Rebecca stopped and turned around, looking back at the cafe. There was a young woman standing outside wearing a bold black and white houndstooth-print swing jacket with a red scarf and red kitten heels. Her legs were encased in black fishnet tights, and her dyed black hair was backcombed into a funky beehive, rockabilly style.
She looked cool, feisty and, best of all, she was studying the poster intently.
As Rebecca watched, the woman pulled an iPhone from her handbag (which was red patent and shaped like a pair of lips) and began tapping in the details on the poster.
Rebecca smiled to herself. Maybe the book club wouldn’t be full of old fogies after all.
3
It was 6.57 p.m. on the Thursday of the first ever Cafe Crumb book club meeting, and Estelle was standing to attention behind the counter, looking around anxiously. No one had arrived yet, and there was an unpleasant churning sensation in her stomach. What if this whole thing was a disaster?
She knew that holding a book group wasn’t going to be the answer to all her financial woes, but it was a start, and Estelle was willing to work as hard as it took to see her little cafe succeed. Even if she could get a handful of new customers through the door, it was better than nothing, and if they brought their friends, who then brought their friends … From little acorns, mighty oak trees grow – wasn’t that how the saying went? But for that to happen, she needed people to turn up tonight.
Perhaps she looked too formal, Estelle thought suddenly, like a soldier at the ready, beside her teapot. Perhaps she should go and sit down instead.
Earlier that evening, she’d pushed the other tables back against the walls and set two together in the middle of the cafe, surrounded by half a dozen chairs. Estelle sat down on one of them, flicking casually through her copy of Tess of the D’Urbervilles, the text she’d chosen for their first session.
No, this wasn’t right, she chastised herself. Now she looked too laid-back, or like she hadn’t read the book and was frantically cribbing at the last minute. It was much better to be doing something.
She jumped up again, checked her watch (7.02 p.m.) and put a pot of coffee on to brew. There, that was better, she thought with satisfaction, glancing around once again to check that everything was in order. The counter was lined with a selection of cakes – squares of carrot cake, chocolate brownies, shortbread biscuits liberally dusted with sugar. Estelle hoped to goodness that someone turned up or else she’d look like a loony, stuck with an enormous pile of cakes going stale, like Miss Havisham in a pinny instead of a wedding dress.
Where on earth was everyone? she wondered in exasperation. The replies to her email address had been positive enough – a few definites and a handful of maybes, not to mention an awful lot of spam.
Estelle glanced up at the clock once again – 7.06 p.m. The silence in the little shop was deafening, and for once there was no thudding rock music coming from the flat upstairs. Joe had gone straight to his Dad’s after school tonight, and wouldn’t be back until later. Ted now lived with his new wife, Leila, in the Bedminster area of Bristol, a couple of bus rides from Estelle’s cafe in Clifton.
Funny how men could move on so quickly after a divorce, Estelle reflected sadly. It always seemed much harder for women – at least, it was for her. She was so busy running the cafe and looking after Joe that there never seemed to be any time for love …
The bell clanged and Estelle spun round, startled. A very tall, lean, young man was standing awkwardly in the doorway. He wore wire-rimmed glasses with brown corduroy trousers and an old-fashioned overcoat. Despite looking like he was in his late twenties, he dressed like he was in his late sixties.
‘Oh! You’re here!’ Estelle exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically.
‘Am I in the right place?’ he asked hesitantly, running a hand nervously through his messy brown hair. ‘For the book club?’
‘Yes!’ Estelle squeaked, wishing her voice would drop a couple of octaves. ‘This is here … I mean, this is the place. The book club that is. You’re the first! Yes. Welcome!’
The man nodded, looking warily at Estelle. Then he glanced around, noting the empty cafe, and Estelle suddenly panicked that he might decide to leave.
‘Can I take your coat?’ she asked, practically manhandling him out of it. ‘And do help yourself to cake. Do you prefer tea or coffee?’
‘Tea, please,’ he replied, sitting down self-consciously and taking a copy of Tess out of his battered old satchel. ‘Milk, two sugars.’
‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t introduce myself,’ Estelle apologised, looking extremely flustered as she dashed over with his tea, a piece of shortbread balanced precariously on the saucer. ‘I’m Estelle,’ she said, wiping her hands on her skirt then holding one out to him.
‘Reggie,’ he replied, as they shook hands.
‘Oh, you’re Reggie,’ said Estelle, bustling round the table to cross a name off her list. ‘You know, I expected you to be older.’
Reggie forced a smile. ‘That happens a lot,’ he said tightly. ‘It’s the name.’
‘Yes, well …’ Estelle instinctively felt that she’d said something wrong. ‘It’s lovely to have you here, Reggie,’ she clumsily tried to change the subject. ‘Very lovely to have a man here tonight. Oh!’ Estelle clapped a hand over her mouth and blushed scarlet. ‘I didn’t mean … Well, I meant … Book clubs are usually full of wom— Oh!’
Fortunately for Estelle, the bell clanged again, and a woman entered. She looked to be in her sixties, her silver-grey hair cut into a short, sleek crop. She was dressed elegantly, in a smart camel-coloured coat and expensive-looking scarf.
‘Good evening, and welcome to the Cafe Crumb book club.’ Estelle moved towards her, recovering herself. She was determined to behave more professionally this time. ‘My name’s Estelle, and this is Reggie,’ she said, indicating Reggie sitting at the table.
‘Very pleased to meet you Estelle, I’m Sue. And Reggie,’ she nodded at him. ‘That was my grandfather’s name,’ she added with a smile.
Reggie didn’t smile back, simply raised an eyebrow. He looked distinctly unimpressed.
‘May I take your coat, Sue?’ Estelle leapt in, trying to defuse the situation. ‘And what would you like to drink?’
‘Coffee would be lovely, thank you,’ Sue smiled graciously, as she slipped off her coat to reveal a cream silk blouse and smart navy trousers.
‘Do help yourself to cake,’ Estelle told her, barely having the chance to hang up Sue’s coat before the door swung open once again.
‘Hello everyone, I’m Gracie,’ announced the newcomer, smiling round at everyone. Her jet-black hair was styled in Victory rolls at the front, but tumbled in loose curls down her back, and her lips were painted with bright-red lipstick.
‘Ooh, it’s lovely and warm in here, isn’t it?’ she continued, as she took off her jacket to reveal a fifties-style polka-dot dress. There was a small rose tattoo by her collarbone, and a much larger one of a Betty Grable-type pin-up girl on her upper arm.
‘Gracie, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Estelle,’ said Estelle, rushing forward to introduce her to everyone. They all waved their hellos, as Estelle hurried off to get her a drink.
‘So what did everyone think of the book?’ demanded Gracie, pulling out her copy and slamming it down on the table.
‘Are we starting already?’ asked Sue.
‘Well … perhaps we could wait a few more minutes,’ Estelle suggested, glancing at the clock to discover it was now 7.15 p.m. ‘There was one more person who said she would be coming …’ she broke off as she checked her list. ‘Gracie – you’re here. And Sue … Yes, a lady called Rebecca said she would definitely be here. Perhaps we could wait for her?’
Everyone murmured their agreement, then went back to what they were doing. Sue sipped her coffee awkwardly; Gracie was skimming through her book, underlining certain phrases with a purple glitter pen; and Reggie was tapping his foot irritably. The silence was fast
becoming unbearable.
‘Anyone for more brownies?’ Estelle called out desperately, thrusting the plate under Reggie’s nose.
She span round as the door opened once more and Rebecca burst through.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she panted, pulling off her woollen beanie and cosy parka. ‘I stayed late at work, but then the bus got stuck in traffic. Have I missed anything? Have you started yet?’ she asked, barely pausing for breath.
‘You’re fine,’ Estelle reassured her, as she brought over a pot of tea and a jug of coffee so everyone could help themselves to top-ups. ‘Rebecca, is it?’
Rebecca nodded breathlessly as she slid into a seat, quickly pulling out her copy of Tess.
‘We decided to wait for you,’ Estelle smiled kindly. ‘This is Sue, by the way. And Reggie. And Gracie,’ she finished.
‘Oh!’ Rebecca exclaimed, as she noticed the woman she’d sat down next to. ‘I saw you outside here the other week, looking at the poster. I’m so glad you came,’ she beamed. ‘I love your dress, by the way.’
‘Thanks,’ Gracie grinned. ‘It’s from Lola’s Vintage, on Park Street. Do you know it?’
Rebecca shook her head, as she helped herself to a square of carrot cake.
‘You should check it out. It’s really cool.’
‘Thanks, I will,’ Rebecca smiled back.
‘Are we expecting anyone else, or should we get started?’ Reggie asked, and Estelle detected a touch of impatience in his tone.
‘No more definites,’ she told him.
‘And it is twenty past seven,’ Sue added. ‘If anyone else turns up, I’m sure they could just join in.’
‘Yes, good point,’ Estelle agreed, feeling a little apprehensive now that they were actually about to start. She’d never been to a book club meeting before, let alone chaired one, and the fact that she desperately wanted tonight to be a success made her far more nervous than she would otherwise be. From a financial perspective, Estelle couldn’t help wishing that a few more people had turned up, but the small, cosy group was intimate and unthreatening – perfect for making her debut as a book club host.
‘Right, let’s get going,’ Estelle began, clapping her hands together authoritatively. ‘Who’d like to start?’
She looked expectantly around the table, but everyone stayed silent. ‘Anyone?’ Estelle pleaded, trying to keep the note of desperation from her voice.
Reggie scratched his nose, and the sudden movement caught Estelle’s attention.
‘Reggie? Perhaps you’d like to give us your thoughts on Tess.’
‘Um …’ Reggie shifted awkwardly in his seat. ‘Well, if you don’t mind, I’m actually just here to observe.’
The four women looked back at him in confusion.
‘Observe?’ Estelle repeated.
‘Yes.’ Reggie’s face was flushed, and he looked embarrassed. ‘I’m doing my PhD, you see,’ he explained, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘At the university. My thesis is on how literature brings communities together, and I thought this would be a good place to observe first-hand … so to speak …’ he tailed off.
‘I see,’ Estelle replied, feeling a stab of disappointment. She’d hoped for a lovely group of people, all having a pleasant discussion about books, but now it seemed as though Reggie saw them as nothing more than lab rats.
She looked around the table, trying to gauge the reactions of the others. ‘Does anyone have a problem with that?’
Gracie narrowed her eyes. ‘I’m not a monkey in a zoo, you know,’ she said petulantly.
‘Would you rather Reggie didn’t attend the meetings?’ Estelle asked nervously.
Gracie stared at him, with a long, assessing gaze. ‘No,’ she announced finally. ‘He can stay.’
Estelle breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that she didn’t have to break up an argument before the first session had properly got underway. ‘And have you read the book, Reggie?’
‘Yes, I have,’ he confirmed.
‘Well, if you would like to interject at any point and give us your opinions, please do,’ Estelle encouraged him. ‘I’m sure the group would be the richer for it. Now, Sue, how did you find Tess?’
Sue cleared her throat. ‘Overall, I enjoyed the novel,’ she began. ‘I thought it was moving, and thought-provoking, and I felt very sorry for Tess. I’m glad I read it, but it’s not something I’d read again – parts of it were very long-winded and dull.’
‘Thank you, Sue,’ Estelle said uncertainly. It wasn’t quite the ringing endorsement she’d hoped for, but she supposed that having a variety of opinions was the point of a discussion group. ‘Would anyone like to add anything to that? Gracie?’
‘I think Tess had a hellish life,’ Gracie dived in. ‘She went through one horrible experience after another, and I don’t see how anyone could enjoy reading about a poor young woman being thrown from one miserable scenario to the next. In fact, it made me wonder about Thomas Hardy – I bet he was a real misogynist to make her go through all that. I mean, what kind of a man was he, dreaming up all those vile situations? Quite frankly, I think the way Tess was treated was utterly disgusting, and the double standard for women in those days was appalling.’
‘Okay …’ Estelle began slowly, somewhat thrown by the strength of Gracie’s opinions. ‘So, was Tess a victim of fate, or should she be held responsible for her own mistakes?’ Estelle asked, consulting the list of questions she’d hastily put together before the meeting.
‘How could any of what happened to Tess be her fault?’ Gracie shot back. ‘It was all because of that bast—’ Here Gracie broke off and looked around apologetically. ‘Sorry, Alec’s fault. And then Angel should never have treated her the way he did either, especially when he’d already had an affair with some trollop.’
‘Excellent, thank you for your contribution, Gracie,’ Estelle cut in quickly, conscious of Sue’s look of disapproval at Gracie’s choice of language. ‘And what role does the landscape itself play in Tess?’ Estelle asked, hoping she’d chosen a less controversial topic.
There was silence around the table, the only sound coming from Reggie furiously scribbling on his notepad.
‘Rebecca?’ Estelle asked, noticing that Rebecca hadn’t yet spoken. ‘How do you think the landscape affected the action?’
Rebecca giggled nervously. ‘I’m not really sure … I feel like I’m back at school, to be honest,’ she admitted. ‘Stuck in English class.’
Sue was nodding in agreement. ‘I know what you mean. It reminds me of the essays we had to write at grammar school.’
‘You know, Tess is still on the syllabus,’ Rebecca told her. ‘At the school where I teach. It’s like being a pupil coming here tonight – I guess now I know how they feel,’ she laughed.
‘Well I think it’s all misogynistic drivel,’ Gracie declared, tossing the book down dismissively. ‘Why can’t we read Caitlin Moran instead?’
‘Something more modern would be good,’ Rebecca chimed in.
‘Yes, what is going to be our next read, Estelle?’ Sue asked politely.
Estelle looked up to find everyone watching her expectantly. Even Reggie had stopped taking notes and was staring at her.
‘Umm …’ she hesitated, stalling for time. She glanced at the notebook in front of her, where she’d written:
Next week: Crime and Punishment – Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Oh dear, Estelle panicked. If they thought Tess of the D’Urbervilles was dull and old-fashioned, what were they going to make of Crime and Punishment? She’d thought she couldn’t go wrong with classic, literary texts, but obviously she’d been mistaken.
Estelle badly wanted this venture to do well – she knew it was ridiculous, but to her it was almost symbolic of Cafe Crumb’s fate. If she could make a success of the book club, then perhaps the cafe might have a future.
Right now, though, she was standing on the brink of failure. Estelle could see the way everyone was looking at her, doubt and scepticism in their eyes,
and she knew she had to do something drastic.
Quickly, she grabbed her handbag and began to rummage through. She’d written down some other ideas before she finally settled on Crime and Punishment – perhaps one of those might provide the magical answer she was looking for.
Damn, thought Estelle, ploughing through old tissues and emergency tampons and Joe’s letters from school. Where was the list she’d made? She finally spotted it, crumpled at the bottom, and hastily tugged it out, bringing most of the contents of the bag with it. Suddenly, the floor beside her was littered with faded receipts, loose change, packets of chewing gum – and, she realised, a feeling of shame creeping over her, a very battered copy of Ten Sweet Lessons.
‘What’s that?’ asked Sue, craning her neck to look around Reggie.
‘Ten Sweet Lessons!’ burst out Gracie, looking shocked.
‘Wait a minute, isn’t that …?’
‘Is that what you’re reading, Estelle?’ demanded Rebecca.
Estelle looked up, her face glowing like a beacon, to see them all staring at her accusingly. Oh, this was so humiliating! Here she was trying to run a serious book group, and now she’d blown her cover, revealing that all along, she preferred mass-market, low-brow erotica.
‘Sort of …’ Estelle began slowly, trying to brazen it out. But her brain no longer seemed to be connected to the words that were coming out of her mouth, and she heard herself say, ‘I was actually testing it out in advance of the next meeting. It’s going to be our next read.’
Trying to regain her dignity, Estelle bent over and picked the book up off the floor, placing it squarely on the table in front of her. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she continued more confidently, ignoring their shocked expressions. ‘Ten Sweet Lessons by CJ Jones. I hope there are no objections?’
The Perfect Escape Page 17