t he and Mum have a boy, introduce a few more male hormones into this throbbing, emotional mix?’
Juliet shook her hand away. She wiped her eyes, angry at herself now. ‘Forget all of this, would you? Forget Myles.’
‘I will not. That name of his is seared on my memory. Have you got his number?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Juliet knew it off by heart.
Miranda reached across and picked up the phone extension beside her bed. ‘Ring him, Juliet. Ring him now.’
‘And say what?’
‘Say you’re free this weekend and you’d love to go away with him. Tell him you want to show him some of our beautiful scenery. Stay overnight somewhere together.’
‘Just like that? Tell him the truth?’
‘It’s worth a try.’
Juliet took the phone. She rang the number. Myles answered. He sounded very happy to hear from her. She asked him the question. She didn’t even falter. Miranda sat opposite her, smiling. Juliet barely had time to finish the question before he answered.
It was a yes.
Four days later, on Sunday morning, Juliet woke up just before dawn, in unfamiliar surroundings. It took her a moment to get her bearings. She was in a cabin near Cradle Mountain, in a double bed beside a large window looking out over the lake, mountains and forests.
She wasn’t alone. Myles was beside her. Naked. They had barely managed to unlock the door and put down their bags before it had happened. She’d felt it building between them the entire journey from Hobart. They’d talked as much as they usually did. Laughed as much. A lot of work talk, at first. As they drove north, he’d asked her to tell him what changes she’d like to make to the way the café was run.
‘I wouldn’t be so presumptuous. It’s your parents’ café.’
‘It’s our café while they’re away.’
Our café? She liked his use of ‘our’.
‘Mum and Dad are great businesspeople but they get stuck in their ways. Let’s experiment while we can, for the next month. New menus. New decor. Nothing radical. We need to bring our customers with us.’
‘You’ve done this before?’
‘I grew up in these places, remember. Every time Mum and Dad bought a new café, they’d move us lock, stock and barrel to the new town.’
‘They own other cafés?’
He laughed. ‘Oh, just a couple.’ His expression changed. ‘You don’t know about them?’
She shook her head.
‘They haven’t told you about the business they left behind in the UK?’
She shook her head again.
‘
Juliet, Mum and Dad own more than thirty cafés, all around the UK.’
‘Thirty?’
‘It’s our family business.’
‘But they never mentioned it.’
‘It was probably Mum’s idea. The whole reason for the move was to reduce Dad’s stress, take his mind off things.’ He explained. His grandfather, Mr Stottington’s father, had started the business years ago, in market areas in Manchester. Cheap and cheerful cafés, big servings, low prices, early openings, late closings, catering just for workers. ‘Then they expanded, especially in the sixties when it became fashionable to eat in places like ours. Dad took over, and then when he met Mum, they changed it some more. Moved into London as well. Went up a notch quality-wise, better menu and decor, opened more in other city centres. But the market cafés are still the main earners for our company.’
‘You’re in the family business too? I thought you said you were a mechanic.’
‘No, I’m just interested in how things work. I’m self-taught. I work for Mum and Dad. We work together, at least. I do all the acquisitions. That’s one of the other reasons I’m here, to see if the Stottington empire could expand into Australia.’
‘The Hobart café is a launching pad?’
‘Perhaps. I’m not sure yet. I think we need to make some changes to the model first. That’s why I’m keen to hear your ideas.’
‘My ideas?’
‘I already know you’ll have great ideas. Tell me, Juliet, if this was your business and you wanted to expand across the country, what would you do?’
Their conversation changed from a casual one to something akin to a business meeting. All the thoughts Juliet had mulled over in recent months leapt into her head. An extended menu, she suggested. Mrs Stottington had often asked her for ideas but never acted on them. Myles was decisive. Did she have examples? Could she draw up some possibilities and costings? Yes, that would work, he said to her plan to offer set specials at weekends. Outside catering to businesses and parties. Certainly worth investigating, he thought. He’d get her to do a trial run.
Those Faraday Girls Page 14