A car draws up outside and Betty pops her head round the door. ‘Another customer before we close up?’
To my surprise, in walks Jane. I haven’t seen her since the day of the run when she told me about Lucy changing her mind and refusing the funds she promised for Harry.
‘Hi. Betty said you’d be back this afternoon. How’s your dad doing?’
‘Better, thanks.’ I grin. ‘He’s at home now, ordering everyone about from his favourite armchair.’
She nods. ‘Good. I know how horrible it is, knowing there’s nothing you can do but wait by the bedside. You feel so utterly helpless.’
‘Will you still manage to get to America?’
She smiles grimly. ‘Oh, yes. Even if I have to rob a bank. Look, I just wanted to thank you for being so kind to me on the day of the run. I was at my very worst ebb. I’m sorry I blubbed all over you.’ She laughs. ‘I don’t normally do that to strangers.’
‘Hey, don’t apologise.’ My heart goes out to her. I can’t imagine how tough it must be for her, a single mum having to look after a child with a life-threatening illness all on her own. ‘I’d like to help if I can,’ I tell her on impulse. ‘How about I do the same as Lucy was going to do? Five per cent of my share of the takings from The Treehouse Café, once it opens?’
She looks horrified at the suggestion. ‘No, you don’t have to do that. I hope you don’t think I only came round here so that you’d …’ She shrugs helplessly and I rush to reassure her.
‘Of course I don’t. I just want to help, that’s all. I’m not sure it will be much but at least it would be a start to your living expenses fund.’
‘Count us in, too,’ calls Betty.
We both turn, and Doreen says, ‘Make it five per cent of all the takings, not just yours, Twilight.’
‘Oh God, are you sure?’ Jane is practically on the verge of tears.
‘Definitely,’ smiles Betty. ‘I can’t think of a better cause. We’ll get that little lad to America yet!’
*****
On the way back, I nip in through the garden gate to see the work that’s been done.
Jake has fixed up a big screen around the treehouse, presumably to keep people from staring over the fence and having a good old nosy. I like the air of mystery it creates, not knowing what’s going on beneath the flapping covers.
His van’s not there, so he must have gone home for the day. I pick my way through the garden and venture behind the screen, staring skywards at the magical scene before me.
‘Oh my God,’ I breathe, barely able to believe the transformation Jake has achieved in a little over a week.
Dad’s original structure had a fairy-tale feel to it and I was worried that in catering to the practical elements necessary to house a café, Jake might obliterate this quality. But he hasn’t at all.
The treehouse might now be ten times the size and have an impressive walkway entrance, a bit like a swing bridge, made from all natural materials, but it’s clear that the magical essence of the treehouse has not been lost at all.
It’s simply fairyland on a much bigger scale!
There’s still work to be done on it, but already I can see what a gloriously romantic setting it will be for our new café. It will be so light and airy in the summer for the customers, drinking their coffee high up in the treetops with glorious views over Lake Heath. In the winter, I’ll string fairy lights all along the walkway, and put candles under glass in the windows so that when it gets dark mid-afternoon, it will look so pretty and welcoming.
A little surge of happiness rushes through me. If I love it, other people will love it too, won’t they? It’s such an original idea, having a café in a treehouse. It will work, I’m sure of it.
It has to work …
Of course, I have Theo to thank for this glorious plan. It was all his idea. A cloud moves across the sun and I shiver. Part of me desperately wishes Theo could be here right now to see all this. But what would be the point? I can’t be with him the way I want to be. He’s made that very clear …
I’m aware of the doorbell ringing, and when I walk round the front of the house, there’s Paloma.
‘Hi, you’re back!’ she squeals, brandishing a copy of the local newspaper. ‘I’m so glad your dad’s recovered. I couldn’t wait to show you this.’
I unlock the front door to let us in and take the newspaper, which is folded open at a particular page. In the living room, I dump my backpack and slump down on the sofa, and Paloma sits beside me to enjoy my reaction to the photo.
‘It’s that picture you took of Lucy and Olivia!’
Paloma nods gleefully. ‘Stuffing their faces with cake.’
I peer closer at the photo and burst out laughing. ‘Their expressions! Caught red-handed. Oh my God, that really cracks me up.’
I read the headline aloud. Health Food Café Not Quite So Squeaky Clean!
I gape at Paloma. ‘So you gave the photo to the newspaper?’
She nods. ‘And a reporter phoned me up for the story. Read it!’ She taps the text. ‘I managed to get in a mention of The Treehouse Café. Look!’
I read it and sure enough, there’s a paragraph about the treehouse café being built and mentioning that it’s scheduled to open in mid-August.
‘Did you tell them mid-August, then?’
She shrugs. ‘I made it up, but I thought it would probably be around then. It will be, won’t it?’
I nod, grinning at the sheer nerve of my best friend. ‘I was thinking Sunday August 13th, if all goes according to plan.’
‘And Lucy doesn’t manage to sabotage it again,’ says Paloma, looking suddenly serious. ‘We’re going to have to watch her like a hawk. You do realise that? The cow will stop at nothing to bring you down.’
I sigh wearily. ‘I have thought about that, yes. I’m not going to let Lucy get within a hundred yards of the treehouse because I really can’t trust her.’
‘Are you worried about how she reacted to your shoving her in the trough?’
‘I didn’t shove her. She lost her balance.’
Paloma grins. ‘Yeah, yeah, I believe you.’
‘But it’s true!’ My face falls. ‘Oh God, are people saying that I deliberately pushed her off the fence?’ I groan. ‘Lucy’s going to hate that everyone’s laughing and thinking I got one over on her.’
Paloma shrugs. ‘I wouldn’t worry. She deserves everything she gets.’
We grin at each other and fall silent, staring at the picture of Lucy and Olivia in the newspaper.
‘You should issue invitations to the grand opening of The Treehouse Café,’ says Paloma.
I nod. ‘And I’m going to get people to RSVP so I can be fairly sure how many will be there on opening night.’
‘You’re having it in the evening?’
‘Yes, early evening. I thought that would make it a bit more special. Summer berry Pavlova and a glass of fizz at six, then we can cut the ribbon and have a proper ceremony. I might even make a speech.’
‘Invite the local press. I’m sure they’ll be interested in taking photographs.’
I nod, excitement making my heart beat faster. ‘I can’t believe this is happening. Do you want to see the work Jake’s done already on the treehouse?’
She grimaces. ‘I’ve – er – already seen it. I hope you don’t mind. I sneaked into the garden and took a look last night.’
‘No, of course I don’t mind,’ I say, laughing at her awkward blushes.
‘It’s going to be incredible.’
‘Praise indeed when you don’t even like Jake.’ I grin.
She frowns. ‘He’s an arrogant arse. But he can build a solid structure. I’ll give him that.’
We look at each other and burst out laughing.
Chapter 35
Over the following two weeks, the treehouse slowly takes shape. Every day, there seems to be something else to admire and I grow more and more confident that we’ve done the right thing – Betty, Doreen and I.
I go out running every morning in the lanes around the village, and every time, I’m half-expecting to see Theo out running, too. But I never do, and eventually, I come to the conclusion he’s avoiding me.
At least I have the new café to keep me occupied. I have a feeling that without all the buzz and frantic activity, I might just fall into a big black hole of despondency over Theo and never emerge again.
Paloma designs a beautiful invitation, which we send out to around fifty people – personal friends and family, business contacts, the local press and anyone who’s been involved in The Treehouse Café project.
Betty and Doreen turn out to be full of fabulous ideas for the interior design of the café. We eventually go for a minimalist feel, with beautifully simple tables and chairs of solid oak, designed and made by a local craftsman Doreen knows. The eight tables will be ranged around a central serving area, dominated by our brand-new coffee machine that Betty tracked down for a bargain price on-line and a beautiful polished oak counter, on which will sit the cake display glass domes and all the other café paraphernalia. I’ve decided on a pretty posy of silk flowers in a simple glass vase on each table.
It’s going to look gorgeous. I can’t wait for people to see it …
*****
I’m coming out of the village post office, a while before the grand opening, when the inevitable happens and I spot Lucy walking towards me. I immediately change my route and dive into a side street so I don’t have to talk to her, but to my dismay, she comes running after me, calling out my name. So then I have no option but to speak to her.
‘Twilight, I want to say sorry. For everything,’ she says, panting slightly after her exertion.
I stare at her in disbelief. Then I laugh in her face. ‘Everything?’
‘Yes. I should never have opened my café the same day as yours without telling you. I can see now that that was very sneaky.’
‘No! Really, Lucy? You do surprise me.’
She hesitates, frowning. ‘Well, I don’t know why you’re surprised. It must have been quite obvious I did it deliberately.’
‘I was being sarcastic, Lucy. But then, you never did have much of a sense of humour.’
She drops the sorry act and glares at me. ‘Well, there’s no need to take that attitude when I’m being good enough to apologise.’
I laugh. Is this girl for real? ‘Right, well, very nice of you to say sorry, Lucy, even though the apology is roughly twenty-four years too late.’ I smile cheerily. ‘Got to be going. Goodbye!’ And I walk off, leaving her staring after me.
And I have to admit, refusing to take her crap, after all those years of feeling intimidated by her, feels good. Very good indeed.
On my way home, a journalist from the local paper calls, wanting to run a story about The Treehouse Café in this week’s edition.
‘Will you be in around four o’clock?’ she asks. ‘I’m going to try and bring a photographer along. Take some photos of the work in progress? Would that be all right? If I can organise it?’
Would that be all right?
‘That would be absolutely perfect.’
‘We might not manage it this afternoon, but we’ll try. Because then we’d be able to get you in tomorrow’s edition of the paper.’
‘Fabulous!’
‘I’ll let you know if we’re not coming. Then we can schedule it for next week instead.’
I feel like dancing the rest of the way home. It’s really happening! People are becoming curious and every time I’m out, I have people asking me about the building work that’s going on behind the tarpaulin in my garden, because they’ve heard it’s going to be an amazing new café in the treetops! And now, with a story in the local paper, everyone will know about it!
I phone Betty’s number and she squeals with delight when I tell her the news and she promises to get straight on the phone to Doreen. Then I phone Paloma.
‘We might be in the paper tomorrow!’
‘Sorry?’
‘The Treehouse Café. I might have a reporter and a photographer coming round later.’
‘Oh. Good.’
I frown. ‘Did you hear what I just said?’
There’s a silence on the other end, then a rustling noise as if she’s shuffling through some papers.
‘Paloma? Are you all right?’
‘What? Oh, yes. Sorry, I was just – erm – looking out for the postman.’
‘Oh. Right. Are you expecting an important letter, then?’
‘A parcel, actually. Look, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later.’ And she rings off.
When the phone rings again a few seconds later, I pick up expecting it to be Paloma with some explanation for her vagueness. But it isn’t her. It’s Rose, one of Mum’s friends from the Women’s Institute.
‘Oh, Twilight, so glad I’ve caught you. I know you’re busy these days, what with the new café and everything. Very exciting! Everyone’s talking about it. We can’t wait for you to open. I got your invitation, by the way. Thank you ever so much.’
‘Oh, good, I hope you can come.’
‘I’ll be there!’ she says cheerily. ‘But, Twilight, I was hoping you could do me a huge favour?’
‘Of course. If I can.’
‘Well. We’ve got our craft fair today on the village green, as you probably know. We’re raising funds for the village hall and we had Lucy Slater coming along to do the judging in the baking tent. The thing is, she’s cancelled on us at the last minute and, well, we were hoping that we might be able to persuade you to step in. I know it’s terribly short notice …’
‘Oh. Right. So Lucy just cancelled? Did she give you a reason?’
‘None at all.’
Bloody typical!
I glance at my watch. It’s just after three now. ‘Well, I’m sure I could help. What time would you need me?’
‘The prizes are being awarded at four-thirty, so if you could come along now that would be fabulous.’
‘Oh. The thing is, I’ve sort of got a loose arrangement with a reporter. She might be coming round at about four.’
‘Oh, right.’ There’s a pause and I can almost hear her brain ticking over, anxiously scrabbling for a solution. ‘Well, don’t worry. We’ll try and find someone else.’
‘Would it take long? The judging?’
‘Oh, no, not really. There are five categories and you’d be tasting cakes from each. Half an hour, maybe?’
I hesitate. I like Rose and she sounds in a real predicament. It’s typically selfish of Lucy to cancel at the last minute without a reason, especially when she seemed perfectly all right when I saw her in the street half an hour ago!
‘Listen, I’ll do it. I’ll come along now.’ If I hurry, I can be back before four.
‘You will?’ Rose sounds incredibly relieved. ‘Oh, Twilight, that is so good of you! Thank you ever so much!’
It turns out to be good fun, sampling the cakes and scones and awarding them rosettes. Lots of people want to know about The Treehouse Café, which is very reassuring, so of course I stay to talk to them about it. By the time I finally leave the tent and head home, it’s five to four.
When I get back, there’s a note on the mat from the journalist.
They were here a little earlier than expected. Sorry to find I wasn’t in but maybe they could come back next week sometime?
I could kick myself. Such a great opportunity gone to waste! I know it will probably still happen, but being in tomorrow’s edition would have been amazing.
I shake my head in dismay. Even when Lucy Slater isn’t even trying to, she still manages to muck things up for me!
*****
It’s the following morning and I’m at Paloma’s flat, helping her design a little flag with a floral border, on which I can write the name of each individual cake.
‘Lucy apologised to me yesterday.’
Paloma is leaning forward concentrating on the screen. ‘Hmm?’
‘She apologised in the str
eet.’
Paloma turns with a confused look. ‘Sorry, I could have sworn you just said Lucy apologised.’
‘I did.’
‘What?’
‘I know. Weird, huh? I mean, why now?’
Paloma sits back in the chair. ‘What was she apologising for exactly?’
‘God knows. Making my life a misery at school? Getting her claws into Jason? Sewing kippers into my curtains? Your guess is as good as mine.’
‘Yeah, well, don’t trust her.’
I laugh. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t. She doesn’t scare me any more. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be watching her like a hawk to make sure she doesn’t come within a mile of The Treehouse Café!’
‘Especially in the run-up to the opening ceremony.’
My heart beats faster at the thought of Sunday. ‘Oh my God, it’s really happening.’ My insides shift uneasily. ‘Mind you, I keep getting a worrying feeling of déjà vu. It’s not the first café I’ve launched. And remember what happened last time.’
Paloma nods thoughtfully. ‘The phrase “damp squib” comes to mind. But this time it’s different.’
‘How?’
She shrugs. ‘There’s a fantastic buzz about The Treehouse Café. Everyone’s talking about it. You finally found your Unique Selling Point!’
‘I hope so.’ I swallow hard. ‘I really do hope so.’
Paloma nips away to make coffee, leaving me to play about with the floral border. I notice that she’s been looking at Jake’s website, so I click on it, expecting to see something really basic. I seem to remember her saying it was rubbish and that a five-year-old could design a better one.
But to my surprise, it’s really attractive, with photos of the treehouses beautifully laid out and headings in red, green, and blue, in a lovely, curly font reminiscent of a child’s handwriting.
‘I thought you said Jake’s website was rubbish,’ I say when she walks back in.
She colours slightly. ‘It was rubbish. But I’ve revamped it.’
‘Oh.’ I’m taken aback. ‘But I didn’t think you liked him.’
She shrugs. ‘Business is business.’ Then she sighs. ‘Actually, he didn’t pay me for it.’
‘What?’
Love Among the Treetops Page 24