by Mona Marple
“Good morning,” Dorie called as she burst into the shop, bringing the cold air with her. “Full English today, please, and a mug of Earl Grey.”
“Earl Grey?” Sandy asked. “That’s not your normal, Dorie, mixing it up a bit?”
“Don’t patronise me.” The old woman barked, noting the extra friendliness in Sandy’s voice. “I read a fascinating article about all the health properties of it… can’t remember a blinking one of them now. Maybe memory was one of them, eh?”
Sandy laughed. “It’s worth a try. Oh, Dorie, I’ve got your scarf… someone left it for you.”
Dorie’s face clouded with a memory and her skin turned white.
“Are you ok?” Sandy asked.
“No, no I’m not. Oh, my goodness.” Dorie said, clasping her hand over her mouth.
“What’s wrong?” Sandy asked, taking the seat next to Dorie.
“Did Mr. Potter bring this for me?”
“Oh, yes, don’t worry,” Sandy said, realising that Dorie must have remembered the meeting she hadn’t turned up for. “He said he thought you were going to meet to get it back but he misunderstood.”
“No, that’s not it, I told him to hand it in here whenever he was passing, but oh my goodness. I can’t believe I didn’t think.”
“Didn’t think what, Dorie? You’re worrying me.”
“He was dragged in for questioning and I was so busy being proud that my Jim was doing the interview I didn’t think about anything else. Mr. Potter couldn’t have run over that man - he was with me.”
“He wasn’t with you, Dorie, you weren’t in the car when he stopped,” Sandy said.
“Whoever did this, Sandy, they ran over the man and drove away. If it had been Mr. Potter, he’d have had to have run over him, drove away and made a circle to come back on himself to then stop and get help. Do you see?”
“Yes… I get that, but you weren’t there Dorie.”
Dorie sighed in frustration. “I was outside the police station. Mr. Potter had dropped me off there so I could check on Jim, he hadn’t gone out with a coat that day and it was so cold. I hadn’t even gone inside the door by the time Mr. Potter was calling for help.”
“If he had done it, you’d have heard,” Sandy said, with a gasp.
“Well, of course. I may be falling apart in many ways but I’d hear a man being run over. I need to go to the police.” Dorie said as she jumped up from her seat. She darted out of the cafe and turned right to walk the few doors down to the police station.
**
The rest of the day continued as normal.
The children’s book group was a huge success, with even the adults cheering for Poppy’s singing. She was spot on about her singing talent, but everyone admired her courage.
“Such a good teacher.” Pritti Sharma said. She had never attended the group when she was working at the Manor but had been a regular face for the groups since. She busied herself upstairs looking at books and occasionally buying instead of relaxing with a coffee as many other parents did.
“She’s excellent.” A proud Gus Sanders called. He was standing by the counter and Sandy tried to ignore the faint whiff of alcohol on his breath. It was lunchtime and there was nothing wrong with a lunchtime drink, after all.
“How are you, Gus?” Sandy asked.
To her surprise, he grinned. “I’m blooming marvellous. I’ve got a plan to catch the little toerag and his spray paint, and then I’ll be even better.”
“Well, be careful,” Sandy said, feeling the spark of danger that she often felt Gus Sanders radiate.
He laughed.
“Are you ok for a few minutes?” Sandy asked Coral, who nodded her agreement mid-bite of a fruit scone. She had been gaining weight ever since joining the cafe because she couldn’t resist the food around her. Sandy left her sister to it and pulled up a chair next to her best friend, Cass, who was eating a jacket potato and scrolling on her phone.
“Hey,” Sandy said. “You ok?”
“Not really, Sand. I can’t stop worrying. I know I’m being silly.”
“Is this about Olivia?”
“Olivia and Derrick. You’ve met him, what do you think?”
Sandy pictured her newest employee, his eagerness to please and readiness to do any job she asked him to. “I really like him Cass. He’s such a gentleman.”
“Hmm.” Cass murmured.
“Don’t you think so?”
“I don’t dislike him,” Cass admitted. “He seems nice and he always walks Olivia home and I appreciate that, but she’s so head over heels for him.”
“She’s a teenager, it’s probably her first love. It could all fizzle out in a few weeks.” Sandy said, although she didn’t think that would be the case.
“I don’t want her… I don’t want her getting hurt.” Cass whispered. “She’s been through too much for that.”
“Do you think that’s a possibility?”
“No,” Cass admitted. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders, and I think he has too. It seems so much, so quick. I mean, a boy wanting to meet the family? That’s heavy, isn’t it?”
“I think it shows he wants to do things properly. It’s old-fashioned, I like it.”
“I just really don’t want her to get hurt.” Cass confided. “He’s all she talks about.”
“Cass, she’s a teenager. If it fizzles out or goes wrong, we’ll look after her. Come on, we survived heartbreak ourselves. You got over Tommy Fisher.”
“Stop saying that name.” Cass laughed. “I think if he walked back in here now I’d give him a telling off.”
“So you should,” Sandy said. “And imagine the telling off you can give Derrick if he messes up. Just give him the chance to prove himself, not everything has to end badly.”
“Says you. How full is your love life at the moment?” Cass asked.
“Empty as you know, but that’s not the point.”
“Did you hear any more from Tom Nelson after he spent all quiz night eyeing you up?”
“Tom Nelson was not eyeing me up,” Sandy said, but the mention of his name made her stomach flip. She remembered the way he had been looking at her, or had appeared to have been looking at her, and how good it had felt. “And I’m happy single.”
“Oh come on, we’re happy single unless the right man comes along. You wouldn’t turn The Hunk away and neither would I!”
“Well, I’m not going to fight you for him,” Sandy said.
“I’ve had my chance.” Cass admitted.
“What? Tell me everything!”
“Oh it was years ago, a friend of his set us up for a blind date. It was awful, Sandy. He’s much more your sort. We spent the whole night making awkward small talk, then I suggested I needed an early night and left. He’s a lovely guy, but all he wanted to talk about was books.”
“You are winding me up,” Sandy said. The idea of the village’s most eligible bachelor being a book lover was too much to believe.
“Nope. I swear.”
“Why doesn’t he ever come in the shop then, if he loves books?”
“Probably intimidated by your beauty,” Cass said with a shrug as she forked the last bite of jacket potato in her mouth.
“Shut up.” Sandy teased. “I’m going to leave you to your step-sister worries.”
Cass smirked as Sandy left the table.
“I will buy this.” Pritti Sharma said, approaching the counter with a hardback book about English country gardens.
“This looks good,” Sandy said. “Are you into gardening?”
“Not for me, it’s the birthday of Manor gardener.” Pritti explained.
“Shall I gift-wrap it?” Sandy asked. She had set up a small counter upstairs for gift wrapping.
“No, Sanjeev will do.” She said, rustling the hair of the little boy who stood by her side. “He enjoys wrapping.”
“Excellent.” Sandy said, addressing the child. “That’s a grown-up job.”
“I do it becaus
e mummy isn’t home.” The boy explained.
“Children.” Pritti said, rolling her eyes. “So dramatic. Mummy works hard to put food on your table. Nobody else is going to.”
“Bye!” Sandy called. As she watched most of the parents and children who had gathered for the reading time gather bundles of coats and shoes and socks and dummies and juice bottles and teddy bears and sodden blankets and pushchairs and shopping bags and who knows what else, she wondered what her life would have been like if she had met the right man and had a family.
She was sure that wouldn’t happen for her now.
At least with the shop, she could bring happiness to the village children in some small way.
And with none of the mess or sleepless nights that having her own child would require from her.
8
Dorie Slaughter arrived as usual for breakfast, bundled into a raincoat with a Russian fur hat standing proud on her head. Sandy withheld a laugh at the bizarre pairing of items and finished arranging the day’s cakes in the glass-fronted display case.
A red velvet cake stood proud, uncut and glorious, on the highest cake stand. Around it were Sandy’s lemon curd tarts, Bernice’s hazelnut torte and a brand new experiment - treacle toffee sponge pudding, which had made the kitchen smell divine.
“Morning, Dorie.” Sandy called. “I’ll be over in a minute.”
“Don’t bother, you should check the kitchen. Smells like something’s on fire.” Dorie moaned.
“Hmm.” Sandy mumbled, wrinkling her nose and taking a sniff. There was a definite hint of spice along with the sweetness of the cooked treacle, but Sandy wouldn’t describe as a burnt smell. “It’s the new cake, Dorie. Treacle toffee sponge pudding.”
“If you say so.” Dorie said. She was sitting at a table far from the counter, her coat over the chair but the hat still standing tall on her head.
“Nice hat.” Sandy said as she walked over to Dorie with her notepad. “What can I get you?”
“None of that cake, that’s for sure.” Dorie grumbled. “Sausage sandwich and a pot of tea.”
“Ok.” Sandy said, writing the order down to buy her time to build her nerve. “Dorie, can I ask you, are you okay?”
Dorie sighed. “They’re all the same, aren’t they?”
“Who?” Sandy asked as the doorbell rang to announce another visitor. Dorie turned to see Elaine Peters walk in, glance nervously at Dorie, and then loiter around at the counter.
“Oh well isn’t that perfect timing.” Dorie moaned, picking up the menu and eyeing it.
Sandy left her to it. Whatever had happened was none of her business.
“Good morning, Elaine. What can I get for you?” Sandy asked as she passed the food order back through to the kitchen for Bernice.
“Sorry, I’m late!” Coral called then, bursting through the door. “I swear I set my alarm, I don’t know what happened!”
“It’s fine, don’t worry, we’re still quiet.” Sandy said, gesturing towards the cafe that was empty apart from Dorie. Elaine remained focused on looking at the till only.
“Can I get two bacon sandwiches… to go?” She whispered, her cheeks flushing red.
“Of course, coming right up.” Sandy said. She passed the order back through to Bernice and asked her to hurry the food along. The tension between Dorie and Elaine could be cut with a knife.
“Aren’t you speaking, then?” Dorie called out then, putting her menu back down on the table.
Elaine spun on her heels, faced Dorie and burst into the largest, most artificial smile Sandy had ever seen. “Dorie! I didn’t notice you. How nice to see you!”
“What a load of rubbish.” Dorie said. “Where is he?”
Elaine stood open-mouthed, blinking. “He?”
“He?! My son! Where is my son? I rang him last night and he didn’t answer, and I haven’t heard from him since. Has he forgot where he lives?”
Elaine’s cheeks were bright red. “Oh, Dorie, I will ask him to call you if I… if I see him.”
Dorie rolled her eyes. “Make sure you do. I might not be here much longer.”
Sandy’s ears pricked up at the last comment.
Dorie’s suffocating love for her son had been a source of plenty of teasing to her face over the years, but Sandy knew that deep down it all boiled down to the fact that Dorie didn’t really have anyone else. She had been widowed many years ago and had reacted to that loss by making her entire world revolve around her son.
It must be hard for her to see him enjoying the company of another woman and having less time for his mother.
“Bacon sandwiches!” Coral called, emerging from the kitchen with two brown bags, which she handed to Elaine, who gave her a grateful squeeze of her hand.
“Well, I must be off, goodbye Dorie, so nice to see you!” Elaine called as she practically ran out of the cafe.
“I don’t know what my Jim sees in her.” Dorie muttered.
“I thought you were pleased he’d found a, erm, homely woman?” Sandy asked as she pulled up a seat and joined Dorie at her table.
“He had a homely woman right here.” Dorie said, giving a big sigh as Coral placed her breakfast order in front of her.
“He’s probably a bit wrapped up in things at the moment, with the murder too. Why don’t you do some more things for yourself, Dorie?”
“Like what? What good am I?” Dorie asked, and the tremble in her voice made Sandy’s stomach churn. She reached across the table and gave Dorie’s hand a squeeze. Beneath the battleaxe exterior, she was a woman scared of losing her son.
“You’re plenty of good, don’t you dare think otherwise.” Sandy said as she pushed her chair back and left Dorie to her thoughts. Running a cafe was like being a therapist. She had watched most of the villagers cry into their coffees at one point or another. It was a huge privilege really, to provide such a safe space for so many people.
Sandy’s thoughts were interrupted by a scream from outside. She turned around but couldn’t see what the noise was until she noticed movement across the village square.
“Oh no.” Sandy said as she saw Gus Sanders land a punch on a small, unkempt man. She opened the cafe door and sprinted across the village square as quickly as she could, which wasn’t very. “Gus! Gus, stop!”
The scruffy man was lying on the floor, a dirty backpack next to him. As Sandy got closer she saw that the backpack was unzipped, revealing a bright yellow tin of spray paint.
“He’s had it coming! Caught him red-handed, the little sod! Standing here in broad daylight painting more rubbish on my shop!”
Sandy crouched down closer to the man, who appeared to be about her age but had a full beard that added at least 20 years on to his age. “Is that true?”
“What’s it to you?” The man asked with a groan. His face was a mish-mash of bruises, not all of them fresh enough to have been caused by Gus.
“Have some respect.” A voice called from behind, and Sandy turned to see Derrick sprinting towards them. “That’s no way to talk to a lady.”
“Blooming Deves, hey. You one of them, now?” The man asked.
“You two know each other?” Gus asked, his face still beet red with anger and physical exertion.
“We’re both staying at the Manor.” Derrick explained, then looked at Sandy with concern. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine.” Sandy said.
“You’re mad.” Derrick said. “You don’t see a fight and run over to it. You could have got hurt.”
“The lad’s right, Sandy, go back to your cafe and leave this to me.” Gus said.
“I’m staying right here to make sure nobody else gets hurt.” Sandy insisted. She didn’t quite trust what Gus might do unsupervised. “We should call the police.”
“The police won’t do anything, I’ll sort this myself.” Gus said, bending down and pulling the man up by his thin t-shirt.
“Gus! Leave him!” Sandy cried, as Gus reared his arm back to prepare a punch.
&
nbsp; “Stop it, mate.” Derrick said and squeezed between the two men. Gus released the graffiti menace, who toppled back to the floor with a bang and let out a cry.
“Me back! Argh!” He moaned as he twisted into a fetal position on the floor.
“Is he ok?” Sandy asked, pulling her mobile phone out of her pocket.
“Who cares? He’s no good to anyone. Squatting up there, causing trouble down here. They’re no good. I’ll kill them!” Gus shouted, then turned to the man on the floor and leaned over until their faces were close together. “Do you hear me? I’ll kill you all!”
Gus grabbed the man’s bag and stomped back into the butcher’s with it.
Sandy looked at Derrick, who was standing over the man on the floor.
“He’s gone.” Derrick said to the man in a more stern, harsh voice than Sandy had heard him use before. “Give over with this now, get up.”
“He’s really hurt me, man.” The man groaned.
“So he should. Get up - you’re a disgrace.” Derrick said, looking down at the man with disgust.
“Derrick, maybe we should call an ambulance?” Sandy asked. As a small business owner, she understood Gus’ anger towards the man who had been waging a graffiti vendetta against his shop, but she couldn’t leave an injured person on the floor.
“He’s fine, Sandy. Let’s go.” Derrick said. It was the first time he’d used her name, and as he did so, he looped his arm around her shoulders and lead her away from the man on the ground.
“Gus won’t really kill anyone, you know.” Sandy said.
Derrick shrugged. “We’ll see. He looked angry and someone has already killed one of us.”
Sandy swallowed as a cold chill took over her body. “You say one of us, but I thought you were going home now you’ve got a job?”
“I will do.” Derrick said. “I want to go back when I can give something, I can’t be taking any more.”
“Do you mean money?” Sandy asked, surprised at her own ignorance. “You should have said. Everyone gets paid monthly but I can give you some earlier, even pay you weekly if that would help?”