Alice's Secret

by Lynne Francis

  ‘Look, everyone will be either dressed up to the nines or in jeans. Nothing in between. Just go in something you feel comfortable in. And have a nice time!’

  The last was said as the doorbell rang and Moira, laughing at the look of panic that swept over Alys’s face, propelled her to the door before she could run upstairs for one last makeover.

  Rob was wearing a checked shirt and jeans, as ever. Alys couldn’t imagine why she had been getting in such a state. They were travelling in the Land Rover, after all. She felt glad that she’d settled on jeans and a top that she’d actually made herself, from vintage Fifties silk scarves bought at a car boot sale.

  ‘Looking good,’ said Rob, and Alys rolled her eyes in embarrassment. She found herself chattering nervously all the way to Nortonstall, and felt a wave of panic again when Rob, as he pushed open the door to the pub, casually mentioned that a few of his friends would be there.

  She needn’t have worried. Everyone was friendly and open, welcoming Alys into the group as though they already knew her. Once the band had started up, though, they’d had to resort to sign language and Alys was relieved when, as if with one accord, they’d spilled back out into the street and headed over the road to a quieter pub.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Rob said cheerfully. ‘I didn’t realise they were going to be quite so heavy metal.’

  ‘And loud! I think they thought they were playing at Wembley Arena.’ Alys shook her head – her ears were ringing.

  With another round bought, she found herself tucked into a window seat, chatting to a couple of girls who had known Rob since school and were now working in Leeds, in marketing and accountancy respectively. They commuted daily and Alys, thinking back to her arrival in Nortonstall by train, thought ruefully that it was quite a different sort of commute to the type she had been used to. Much more scenic, for a start.

  Engrossed in conversation about all things cake related, she was startled when Rob tapped her on the shoulder. He waved his phone at her.

  ‘Just had a call. I’ve got to go.’

  She was puzzled. ‘A call? Go where?’

  ‘The farm,’ said Rob. ‘There’s a problem with one of the rare breeds. They’ve called the vet but want me on hand too. Good job I’ve barely touched this pint. Do you want a lift?’

  ‘Oh.’ Alys felt a rush of disappointment. She was enjoying the evening and meeting new people – at the back of her mind she had been looking forward to talking it all over with Rob on the way home.

  ‘Oh, don’t go yet,’ chorused Rosie and Sian, Alys’s new-found friends. ‘We’ll look after her,’ they said to Rob.

  Rob looked at her expectantly. ‘Sorry, Alys. I need to go now. What do you want to do?’

  ‘Stay! Stay!’ The girls were laughing and holding her down.

  She made a snap decision. ‘I’ll stay. I can get the last bus or something.’

  ‘Right you are.’ Rob was already heading for the door.

  ‘See you next week,’ Alys called, but her words were swallowed up in the crowd.

  After that, the shine went off the evening. She enjoyed chatting to Rob’s friends, but she was aware of not wanting to miss the last bus back to Northwaite, which went long before the pubs closed. So, at an hour that felt way too sensible, she made her excuses, extracting promises from all of them that they would come and visit the café as soon as they could, and headed for the bus stop. Waiting alongside a family, cheerful after a meal in town, and next to a lovingly entwined teenage couple, she felt suddenly sad. Why was it that the events that were most eagerly anticipated never worked out quite as you hoped?

  Rob was cheery the next time he dropped by, which wasn’t until mid-week. He seemed to have forgotten all about Saturday night and looked momentarily confused when Alys asked him if his mercy mission had been successful.

  ‘Mercy mission? Oh, the cows. All fine. Pretty much a false alarm,’ he’d said. ‘Something wrong with the feed, but it’s all adjusted now. You can’t be too careful with these rare breeds, though.’ He paused, as if suddenly remembering something. ‘I saw Rosie and Sian. They said how much they’d enjoyed talking to you. Did you have a good time with them after I left?’

  Alys felt herself starting to blush as she busied herself taking bags and boxes from the cupboard below the counter to lay out for their takeaway customers. She wondered why he was interested in her opinion of his friends. Did it signify something?

  ‘Why, yes, they were lovely. So welcoming. All your friends seem really nice.’ Alys was genuinely enthusiastic. She chided herself for overthinking things. For heaven’s sake, whatever was the matter with her? Rob was just being friendly. But was it possible that she was hoping for something a little more than that?

  Chapter Five

  Sun was already pouring through the printed-cotton curtains when Alys awoke. She stretched out in the warmth of the bed and smiled to herself. It was going to be another glorious day. As she started to mentally run through the day ahead, a dawning realisation struck a chill to her heart. She glanced across the room to check that her mind wasn’t playing tricks, but there could be no doubt. Her suitcase, lopsided because of its missing wheel, was propped against the wall, waiting to be packed. Alys’s time in Northwaite was almost up.

  She’d stayed longer than she had originally intended, over three months rather than the two that she had envisaged. Moira had been back on form for a while now and it was time to head back to London and book herself a ticket for the travels that she had only vaguely thought about when she’d packed in her job.

  She felt a momentary lifting of her spirits at the thought of blue skies, turquoise sea and white sandy beaches. These images were only too swiftly followed by another featuring a crowded station platform, everyone around her pushing and jostling to board the train, a heavy rucksack making her back run with sweat. She pushed the image away. She’d manage it better this time, not like her trip to India over ten years ago. She was older and wiser, and anyway, the different experiences, the good and the bad, were what made travelling so rewarding. Weren’t they?

  Alys had a strong suspicion that she might be pursuing the idea of travelling solely because she had mentioned it to so many people – her mother, her aunt, customers in the café – that it would seem odd if she didn’t go. It was all very well talking vaguely about her ‘travel plans’, but she hadn’t really got any. It hadn’t entered her head once since she’d got to Northwaite, despite lugging several weighty travel guides along for the research that she’d planned to do. If she was honest with herself, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to go off on her own on a big adventure. She was very happy here in this little community and, obscurely, she felt a little hurt that, now it was time to go, no one was begging her to stay.

  Alys sighed. She glanced around the room, taking in the stripped floorboards, the old pine chest, the faded patchwork quilt on the white wrought-iron bed, which had little hearts fashioned into each of its uprights. It was a real wrench. This felt so much like home now, and although she was looking forward to seeing her cats, her garden and her house back in London, she had the strangest sense that everything there was no longer part of her, but belonged to someone else.

  Resolutely, she threw back the covers. Today was her last day in the café and she wanted it to be a good one. She’d planned to bake a special cake and hand out slices to the regular customers, as well as make the lemon poppy-seed cake that had quickly become a café favourite. She’d made sure that her aunt had all the recipes for the cakes that she had introduced so there would be no problems with continuity.

  ‘They don’t come out as well when I make them,’ Moira had complained when they had discussed the recipes.

  ‘That’s because you don’t make them very often – you usually leave it to me,’ Alys teased. ‘Come on – you’re the master baker here. I bet you’ll be making better versions of them by the end of the week.’

  Alys had already been embarrassed by the number of customers who
had popped in to wish her well. They praised her so often for helping to transform the place that she had blushed and protested, feeling bad for Moira who was busying herself quietly in the background. It was Moira’s baking skill that had drawn the customers back since the café had opened, after all. She’d just helped to do a bit of ‘window dressing’, as she’d been at pains to point out to her aunt. Now she wanted to repay all the compliments with cake, so it was time to shower, dress and head down to the kitchen and bake there for the last time.

  More than once over the next couple of hours Alys had had to give herself a stern talking to, to stay focused. Moira had already left for the café, to open up for any early walkers passing through. No sooner had her aunt shut the door behind herself, after a hasty breakfast, than unwelcome thoughts of Tim had popped into Alys’s mind. She had messed up so badly in her responses to Tim’s efforts to stay in touch that she had found herself promising to meet him for a drink when she was back in London. She wasn’t looking forward to it – absence certainly had seemed to make the heart grow fonder in Tim’s case but, sadly for him, not in her own.

  She wrenched her thoughts back to the task in hand, half fearful that the nature of them might sour her baking. Instead, she started to think about the people she had got to know in the area, in her brief time there, and how friendly and welcoming they had been. Number one, of course, was Moira, who had treated Alys as though she were her best friend and her daughter combined. Then there were the customers in the café, always so chatty and interested in her as well as sharing tales of their own lives, the ups as well as the downs. She was pretty sure that for some of them, the café worked as a much-needed therapy centre. Flo had been such a support from day one in the café, always ready to step in when either she or Moira had needed to take a half-day, and ready to revert to a more full-time role once Alys had left. Then there was Claire, whose shop still drew Alys like a magnet although she had managed to rein in her compulsion to make weekly acquisitions – in any case, Claire had said that she doubted whether there was a single piece of vintage china left anywhere in Yorkshire. She rather thought Alys had bought it all for The Celestial Cake Café.

  Last, but not least, there was Rob. She would miss Rob – he was so different from any other men of her acquaintance, past or present, that she didn’t know quite what to make of him or, rather, her feelings about him. He was sure of himself without appearing over-confident or overbearing and seemed somehow older than he was, but in a good way. Alys discovered that she had stopped what she was doing and was gazing into the distance with a foolish grin plastered over her face. She shook her head, looked at the kitchen clock, gave a squeak of alarm and redoubled her efforts with the cake mixture.

  At ten-thirty, Alys was to be seen hurrying through the village, rather weighed down with bags and cake boxes. She would finish her special cake in the café, she reasoned, as it still needed to cool properly and, in any case, it would have been hard to transport once decorated. She had been determined to incorporate angel’s wings into her theme for the cake but she disliked using sugarpaste and lacked the sugarcraft skills to work in pastillage, a sugar-based modelling paste that experts used to make exquisite cake decorations. So, she had settled on something much simpler: a Victoria sponge, sandwiched with jam, cream and local strawberries and dusted on top with icing sugar in the shape of a pair of angel’s wings. She had drawn the design herself, basing it on the wings in the café, and cut out a template. Everything she needed was in one of the bags she was carrying and the sponge cakes, which had risen beautifully, were in the boxes. Her mind full of the task ahead of her, she turned on her heels on reaching the café porch and backed through the door to avoid disturbing any of the boxes and packages she was carrying. As she swung around inside the café she was greeted by the sound of clapping, startling in itself, and even more so when combined with the scene that greeted her, so much so that she almost dropped the cake boxes.

  Open-mouthed, she stared at the bunch of helium balloons in the shape of aeroplanes that was tied to the counter, the banner strung over the door to the kitchen that read ‘Bon Voyage, Alys’ but most of all, at the number of people crammed into the café. Moira and Flo, both beaming, were behind the counter and it seemed as though the whole village had popped in to have a final coffee with Alys.

  The next hour passed in a blur of kissing of cheeks, answering questions about her plans and saying farewell as customers gradually drifted away to get on with their days. There was another influx at lunchtime, as people dropped in for sandwiches, and even new customers passing through found themselves drawn to enquire what this was all about, before offering Alys their best wishes for her forthcoming adventures.

  More than a little overwhelmed, Alys escaped into the kitchen to finally assemble her special cake. Her hands were shaking as she laid the template on top and began to sift the icing sugar that would create the wings. At one point, she had to step back sharply as tears, coursing down her cheeks as she bent over the decoration, threatened to plop onto the sugar and spoil it. She was very touched by all the good wishes showered upon her but once again found herself irrationally upset that everyone seemed happy to wish her on her way, rather than beg her to stay. She knew this was nonsense, that everyone believed that she was doing exactly what she had set out to do from the start. She just wished that she had recognised earlier what was now staring her in the face. She really wasn’t ready to leave the café, Moira, Northwaite and all the people she had met there. It was too soon.

  Chapter Six

  Alys was called through from the kitchen to say farewell to Claire, who had dropped in specially to see her.

  ‘I can’t stay long,’ Claire said, refusing tea but asking for a sandwich to take with her. ‘I’ve shut the shop to take a lunch break but really I ought to get back. Nortonstall is busy today – there are a lot of tourists around. I just wanted to give you this.’

  She handed over a package, beautifully wrapped in lilac tissue paper with a pink satin bow. Alys could tell from the slightly awkward shape and the feel of it that it was a piece of china.

  ‘This one’s for you, not for the café,’ Claire said.

  ‘Oh, it’s so beautifully wrapped, I don’t want to open it,’ Alys exclaimed.

  ‘Open it later,’ Claire suggested, then leant across the counter to kiss Alys on the cheek. ‘Now, I really must get back but I just wanted to say have a wonderful time. But don’t forget your friends – come back and see us as soon as you can.’

  Alys felt tears start to her eyes again but to buy herself some time to recover she said, ‘Wait, I’ve got something for you, too.’

  She hurried into the kitchen and returned bearing the angel’s wings cake, cream and fruit spilling out of the sides where the two sponges were sandwiched together. The template had worked well, Alys thought as she set the cake down on the counter and everyone exclaimed over the design.

  ‘It looks too beautiful to cut into,’ Claire protested when Alys insisted that she should take a slice with her.

  ‘Nonsense. It won’t keep anyway,’ Alys said. ‘It’s best eaten on the day it’s made. But I’ll just take a quick picture.’

  She did feel very proud of her cake and she remembered that she’d promised to send her mother some more photos. Kate had liked the email that had focused on the café and cakes and Alys realised that she hadn’t delivered on her promise to send more along the same lines. Today would be her last chance.

  Photo taken, she insisted that Moira cut the cake while she unwrapped Claire’s gift. She gasped as she peeled back the layers of tissue. It was a milk jug of the same design as the tea service that had belonged to Claire’s grandmother, the one that Alys secretly coveted every time she took tea with Claire.

  ‘It’s not—?’

  Claire broke in before she finished her sentence. ‘No, it’s not mine. I’m not that generous, sadly! But I came across this at a house-clearance sale and I’ve always known how much you loved the d
esign. Nothing else was there I’m afraid, just the jug. But I’ll keep my eyes peeled.’

  Alys bit her lip. ‘It’s so lovely. It will always remind me of here, of you, of how lovely everyone has been …’ She found that she couldn’t go on.

  ‘You’ll be back, I know you will,’ Claire said firmly, taking her sandwich in its bag and balancing her piece of cake in its box on top of it. She turned at the café door and blew Alys a kiss as she left.

  By the end of the day, Alys’s cheeks were quite pink with emotion and she felt as though she had veered between smiling and tears all day long. At four o’clock, Moira had produced a bottle of prosecco, which she had been hiding at the back of the fridge, and insisted that she, Alys and Flo should share it, sparing a thimbleful here and there for any last-minute regulars who dropped in. Nothing was left of the angel’s wings cake apart from a few crumbs; indeed, all the cake stands were bare and only a few pieces of shortbread remained for anyone hoping for a sweet treat at the end of the day.

  ‘We’ll clear up,’ Moira said to Alys. ‘Take your drink out back and just relax for a little while. We’re going to eat at the pub tonight so we don’t need to rush home and think about making dinner.’

  Alys was grateful to have a few minutes to herself, to marshall her thoughts. The courtyard was sheltered and perfect for a day like today, where the sunshine was tempered by a brisk breeze. She sat at a table, shut her eyes and turned her face to the sun. She’d been on her feet since early that morning and she hadn’t eaten properly all day, just snatched bites of a sandwich in between talking to customers. Now she could feel her stomach growling and the thought of an early meal at the pub was very appealing. Without bothering to open her eyes she lifted the glass to her lips and took a drink, relishing the fizz of the bubbles and the warming, relaxing feeling as the alcohol took hold. She felt drowsy sitting there, enjoying the sunshine with no sound to disturb her apart from a faint murmur of voices within the café, the buzz of bees visiting the bunches of flowers in jugs on the tables and the calling of swifts as they swooped high above her.