There’s a big good luck card from Mum and Dad and one from Paloma. The third is from Lucy and Jason. Thinking of you and wishing you well for today.
I stare at the message, hit by a pang of sorrow mixed with regret. I run my fingers over Jason’s familiar handwriting. It would have been his idea to send me a card, of course. A warm feeling envelops me like a hug and tears prick my eyes, but I tell myself not to be so ridiculously sentimental. It’s just nice to know he still thinks of me, that’s all. We were always such good friends as well as lovers …
I shake myself and head back into the kitchen to start packing the scones into boxes ready to transport. And by nine-forty-five, I’m standing behind the café counter in my new pale blue summer dress, patterned with white dragonflies, teamed with practical navy ballet pumps. My hair is twisted up, off my face, and at the last minute I cut my nails short and applied a coat of clear polish.
I’ve put a fresh hand towel and matching soap and hand cream by the mirror in the newly decorated ‘rest room’. (Paloma painted the walls cream and I put up a pretty yellow, white and green daisy border.) There’s cash in the till, the scones and iced cakes are all laid out under the pristine glass case along with several stainless-steel cake slices, and there’s fresh milk in the dinky little jugs for customers to collect with their hot drinks. I’ve been practising with the coffee machine and can now deliver the perfect cappuccino with a cocoa sprinkle smiley face on top.
I’m all set for my first customer!
I potter around, straightening up the magazines on the side table and turning the cake forks so they all face upwards and look pleasingly uniform, and as ten o’clock approaches, the butterflies in my stomach go quite manic and start flapping about in there like nobody’s business. I know that no one is likely to pitch up the instant I’m open. But after unlocking the door and turning the sign hanging there to ‘open’, I can’t help peering along the road to see if I can see any cars or people on foot. Of course, there’s no one. It’s only two minutes past ten.
Shaking my head at my own daft impatience, I take my position behind the counter again, quickly checking my reflection in the shiny aluminium coffee maker, making sure my hair is still hygienically in place, with no wisps escaping. No, it’s fine.
At ten-forty-five, I’m drumming my fingers on the counter in the rather eerie silence, when I suddenly remember Dad’s old stereo system. Digging in my bag, I find the CD of popular jazz songs I’d thought would be a good choice of background music and I go through to the back and slide it into the player. It belts out of the speakers far too loudly, so I turn it down low until it’s perfect, then I collect a magazine from the table and read it behind the till. I’ll push it under the counter when a customer walks in.
And then, at last, I hear footsteps outside and the door opens.
I glance up, big smile at the ready, my heart racing.
It’s Paloma.
‘Looking good!’ she says approvingly, glancing around. ‘No customers yet?’
I shake my head, determined to remain upbeat. ‘It’s still early, though. Mum’s friends said they’d pop in about eleven.’
‘I guess I’m your first official customer, then.’ She grins and sits down at a table near the counter. Then she sniffs. ‘What’s that smell?’
‘Can’t smell anything. My nose is still snuffly.’ I frown at her. ‘What is it?’
She sniffs again and shakes her head. ‘Place has been empty for ages. It just needs to be lived in probably.’ She sits up straight, hands folded in her lap, and studies the cakes under the glass. ‘Right. The important stuff. Could I please have a latte and one slice of your finest double chocolate fudge cake?’
I laugh. ‘Certainly, Madam. But chocolate cake so early in the day? Not that I’m complaining.’
Paloma sighs. ‘I’ve been up most of the night working. Got just three hours’ kip before I came over here. I’m absolutely starving!’
I’m just bringing over her latte when the door opens and in come Betty and Doreen, with Rowena Swann in tow.
‘Oh my days!’ sighs Betty, looking around her. ‘How beautiful you’ve made it! Hasn’t she, girls?’
‘Love the curtains,’ says Doreen, nodding. ‘And your colour scheme. And the floral art on the walls.’
Rowena smiles. ‘I recognise those tables and chairs. Don’t they fit the space well?’
‘They do indeed. Thanks so much, Rowena. And it’s lovely to see you all, ladies.’ I beam at them. Even though I know them, my heart is jumping around at the idea of serving my first ‘proper’ customers. ‘Welcome to The Twilight Café! Have a seat. What can I get you?’
‘Can I smell kippers? Are they on the breakfast menu?’ asks Betty, her nose in the air.
‘Er, no. I don’t have a breakfast menu as such,’ I say, surprised. ‘Just cakes and scones.’
‘Ah. Must be the savoury scones I can smell,’ she says, pointing at the cheddar variety. ‘Actually, I’d love one of those, please.’
They stay for almost an hour, chatting over cups of tea. Doreen and Rowena opt for toasted teacakes, then they all sample slices of my gingerbread, which was Doreen’s favourite at my cake-tasting session. They all declare the complimentary shortbread to be the most buttery and melt-in-the-mouth they’ve ever tasted.
Paloma stands chatting to me at the counter for a while.
‘Where are the customers?’ I murmur.
She glances at her watch. ‘It’s not quite noon. I bet by one o’clock, you’ll be rushed off your feet.’
I nod, although I’m not convinced. ‘I wonder if the sign is still up.’ I call over, ‘Excuse me, ladies. On your way in, did you notice the big sign advertising the café on the high street?’
‘Oh, we didn’t drive that way, dear,’ says Betty. ‘I picked up Doreen and Rowena in Lake Heath and we came here by the back roads.’
Rowena goes off to use the loo, while Betty comes to the counter to settle up. It feels good putting money in the till. A few more payments like that one and I’ll have broken even on the day!
‘Lovely woman, Rowena,’ says Betty. ‘But I do worry about what she’ll do now she’s not got the ice-cream parlour to run any more.’
I nod. ‘I know. It’s not as if she has family to take up her time.’
‘No.’ Betty looks sad. ‘She did, apparently. She had a daughter, but she doesn’t see her any more. She doesn’t speak about it so I never like to ask. Oh, here she comes—’ She plasters on a smile and starts talking about the weather, wondering how long the sunny spell will last.
My mind is ticking over. Poor Rowena. I wonder what happened to separate her from her daughter? Did it happen recently, after a fallout? Or was it a long time ago?
But I haven’t got time to ponder because at that moment, a car draws up and four people get out – all ladies from the WI. And then just as I’m tending to them, settling them at a table with fresh scones and butter and a big pot of tea, some old school friends drop in, all smiles and excited to sample what my new café has to offer. I saw them all at Lucy’s charity fund-raiser – some of them also came to the cake tasting – and I’m so glad they made the effort to come on opening day.
After that, there’s a steady stream of customers and I’m kept constantly busy until just after five, which is almost time to close up anyway.
After the last two customers have left, promising they’ll be back the following week, I make myself a coffee and wander over to the door, opening it to let in a warm summer breeze. And after a few moments of reflection, the buzz of being busy dies down and what I’m left with is a sad feeling of anticlimax. Because it’s gradually dawning on me that yes, I had a fair few customers through the door today – but not nearly as many as you would expect on opening day, and I guess that’s partly down to the mysteriously vanished posters. If no one knew the café was opening, it’s hardly surprising I wasn’t overwhelmed with curious villagers. Also, every one of those people who turned up today was s
omeone I knew, and they came because they promised me they would.
After all the stress and effort of the past few weeks, I’m shattered and a feeling of bitter disappointment descends. My eyes feel heavy with unshed tears, but I blink them away. It will be fine. Of course it will. It’s only day one! I’ll get more posters made, and this time I’ll make sure they don’t disappear.
I’m glad when Paloma arrives.
She walks in and immediately sniffs the air with disgust. ‘Bloody hell, what is that smell?’
‘My nose is blocked,’ I wail. ‘What does it smell like?’
She sniffs again. ‘I don’t know. It’s a fishy smell. Are you sure there’s nothing going off in the fridge?’
‘Positive. I gave it a thorough clean the day before yesterday.’
‘Maybe it’s the drains. Perhaps you should call—’
My mobile starts ringing and I grab it, vainly hoping it might be someone wanting to know my opening times.
The voice sounds far away. But eventually I realise it’s Jason.
‘Hi, Jason. Thanks for the card.’
‘No problem.’
I take a deep breath. ‘If you’re phoning to see how it’s going so far, it’s been not too bad.’
‘Good. Because I was worried.’
‘Worried?’ I shrug at Paloma.
There’s a silence and I think I must have lost him. ‘Jason?’
Paloma is frowning at me, wondering what’s going on.
‘Look, I hate being the one to tell you this, Twi, but I’m afraid you’ve got competition.’
‘Competition?’ I stare in alarm at Paloma. ‘But who? Where?’
‘Just get along to the high street,’ he says flatly. ‘The old ice-cream parlour.’ There’s a pause and my brain whirrs into overdrive. ‘Sorry, Twi. You’re the last person in the world who deserves this.’ And he rings off.
Swallowing down my panic, I tell Paloma what Jason has just told me.
‘Come on,’ she says, and I grab my bag and keys and follow her out of the door. My fingers fumble over the key in the lock, but at last, we’re marching along the street in the direction of the high street.
My heart is banging against my ribs and I feel sick, wondering what I’m going to find. Neither of us says a word.
We emerge at the junction onto the high street and the first thing I notice, looking along the road, is a queue of people outside one of the shops. My heart drops like a stone.
‘Bloody hell, Jason’s right,’ says Paloma. ‘Something’s happening at Rowena’s old ice-cream parlour.’ She looks both ways as if to cross the road, but I pull her back.
‘Don’t go over there. Not yet.’
‘Okay.’
We draw level with the long queue of people waiting outside, chattering and laughing and reading the special offer in big bold letters splashed across the window: Super-healthy dining, 50% off!
And that’s when I see the brand-new sign in quirky colourful text above the shop front.
Paloma and I gasp in horror at exactly the same time.
The old ice-cream parlour has indeed been let again. And the names above the window make my heart drop like a stone.
Lucy & Olivia’s Clean Food Café.
Chapter 17
‘Oh my God! She wouldn’t,’ breathes Paloma, while I just stare at the café front, my legs feeling like jelly, as the horrible truth slowly sinks in.
Lucy has set this café up deliberately to hamper my chances of success. What other explanation can there be?
‘My God, she kept that under wraps, all right! What a cow!’ explodes Paloma. ‘Right, I’m going over there to tell her exactly what I think of her, the scheming, two-faced, pathetic little bitch!’
‘No!’ I grab her arm and she turns, stopped in her vengeful mission by the look of pure shock on my face. I’m struck temporarily dumb. I can’t believe that even Lucy could stoop this low – could act with such breathtaking maliciousness.
But her name is right there, above the window alongside Olivia’s, so incredibly, it must all be true. I shake my head slowly in disbelief. Maybe I’m in the middle of a nightmare and I’ll wake up soon.
One thing’s for sure, though – we definitely shouldn’t be waltzing over there right now, kicking up a fuss.
Paloma takes a deep calming breath. ‘You’re right. We need to think about this logically, instead of diving straight in, on the attack, and making things worse.’
I swallow down a feeling of nausea. I can’t think calmly. Not yet. Not while my head is still spinning with shock. How could Lucy be so cold-bloodedly devious, pretending to support me in my new endeavour while all the time plotting my downfall with Olivia behind my back? I’ve had my doubts, but I allowed Paloma to talk me into trusting Lucy.
More fool me!
I should have realised, better than anyone, the depths Lucy Slater is capable of sinking to.
I trail back along the high street with Paloma in silence.
‘I can’t believe she and Olivia kept their café plans a secret until today,’ says Paloma when we arrive back at the café. ‘I mean, I’m certain no one in the village knew what they were planning to do. News travels like wildfire here, but there wasn’t a peep, was there?’
I shake my head, rattling the key in the lock in frustration as it sticks.
‘Here, let me.’ Gently, Paloma takes over and we step back over the threshold.
I glance around the empty café, trying to push down the wave of panic rising up inside me. What if Lucy has ruined my plan to save Honey Cottage?
Paloma heaves a sigh. ‘I suppose it was all designed to have maximum negative impact on you,’ she murmurs. ‘What an evil bloody witch! There must be something we can do, though.’ She flumps in a seat and stares into space.
‘And what is that disgusting smell?’ I shout, all my bottled-up anger at Lucy suddenly bursting out. ‘Even I can smell it now!’
‘Drains,’ says Paloma absently.
I frown, shaking my head slowly. I’m certain it’s not the drains, but what— ?
And then it comes to me in a flash.
The curtains!
Getting up, I push back my chair so abruptly, it topples over.
I go to the nearest window and grab a length of fabric, bringing it to my nose and sniffing hard. There’s definitely an odour of rotting fish there, but maybe that’s just because the whole place smells of it now.
Paloma joins me and bends to lift the curtain up from the bottom. Sniffing the hem, she makes a revolted face and passes it to me.
I breathe in the horrible stench and recoil. ‘What the … ?’
‘Hang on, I’ve got nail scissors in my bag.’ Quickly, Paloma starts snipping at the thread, releasing the hemmed fabric, and that’s when Lucy’s dastardly deed is revealed.
‘Oh my God, it’s kippers.’ She pulls more of the stitching away and we stare at the disgusting slivers of slippery yellow flesh sticking to the fabric. ‘I can’t believe this.’
She must have painstakingly sewn the fish into the curtain hems!
I stare at Paloma. I want to laugh but it’s just too horrible.
I picture Lucy slicing the fish and carefully stitching it into the hems, and the premeditated nature of it makes me feel sick to my stomach. Does she really hate me that much? I was starting to agree with Paloma that Lucy had changed towards me. But we were wrong. So very wrong …
‘Jeez,’ breathes Paloma, her eyes glazed with disbelief. ‘No wonder she wanted to put the curtains up herself at the very last minute. She must have planned for the stink to sabotage opening day and drive away any customers you might actually have.’
I try to swallow but my mouth is dry as dust. ‘And you thought I was being paranoid,’ I whisper.
Paloma shakes her head. ‘It’s incredible. I mean, what the hell does she hope to gain from opening a café the same day as you? I’d never have believed it before now, but … she’s done it all deliberately to hurt you,
hasn’t she?’ She turns, her face aghast. ‘What have you ever done to Lucy Slater to warrant this?’
‘Nothing. Apart from loving Jason.’
‘And Jason loving you,’ murmurs Paloma. She shakes her head. ‘I’m going to have it out with her. Ask her what the hell she’s playing at.’
‘What’s the point?’ I smile sadly. ‘You know Lucy. She’s a master at wriggling out of trouble. She’ll only deny any wrongdoing.’
‘Well, she’ll be smiling on the other side of her face when everyone finds out she sewed fish into your curtain hems!’ Paloma gives a frustrated sigh and we both stare into space for a long moment.
Then Paloma grabs the complimentary shortbread from a nearby saucer and starts munching furiously. ‘The best way to get even,’ she says at last, ‘is to make damn sure your café is a massive success.’
I stare at her wordlessly. I know I should probably be fired up with determination to battle on in spite of everything, but right this minute, all I want to do is close up the café, go home, get into bed and blot out all the horror of it with sleep.
Then a little knot of fury begins to unfurl inside me. It might feel as if Lucy Slater has me in a stranglehold all over again. But this time, I’m not going to take it lying down.
‘Help me get these – things – down!’ I drag a chair over to the nearest window and start pulling the curtains off the hooks as fast as I can. They’re heading for the bin.
I’m shaking but determined. You have to stand up to bullies.
And that’s exactly what I intend to do …
*****
Over the next few days, I do my best to carry on, providing a service for the customers who come along, but it’s hard knowing I’m barely breaking even, never mind making some sort of profit to pay the mortgage.
The worst part is trying to keep the truth from Mum and Dad.
I phoned on opening day to thank Dad for the lovely tips bowl, and Mum answered, sounding anxious.
‘I’m trying not to panic,’ she confessed. ‘And I probably shouldn’t be worrying you, but your dad’s still not responding to the treatment the way they’d like.’
Love Among the Treetops Page 12