‘I need to be going,’ he murmurs, and his words are confusing, disorientating to me. His body seems to be saying one thing and yet …
Abruptly, he gets to his feet and clears his throat. ‘You must be exhausted after tonight.’
I try to smile but a feeling of despair is creeping over me. I’m back to feeling cold and frighteningly alone, like I felt in the treehouse before he arrived.
‘Right.’ I stand up, too, but my legs are a little shaky and I stumble slightly. He catches me, his hands firm around my waist, and we laugh, and then our eyes meet and the laughter dies away. The space between us is bridged at long last as our mouths meet, hard and passionate, longing moulding our bodies ever closer.
Then suddenly, he breaks away and pulls me into an embrace, so that my face is against his chest, his fingers in my hair. ‘I can’t,’ he murmurs.
‘Why not?’ My plea is muffled by his jumper.
‘It wouldn’t be fair. On you.’ He holds me for a moment and I can feel the strong, quick beating of his heart.
‘I don’t understand.’
He gives a deep sigh and I long to see his face, to try and understand him. But the way he’s cradling my head so tenderly against his chest makes it impossible for me to even think about moving away.
‘I’m bad news,’ he says at last. ‘Just being friends is better. For both our sakes.’
I look up at him and he bends and kisses me chastely on the forehead.
‘Sure you’ll be all right?’ he asks.
I nod and follow him to the door.
‘Think about the café in the treehouse,’ he says again.
The storm has passed over. All that’s left of it is a stiff breeze rustling the trees. Theo walks out into the scented, rain-soaked night, gets into his car and drives off at speed.
I retreat indoors, feeling oddly empty, as if my insides have been hollowed out. It’s been an emotional night, what with Jason turning up and so clearly resenting Theo’s presence.
And then Theo …
Sighing, I switch off the lights and head upstairs to bed.
Theo might be thinking about a café in the treehouse. But to be honest, that’s the very last thing on my mind …
Chapter 24
When I finally fall asleep, after tossing and turning most of the night, I have a horrible dream that bailiffs are kicking the front door down and marching through the house, taking an inventory of everything.
I wake in a sweat with a raging headache, all the events of the day before tumbling chaotically around in my mind.
Theo coming into the café and offering me a training session. Diane and the other mums nudging each other and winking, saying what a waste that Theo was a ‘lone wolf’ due to his tragic past. Chatting to him about the café after the session, up in the treehouse, followed by his swift departure. And then being caught outdoors in the thunderstorm, Jason coming to my rescue and being so obviously disgruntled because Theo was already there.
And then the really embarrassing encounter on the sofa. Heat washes into my face just thinking of it.
Not that the kiss was embarrassing. If I’m honest with myself, I didn’t want it to end. It was the way Theo deliberately extracted himself from my clutches. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to face him again.
I glance at the clock. It’s already eight-thirty on a Monday morning, and in an hour or so, I should be heading over to the café to get ready to open up. But for the first time, I’m actually wondering if it’s really worth it. At a guess, I’ll have maybe a dozen customers through the door today. And that’s if I’m lucky. I hate to think of Betty and Doreen feeling obliged to call in and order something most days, so they can help me shore up the business. That’s not how it’s supposed to be!
Trailing downstairs, I put the kettle on and fetch the post from the doormat in the hall. My heart stalls. There’s one from Mum and Dad’s building society. I stare at it, my mouth bone dry. I should open the letter, I know – Mum and Dad would want me to – but somehow I can’t summon up the strength.
It’s probably time to admit that I’ve failed in my bid to save Honey Cottage. I had such a marvellous vision of how it could be – a café serving wonderful cakes and the best coffee, a meeting place at the heart of a thriving community. What an idiot I was to think it could be so easy.
It might have worked – if Lucy hadn’t gone out of her way to ruin everything as she always did. I can’t believe I was starting to give her the benefit of the doubt … thinking that Paloma was probably right and that Lucy was no longer the vindictive schoolgirl bully she once was; she was sure to have matured and left those days behind her. How wrong could we have been! And, of course, the people who will suffer because of her nastiness are Mum and Dad, who never did Lucy any harm in their lives! How am I going to break it to them that my café idea has failed? That they will lose Honey Cottage after all?
I go back into the kitchen and throw the letter from the bank onto the table. It slides along the surface and falls onto the floor, but I turn my back on it, resolutely making my tea. But even before I start drinking it, good sense gets the better of me and I reach down and rip open the letter, reading the inevitably bad news with a sinking heart.
It is, as I knew it would be, a reminder that the mortgage arrears requested have not been paid. I have fourteen days to settle the account, otherwise ‘further action’ will be taken. Somehow seeing it written in black and white makes it suddenly very real.
Who was I kidding thinking I could succeed? Me, a successful café owner? What a joke!
I sink down at the table as the tears begin to slide down my face. My throat hurts, thinking of Mum and Dad so far away. It’s probably just as well they’re in London right now, so they can remain in ignorance (for a little while longer) of what’s really going on here, with the cottage and the café. But all the same, I’d give anything to be able to see them. Dropping my head on my arms, I finally give in to my grief, sobbing loudly in the stillness of the house, letting out all the sadness and the frustrations of what has been the most challenging time of my life.
It’s time I admitted it.
Once again, Lucy has won …
I’m drying my face on kitchen towel later when the doorbell goes.
Instantly, I think it’s Jason, come to quiz me about Theo. I’m not sure I’m up for that. Hopefully, it will be Paloma back from London, although I doubt it. She would have had to get a very early train, and Paloma is very definitely not a morning person …
When I open the door, I truly can’t believe my eyes.
‘Oh my God, Mum!’
She’s standing there on the doorstep with her small overnight bag, and my heart contracts because it’s so good to see her and she’s lost so much weight. She’s wearing a navy sundress with a little turquoise cardigan and navy sling-backs, and her mid-brown hair has been given soft blonde highlights that really flatter her face shape. But however much of an effort she’s made with her appearance, there’s no disguising the prominent dark circles of worry about Dad around her pale blue eyes.
‘Surprise!’ She steps over the threshold, drops her bag and enfolds me in the biggest hug. I hug her back, clinging tightly, breathing in her achingly familiar, comforting scent, tears of relief at seeing her dripping down my cheeks. She’s smaller than me by a couple of inches and having lost the weight, she feels angular and a little fragile.
‘I can’t believe you’re here!’ I stand back to look at her, and she keeps tight hold of my hands. ‘I was only just wishing I could see you – and here you are!’
‘Why were you wishing you could see me?’ She looks worried. ‘Has something happened?’
‘No, no, of course not.’ I brush away her concern. ‘Things are hunky dory here. Come on, I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘Lovely! I left so early, I didn’t have time for breakfast.’
‘How’s Dad?’
Her smile freezes. ‘Well, you know, he’s in fairly good spiri
ts, considering.’
A cold hand grips my heart as we walk into the kitchen. ‘Still no improvement, then?’
She gives her head a quick shake then says, ‘But it’s early days, love. He’ll be fine, I’m certain of it.’
‘He will.’ If we keep on believing it, maybe it will come true.
She sits at the kitchen table and kicks off her shoes with a sigh while I make the tea and keep up a constant stream of chat about Betty and Doreen – and what they’ve been getting up to in their retirement – to distract Mum from the subject of Dad. A break from all the stressful hospital visits will probably do her the world of good. It must be so hard keeping cheery and strong for Dad’s sake.
‘I get the feeling they’re both at a bit of a loose end,’ she says. ‘Betty and boredom really don’t go well together! I think she wishes she was still the terrifyingly efficient PA she used to be, except with plenty of days off to get up to all sorts of mischief with Doreen.’
I laugh. ‘Yes, well, they’re in the café pretty much every day, so I gathered they were probably short on excitement!’
Mum’s eyes gleam. ‘I decided to come early so I could help you open up.’
I stare at her blankly.
‘The Twilight Café?’ She laughs at my expression.
‘Oh yes, of course.’ I swallow and glance down at my hands.
‘Is there something wrong, love?’ She takes my hand and squeezes it and for a moment, the only sound is the ticking of the clock on the wall as I stare at my lap. It’s no use. I’ll have to tell her. She’s about to see for herself how popular The Twilight Café isn’t.
Finally, I look up and my expression must say it all.
‘What?’ she asks in alarm.
‘It’s … the thing is, Mum, it’s not going so well. Do you remember Lucy Slater?’
Her face turns instantly thunderous. ‘I do remember that little witch. How could I ever forget her? She terrorised you throughout your schooldays.’
‘Well, it wasn’t that bad.’
‘I think it was.’ Her look is razor sharp. ‘You just didn’t tell us the extent of the bullying until after you left school. I’ve felt bad for years that I didn’t realise at the time.’
‘But how could you have known? I kept it from you because I didn’t want you to worry.’
‘Yes, but that’s what mothers do; they worry about their kids. That’s their job! So, come on, love, I need to know.’
With a sigh, I describe the damp squib that was launch day, and her face falls even further when I tell her about Lucy & Olivia’s Clean Food Café.
‘The place is packed every time I go past. I just can’t compete.’ I shrug hopelessly.
Mum frowns. ‘Of course, Lucy’s dad is a businessman with contacts all over the place. No doubt he’ll be using his influence to make sure his darling daughter’s café is a raging success.’ She shakes her head. ‘But it makes my blood boil that she opened the same day to sabotage your success!’
‘I know. I’ve been planning all sorts of murderous revenge.’ Grinning, I add, ‘But I value my freedom, so it looks like she’s got away with it.’
She reaches over and presses my hand. ‘Honestly, love, I don’t know how you can be so calm about it. If she did that to me, I’d be tearing my hair out.’
‘Oh, I’ve done plenty of that, believe me. It’s just I’ve got to the stage where I’m wondering if it’s worth carrying on with the café. Perhaps it’s time I accepted that it was a lovely idea but thanks to Lucy, it’s not going to work.’
Mum studies me, thinking hard. ‘There must be something you can do to draw people to The Twilight Café.’
‘If there is, I can’t think of it. And I’ve thought about practically nothing else for the past few weeks.’
She pats my hand. ‘Well, don’t lose hope. Not yet.’
‘Actually, someone did suggest a solution.’ I swallow hard. ‘He said I should put the café in the treehouse instead.’
She frowns and looks at me for a minute. Then she gives a bark of surprised laughter. ‘Well, it would certainly be unusual.’
I nod. ‘I can see the headline now. Local girl turns childhood treehouse into a café.’
‘Shame it’s not big enough.’
‘Oh, Theo has a friend who’s a carpenter. He reckons his mate could extend the treehouse into a viable structure to house a café. All pie in the sky, of course, because it would probably cost an absolute fortune!’
She nods. ‘Interesting. Who is this Theo, by the way? Someone nice?’
‘Oh, not really.’ I shrug awkwardly. ‘I mean, yes, he is nice. He’s a personal trainer and he gave me a free session, and we ended up having a drink in the treehouse, that’s all.’ I get up to make some tea and to conceal the annoying blushes that have just flooded my cheeks for no good reason.
‘A free session? Hmm, very good.’ I can tell by her tone she’s dying to know more about mystery man Theo, but she’s going to be disappointed! In any case, I barely know anything about him myself.
What I do know is that every time I think about him pulling away from me, I feel stupid and embarrassed all over again. And I can’t stop wondering what he meant when he said he was ‘bad news’. Did he mean he stays away from relationships because he’s not the faithful type? But it was only a kiss. I wasn’t proposing marriage or anything. It was a kiss that happened on the spur of the moment, probably – from my side anyway – because of the build-up of emotion. I was so scared of the storm, I’d have clung to anyone who offered to prop me up and see me through the worst of it …
I bring our tea and some gingerbread to the table, and Mum says, ‘We’d better not be too long. When do you open up?’
I glance at my watch. ‘Ten. In half an hour.’
‘Right, well, you never know, there might be a queue a mile long when we get there!’
I smile at her determination to remain positive. She might feel differently after a day of kicking her heels behind the till of a deserted café, as tumbleweed rolls along the street outside. But whatever happens, I’m so very glad she’s here with me.
‘Mum?’
‘Yes, love?’
‘We don’t need to mention to Dad that business isn’t exactly booming, do we?’
She shakes her head firmly. ‘Definitely not. It’s our secret, for now.’
Chapter 25
After a day spent in the café, reading magazines and chatting in the long gaps between customers, Mum and I decide to cheer ourselves up with a couple of our favourite movies and a Chinese take-away. We get into our pyjamas and I open a bottle of wine and we have such a lovely, relaxed evening.
Halfway through Sleepless in Seattle, Mum falls asleep – curled into the corner of the sofa – and I watch her with an aching heart. She must be utterly exhausted, looking after Dad, but at least she’s had a chance to escape the hospital routine for one night. We have my Auntie June to thank for that. She’s looking after Dad while Mum’s away.
Mum wakes up around ten, long enough to drink some tea before I shoo her off to bed with strict instructions to sleep for as long as she needs to, then have an easy day while I’m at the café. We’ll have a meal together when I close up in the afternoon, then I’ll walk her to the station around seven for her train back to London.
The following morning, Paloma comes over to the café around eleven and it’s pretty clear she’s not in a great mood. When I mention that Mum arrived unexpectedly and is staying for a while, her face lights up and she hugs me, saying what a lovely surprise.
But she continues hugging me long after she normally would, and that’s when I realise, to my horror, that her shoulders are shaking.
‘What’s wrong?’ I hold her arms and pull away from her vice-like grip so I can see her face. Sure enough, tears are leaking down her face, and I can’t help feeling alarmed. Paloma very rarely cries. Apart from breaking down over losing Linda and before she told me about looking for her birth mum, I’ve only ev
er known her to cry once. That was when her ex, Rufus, revealed his prize knob-head status by expecting her to tolerate his kinky sex sessions with his ex-wife, which he insisted were a vital part of his ongoing psychotherapy treatment.
‘Sorry.’ She dashes the tears away and tries to smile. ‘I’m so pleased for you that your mum is here, Twi. It’s just I haven’t heard a thing from Sylvia and I just keep wondering if I’m ever going to find my mum.’
‘Oh God, poor you. And here’s me going on about how great it is to have Mum here.’
Why didn’t I think?
But Paloma shakes her head. ‘Don’t be silly. It’s not your fault. I’ve just been feeling really despondent about the whole thing. I’ve started to think I should probably just forget about trying to find her if it’s going to cause me so much grief.’
‘No, don’t give up. Not yet,’ I urge her. ‘Sylvia could unearth something at any time.’
Paloma attempts a smile, but it changes into a huge yawn and it turns out she’s been working most of the night on a project. I pack her off home with a bag of freshly baked cheese and thyme scones and she promises to go to bed and get some sleep.
After she’s gone, there’s a bit of a lull and then Rowena Swann arrives. She orders three cappuccinos, explaining that Betty and Doreen are on their way and will be here any minute.
She walks around looking at the wall art while I set to, making the coffees.
‘I’m so glad Jason pointed me in your direction for the furniture,’ I call over, above the noise of the coffee machine. ‘It fits in here perfectly, don’t you think?’
She smiles. ‘It does, doesn’t it? I really love how pretty and cosy the place looks.’ She lingers by the children’s play area, stooping to pick up a picture book. Watching her leafing through it with a distant look on her face, I can’t help myself. I have to ask.
‘Did you say you had children, Rowena? I couldn’t remember.’ I busy myself wiping up coffee spillages, my heart beating fast.
She walks over to collect her coffee and for a moment I think she’s not going to answer me. Then she stands by the counter, drawing her coffee towards her, and says, ‘I had a daughter.’ She picks up the spoon and starts carving through the froth, making patterns in it.
Love Among the Treetops Page 17