The Plumberry School of Comfort Food

by Cathy Bramley

  We walked towards the car, still holding hands. Gabe looked nice, smarter than usual in clean jeans, a checked shirt and black trainers. Gone were his floppy locks, too; he’d had a haircut before the funeral – something else to keep him busy. He opened the door for me and I climbed in.

  ‘Any word from Tom?’ he asked nonchalantly, sliding into the driver’s seat.

  I concentrated on fastening my seatbelt and shook my head. ‘Not since the funeral.’

  ‘Are you and he, er . . .?’ Gabe raised an enquiring eyebrow.

  ‘He went back to Manchester after the funeral,’ I said, avoiding a direct answer. ‘On business.’

  Rebecca and Ryan had made him an offer for his share of Salinger’s and his solicitor and accountant were battling it out to secure him the best deal. Tom had decided to take advantage of the cookery school being closed to wrap up the negotiations as swiftly as possible. He was probably already planning his next move. Without me. My heart plummeted at the thought.

  Gabe nodded and started the engine, not meeting my eye.

  ‘It’s probably for the best.’

  ‘Why?’ I said sharply.

  He shrugged sheepishly. ‘Who knows what’s going to happen at the cookery school now? Perhaps he’ll decide to leave Plumberry altogether. An ambitious bloke like him won’t hang around for long.’

  The skin at the back of my neck prickled. Gabe had summed up my worries exactly, although unlike me, he didn’t sound particularly concerned at the prospect. But I’d miss Tom enormously. Even though things hadn’t quite gone to plan between us, I liked him a lot and he was undoubtedly an asset to the cookery school.

  Noah and Mags stood in the window of her front room waving us off. I smiled and waved back, my heart swelling with love for them both. Noah’s hair was still long and wavy; he’d escaped the barber’s chair last week and I was glad, there’d be plenty of time for short hair when he started school. But for now he could run free and wild and have hair as long as he wanted.

  He and Mags would have a great time together; Mags had planned a fishing expedition at a shallow point in the river at the bottom of Hillside Lane. She’d bought some fishing nets especially and had tied string round jam jars to put their catch in. No doubt he’d be full of their exploits by the time we got back.

  ‘Let’s see what Percy has to say first before we jump to any conclusions, shall we?’ I said tartly, drawing the topic to a close.

  Gloria’s solicitor had a smart little office above an antiques shop in the pretty village of Thickleton. Within half an hour of leaving home, we’d found a parking spot and arrived with a few minutes to spare, which Gabe used to drop a business card into the owner of the antiques shop. He might as well take on a bit of French polishing work if he was staying for a while, he told me.

  ‘I love my job,’ said Percy, waving us into his two visitors’ chairs bang on eleven o’clock. ‘Love the job and the job will love you, someone far cleverer than me once said. And by and large the two of us have got on just great.’

  ‘I love my job,’ said Gabe and I unison. We grinned at each other, the shared moment dissipating the cloud that had hung over us on the journey here, and I felt my spirits lift a little.

  ‘Sometimes, though,’ Percy continued, sitting on a leather swivel chair and wheeling himself close to his desk, ‘a client will get under your skin and jobs like this one, well, I don’t mind telling you, it breaks my heart to think I won’t see those beautiful blue eyes again.’

  He shook his head glumly and stared down at the pile of papers in front of him.

  I stretched across the desk and patted his hand. ‘Gloria always spoke of you very fondly, Percy.’

  ‘Did she really?’ He pulled a handkerchief out and blew his nose. ‘Sorry about this. Not very professional, but we’re people, aren’t we, not machines? And if I can’t be upset when I lose a dear friend, then there’s something wrong with the world.’

  ‘No need to apologize,’ said Gabe kindly, who I happened to know had cried every night for two months when Mimi died. And had said something similar about Mimi’s blue eyes.

  ‘Strictly speaking, wills don’t have to be read formally any more,’ said Percy. ‘But as there are two of you, it might be easier. Shall I just get on with it?’

  Gabe reached for my hand.

  My heart was thumping so loudly that I was sure even Percy would be able to hear it. ‘Yes please.’

  ‘I, Gloria Ramsbottom, being of sound mind . . .’

  ‘You OK?’ Gabe asked.

  We were standing on the pavement outside the antiques shop. Our meeting was over but my pulse was still racing. I took deep breaths to soothe my lungs, staring blindly at a Royal Albert dinner service displayed in the window.

  Percy had summarized Gloria’s wishes. In a nutshell (his words), Noah was to inherit Gloria’s cottage and various investments; Gabe and I had been left equal shares in the cookery school. He and I had stared incredulously at each other at this. There were one or two other bequests, such as a lump sum for Mags and various charity donations, but the main beneficiaries were Gabe, Noah and me.

  Percy then solemnly gave us a letter she had written to both of us. And as I’d read it, I’d heard her voice in my head as clearly as if she’d been in the room with us. It got more and more difficult to see the words as my eyes moved down the page.

  ‘Verity?’ Gabe’s worried voice jolted me back to the moment.

  ‘I’m . . . No, I’m not.’ I stared up at him but my vision was still blurred with unshed tears and I couldn’t see his features. ‘I’m overwhelmed with loss. I miss her and I still miss Mimi and everything has happened so fast. And this inheritance . . . it’s . . .’ I choked back a sob. ‘I don’t deserve it.’

  ‘Now that’s not true.’ Gabe wrapped his arms round me and we stood, as we’d done so many times in the last two years, with his cheek resting on the top of my head. United in our loss. ‘No one deserves it more. I think the fact that she’s left us in charge of her beloved cookery school must mean she didn’t hold any grudge against us, what do you think?’

  ‘I hope so. And she left Noah her cottage,’ I conceded. ‘That means a lot.’

  Gabe nodded. ‘He was her grandson. Mimi’s son. That was all that mattered to Gloria.’

  I exhaled a shaky breath that I felt I’d been holding since that afternoon in the hospital.

  She knew about us.

  My head felt swimmy and my legs were doing their best to keep me upright.

  ‘The relief, Gabe.’ My voice caught in my throat and I swallowed a sob. ‘Keeping my promise to Mimi has been so difficult at times, and to think Gloria knew all along. I wish I could have spoken to her about it.’

  ‘I know.’ He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. ‘You’ve been brilliant, just as Mimi knew you would be. We couldn’t have wished for a better person to have on Team Baby Green. And I . . .’ His voice faltered. ‘I couldn’t have managed without Mimi without you. If that makes any sense at all.’

  After a long moment, I brushed the tears off my face and eased back to give him a watery smile. ‘You know what? I will be OK. I just need some time to take it all in. Are you all right?’

  Gabe nodded. ‘Shocked, to be honest.’ His face broke into an impish smile. ‘I mean, you’ve got to see the funny side, Bloomers. Me, a man who can burn water, co-owner of a cookery school.’

  I let out a most unbecoming snort. ‘Gloria and Mimi will be having a right old giggle at that.’

  ‘At my expense,’ he said.

  ‘What do you think you’ll do?’ I held my breath as a clutch of differing emotions crossed Gabe’s face.

  Finally, he spoke. ‘Noah’s growing up; maybe it’s time to give up life on The Neptune and settle somewhere ready for him to go to school. But whether that’s in Plumberry—’ He broke off, looking unsure of himself and then gazed at me with a look that I couldn’t quite decipher. ‘Well, that sort of depends on you.’

  ‘M
e?’ I raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Actually . . . Look, forget I said anything.’ He looked flustered all of a sudden. ‘Gloria’s will is a lot to take in; let’s talk about it another time when we’ve had a chance to digest it. We’re partners now.’

  ‘Oh, gosh. So we are,’ I gasped.

  My head span suddenly. How did I even get to this point? Me, Verity Bloom, inheriting a business with Gabe Green. It was as if fate was determined to throw the two of us together. I shuddered as the familiar wave of guilt surged over me. Once again I appeared to have stepped into a situation that should have been Mimi’s. Why was life so unfair to some and bountiful to others?

  Gabe pressed the key fob to unlock the car and the lights flashed. ‘Come on, let’s get back to see whether that son of mine has caught any fish.’

  I shook my head; I wasn’t ready to go back. Not yet.

  ‘I think I’ll go for a walk, clear my head. If you don’t mind?’

  ‘Course not.’

  He pressed a swift kiss to my cheek and with a cheery wave, drove back to Plumberry.

  The river running through the centre of Thickleton, dividing the village in two, must be the same river that ran behind the cookery school. We were simply further downriver in Plumberry.

  I called into a little sweet shop, bought myself a bottle of water and a Bounty bar and looked round for somewhere to perch. Further along the road, where the river crossed the village, was a grassy bank overlooking the water. A wrought-iron bench caught my eye and I wandered over and sat down.

  I tore open the wrapper and began to nibble the milk chocolate away from one of the edges. It was the start of lunchtime and there were a few people milling about, coming in and out of the bank and the sweet shop I’d been into; there was a queue outside the post office and a young couple were staring at the antiques shop window display.

  But I barely took them in; one bite of my chocolate bar and I was instantly transported back to the end of April when Gloria had called me. It had been the day I’d been made redundant and she’d asked me to come to Plumberry to help. I remembered thinking how appalled she’d be if she knew what I was eating for lunch.

  How things had changed in only six weeks. Since then, we’d successfully opened a wonderful cookery school which had become the heart of the community, I’d fallen in love with cooking again and almost . . . My stomach churned as I got to the part about Tom. I’d almost lost my heart to him. But almost was a long way from actually. Maybe Gabe was right and it would be a good thing if Tom left Plumberry; I had enough to contend with, without my heart pinging every time Tom MacDonald walked into the room.

  I blew out a sharp breath and dropped the chocolate bar into its wrapper. Stick to the point, Verity, I told myself firmly. The point was that Gloria had started something very special that she now couldn’t be part of. She wanted Gabe and me to take over. Gabe and I were to be joint owners. And if I was right, reading between the lines of her letter, she was hoping that we would be more than simply business partners. Stepping into Gloria’s shoes and running the cookery school was one thing. Stepping into Mimi’s shoes was quite another.

  A twig caught my eye as it swirled past, carried along by the river. I knew how it felt; right now confusion and guilt inside me were flowing so strongly that I was in danger of being washed away on a tide of tears.

  I slipped the letter out of my bag, took a fortifying breath and read it again.

  Dear darling Gabe and Verity,

  Percy has all the details of what I want doing with my assets, house, business and whatnot. But the really important thing is what happens to the people I love after I’ve gone.

  My true legacy isn’t an accumulation of objects or money, but the wonderful unconventional family that I leave behind. You two aren’t my flesh and blood, and yet you are as much like my own as Mimi ever was and I love you just the same. And little Noah, the brightest star in our family’s sky . . . When Mimi’s test revealed her infertility, I never thought she’d be a mother or that I’d be a grandmother. He is our little miracle and although I have often been far away from him, I love him with every beat of my heart.

  I know that you care for one another and that what binds you is your love for Mimi and Noah. My greatest wish is that this love grows deeper and that the two of you will guard my legacy with every breath. To be a family is to be part of something very special, and you, Verity, Gabe and Noah, are my legacy, my future and the most special part of my life.

  Be happy my darlings,

  Love always

  Gloria

  A shiver ran down my spine as an image of Mimi on her wedding day popped into my head. Her eyes shining up at Gabe as they turned in slow circles on the dance floor, Lou Reed belting out ‘Perfect Day’ in his leathery voice. There might have been no one else there; they were totally and utterly absorbed by their love for each other.

  If Gabe had read the same message into Gloria’s words as I had, he didn’t mention it. But why would he? I was just Bloomers, Mimi’s mate, Noah’s godmother, wasn’t I . . .?

  A familiar figure strode along on the other side of the river and I felt my mouth curve upwards at the corners. It was Dave, dressed in outdoor gear: lightweight stone-coloured trousers, hiking boots and one of those T-shirts that is supposed to wick away moisture before you could say ‘damp patches’. He was holding a brown paper bag by its top corner.

  Dave’s calming presence was exactly what I needed right now. I drew in a mighty breath to yell his name at the precise second that he spotted me with my mouth open and eyes wide. He gave me a startled look and raised his hand in a tentative wave. I quickly closed my mouth and waved back.

  He crossed the stone bridge over the river and walked towards me.

  ‘Greetings.’ He looked down at the melted chocolate bar. ‘Lunch?’

  I grinned sheepishly. Didn’t look great, did it, the new owner of the Plumberry School of Comfort Food scoffing junk food for her lunch?

  ‘Not the healthiest, but I’m afraid I seem to have reverted to comfort eating.’

  ‘If it’s not an intrusion, I’ll share mine.’ He held up the paper bag and raised an eyebrow questioningly. ‘This is healthy-ish and definitely comforting.’

  I shuffled up the bench in response and Dave sat down.

  He opened the bag and a mouth-watering aroma of spices and steam escaped. Inside were about a dozen golden balls, deep fried and still hot.

  ‘Have a Gujarati kachori,’ he said, holding the bag under my nose. ‘The humble cousin of the samosa, but no less delicious.’

  ‘Where did you get these from?’ I scanned the row of village shops for a likely outlet but couldn’t see anything. I took a kachori, blew on it and inhaled its glorious smell.

  ‘My friend, Neeta – actually, she’s my yoga teacher – lives in Thickleton. She sends me a text when she’s made a fresh batch and I walk over to collect them.’ He bit into one. ‘Mmm. Worth a special trip for.’

  ‘Yum,’ I said, biting into the centre. Inside the crispy outer layer was a bright green pea filling and the flavours of India burst into life in my mouth: ginger, chilli and mustard seeds. My tastebuds gave a silent cheer at the arrival of real food.

  ‘Neeta says that every meal is worthy of celebration,’ said Dave with a reproving look at my mauled Bounty. ‘Have another.’

  ‘Neeta knows what she’s talking about. And boy, can she cook. And she teaches yoga? I’m surprised you haven’t snapped her up.’ I smiled teasingly at him. ‘She sounds just your cup of tea.’

  He smiled softly. ‘We were close for a while. But Neeta floats through life without rippling the pond. She’s a delight but . . .’ He shrugged.

  My eyebrows lifted a notch. ‘But?’

  ‘She’s not got enough oomph for me.’ He glanced sideways at me.

  I understood; it was all about yin and yang. Neeta was perhaps too similar in personality to Dave. ‘Mags has got oomph.’

  ‘Bags of it.’ Dave grinned.
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br />   I studied his face, so open and honest. He was obviously smitten with Mags and my heart twisted with happiness for him. For a second. And then my face fell.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Dave instantly. ‘Very insensitive of me, smiling like a Cheshire cat when you’ve lost a loved one. Not that I wasn’t fond of Gloria, I was, of course, but . . .’ He shuffled on his seat awkwardly and shoved the bag at me. ‘Have another.’

  I did and the two of us ate in companionable silence for a minute or two. I took a drink from my bottle of water and then offered it to him.

  ‘I’m not great company today, I’m afraid, Dave. My emotions are all over the place.’

  He took a sip and set the bottle on the bench between us.

  ‘Life may seem like a hill too steep to climb just now,’ he said, patting my hand, ‘but take your time and you’ll get there.’

  I stared at him, really wanting to unburden myself. I doubted he’d truly understand that I felt guilty at profiting from such sadness but I knew he’d be a good listener. He was such a wise man and I couldn’t think of anyone better to talk to.

  ‘Have you ever felt really guilty about something even though it wasn’t your fault?’ I asked.

  Dave’s brow creased with concern. ‘Verity, if there’s something troubling you, you know I’ll help if I can.’

  I chewed my lip for a second.

  ‘OK. Well . . .’ I took a deep breath and haltingly told him how when Mimi died and I’d survived the initial shock of her tragic death, my overriding emotion had been one of guilt. Guilt that I was still alive, guilt that I was turning thirty-one, then thirty-two, and still living my life. I felt guilty for seeing Noah take his first steps, for helping him blow the candles out on his third birthday cake and guilty for hugging her husband tightly when he sobbed into my hair that he couldn’t do it without her. Sometimes I’d even felt guilty for breathing.

  ‘Because if Mimi can’t do any of these simple things, then it isn’t fair that I should either,’ I said, brushing the tears from my face.

  Dave sat so still that for a moment I thought he’d dropped off to sleep but when I looked at him his eyes were moist. He nodded encouragingly and took my hand in his.