Love Among the Treetops

by Catherine Ferguson

  Paloma held out the nipple clamps and told him to shove them where the sun never shone.

  ‘Actually, don’t,’ she amended furiously, snatching them back. ‘Because you’d probably enjoy it way too much. I’ll take them to remind me of the twelve months I wasted, going out with the most self-centred, arrogant, deluded man on the planet.’

  And with that, she swept out …

  I’d like to have been a fly on the wall for that. I never warmed to Rufus Black.

  Paloma turns to me now and beams. The paint on her cheek has been joined by a splodge of chocolate cake mix by the side of her mouth. I indicate its presence by pointing at my own mouth and she flicks out her tongue. ‘Right, must dash or I’ll miss my deadline and lose a client.’ She hops off the stool and disappears, calling, ‘See you later!’

  When the doorbell rings a few minutes later, I assume Paloma must have forgotten something. So you could knock me down with a feather when I open the door to find someone else standing on the doorstep.

  Jason.

  Chapter 15

  ‘Hi! What are you doing here?’ I feel unaccountably nervous.

  ‘Just came to wish you luck for tomorrow.’ He gives a sheepish smile. ‘I know I could do that tomorrow, but everyone else will be there and you’ll be busy.’ He shrugs. ‘We haven’t really had a chance to chat, just the two of us, since you’ve been back.’

  I nod. It’s funny but I’d been feeling exactly the same. ‘Come in. I’ll put the kettle on.’

  When we broke up all those years ago, I was absolutely distraught but deep inside, I remember thinking it was probably for the best in the long run. In our last year together, the passion had waned and we’d become principally great friends rather than romantic lovers. I bore Jason no ill will for ending our relationship – despite the fact it was to start seeing Lucy, my archenemy. It was just one of those things. Our relationship had faltered under the strain of being long-distance, with me away at uni. And I grudgingly acknowledge that the fact he and Lucy are still together after all this time probably means he made the right decision.

  But it still feels like there’s unfinished business between us. Nothing major, but it would be nice to really talk. I loved Jason for a long time, and if I’m being honest with myself, I think I still do on some level …

  ‘Sit down.’ I pull a chair out from the kitchen table and Jason flops into it, and I’m aware of his gaze following me as I fill the kettle and gather cups and coffee and teaspoons.

  ‘I never thought you’d come back to Hart’s End. Not properly, like this,’ he says. ‘I knew how much you hated what Lucy did to you as a kid. I suppose I assumed that as long as she was living here, you never would.’

  I turn, fixing on a smile, bringing the coffee over. ‘Well, it just shows you should never assume things. And anyway, that’s all in the past.’ I wave my hand as if it’s of no consequence to me that, already, we’re talking about Lucy.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you’re here,’ Jason says with a shy smile, stirring his coffee. ‘How does it feel to be back in the village after life in the big city?’

  I laugh then glance at the ceiling, considering. ‘It feels … okay, actually. I mean, I was nervous about coming back but people have been really welcoming on the whole, so … yes, it’s fine.’

  ‘On the whole?’

  I feel my face flush. The only person who’s made me uneasy since I’ve been back is Lucy, but I don’t want to talk about her to Jason, so I say, ‘No, everyone has been nice about my return. Sometimes, it feels as if I’ve never been away.’

  He looks at me without speaking for a moment, his brown eyes sad. Then he shuffles in his chair and says, ‘I never wanted to hurt you, Twilight. I loved you so much, but …’ He shakes his head, almost angrily.

  I swallow hard on the sudden constriction in my throat. Then I force myself to say brightly, ‘I know, but long-distance relationships are a killer. It would never have worked. It’s probably just as well you started to have feelings for Lucy.’

  He glances down. ‘But that’s the thing, Twi. I didn’t. Not really. At least, not at the start.’

  I stare at him in surprise. ‘What do you mean?’

  He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. Then he looks at me and says, ‘I didn’t cope well with you leaving for university. I ran up debts, drowning my sorrows in drink and buying expensive toys to dull the pain of not having you there all the time. It was a bad time. And I wasn’t earning much as an apprentice in the IT company.’

  ‘I never knew,’ I say, dismayed. ‘You always sounded so cheerful on the phone.’

  He laughs bitterly. ‘Of course I did. It was an act. The last thing I wanted was to make you feel guilty about following your dreams.’

  ‘So what happened? You got out of debt, didn’t you?’

  He nods. ‘Yes, with Lucy’s help.’

  This is all news to me.

  ‘She’d liked me for a long time.’ He purses his lips. ‘Well, you knew that …’

  I nod, not liking the direction this is going in.

  ‘So she got her dad to give me a job at his petrochemicals plant. He didn’t really want to. I don’t think he trusted me, to be honest, and who could blame him? But she kept going on at him to give me a chance and finally, he relented.’ He sighs. ‘It was a big increase in responsibility and salary, and I grabbed the opportunity with both hands and managed to get back on track financially.’ He glances at me sheepishly. ‘I owed it all to Lucy, didn’t I?’

  I can’t quite believe what I’m hearing. ‘So you ended our relationship to be with Lucy because she got you out of debt?’ I ask, horrified.

  He grimaces. ‘It sounds terrible when you say it like that. But I guess that was part of it.’

  There’s a long silence as I absorb all of this.

  ‘But do you love her?’ I ask at last.

  He nods. ‘Yes, I do. Not like I loved you. I’ll never love anyone like that.’ We lock eyes and my stomach lurches.

  Jason sighs and looks away. ‘I know Lucy’s a pain in the arse at times but she’s really sweet with me. Well, not always, obviously. She has her moments.’ His mouth twists. ‘But it’s because she has so many hang-ups about not being good enough. She hates herself most of the time. She used to be so jealous of you.’

  Laughter bursts from me. ‘Jealous? Of me? You’ve got to be joking.’

  He shakes his head. ‘I’m not. Her parents were great at buying her things, but they never had much time for her. They were far too wrapped up in each other. It’s sad, really. You were such a contrast, with your close family unit.’

  ‘Hang on, so I’m supposed to feel sorry for Lucy? Well, forgive me if I pass on that one. It wasn’t her whose childhood was ruined by the relentless bloody bullying.’ I shake my head incredulously, my throat tightening.

  Jason is staring down at the floor, a strange look on his face. ‘Don’t be too hard on Lucy. There are other things. Things you don’t know …’ He trails off and looks up.

  ‘What things?’

  He looks confused for a second. Then he seems to realise he’s said too much because he pastes on a smile. ‘Nothing. At least, nothing for you to worry about.’

  He leans over and grasps my hand. The warmth of his fingers curled around mine makes my insides jolt with longing and a single tear leaks down my face. Gently, he strokes a lock of hair behind my ear and my whole body quivers, feelings of long ago rushing right back at his touch. Lying entwined on my bed, listening to music, talking about anything and everything, and those endless, languorous kisses … ‘Can I smell burning?’ Jason breaks into my memories.

  ‘What?’ I stare, bemused, deep into those brown eyes I could never quite forget.

  ‘The cakes?’

  ‘Oh.’ Snapped right back to the present, I scrape back my chair and dash to the oven. Both cakes are charred on top, beyond rescuing. I pull one out in a panic then reach for the other but manage to catch the top of my thumb on
the shelf above. Yelping, I drop the second spoiled chocolate fudge cake in its tin on the hob and cross to the sink where I stick my thumb under cold running water.

  Jason is there in a heartbeat, asking if I’m okay. I nod and try to smile, hoping he thinks the reason there are tears in my eyes now is because of the burn on my thumb – and not because of what he’s just admitted to me. That part of the reason our relationship ended was because of stupid money!

  He says he’d better leave me to sort out the cakes, and we part with a wistful smile.

  My head is still reeling from what he told me. We could have sorted out his problems between us. If he’d told me how much he missed me, I might even have switched to a uni or college nearer so we could have seen each other more often. But he hadn’t given me that chance because he hadn’t told me. Instead, he’d allowed bloody Lucy Slater to insinuate her way into his life and save him, effectively tying him to her side by luring him into the family firm. That’s what it sounded like to me, anyway.

  What a horrible mess.

  And now I’ve burned my chocolate fudge cakes.

  I force myself to concentrate on the baking … to think about measurements of butter and sugar rather than how things could have turned out so differently for Jason and me. It’s hard, though.

  Then, just as I’m checking on my Victoria sandwich cakes in the oven, Paloma pops her head round the back door and calls through. ‘Lucy’s just arrived with the curtains. She wants the keys to the café.’

  I’m thrown into an instant panic. ‘But she’s early. She said seven and it’s only four, and I can’t leave because I’ve got cakes in the oven!’

  ‘She doesn’t need you there, Twi. She can put the curtains up herself. She just needs the keys.’

  I stand there, dithering. I don’t want to give Lucy Slater the keys to my café. It’s probably completely irrational, I know, but that’s how it is. On the other hand, can I risk leaving the kitchen while I’ve got things in the oven, even for ten minutes? There’s nothing worse than a dry, over-baked cake.

  Paloma is looking at me expectantly.

  ‘Can you go over there and open up for her?’ I ask at last.

  She glances at her watch and frowns. ‘I’ve got a deadline of half an hour ago for a really important client. But okay.’ She holds out her hand. ‘Keys?’

  Sighing, I snatch them off the bench and hand them over.

  Paloma smiles. ‘It’ll be fine. I doubt Lucy plans to trash the café while you’re not there.’

  Feeling silly, I nod and she dashes off.

  I tell myself to relax. All will be fine. The café will have some lovely curtains to complete the look. But every now and then I feel compelled to run upstairs and peer out of my bedroom window to check if Lucy’s car is still there.

  After I’ve done this three times, I hear the letter slot rattle and something falls onto the mat. Going through to the hall, I see that she’s pushed the café keys through the front door. Once all the cakes are out of the oven, I slip out the back door then through the garden gate and along to the café.

  Holding my breath, I open up and walk in.

  I’m not sure what I was expecting, but actually, Lucy has done a brilliant job. The curtains are really beautiful, long swathes of soft fabric billowing all the way down to the floor, in lovely pastel-coloured stripes. They’re absolutely perfect.

  I look around at my lovely café and my heart swells with happiness and pride. It’s time to put the past well and truly behind me and concentrate on the future. Paloma is right. Lucy has changed. She didn’t have to offer me the curtain material, but she did and it turned out perfectly.

  A calm feeling settles over me.

  It’s high time I forgave Lucy …

  *****

  Later, around eight, when all the baking is done for the day, I head out into the mild summer evening to make sure Paloma’s café sign is still in place. I know it will be because I paid a local company to do the job. Secretly, I just want to stare at it again and marvel at what it represents. My very own café.

  I’m standing there in front of it, shaking my head in wonder at the word ‘Twilight’ in such large letters, when a voice behind me says, ‘The Twilight Café. What do you think? Will you be risking it?’

  Turning, I find Theo Steel standing there, dressed in tracksuit bottoms and T-shirt, a sports bag slung over his shoulder.

  ‘Ooh, I’m not sure. The owner sounds a bit weird. But apparently she can bake good scones.’

  He grins. ‘Yeah, I heard that.’

  ‘She’s not great at 5k runs, though.’

  He shrugs. ‘It shows great ingenuity, though, hopping on a bus to save her injured ankle.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘I think she’d like to get fit, actually. At long last.’

  ‘Really?’ His brow knits. ‘Why hasn’t she wanted to before now?’

  I frown and look away. ‘The problem was,’ I tell him a moment later, meeting his steady blue gaze, ‘she spent so many years trying to escape from the clutches of a school bully, she went right off the whole idea of running.’

  He looks at me thoughtfully. Then he nods. ‘I can see how that might happen. What’s changed her mind?’

  ‘Oh … she’s fed up with letting the past get in the way of her future.’

  ‘Very sensible. Do you think she might accept some free personal training sessions in exchange for regular supplies of cake?’

  I make an awkward face. ‘Seriously?’

  He nods. ‘It had better be good cake, though.’

  ‘Oh, it will be.’ I smile at him. ‘Trust me.’

  ‘Great. Well, wish her luck for tomorrow if you see her and tell her to save me a slice of cherry and coconut cake.’

  I gaze at him. Cherry and coconut cake was on my list. The one Olivia read out with such disgust on the train that time. I can’t believe he actually remembered that.

  He grins, holds up a hand and strolls away, along the high street.

  I stare after him for a moment, admiring his back view for a little longer than I probably should. Then I laugh out loud at the bizarre nature of our exchange. I think he just offered to be my personal trainer for free.

  Thoughtfully, I pinch the flesh at the sides of my waist. I hate to admit it, but Olivia’s right. I could afford to be leaner and an awful lot fitter.

  But do I really want to be Theo Steel’s charity case?

  Chapter 16

  The big day dawns.

  I’m a bundle of nerves and excitement as I rise with the alarm at five to bake my three varieties of scone. I glance out of the bedroom window. It’s going to be a beautiful day. You can just tell. The sky is clear, the crescent moon still faintly visible, and the sun, poised on the horizon, is a sphere of molten gold.

  It’s a good omen, I decide, as I pull on shorts and T-shirt and run downstairs to the kitchen. It’s day one of a brand-new life for me. I’ve had a bit of a cold over the past few days but luckily it hasn’t developed into anything bad. A blocked nose I can cope with!

  The postman rings the bell just as I’m taking the last batch of cheddar, thyme and cracked black pepper scones from the oven. They look golden and inviting but I couldn’t eat a thing, my stomach is in such turmoil. I transfer them to a rack, quickly because they’re piping hot, then dash to the door. The postman hands over three cards in pastel envelopes and a parcel.

  ‘Your birthday?’ he asks.

  I smile. ‘No. My café opening.’

  ‘That’s today?’

  ‘Yes. Haven’t you seen the posters?’

  He frowns. ‘What posters? I saw the one you put up a few weeks ago in the post office but it’s definitely not there any more. I thought you’d taken it down for some reason.’

  ‘No way.’ I stare at him in surprise. ‘Who on earth would remove it?’

  ‘Beats me.’

  I wave him off and close the door, my mind working overtime. The f
act that our postie wasn’t aware of the date the café opens is quite worrying because he, of all people, should have noticed the posters Paloma put up around the village. If the one in the post office has gone, have the others survived?

  There’s only one way to find out.

  Abandoning the letters and parcel, I grab my bag and head out along the high street to the village hall, where I know for certain Paloma placed a poster on the notice board. I pop my head into the entrance hall. No poster.

  There’s no one around to ask about it, so I head along to the newsagent’s.

  No poster there, either. And Val, the owner, is unable to tell me what happened to it.

  ‘I know it was there last week,’ she says, puzzled. ‘Maybe my husband took it down, but I don’t think so.’

  I arrive back home feeling utterly despondent.

  All the posters Paloma pinned up have been mysteriously removed and no one seems able to shed any light on the situation. It’s extremely worrying. If no one knows about the café opening, except the people I’ve told in person, what sort of turnout can I expect?

  Standing there in the hall, I make myself stop and draw in a long, steadying breath. Then I breathe out again, very slowly, trying desperately to calm the panic that’s rising inside. I can’t afford to fall apart at this late stage! There’s still work to be done before I officially open those doors in just over an hour.

  I open the parcel, which I know is a gift from Dad. Drawing out a simple wooden bowl with ‘The Twilight Café’ carved in tiny letters along the front, I gasp at its perfection. He said I needed something for tips and I laughed and said I should be so lucky. He must have created this specially, despite getting tired so easily these days, and it would have taken him ages to make it. A lump fills my throat. I’ll phone him later to thank him.