She looks at me, quirking her lips at one side. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you.’
‘What? You fancy Jake?’
‘You’re joking. Of course I don’t. He’s probably more of an arrogant arse than Rufus,’ she says, scowling at the memory of her ex. ‘No, when he told you he couldn’t work on your treehouse for a while because he had another commission, I – um – phoned him up and offered to redesign his crap website if he managed to make you a priority client.’
I gape at her.
She shrugs, looking anywhere but at me. ‘So he did. And that’s why his shit website now looks half-decent.’
‘Paloma! You didn’t have to do that. But it’s so lovely of you! I need to pay you for the work you did for Jake, though. Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?’
She grins. ‘Because I knew you would react like this, and I don’t want payment. What are friends for?’
I smile at her, feeling quite emotional.
‘So … you don’t fancy Jake?’ I ask a minute later, thinking of the surprise new hairdo and glancing at her brand-new top and dark red lipstick. Paloma never used to wear lipstick – just a slick of gloss when it was a really special occasion. But these days, she looks groomed.
She doesn’t even deign to answer my question.
The disgusted look on her face says it all …
Chapter 36
The day of the café launch arrives. And the heat is on.
Quite literally, as it happens.
The newscasters are making a huge deal of the fact that it’s set to be the hottest day of the year. This bodes well for entertaining the fifty guests due to arrive at six o’clock.
As The Treehouse Café seats a maximum of thirty-two people at eight tables, it’s our plan to serve the refreshments in the garden, allowing people to mingle, then take small groups up to view the interior of the treehouse.
Summer heat waves always make me nervous because I associate them with thunderstorms, but thankfully, when I check the local forecast, there’s no sign of a break in the perfect weather. So we should be fine for our al fresco celebrations later on.
Betty and Doreen arrive at mine at eight and we all set to, making the meringues for the summer berry Pavlovas we’ll be serving at the opening ceremony later. I’ve never made a Pavlova before, but Doreen convinced Betty and me that it would be a real show-stopper, served with a glass of the Prosecco from the crates of bottles we carted back from the supermarket in Betty’s car the other night.
By ten, the nest-like meringues are out of the oven and cooled down, and we’ve filled them with a mouth-watering mix of strawberries, raspberries and whipped cream.
‘They’re going to wilt in this weather,’ worries Betty.
I frown. Jake is organising last-minute snagging in the treehouse today, so the fridge there isn’t in operation yet. ‘Let’s put them in the fridge over at the old café?’ I suggest.
We cover them with cake domes and carry them carefully over there. Luckily, the fridge is just large enough to accommodate all eight. The old café is closed today while we prepare for tonight – and get ready for The Treehouse Café’s first official day of business tomorrow!
Betty and Doreen go off to the hairdresser’s for a spot of pampering, leaving me with my list of jobs still to do before tonight. I check the fridge to count the Pavlovas, hoping we’ve made enough. It’s a relief to get the baking out of the way. I can check it off my list, along with the fizz that’s now chilling in my own fridge back at the house. I’ve bought in a supply of pretty paper plates for tonight and hired glasses from the local off-licence …
Then I remember something. Cake forks! We don’t have enough.
Why didn’t I think of it before? Damn, it means a trip into town to buy forks that match the ones we already have. My heart sinks. That’s going to use up valuable time – especially since I don’t have a car to get there myself. I’ll have to wait till Betty comes back and see if she can whiz me into town …
A car draws up outside and a door slams.
Instantly, my foolish heart is hoping it’s Theo, come to wish me luck for tonight.
When Jason walks in, it’s silly, I know, but I feel like crying with disappointment.
I paste on a smile. There’s no chance for me with Theo. I know that. But it would really help if my mind could stop the eternal wishful thinking and get with the programme …
Jason’s smile seems a little strained. ‘Just came to wish you well for tonight.’
‘Aw, thank you. That’s so lovely of you!’
‘All organised?’
‘Yes. Well, no, actually. I forgot to buy cake forks.’ I laugh. ‘You haven’t got any, have you?’
He grins. ‘Sorry, no.’
‘Can I get you a coffee while you’re here? A piece of fruitcake? The fridge is full of summer fruit Pavlovas but they’re for tonight, I’m afraid. I’m just hoping they don’t melt before then.’ I’m aware I’m babbling, but it’s been on my mind that I need to let Jason down gently, and I guess the time to do it has arrived. There’s no point having dinner with him if I’m in love with Theo. The last thing I want to do is lead Jason on.
But he turns down the offer of coffee, saying he needs to get back.
‘Off to work?’ I ask.
He shakes his head slowly, looking at me with a strange expression on his face.
‘Is something wrong?’
He gazes down at the floor, hands in his pockets, and when he eventually looks up, his eyes are suspiciously shiny.
‘Jason?’ I stare at him in alarm.
He sighs and takes a step towards me. ‘I don’t know how to say this, Twi. It’s been so great having you back in Hart’s End. I’ve missed you and I really meant what I said about us getting back together. But …’ He tails off miserably.
‘But what?’
He shrugs. ‘Lucy’s moving back in.’
‘Oh.’ I stare at him, the wind taken right out of my sails. ‘You’re back together, then? Gosh, well, that’s … great!’
The expression on his face indicates he feels it’s the opposite of great. ‘She said she apologised to you. I told her she had to, otherwise there was no chance we could get back together.’
Ah, so that was the reason for the little performance of hers on the high street!
‘What made you … reconsider?’ I ask carefully.
He sighs and flops into a nearby chair. ‘Look, I know you probably think I’m mad, but – well, she came over to see me saying she’s been missing me terribly. I decided I owed us both a second chance to make the relationship work.’
I nod slowly. ‘So will you be moving into that big new house Lucy was talking about?’
He pauses. ‘Actually, we’re moving to Paris.’
My eyes are wide with astonishment. ‘Paris? Really? But why?’
His gaze slips to the table top. He reaches for the salt shaker and starts turning it round and round in his hands. ‘The thing is, her dad wants me to head up his new operation in Paris. It means more responsibility, a huge step up career-wise and more money, obviously.’
Ah, now we’re getting to it!
He looks up at me and shrugs. ‘I couldn’t say no.’
‘It certainly sounds like a great opportunity.’
‘Yes.’ His eyes slide away from mine.
‘Jason, I hope you’re not getting back with her just because of the job,’ I say quietly, genuinely worried he’s making the worst decision ever.
He shakes his head. ‘I do love her, Twi. She’s always there for me. You coming back stirred up lots of bad memories for her and – um – sent her off the rails a bit.’
‘Bad memories?’ A bitter laugh escapes. ‘I think I’m the one with those. Not Lucy.’
He looks at me, a wealth of sadness in his eyes. ‘She’s not as terrible as you think, you know. If you need to blame someone for what happened with the café, blame me.’ He shrugs helplessly.
‘You? Wh
y would I blame you for Lucy’s actions?’
He sighs. ‘Because I’m not the man you think I am. I’m weak and pathetic. And you, Twilight, deserve someone noble and strong.’ His smile has a trace of bitterness. ‘Some guy like Theo Steel.’
I swallow hard, pushing away the feeling of despair suddenly threatening to engulf me. ‘Well, that’s total rubbish,’ I snap. ‘You’re a lovely man, Jason. And for your information, you deserve someone far nicer than Lucy.’ I smile wistfully. ‘It’s just … that someone isn’t going to be me. I can see that now, however tempting it felt to fall back into our old relationship.’
‘I know,’ he agrees reluctantly. ‘It would have been a mistake to go back.’
‘But will you be happy? With Lucy?’ I ask urgently, needing to know that he’s going to be okay.
He smiles sadly. ‘Look … there are things you don’t know about Lucy. Things that might make you understand a little about why she’s so bitter. She’s not the evil witch you might think she is. She’s just … desperately sad. Poisoned by the things that have happened to her. And I’m to blame, so I need to stick with her.’ He shrugs. ‘She needs me. And in a funny way, I need her, too.’
‘What? Hold on. I don’t understand.’ My head is reeling. ‘Why is Lucy so sad? What things have happened to her? And what have they to do with me?’
But he’s already heading for the door.
He turns. ‘I’ve said too much already. Look, Lucy and I will be off to Paris soon and I really think that’s for the best.’ His gaze as he looks at me is rock steady. ‘For everyone.’
My eyes well up. ‘Well, good luck with everything. I mean that.’
He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes full of sadness and affection.
Then he holds up his hand and walks out.
I take a huge breath and let it out slowly. Poor Jason doesn’t look like a man in love, off for a new adventure. He looks sick of his life. Who knows what the mysterious dynamic is between him and Lucy?
He seems to have made up his mind, though, which to be honest, is quite a relief. I don’t have to wonder how I’m going to let him down gently.
I go back in and start gathering up the cutlery, ready to take up to the new café, all the time thinking about Jason’s news about Paris. And wondering about Lucy and what’s happened to turn her so bitter and vindictive.
Jason has always tended to take the path of least resistance in life. He’s easily swayed – the sort who’ll just go along with the status quo, rather than take a risk that could improve his life. In some ways, he’s a good match for Lucy. She likes being in charge and Jason’s quite happy to be told what to do …
Eventually, I manage to get hold of Betty in the hairdresser’s. As she’s already in town, it makes sense for her to pick up the cake forks we need. I’m just ringing off, when the door opens and someone breezes in.
Lucy?
‘Cake forks,’ she says brusquely, holding up a bag. ‘Where do you want them?’ Without waiting for a reply, she barges straight through to the kitchen.
I stare after her, stunned by her appearance, before realising that what I was determined would never happen is now taking place.
Lucy Slater is on my premises!
I hurry after her, in time to see her plonking the bag of forks on the counter beside the fridge.
She smiles serenely at me. ‘Don’t worry—’
‘I’m not worried,’ I snap, on the defensive.
She arches her eyebrows at me. ‘If you’d let me finish? I was actually going to say, don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of forks at the café. There’s no rush getting them back to me.’
‘Oh, right. Well, thanks.’
She heads back out into the café and I follow.
‘By the way, there was a van parked in your driveway when I passed,’ she calls back.
‘Was there?’ I rack my brains trying to think who that would be. Jake, perhaps? I watch Lucy until she’s out of the door and walking back up the road. Even when she’s apparently being helpful, she still freaks me out. (Although she couldn’t possibly have sabotaged the cake forks, like she did with the curtains, so it should be all right to use them.)
I grab my bag and dash out to see who’s at the front door.
When I get there, there’s no sign of the van. So I have a quick peek behind the tarpaulin at the treehouse. It’s hard to believe that in just eight hours, this garden will be milling with guests and I’ll be able to unveil The Treehouse Café for all to see.
And with Lucy Slater well and truly banished from the premises, nothing will go wrong this time …
*****
The afternoon whizzes by in a whirl of activity as Betty, Doreen and I rush around getting everything ready. In the humid heat, I feel constantly drenched, despite my sleeveless cotton T-shirt and loose, flowing skirt. But I’ll be having a long, cool shower later, before the guests arrive …
Jake does a brilliant job of finishing off and at just after four o’clock, when he drives off, the three of us climb up into the treehouse to admire our brand-new café.
The treehouse interior feels surprisingly cool and dim after the heat and glare of the afternoon sun. Wooden chairs and tables are ranged around the central serving island, formed from a smooth slab of polished oak, and four square windows, two on each side, allow a mellow, dappled sunlight to filter in. Now, a fresh scent of leaves and greenery wafts through the open windows on a warm summer breeze, mingling with the fragrance of dad’s lilacs in the garden below.
It’s so beautiful, all big expanses of burnished wood, the rich colour of chestnuts, and fairy lights twinkling wherever you look. It’s like a scene from a whimsical fairy tale. Whenever I enter, I always think of a picture book from my childhood, that told the story of a little community of woodland creatures living happily inside the trunk of a giant tree.
‘It was a stroke of genius studding the roof with those lights,’ says Betty, and we all stare up at the ceiling.
Doreen sighs happily. ‘They’re just like tiny little stars.’
Glancing around, I suddenly remember something. ‘What about the tips jar? The Treehouse Café isn’t complete until my tips jar from Dad is in place!’
I run down the walkway and dash happily through the garden and out of the gate. When I reach the old premises, I suddenly realise I’ve forgotten the keys, but when I try the door, it’s open anyway. Walking in, I pick up the little wooden tub and hold it to the light, admiring the sheen of the polished wood.
It seems very quiet in here. I glance around. It must be because I’m used to the music playing softly in the background.
Still puzzled at the stillness, I go through to the kitchen, and that’s when I realise, with a jolt, what’s different. The fridge isn’t making its usual ‘busy-doing-its-thing’ noises.
I pull open the door and frown.
The light inside hasn’t come on.
My heart lurches. The fridge must be broken.
I stare in horror at the Pavlovas. Without the chill temperatures, the stiffly whipped cream has wilted. The fruit, too, has lost its lustre.
Hot tears of panic prick my eyes.
Even if we take the Pavlovas over to my fridge at home, by the time they’re in there, they’ll already be a great deal less than perfect.
We can’t possibly serve sub-standard food at a café launch. What the hell are we going to do?
Chapter 37
Betty and Doreen are horrified when I tell them what’s happened.
‘We’ll have no food to serve to the guests!’ wails Betty. Then she gets a determined light in her eye. ‘I’m going to have a look at them. You never know, we might be able to salvage them.’
We all go over there and peer into the dead fridge.
‘There’s nothing we can do about those,’ Doreen says, shaking her head sadly. ‘All that effort wasted.’
‘Hang on.’ Betty frowns. ‘What’s going on here?’
I turn and she sna
ps on a switch at the wall. Instantly, the fridge hums into life.
‘It was switched off at the wall!’ I gasp. ‘But how can that have happened? It was definitely on when we put them in, so how … ?’
‘Oh my God.’ Doreen claps a hand over her mouth.
‘What?’ demands Betty.
‘I can’t believe I did that,’ says Doreen slowly. ‘I must be going senile.’
‘What? What did you do?’ I ask.
She looks agonised. ‘I brought the food mixer up to the treehouse this morning. I unplugged it from this same socket, so I must have accidentally flicked off both the switches at the same time.’
We’re all silent, staring at the socket, absorbing the explanation. My mind is already leaping ahead to tonight, wondering if there’s time to bake something special.
Doreen grabs both our arms. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘These things happen!’ murmurs Betty, patting Doreen’s shoulder and looking worriedly at me.
‘Not to me, they don’t!’ wails poor Doreen. ‘I’ve never done anything like that in my life. What on earth was I thinking?’
‘Hey, don’t worry. It was an accident.’ I give her a hug, trying to make light of it, while inside, I feel like running away in a panic.
‘Yes, cheer up, Doreen,’ says Betty. ‘We’re resourceful women, aren’t we? We’ll just have to get our thinking caps on, smartish!’
We take the Pavlovas back to the house and I make room for them in the fridge there. But it seems a pretty pointless exercise. They’ll taste good, but there’s no way we can use them, looking as they do.
After a brief discussion, we decide our only option is to go out and actually buy food for tonight. It’s hardly ideal. How can we claim to offer the best cakes for miles around if we can’t even serve up our own baking on launch night?
I glance at my watch. ‘I suppose there might be time to whip up some fairy cakes. Then we could cool them in the fridge and quickly ice them?’
Betty and Doreen agree this is a good compromise. So they leave me creaming butter and sugar at top speed while they head off to the supermarket to buy in other goodies.
Once the trays of fairy cakes are in the oven, I nip over to the treehouse but Betty and Doreen are nowhere to be seen. They were just nipping to the local supermarket. They should be back by now. Where on earth are they?
Love Among the Treetops Page 25