I laugh. ‘Just because he’s bad at computer stuff doesn’t mean he’s a bad person!’
We leave soon after, and Paloma ushers me into the front seat this time with a knowing smile. I throw a quick glance at Theo but he’s starting the engine and waving at Jake. To be honest, I’d rather be in the back where I could spend the journey thinking about what we’ve just seen.
But front seat it is. And it gets even more awkward when Paloma realises she’s left her phone in the giant shoe and hurries off to collect it.
Theo switches off the engine and in the silence that follows, we both stare ahead, Theo tapping the steering wheel.
At last, he clears his throat. ‘Twilight, I want to apologise for leaving the way I did that night. The night of the thunderstorm. It’s been on my mind ever since.’
I glance at him, cringing at the memory. ‘It’s no problem. Honestly.’ I’d rather just forget it ever happened.
He heaves a sigh. ‘Look, I have my reasons. And it’s not you, I assure you. I meant it when I told you I’m bad news.’
There’s another brief silence and I wait for him to elaborate. Why would he be ‘bad news’? Maybe he’s just come out of a relationship and doesn’t want to get involved with anyone else so soon? Is it to do with him being a ‘lone wolf’, as the mums in the café described him?
We glance across at each other at the precise same moment.
He smiles sheepishly. ‘It’s definitely not you. You’re gorgeous.’
A little jolt of shock runs through me. I wasn’t expecting that. I wish I could read his mind. We lock eyes and his smile slowly vanishes, just like on the night of the thunderstorm when neither of us could break away.
But this time, he does.
‘Friends?’ he says, snapping me out of my reverie, and it’s like he’s thrown a bucket of cold water over me.
His smile seems strained.
‘Friends,’ I repeat.
Thankfully, Paloma comes back at that moment, which saves me from having to think of something else to say – and having to examine the awful hollow feeling inside …
*****
The following morning, early, I receive a phone call from Jake asking if he can come round to look at the site for the treehouse café. We decide on six o’clock, after I’ve closed up for the day.
The meeting starts off well. He’s really taken with the treehouse – how sturdy it still is after all these years and such a clever design. My eyes fill with tears several times when he refers to dad and how impressed he is at his handiwork.
‘I’ll make sure to keep the character of the original,’ he says, which reassures me hugely. I’d had visions of him wanting to knock it down and start all over again from scratch, which I just couldn’t bear. ‘I’ll incorporate it into my design.’
I nod happily and he shrugs. ‘It makes sense. And the structure is so solid, it will make my work a lot easier.’ He winks. ‘Therefore cheaper.’
I laugh. ‘Even better!’
He smiles. ‘I’m going to enjoy this commission. If you give me the go-ahead. This café of yours could be absolutely stunning.’
It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile and it transforms his whole face and demeanour. Maybe it’s the passion for his craft that’s shining through.
‘Sorry I was a bit gruff the other day,’ he says, as if he’s just read my thoughts. ‘I’d just finished a commission that took weeks, and right before you arrived, the client phoned to say she’d changed her mind and didn’t want it after all.’
‘Oh God, that’s terrible. Will you lose money on it?’
He shrugs. ‘She’d paid a hefty deposit, which she’ll obviously lose, and I’ll be able to sell the playhouse to someone else. But that’s not the point. I made it to her specifications, so it just seems like a complete waste of my time and effort.’
I nod. ‘I can see that. Well, rest assured if I give you the commission, I won’t be backing out!’
‘Good.’ We exchange a smile.
‘So how long do you think it would take you to complete the work here?’
He stares up at the sky, doing mental calculations. ‘Two months. I’ve just started a job that will take me the best part of a month, then I could start on yours.’
I do a quick calculation in my head. That would mean the structure would be finished by September, but by the time we decked it out and got ready to open, we’d be into the autumn.
I stare at Jake in dismay. ‘I was hoping we could open during the summer, to take advantage of the rest of the tourist season, but …’
He frowns and shakes his head. ‘Couldn’t do it. If the job I’m on goes well, I might be able to shave a week off the times, but not much more, I’m afraid.’
After feeling so optimistic, my heart is suddenly heavy in my chest. ‘So realistically, I’d be better opening in April, at the start of next year’s tourist season.’
But the money from Mum will have run out long before then. And then there’s the mortgage arrears to pay. It just can’t be done …
I keep up a happy front until Jake has gone.
Then I climb up into the treehouse and sit on the deck, staring out over the garden, wondering what on earth to do now.
I decide to go and grab some cake to cheer myself up, so I climb down and head along to the café, checking that I still have the keys in my pocket. As I arrive at the door, a car draws up and Rowena Swann gets out.
‘I was in the village so I thought I’d pick up my purse, if that’s okay?’
‘Of course. Come in. I put it in a drawer in the kitchen for safe-keeping.’
Now’s my chance. I need to find out once and for all …
I collect the purse and Rowena looks so relieved to have it back.
‘I don’t know what happened.’ She laughs. ‘I think I got distracted, talking about Melanie.’
‘Melanie?’ That must be her baby’s name.
She nods. ‘My daughter.’
‘Have you never thought about trying to get in touch with her?’ I ask gently, and she shakes her head.
‘She didn’t want me to. You know what teenagers are like. I’d forbidden her to see this waster of a boy who she professed to be madly in love with, so that was it as far as she was concerned. She never wanted to see me again.’
For a second, I’m baffled.
What about the baby?
‘Her dad and I divorced years earlier, and when Melanie and I had our bust-up, she decided she wanted to go and live with him in Scotland.’
The truth is gradually dawning on me.
There is no baby. No adoption. I’d just assumed there was. It was wishful thinking, of course – desperately wanting a happy ending for Paloma.
Talk about jumping to conclusions!
Rowena is explaining about Melanie. ‘We’d had a massive row over this boy. I could tell he was just using her but being only sixteen, of course she couldn’t see that. We fell out big time and she declared she never wanted to see me again.’
‘That’s awful. How long ago did she leave?’
‘Three years,’ she says. ‘When she’d gone, I knew I had to have a change of scene, so I came here and took over the lease on the ice-cream parlour.’
I stare at her sadly. ‘And you haven’t see her in all that time?’
Rowena shakes her head, looking as if she’s about to break down in tears. ‘She made me promise not to contact her.’
‘But she was angry with you then. Things will have changed,’ I murmur. ‘She probably misses you like mad. Can’t you just try phoning her?’
Rowena shakes her head. ‘I’m scared she’ll just put the phone down on me, the way she used to in the weeks after she left, and I couldn’t bear that.’ She gives a long, shaky sigh. ‘I just keep praying that one day, Melanie will turn up on the doorstep and things will get back to normal. And if that happens, I swear I’ll never criticise her boyfriends ever again …’
She attempts a smile but her fac
e crumples and a tear rolls down her cheek.
I rush to hand her a paper hanky. ‘You should phone her.’
‘I can’t,’ she whispers. ‘I’m not brave enough.’
Chapter 27
‘Turn on your TV!’ shrieks Paloma down the phone line.
‘What? Sorry?’ It’s seven-forty-five in the morning and I’m eating breakfast in the kitchen, not even fully awake.
Obeying her command, I hurry through to the living room, toast in hand.
‘Is it on?’ she demands.
‘No, I can’t find the remote!’
‘Look down the side of the seat where you were sitting last night!’
‘Okay, okay! Keep calm! Who’s on anyway?’
‘Lucy bloody Slater, that’s who. With that “Z” list local “celebrity” who slimmed down to a size zero using a clean food diet! Have you got it yet?’
My fingers close on the remote down the side of the seat. After fumbling slightly, eventually I manage to turn it on.
Lucy Slater looms at me in enormous, full-colour close-up, just like she does in my worst nightmares. Instinctively, I back away from the TV. Clutching my stomach, I abandon my toast and stare at the screen in horrified fascination.
The interviewer on this local morning news programme is talking about someone who’s donating money to help send a little boy to America for life-saving medical treatment. He’s called Harry and he’s seven, and he’s sitting there on the sofa with his mum, looking cute as a button. His poor mum is clutching him tight and is clearly so grateful for the help, she looks as if she’s having a hard job holding back the tears. I feel quite emotional for her.
‘What’s Lucy got to do with this?’ I ask Paloma, though the story does seem familiar. I remember something about a boy needing medical treatment in connection with the 10k run.
‘She’s donating a percentage of her café funds. Quite the little saint on the sly, isn’t she?’
Flashing onto the screen is the sign above the café doorway: Lucy & Olivia’s Clean Food Café. And then Lucy and Olivia are there, standing behind the counter with someone I recognise but can’t quite place. The interviewer is talking about what a popular trend clean eating has become and how Lucy and Olivia’s café is filling a big gap in the market. And how determined they are to put some of the profits towards helping others. Hence the trip to America for Harry and his mum.
I frown at the screen. ‘Who’s that woman with them?’
‘Don’t you recognise her? It’s “B” list celebrity Meghan Sparkle. She lives in London, but she grew up in Lake Heath, apparently.’
‘What does this Meghan Sparkle do?’
‘Nothing, as far as I can make out. Except lose tons of weight.’
‘So how is she famous?’
‘Because she was on a certain reality TV programme a few months ago where you spill your guts in the name of entertaining people? Don’t you remember her?’
‘I didn’t watch it. I’ve been too busy baking.’
‘Well, apparently she’s a “firm friend” of Lucy’s and will be “working” at the café over the next few weeks to attract more customers, so Lucy can donate even more money for Harry’s cause.’
‘A firm friend of Lucy’s?’ I burst out. ‘What a load of old bollocks! You mean Lucy’s got in touch with her, and they’ve cooked this stunt up together in order to get their names in lights!’
‘I imagine that’s pretty much the size of it,’ says Paloma gloomily. ‘Her ears look weird, don’t you think?’
‘What?’
‘Meghan Sparkle. Now that she’s slimmed down, her ears look like jug handles.’
‘Er, never seen her before. But they do look on the large side.’
‘She needs to grow her hair longer to cover them up.’
‘Ssh! I’m trying to listen.’
‘You can watch it on catch-up.’
‘I want to watch it now.’
Lucy is speaking. She’s putting on a really false posh accent and I’d laugh if I didn’t find the whole thing so annoying. ‘So anyway,’ she’s saying, ‘Meghan and I want everyone in the local area to join us in our “Turn On to Sparkle-ing Health” campaign. She gives a little wink to camera at the ‘Sparkle’ witticism. ‘All to raise money for little Harry here.’ She smiles sadly at Harry and his mum and, right on cue, a single tear rolls down her perfectly made-up face.
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ explodes Paloma.
I’m too stunned to speak.
Is Lucy seeking all this publicity just so she can continue reigning supreme in the Hart’s End café wars? Because there’s no doubt the addition of Meghan Sparkle to the staff is a bit of a triumph. Having followed her warts-and-all conversations on that reality show, people will be eager to see her in the flesh. Especially if they can lose weight like Meghan did by eating at the ‘clean food’ café.
The queues at Lucy and Olivia’s are unlikely to die down any time soon. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that Lucy’s next move is to plan a whole chain of clean food cafés! Not that it matters much to me any more, since – thanks to Jake’s busy schedule – The Treehouse Café is unlikely to happen now.
‘There’s one small consolation,’ says Paloma with a sigh.
A chink of hope pierces my gloom. ‘What’s that?’
‘Lucy obviously has no idea that the letters of her shiny new campaign spell out TOSH.’ She gives an amused snort, but I’m too downhearted to even dredge up a smile …
I draw a deep breath. ‘By the way, it’s going to be autumn before the treehouse café is ready. If I go ahead with it.’
There’s a second’s silence, then she explodes in my ear. ‘Autumn! But it’s only the end of June! Does he work at a snail’s pace? That’s ridiculous! Sack him instantly.’
‘I haven’t even hired Jake yet,’ I remind her.
‘Well, good. Because you need to catch the tail end of the summer tourist trade if you want to stand any chance of getting up and running straight away.’
‘My thoughts exactly. Which is why I think I might have to shelve the whole idea.’
‘But why? Surely Jake isn’t the only treehouse builder in the country!’
‘He’s the only one I know about. All suggestions gratefully received.’
Paloma has a call waiting so she rings off, while I continue to sit there, listening to Lucy talking in her gratingly posh voice about the 10k charity run.
‘We’ve got a fantastic group of people, some of whom had never run before but who are now fighting fit, thanks to my training sessions on the village green and the wonderful green juice we serve at’ – she pauses and smiles directly into the camera –‘Lucy & Olivia’s Clean Food Café.’
I want to reach into the TV and wring her stupid alabaster neck, which is obviously so flawless because of the thick layer of professional make-up she’s wearing. Not that I’m at all bitter (or possibly even the tiniest bit twisted) about this whole damn scenario.
‘And of course,’ she purrs, ‘it goes without saying that the sponsorship money raised by these lovely, dedicated people will also be used to get one very special little boy all the way to America.’ (Cue another meltingly sentimental gaze over at Harry and his mum.)
Honestly, I’d be sick if I could actually scrape together the energy …
*****
I’m still sitting there, stunned and staring at the TV, when the doorbell goes.
Realising they’ve moved on to a news bulletin, I flick it off on the remote and go to the door. It’s Paloma, looking flushed and wide-eyed with excitement.
‘What?’
‘I heard from Sylvia. She’s got some news about my birth mum.’
‘Oh my God.’ I reach for her hand and squeeze it tightly.
‘She wants me to go over and see her.’
‘Couldn’t she tell you the news on the phone?’
‘She says she doesn’t hear so well, so she dislikes the telephone and would rather talk to m
e face to face.’ She swallows hard. ‘Will you come with me?’
‘Yes, of course I will. Right now?’
Paloma nods. ‘You could just sit in the car while I go in? Is that okay?’
I laugh. ‘Of course it’s okay. I’ll just get my bag and keys.’
We’re silent on the drive over to Sylvia’s, each of us absorbed in our own thoughts. The tension in the car is like an elastic band, stretched to the max. Paloma has coped so well with the death of her adoptive parents. She so deserves to find her birth mum. I send up a silent prayer that this story has a happy ending. What if her birth mum doesn’t want to be found?
I sneak a glance at Paloma. Her hands grip the steering wheel and there are spots of bright colour in her cheeks. If I’m thinking these thoughts, I can’t imagine what’s going round in her head right now.
She parks outside Sylvia’s house, switches off the engine and takes a deep breath in then releases the air very slowly. Turning to me, she says, ‘I’ll be back soon.’
I hold up two sets of crossed fingers. ‘Good luck!’
She nods and disappears. I watch her walk up Sylvia’s garden path, my heart beating fast, hoping …
I must have been sitting there about five minutes when someone taps gently on the window. Turning, I see Jason bending to look in at me. Grinning, he makes a winding-down-the-window gesture.
‘Hi,’ he says. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Oh, just waiting for Paloma. She’s – er – in there at her friend’s.’ I point at the house.
He nods and looks about to say something then stops.
‘Thanks for coming when I phoned the other night,’ I say. ‘I didn’t realise Theo was going to arrive, otherwise I wouldn’t …’
‘Hey, you can call me any time. You know that, don’t you?’
His eyes burn into mine and I nod, knowing he means it.
He sighs. ‘Look, if there’s something going on between you and Theo Steel, I’ll just walk away and be happy for you.’ He grimaces. ‘I’ll try, anyway. But if you’re free and you’d like to have dinner with me … ?’ He shrugs, looking so vulnerable and nervous, my heart contracts.
Dinner with Jason?
‘Just for old time’s sake?’ he says, seeing my hesitation. ‘Or are you and Theo … ?’
Love Among the Treetops Page 19