Summer Secrets at the Apple Blossom Deli

by Portia MacIntosh

  Everyone turns to look at me.

  ‘Frankie doesn’t have nits,’ I announce defensively.

  ‘Because you shaved his head,’ one of the mums I don’t know suggests.

  ‘No, he didn’t before either. His dad took him for a haircut and I didn’t think it was appropriate for school, so he shaved his head, that’s all.’

  ‘So Frankie does have a dad?’ Mary-Ann asks.

  ‘No, the stork brought him,’ I say sarcastically.

  ‘I thought he had two mums,’ Mary-Ann says, pointing to the drawing on the wall.

  ‘No,’ Mrs Snowball interjects. ‘That’s Lily’s sister, Vivien.’

  Oh, it’s just so like my mum to pass herself off as my sister.

  ‘She’s the one who flirted with my husband when he picked Josh up on Wednesday,’ I hear someone mutter.

  ‘So his dad is the man who had dreadlocks?’ Jessica asks.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I heard he’s been living rough in Africa for the past twelve years,’ I hear a man behind me whisper to someone else. ‘Maybe that’s when he got the nits.’

  I turn around, unsure who I’m addressing because I only heard his voice, so I tell everyone.

  ‘If he’d been in Africa for twelve years he would have struggled to father my child from all the way over there,’ I point out. ‘And for the tenth time: Frankie does not and has not had nits.’

  ‘I thought she was seeing Alfie Barton,’ someone whispers behind me.

  ‘He dumped her,’ another whisper replies.

  ‘I heard a different story entirely,’ Avril pipes up. I furrow my brow because it’s not like Avril to come to my defence.

  ‘I was at the vet’s this morning,’ she starts and I wonder whether she was there for her pet or herself. ‘And I heard a rumour that you shaved his head so we’d all think he was ill, so we’d stop giving you a hard time about the deli.’

  Gasps echo around the room.

  My eyebrows shoot up.

  ‘What?’ I can’t help but laugh. ‘That’s ridiculous. And you heard this at the vet’s? From Charlie then?’

  ‘I don’t disclose my sources,’ she replies.

  ‘OK, OK, everyone settle down. I didn’t call this meeting for a witch hunt, just to alert everyone to the fact that we may or may not have a louse infestation in this school. I’m not saying any child is known to have lice and I’m sure there is no truth in the story that Lily shaved her child’s head for sympathy – that’s just ridiculous.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say.

  Mrs Snowball claps her hands.

  ‘OK, meeting over,’ she announces with a big smile. ‘And don’t forget we’ve got the autumn show coming up and the kids have all been working so hard on their performances. I’ll go and fetch the children from their classrooms and you can all get home.’

  As I wait for Frankie I notice a few stares and hear a few whispers. It concerns me, how rumours are started and shared in this town. People seem to take the smallest element of a truth and run with it, until a monster of a story has formed that can’t be beaten.

  Poor Frankie doesn’t need kids avoiding him because they think he’s got nits, and I could definitely do without people thinking I’m actually evil. Opening a deli in a small town isn’t evil, despite what they say, but pretending a child is ill for sympathy is abhorrent.

  ‘Mum,’ Frankie says excitedly as he charges over to me.

  ‘Hey, kiddo, good day?’

  He pulls a funny face.

  ‘Same,’ I laugh. ‘But your dad is building your tree house as we speak, and we’re gonna stop at the shops on the way home and get some stuff for dinner.’

  ‘Cool,’ he replies. ‘I can’t wait until my tree house is ready. Can I sleep in it?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ I say, ushering him out of the building.

  ‘Dad told me that he slept in a tree when he was in Canada and it wasn’t even a tree house, it was just a tree. He said that he was exploring, and he saw a bear, and the bear saw him,’ he tells me, pausing for just a second while I buckle him into the car. ‘And he told me that you’re supposed to sing to them, to stop them killing you, so he sang “Earth Song”, but it didn’t work, so he had to climb a tree and wait for the bear to go, except he didn’t go for ages, so he had to sleep in the tree.’

  ‘Oh really?’ I say, pretending to sound fascinated, but I highly doubt that happened.

  ‘Yeah, he’s really cool,’ Frankie tells me.

  ‘Isn’t he just,’ I reply. I don’t vocalise to my son that, after hearing so many of Nathan’s stories since he got back, I’m starting to wonder if any of them are true. The only one that I do believe, without a doubt in my mind, is the first one he told me, about being sacked from the farm. Working on a farm in Australia isn’t exactly changing the world, is it?

  I park up outside the shop and we head inside. I grab a basket and fill it with the few bits we need for dinner as Frankie follows me.

  ‘Dad said he could help me stop eating animals,’ Frankie says. ‘I don’t like the food he eats, but he says we can find ones that I do like.’

  ‘Frankie, you’re a just a kid. It’s OK for you to eat whatever you want and then make up your own mind when you’re an adult with all the facts.’

  ‘But Dad says what we eat is bad.’

  ‘He also says that playing video games instead of football is going to turn you into a fat girl – but that’s not right either,’ I point out.

  With everything we need I join the queue, only to spot Mary-Ann in front of me. I keep quiet, hoping she won’t notice me, the awkward events from school playing on my mind still.

  ‘£11.95,’ the man behind the counter tells her with a smile.

  Mary-Ann takes a card from her purse and places it in the machine before punching her pin in.

  ‘Oops, could you try again, please,’ the man instructs.

  ‘Erm, yes,’ she says awkwardly, doing as he asks. It doesn’t work though.

  ‘Am I typing my pin wrong?’ she asks.

  ‘No, I don’t think so, it says there’s a problem with the transaction,’ he tells her.

  Mary-Ann glances around to see if anyone is in the shop to witness this and that’s when her eyes find mine and she grimaces.

  ‘Can you try it again, please?’ she asks, panic in her voice.

  The shopkeeper tries one more time, still with no luck.

  That’s when Alfie’s words pop back into my head – when he suggested I do nice things for the locals to try and get them onside.

  ‘I’ve got this,’ I say.

  ‘What? Don’t be crazy,’ Mary-Ann says.

  ‘It’s no big deal, you can give me it later,’ I insist, putting my card forward. ‘You know what these machines are like.’

  Mary-Ann watches me silently as I pay for her shopping.

  ‘Thank you,’ she says sincerely.

  I bat my hand.

  ‘It’s nothing.’

  She smiles at me and picks up her bags before leaving.

  ‘That’s your good deed for the day,’ the shopkeeper tells me.

  ‘No good deed goes unpunished,’ I remind him and he nods in agreement.

  ‘Right, kiddo, let’s go home and see how this tree house is doing.’

  As we walk out of the shop, we bump into Henry outside.

  ‘Hello, strangers,’ he says. ‘We’ve not seen you in a while.’

  ‘Hello,’ I reply.

  ‘Henry,’ Frankie chirps, running over to him to tell him all about his dad’s return.

  ‘Sounds like you’ve had a hectic week,’ he says.

  ‘You have no idea,’ I reply.

  ‘Seen much of Alfie?’

  ‘Not really,’ I reply with a sigh.

  ‘Well, if you ever need us to look after this one, just give us a shout,’ he says as he heads for the shop. ‘Give Alfie a call, see if he’s available.’

  I smile and nod, but I know that, as far as I�
��m concerned, Alfie is completely unavailable.

  Chapter 28

  I stare out of the kitchen window, watching Frankie in his tree house as he plays with his new pet. I mean, it’s not really a pet, it’s a frog he found hopping around by the pond that he’s holding ever so gently in his hand. I can’t hear, but I can see his lips moving, so I imagine he’s telling the little reptile all sorts. It’s also not a real tree house because, having realised it was going to be harder work than he thought, Nathan resolved to prop pieces of wood up against the tree, so he’s just sitting underneath that – even I could have done that.

  It’s a Saturday morning. Nathan has gone for a run, my mum is in the living room painting her nails an alarmingly bright shade of pink, and I’m here, cradling a cold cup of tea, watching my son make the best of a pretty rubbish situation. Of course he thanked Nathan for the tree house – and he probably meant it when he said it was great, because his dad made it for him. Nathan assures us that he’s going to do it properly over the coming weeks, but we’ll see.

  There’s a knock at the door. It’s amazing, how often people knock on this door, given that we’re in the middle of nowhere.

  ‘I’ll go,’ my mum says, hopping to her feet with an agility grandmas don’t usually boast, which reminds me…

  ‘Did you tell people at school we were sisters?’ I ask her as she heads for the door.

  ‘They believed me,’ she says with a wink. ‘If I were you, I’d admit it’s because I look young. Better than the alternative.’

  I frown.

  ‘Alfie,’ she squeaks as she opens the door. She leans forward and gives him a kiss on the cheek, which makes him blush.

  ‘Hello, Viv,’ he says. ‘Just here to see if I can take your…Lily out for the day.’

  ‘You can take my Lily anywhere you like,’ she tells him. ‘Can’t he, Lily?’

  ‘Where are we going?’ I ask.

  ‘I have the answer to a few of your problems,’ he tells me.

  ‘Oh my God, time travel,’ I say sarcastically.

  He laughs.

  ‘Not quite, but it’ll do the trick.’

  ‘OK, great,’ I say. ‘Viv, are you OK looking after Frankie?’

  ‘Of course,’ she replies. ‘I think the boys are planning on doing more work on the tree house today anyway.’

  Alfie peers outside.

  ‘They might want to try building it in the tree,’ he suggests.

  ‘I don’t think Nathan is up to it,’ I say. ‘He’s trying though.’

  ‘Well, you know I’m great with stuff like that so if there’s anything I can do or…if Nathan needs a hand, just let me know.’

  I am almost certain Alfie would rather do anything than spend time with Nathan, so I appreciate the offer.

  I knock on the kitchen window to get Frankie’s attention before waving goodbye.

  ‘Right, lead the way,’ I say, following Alfie towards the front door.

  As we’re getting into Alfie’s car, a sweaty looking Nathan comes bounding over.

  ‘You never apologised to me for accusing me of stealing your dog,’ he says to Alfie.

  ‘You never apologised to me for leaving me to raise our child alone for eight years – shall we call it quits?’ I say, giving him a look with my eyes that suggests he shut up. ‘Frankie is outside waiting for you, he’s ready to do more work on the tree house.’

  ‘I’m pretty beat from my run,’ he says, stretching his quads. ‘Do you think he’ll take a rain check?’

  I don’t answer him, I just close the car door.

  ‘Poor kid has already waited eight years, what’s another day, eh?’

  ‘I suppose he seems like he’s trying,’ Alfie says hopefully.

  ‘Yeah, he seems like he’s trying, but also, he seems like he’s not really trying at all. You’d think he’d be jumping through hoops to try and make things right but he’s all talk, far-fetched stories and empty gestures. Frankie thinks he’s amazing though. He’s all about his dad, he barely has time for me these days. I’ve raised him single-handedly – my entire life, since the day he was born, has been all about him, and here Nathan is, getting all the glory with his cheap moves and his crap tree house.’

  ‘Hey, Frankie knows you do everything for him,’ Alfie tells me. ‘His dad is just this new, exciting thing. And, you know, he could always be worse.’

  ‘He could, sorry,’ I say. ‘So where are we going?’

  ‘We are going to visit my friend Biagio,’ he says, parking his car outside a row of terraced houses. ‘Biagio is practically a local celebrity around here. He moved over from Italy when he was younger, got married and opened up the ice cream hut on the beach. I remember when I was younger, I’d love going to see him for a 99. He was this loud, passionate, friendly person and he made every customer feel like the most important person in the world, like one of his best friends. Off the record, a couple of years ago the gambling problem no one knew he had came to a head and he lost his business, his wife left him…The official word is that he gave up his job for health reasons. He’s doing OK now, but he’s bored. Not only would it do him good to get a job, but the man can sell food – and I mean really sell food – and everyone loves him. He’d be a real asset.’

  ‘And you think he’ll work for me?’

  ‘We’re here to find out,’ he replied with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

  We walk up to Biagio’s bright green front door. Just a few seconds after Alfie presses the doorbell, we’re greeted by a short, smiley Italian man.

  ‘Alfie,’ he sings, grabbing him, practically standing on his tiptoes to reach up and kiss him on the cheek – everyone is getting to kiss him but me today and this feels so unfair.

  ‘Ciao, bella,’ Biagio says as he pulls me close, kissing me on both cheeks. ‘Alfie’s told me so much about you.’

  Biagio’s English is perfect but his Italian accent is strong, which is kind of charming. The way he sings his words, packing them with enthusiasm – it really stands out amid all the low-pitched Yorkshire accents I’ve been trying to get used to lately.

  ‘Come in, sit down,’ he says. ‘Alfie said you were coming so I made a little antipasti.’

  He shows us into his kitchen, where the table is laid out with meats, cheeses, olives and bread.

  ‘A little?’ I laugh. ‘There’s so much food – it looks amazing.’

  ‘Mangia, mangia,’ he says.

  We all take a seat at the table and chat. I ask Biagio questions about his life, he asks me questions about mine. We make small talk about the town until Alfie gets down to business.

  ‘Biagio, I was telling Lily that you might be looking for work,’ he says. ‘I told her you’ve been a bit bored since you stopped selling ice cream.’

  ‘I lived to sell ice cream,’ he tells me, his hands together. ‘It’s a simple job, but the one I was born to do. I got to talk to people, spend my days on the beach…’

  ‘Well, I don’t know if Alfie has told you but I’m opening up a new deli on Main Street, and we’re looking for staff. Someone who knows food well, someone who is great with customers – you seem like a great fit.’

  Biagio shrugs.

  ‘I may be a good fit for the job – and the job may a good fit for me…but is the deli a good fit for the town? Who knows?!’

  ‘Well, I’m working hard to show people that we are. I understand your reservations, what with everyone being so wary of the deli, but…I’m throwing a tasting party on Monday evening, why don’t you come along?’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ Alfie says. ‘That’s a great idea.’

  ‘Didn’t I tell you?’

  Probably because I just came up with it. Well, it was an idea I’d been thinking of, to invite a few people in to taste test some of our foods, but throwing a party ASAP sounds like a great way to get Biagio and the locals in to see the place now it’s finished.

  ‘OK, sure. I’ll be there on Monday night and we’ll see if your food is as fantastic
as mine, eh?’

  I laugh.

  ‘This will be hard to beat,’ I tell him. ‘But I’ll give it my best shot.’

  After more kisses we head for the door.

  ‘He seems really nice,’ I tell Alfie.

  ‘He is, he just had a spell of bad luck. Seriously though, you’re not just doing him a favour, he will be great for business.’

  It certainly would be nice, to have such a fun, friendly, passionate employee – if only to balance out Channy, who’s only in it for the money.

  ‘So how long have you been planning this tasting party?’ he asks once we’re back on the road.

  ‘It’s a relatively new idea,’ I say.

  ‘You came up with it when you said it, didn’t you?’ he laughs.

  ‘OK, yes, but it’s not a lot of work. I just need to make the place look beautiful, have my bosses send me some supplies on Monday, and then get it all set up by the evening. It’ll be great. The hardest part will be getting people to turn up,’ I point out.

  ‘You know I’ll help you,’ he says.

  ‘Thank you,’ I reply.

  ‘What are friends for, Blossom?’

  I feel my smile fall. There’s something about when he reminds me we’re just friends that breaks my heart.

  Chapter 29

  It’s been a hectic Monday, getting everything ready for the tasting party, and with so much to do something was bound to go wrong…except it hasn’t. The deli is looking great, Channy has been working hard and all of the food Eric and Amanda sent not only arrived on time, but is also all ready to serve. All that is left to do is go home and get ready, after I pick Frankie up from school.

  I’m a little late – of course I am – but I’m relieved to see that, when I arrive at school, Frankie isn’t the only one in the playground, Jessica Dawson’s son is there too.

  ‘Hello,’ I say brightly as I head over to the pair of them. I can’t help but smile as I see the two of them sitting together, building some kind of structure on the wooden table in the playground. They’ve got a collection of stones, twigs and leaves which they are painstakingly balancing on top of each other in a way that I’m sure makes sense to them. It’s just nice to see Frankie socialising with one of the other kids.