The silence in the café, now that the machine noises have stopped, is absolute.
‘What … happened to your daughter, Rowena?’ I ask.
She looks up at me and says simply and matter-of-factly, ‘I let her go.’
My heart lurches. I don’t know what to say, so I just reach across and press her arm.
She gives a sad little smile. ‘It was for the best. I can see that now, but it was so hard at the time.’
My heart is beating very fast. I look at her lowered head as she stirs the coffee. She has short dark hair, the same shade as Paloma’s, although no doubt both women use colourants to enhance the shade. Paloma said her birth mother’s name was Margaret, but perhaps Rowena changed her name or goes by her middle name.
‘Do you ever wish you hadn’t?’ I ask softly. ‘Let her go, I mean.’
Her eyes fill with tears and she laughs and grabs a paper napkin to dab them with. ‘Every day, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing to do.’
At that moment, the door opens and Betty and Doreen come in, which means I can’t ask anything else.
The three friends greet each other and I stand there, thinking: What if it really is her? What if Rowena Swann is Paloma’s birth mum and neither of them even realises it?
Should I mention my suspicions to Paloma? But immediately, I decide against that. The chances of it being true are slight, and the last thing I want is to build Paloma’s hopes up only for them to be dashed. But it’s so frustrating, not being able to ask outright if her baby was adopted and if so, when?
I’m so lost in thought, I don’t even notice Rowena’s purse on the counter until they’ve all gone.
After leaving her a message saying I’ve found it, I decide to close up for an hour so I can nip over and see how Mum’s getting on. I’m expecting her to be in, perhaps lying on the sofa watching some daytime TV, but she’s left a mysterious note on the kitchen table saying she’s nipped out but will be back later.
I’m wiping the tables in the café just before five, ready to close up, when she walks in.
‘Hi, Mum. Had a nice afternoon?’
There’s an odd look on her face, an expression somewhere between nervous and excited.
‘What is it?’ I ask, pausing with the cloth in my hand.
She stands in the middle of the café and looks around her. ‘This place is so absolutely wonderful. What an amazing job you’ve done, love, and the cakes are second to none.’ She smiles at me, her eyes misting over. ‘When you told me what you planned to do, I never imagined something like this. I’m so proud. You deserve to do really well.’
I’m almost tearful myself at her enthusiasm. But I shrug. ‘I just don’t think it was meant to be.’
‘Well, I think you’re wrong.’ She flashes a mischievous smile, then says impulsively, ‘Let’s go up to the treehouse!’
‘What, now?’ I stare at her, puzzled. ‘But I’m making a pasta carbonara for dinner—’
‘Just humour me, love?’
‘Okay.’ Grinning, I drop the cloth on the table and collect my keys and bag. ‘You haven’t been up in the treehouse for ages.’
‘The last time was when you came home for your birthday last year, and we had cake and champagne up there, remember?’
I nod wistfully. Dad seemed well then, the life and soul of the party, telling his bad jokes. None of us had any idea …
I swallow hard as I lock up and we walk along the street and in through our back gate. Mum climbs up the treehouse ladder with ease, and soon we’re standing on the deck in the late afternoon sunshine, looking out over Dad’s leafy domain.
‘I miss the garden,’ she says wistfully. ‘It’s just as well your dad still has the gardener coming in every week, otherwise this view would be nothing but wilderness!’
‘Where were you this afternoon?’ I ask, leaning on the railing, curious to know what’s going on in her head.
‘Well, Betty and Doreen called in after they saw you at the café and took me out for lunch, and we had a lovely old catch-up. We were talking about The Twilight Café and I told them what your friend, Theo, said about putting the café in the treehouse instead and that he had a carpenter friend who could work on extending it and making the structure sound enough for purpose.’
‘Right,’ I say slowly, wondering where on earth all this is leading.
Mum turns to me and takes hold of my hands. ‘Betty and Doreen want to invest in The Twilight Café. You can get Theo’s friend to start work immediately. If that’s what you’d like.’
I stare at her, trying to process what she’s just told me.
Her eyes are shining with expectation, but all I can do is frown. ‘What? Really? Did you ask them to invest?’
She shakes her head. ‘No, of course not.’ She smiles, remembering. ‘I actually told them they were mad to even think of using their precious retirement funds to finance such a project. But they wouldn’t listen. Betty said – and I quote – “What’s the point of having money in the bank if you can’t put it to good use? We’ve been looking around for the perfect investment opportunity – and I think we’ve just found it! Eh, Doreen?”’
I can’t take it in. I’m still too dumbfounded to speak.
Mum rushes on, ‘You’d still be running the place and making all the decisions, but Betty and Doreen would finance the initial stage and help you out in the café. You wouldn’t mind that, would you?’
‘No, of course not. But …’
‘But?’
‘It’s far too big a gamble, Mum. What if they invest their money, thinking it’s all going to be fabulous, then it fails spectacularly. I’d feel absolutely terrible. And I wouldn’t be able to pay them back. At least not straight away.’
She nods. ‘I know. And of course nothing is guaranteed in business. But Betty and Doreen are both intelligent women. They know all about the risks in ventures like this, but they’re both convinced that a treehouse café would be something really special and they want to be part of it.’ She smiles. ‘I think they’re looking for a bit of excitement in their lives. You wouldn’t deny them that, now, would you?’
‘But how would I pay them back?’
Mum frowns. ‘I’m not great with legal stuff but Betty seems to think there’s a way for you to pay them back gradually, from the proceeds of the business.’
I shake my head slowly. ‘But you’re always so cautious, Mum. It’s Dad who’s the adventurous one. I can’t believe you’re so enthusiastic about this … this wild idea!’
She smiles sadly. ‘Listen, love, if I’ve learned anything from your dad being so ill, it’s that you only have one life to live and it can be over in a flash. Just like that.’ She snaps her fingers. ‘So why not really live it while you can? Have an adventure. Take a risk.’ She shrugs. ‘As long as it’s a calculated risk, of course.’
I take a deep breath and stare out over the garden to the fields beyond, and Lake Heath in the distance. Something stirs inside. A little leap of excitement at the thought of what a café in Dad’s treehouse could be like.
‘Well, what do you think?’ asks Mum.
‘I think … ’ Turning towards her, I can’t believe what I’m about to say. I’m quivering inside with a strange sort of nervous exhilaration ‘I think Betty and Doreen are right. People would be fascinated to come up here and drink their coffee among the treetops.’
I swallow hard.
‘I think it might actually work, Mum.’
*****
Later, after I’ve waved Mum off on the London train, I walk home, deep in thought. Wandering out into the garden, I climb the ladder to the treehouse and sit on the window seat inside, staring out at Honey Cottage. A summer breeze drifts in through the open window and I try to imagine what it would be like to have enough room up here for tables and chairs, and a proper walkway entrance so everyone – young and old – was able to come inside.
Could it really work?
Before we parted, Mum said
she was going to transfer a little money into my account so I could keep going financially while I decided what to do. I hated the thought of taking what little savings she had, but she was really insistent.
She took my hands and said, ‘I believe in you, love. Your dad and I both do. You’ll be a success, whatever you decide to do.’
I grimace, remembering her words. They both believe in me. No pressure there, then!
One of the things that makes me very wary is having to get Theo involved. I’d need his carpenter friend’s contact details.
My heart sinks every time I imagine seeking him out at the gym. I’m not at all sure I want to see Theo again after what happened the other night. It will just be so awkward. I’ll have to make it very clear that all I need from him is his help with the treehouse café – namely, an introduction to his friend, Jake.
From now on, as far as my relationship with Theo Steel is concerned, it has to be strictly business …
Chapter 26
It’s a week later, and I’m sitting in the back seat of Theo Steel’s car, trying to hear what he and Paloma are talking about in the front.
We began by trying to have a three-way conversation, but I was finding it too much of a strain having to lean forward all the time to hear, so eventually I sat back and took out my notebook and pen, pretending I needed to plan my baking for the following week. The week since Mum dropped the bombshell that Betty and Doreen wanted to invest in the café has taken its toll on me and I feel really tired. All I want to do is relax and watch the scenery go by. The trouble is, I also want to know what’s being said in the front!
We’re on our way to meet Theo’s carpenter friend, Jake, who lives near Brighton and has a business creating bespoke playhouses. Apparently, Theo knows him from way back, when they went to school together in Lake Heath, and he’s already spoken to him about the possibility of building a treehouse big enough to house a café.
I love the whole idea of extending Dad’s lovely treehouse into a café and my heart beats a little faster every time I imagine what it would look like. But it still seems pretty unreal to me somehow. There are so many practical uncertainties to consider, and the financing of it is worrying me the most. I mean, a bespoke treehouse is not going to come cheap, and it’s Betty and Doreen’s money!
Feeling a bit left out, I lean forward slightly and manage to catch a snatch of their conversation.
‘Oh God, what a poser!’ Paloma turns to Theo’s profile and laughs.
‘I know. So this poor guy is lying trapped under a massive set of weights, while his mate ogles a girl on the treadmill.’
I stare glumly at the backs of their heads. They have the same dark, glossy hair and the same taste in jokes, apparently, if the merriment in the front of the car is anything to go by. A match made in heaven!
I check myself. What’s wrong with me? I should be really grateful to both of them. Theo is doing me a big favour, giving up his afternoon off to take us to meet Jake, and Paloma is coming along to provide support and give me her opinion. The only reason she’s sitting in the front seat is because Theo happened to pick her up first. Not that it makes any difference whatsoever!
I suppose I’m still confused about Theo’s behaviour towards me. His passion tells me he’s attracted to me, but then he says it’s best ‘for both our sakes’ that we stay friends. This irritates me – and it’s not because I’m interested in getting involved with Theo. Not at all. I’d just like to make my own mind up about what’s best for me, thank you very much!
Mind you, would I actually want to be with someone who describes himself as ‘bad news’?
I think of how he is with Olivia. Has he told her that he’s ‘bad news’? I get the feeling that even if he did, it wouldn’t stop her flirting with him every chance she got. Would Theo repel her advances? I’d like to think so, because then I could stop thinking that the reason he backed off was because I’m not attractive enough …
‘Okay in the back there?’ Theo asks, and I jump, thinking he must have been reading my mind. Or my expression, at least.
‘Yes, I’m fine, thanks.’ I paste on a smile to prove it. His deep blue eyes seem even more intense because I can only see the top half of his face. ‘It’s really nice of you to do this.’
He shrugs. ‘It’s a pleasure. I haven’t seen my old mate, Jake, in years. It’ll be good to catch up.’
We drive through a small village and then here we are, turning off the road at a sign saying, Jake Fellows, Wood Creations, bumping along a short track to our destination.
We head for a small visitors’ car park at the side of what is clearly Jake’s workshop, and as we’re getting out, a man in a pair of khaki green overalls emerges from the cottage, which is just a hundred yards or so from the workshop. Theo walks over to greet him and they shake hands and pat each other’s backs in that very male, slightly self-conscious way. They turn to Paloma and I, and Theo does the introductions.
Jake has green eyes, longish auburn hair and a rugged, square jaw that hasn’t seen a razor in a few days. He doesn’t look in the best of moods.
‘I gather you’re looking to build a treehouse café?’ he says, turning his cool gaze on me.
When I smile and concur, he murmurs, ‘Interesting concept,’ and I can’t tell whether he thinks it’s a good or bad idea. ‘I’ll show you some of my work and you can see what you think.’
‘Okay.’ I nod cheerfully, and Jake indicates where we’re going with his thumb before striding off, Theo alongside him.
Paloma calls after him, ‘It would be a real first for the area, don’t you think? A café in a treehouse. I don’t know of anything similar, do you?’
‘No, I don’t,’ says Jake without turning round. ‘But maybe there’s a reason no one’s done it before.’
Paloma and I are hurrying to catch up.
‘Perhaps they haven’t thought of it?’ she ventures.
He grunts. ‘A treehouse is quirky by nature and “quirky” doesn’t necessarily translate into the most practical of business premises.’
We’re walking by the side of the house to a field at the back and, breaking into a little jog, Paloma finally manages to walk alongside our rather less than welcoming host. ‘But surely,’ she says, trying to make eye contact with him, ‘if the concept is sound, you can find ways to work around any physical obstacle?’
I can tell she’s needled by his brusqueness. I’m quite surprised myself. I would have thought the prospect of a big new commission would make him happy. But perhaps this is Jake happy!
‘Only if the end result is worth the hard work,’ he says.
‘But how can you know that unless you’ve tried?’ she persists, and I smile at her determination as I follow on a few steps behind.
‘Experience,’ he says flatly, before turning his back on her to open a gate into a display area.
I glance at Paloma, intending to grimace in amusement. But she’s glaring at Jake’s back. If looks could kill …
The creations before us take my breath away and are a complete contrast to the surliness of their creator.
There’s a cute log cabin with three rocking chairs on the front porch and a sign carved over the door that says The Three Bears Playhouse. And next to it is an amazing structure, built entirely of wood, which makes you smile just to look at it. Everything about it is lopsided – from the shape of the windows and the door, to the higgledy-piggledy writing on the sign that says, The Crooked Playhouse.
‘Oh, I love that. It’s stunning,’ I say. ‘They all are.’
‘Yeah, you’ve got some talent there, mate,’ Theo says, laying his hand on Jake’s shoulder and shaking his head in wonder at a house in the shape of a huge shoe with three rows of windows, and a slide emerging from the top level.
I nod in agreement. I’d have had huge fun as a kid, scrambling up the wooden stairs inside the shoe then sliding right down to the bottom. This man has some imagination! ‘What do you think, Paloma?’
She gives a stiff little smile. ‘They’re great. Although they’re not quite what you’d want for a café.’
‘Well, obviously not,’ says Jake, walking over to The Three Bears Playhouse and opening the door for us to see inside. ‘This is just to show Twilight my range of techniques in wood.’ He gives me a grudging smile. ‘I envisage we’d have a chat about your vision for the café, then I’d draw up some plans for you to look at and we’d go from there.’
I nod happily, already carried away by the idea that Jake can clearly work wonders, and really wanting him to work his clever magic on The Treehouse Café!
Theo and Jake wander over towards the house, chatting and catching up on the years in between their last meeting, while Paloma and I wander in and out of the playhouse exhibits.
‘Is it just me, or is that guy totally up his own arse?’ says Paloma.
I laugh. ‘Jake? He seems all right to me. A bit of a sense of humour bypass, maybe, but he’s incredibly talented at what he does.’
She shrugs. ‘Jake Fellows is the sort who always has to be right. You’ll need to be careful he doesn’t ride roughshod over your ideas for the café because, of course, he’s the artist, don’t you know!’ Her sarcasm is accompanied by a sneer in his direction.
I grin at her. ‘Aren’t you jumping the gun a bit? I haven’t even decided if the project is a goer yet.’
She twists her lips.
‘Presumably Jake wants the commission? In which case he’d surely listen and be respectful of the client’s ideas?’
She shrugs.
Jokingly, I say, ‘Hey, artists are allowed to be grumpy and temperamental – didn’t you know?’
She snorts. ‘He’s a knob-head artist. Just like Rufus Knob-Head Black,’ she says, referring to her despicable former lover, who kept going back to his ex-wife for bondage sessions. ‘And he’s got nothing to be superior about. Have you seen his website? A five-year-old could have designed a better one.’
Love Among the Treetops Page 18