I phone their mobiles but get no answer, so in the end, I go back to the house and flop down on the sofa, taking some deep breaths in an effort to quell the panic.
It’s 5.15 p.m. We’ve got fifty people arriving in less than an hour. Betty and Doreen have gone AWOL, and I need to have a shower, get changed and prepare to welcome our guests with a glass of fizz.
Sighing, I trudge upstairs. After all the excitement and happy anticipation, this night is turning into a disaster.
I’m just about to turn on the shower when I hear a car pull up outside. Rushing to the window, I see Doreen getting out of Betty’s little Fiesta and going to open the boot. Then Betty appears, before ducking into the back seat and emerging with a stack of about five Tupperware boxes, one on top of each other. I pull on my jeans again and run downstairs.
‘Where have you been? I was worried,’ I pant. ‘What’s all this?’
Doreen peers round the stack of cake tins she’s carrying and beams at me. ‘Baking from the WI ladies. I put in an emergency call to Molly Keene, the chairperson, and as soon as she heard it was you, she flew into action straight away, asking members if they could come to your aid by raiding their home-baking tins for donations.’
They plonk the tins and boxes on the bench in the kitchen and start taking off the lids to show me the spoils. There’s a whole lemon cake, a large Bakewell tart and two big fruitcakes, plus an assortment of cupcakes with a range of colourful toppings. More than enough to please our guests.
‘Betty and I went round and collected it all,’ adds Doreen.
I shake my head in amazement. ‘I think you’re both amazing! And how kind are these women, coming to our aid like this? It all looks incredible.’
Betty smiles. ‘I think the fact you stepped in and did their cake judging at such short notice probably helped a lot.’
I laugh out loud. ‘I still can’t believe it. Right, I need a shower then we’re in business!’ I bound up the stairs, full of renewed enthusiasm.
*****
It turns out to be a really successful night. Quite the opposite to the last time I opened a café!
The guests pour in soon after six, laughing and chattering, all eager to see for themselves the mysterious project in the garden of Honey Cottage finally unveiled. It helps that it’s a beautiful, balmy evening, and that The Treehouse Café – the star of the night – looks like something from a magical Disney movie, exactly as it’s meant to.
I’m so busy welcoming guests and making sure they have refreshments – and taking small groups up to look around the treehouse I barely have a chance to chat to Paloma or Jake. Or Theo. Apart from a quick hello.
But I’m aware of Theo all the time. He looks gorgeous tonight in a blue shirt the exact same shade as his eyes, and every time I catch him looking over at me, my heart skips a beat. As the night wears on and the Prosecco goes down, our glances become more frequent and lingering, until finally, Theo’s face breaks into a big smile, which of course makes me smile, too. A huge smile of joy that he seems to feel the same. But it’s achingly bittersweet because I know we can’t be together.
A highlight of the night is when Rowena arrives, with a teenage girl who she introduces as Melanie. Her daughter!
I manage to grab Rowena alone, while Melanie is chatting to Paloma about becoming a graphic designer.
‘I took your advice and plucked up the courage to phone her,’ Rowena tells me, happiness shining from her eyes. ‘And she was so happy to hear from me.’
‘I knew she would be.’ I give her arm a little squeeze.
Rowena laughs. ‘Well, I didn’t. And that was the problem. I thought she’d tell me to bugger off. But actually, I think she was relieved that I made the first move.’
‘Of course she was. She couldn’t stay angry forever with a mum like you!’
She smiles. ‘Well, thank you, Twilight, for making me see sense. Melanie is thinking of coming to stay with me while she studies graphic design at the local college.’
‘God, that’s brilliant. A happy ending!’
When she goes off to find Melanie, I stare after her wistfully.
I’m so pleased for Rowena and her daughter, but the selfish part of me can’t help wishing it could be my happy ending. I glance for the millionth time in Theo’s direction, but he’s chatting to someone and has his back to me.
My heart physically aches for him.
But I take a deep breath and prepare to speak to more guests just arriving.
The best chance of a happy ending for me is The Treehouse Café being a rip-roaring success. That would definitely be something to be glad about …
After a while, I escape up into the treehouse on my own.
I pull up a chair and sit by a window, leaning on the sill and looking out over the party, at the people mingling and chatting and laughing. It seems amazing that I created this. With Paloma’s help. And Jake’s, of course, and Betty’s and Doreen’s.
I smile to myself, thinking I could do a speech from up here, Oscars-style, thanking the world and his dog for all their help and support.
I look around for Paloma, but I can’t see her. Funnily enough, I can’t see Theo either. Or Jake. They can’t have gone home, surely? Not without saying goodbye?
Suddenly, from my vantage point, I catch sight of Paloma hurrying up the garden from the direction of the house. As I watch, she very deliberately stops and adjusts the top of her strappy dress and shakes out her hair, before re-joining the throng.
I’m about to go down and join her when I suddenly clap eyes on Jake walking up from the house.
Aha! Caught you!
I’m now convinced there’s something going on between Paloma and Jake. But why does she keep claiming she can’t stand him?
He’s scrubbed up extremely well tonight. The dark suit and white shirt show off his out-in-all-weathers tan and his longish auburn hair is pulled back in a ponytail, showing off his strong jaw and handsome features. He doesn’t go over to Paloma, but he keeps casting the occasional glance in her direction.
I smile to myself. You can see everything from up here, in this magical space in the treetops.
Raking the crowd for Theo, I finally spot him, standing by the garden shed, chatting to a mate of his from the gym. I throw up silent thanks to the matchmaking gods that Olivia’s not here tonight.
A wave of emotion suddenly surges through me. I’m so happy about the amazing turnout, but I wish with all my heart that Mum and Dad could be here to share it with me. Especially Dad. I’d love him to see what Jake has created from the wonderful treehouse he made for me all those years ago – and to hear all the lovely comments from the guests.
But obviously, he couldn’t come. The hospital would never have allowed it. He’s only just recovered from pneumonia …
My eyes well up, thinking of my lovely, brave dad. The stoic way he gets on with the treatment and never complains. The North Star is winking in the sky and I find myself staring up at it and making a wish – that Mum and Dad will be back home again, happy and healthy, by Christmas.
Then I laugh at my foolishness. I’m clearly getting carried away by the magical aura of the treehouse … imagining I’m living in a fairy tale where dreams really do come true!
And the Prosecco has obviously gone to my head big time, because just then I imagined I saw Mum in her best fuchsia pink dress, mingling with the crowd down there …
Hang on!
My eyes widen in shock. I glance nervously at my glass then look down at the crowd again.
There’s Dad! Talking to Paloma!
My eyes are not deceiving me. It really is him.
Mum and Dad are here!
Heart beating excitedly, I charge down the walkway, feeling it bounce energetically beneath my feet, trailing my fingers along the wooden handrail.
They spot me and their faces light up.
‘Oh my God, you’re here!’ I squeak as the three of us huddle together. I hug Mum first then Dad more carefu
lly, as if he’s something extremely precious – which is just what he is. He looks a lot thinner – being tall accentuates the weight loss – and his normally tanned face is pale. But he’s smiling and he’s here, which is the main thing. ‘How on earth did you manage it?’
Dad grins and squeezes my hand. ‘We did a runner. Didn’t tell the hospital otherwise they’d have forbidden me to travel. Germs, you know.’
Mum links his arm. ‘There was no point in me objecting, of course. You know what he’s like.’
‘I do. Stubborn as a mule, eh, Dad?’
‘Hey, you two. Stop ganging up on me.’
‘Can you stay over?’
Mum nods. ‘We’ll need to get back first thing in the morning, and we won’t stay out here long. We just wanted to be here for you, love.’
‘The treehouse looks incredible,’ says Dad, his eyes suspiciously misty. ‘I’m so proud of you, Twilight.’ He pulls me into his side and gives me a surprisingly fierce hug, and I allow myself a happy tear or two.
It was Dad’s creation and he approves of what Jake has done with it.
What more could I ask?
Chapter 38
The next morning, I’m up early, baking scones for our first day.
Mum and Dad take a taxi to the station early, and I get ready and join Betty and Doreen in the The Treehouse Café to prepare for opening time. I have butterflies in my stomach the size of flying dinosaurs.
Even though we had assurances last night from so many people that they loved the treehouse and couldn’t wait to come along for coffee, I can’t help remembering that last horrendous first day, when hardly anyone came …
But I needn’t have worried.
By eleven o’clock, the café has been full three times over! Betty was right to suggest we bake a little extra of everything, just in case. Because of her foresight, there’s a chance we might not actually run out of cake by three o’clock.
Stocks are running extremely low by closing time, and it’s just as well there was some of the WI’s fruitcake left from the previous night. We watch the last pair of customers descend the walkway, laughing and looking back for one last glimpse of the treehouse before they head for their car.
Then Betty sinks down on a chair, slips off her shoes and puts her feet up with a sigh. ‘Well, girls, I think you could definitely call today a triumph.’
‘I have a feeling totting up the takings will confirm it.’ Doreen smiles gleefully at me. ‘I reckon your mum and dad can shelve their idea of selling Honey Cottage. For today, at least.’
I take off my apron and, with a great big ‘whoop’, throw it up into the air. ‘Today has been absolutely amazing. And it’s all thanks to you two.’
‘Well, I think we’re all brilliant.’ Betty smiles, reaching out and patting my arm.
Doreen nods, then says wistfully, ‘Shame we won’t see that lovely lad, Jake, any more, though.’
Betty winks at me. ‘I think Doreen’s in love.’
‘No, I’m not. His age would be a problem.’
I laugh. ‘Too young for you?’
‘On the contrary. A bit too old. I fancy myself a toy boy,’ Doreen says solemnly. Then she gives a wicked grin and waves a dismissive hand at Betty. ‘Don’t look so horrified. I was only joking.’
‘Well, I’m not,’ Betty retorts. ‘Twilight, have you got his telephone number?’
I grin at their double act. It’s going to be great fun working with them. And I have a feeling The Treehouse Café will brighten up their retirement even more than Jake …
*****
Apart from the plentiful takings, there’s another reason I’m delighted I was rushed off my feet today: I really haven’t had time to think about anything except customers, coffees and cakes.
It’s only when I finally climb into bed, after baking up a storm in the kitchen ready for the following day, that thoughts of Theo start pouring into my head.
Today has been magical. I couldn’t have hoped for a better first day at the café. But despite this, I can’t shake the slightly hollow feeling inside that casts a shadow over the brilliance of the day. If only I hadn’t fallen for Theo …
The next morning, I’m feeling nervous all over again that we may not get the customers through the door. But if anything, we’re kept even busier than the day before, which is exhausting and makes Doreen’s bunions ache, but we wouldn’t have it any other way. Several people mention that friends had recommended The Treehouse Café to them, which is all very exciting. If word of mouth continues, there may be no need for advertising.
Paloma rings me at six, knowing I’ll have closed up. ‘So how did it go today, Miss Businesswoman of the Year? Have you made your fortune yet?’ She sounds in high spirits.
‘Brilliant. We were even busier than yesterday.’
‘Wow, that’s fabulous,’ she squeaks. ‘I’m so proud of you!’
‘Fancy a drink at The Three Blackbirds?’ I ask, mentioning the pub at the end of the high street. I’m feeling in the mood to celebrate after the success of our first few days.
Paloma’s tone changes. ‘Oh, Twi, I’d love to, but I can’t. Maybe tomorrow night?’
‘Ooh, what are you up to, then?’
There’s a slight pause, and I start to wish I hadn’t asked.
Then she says, ‘Actually, I’m meeting someone. A client. Yes, he’s a potential new client and I’m hoping to hit him with a pint of real ale and my brilliance as a graphic designer.’
‘A powerful combination,’ I murmur, not convinced she’s telling me the truth. I keep thinking about her disappearing off the other night and returning minus lipstick. And Jake following soon after.
‘When’s your drink?’ I ask casually.
‘Eight.’
‘Right, well, have a great time! I mean, I hope it’s a productive meeting.’
‘Oh, it will be,’ she says happily, which makes me even more curious. Why won’t she admit she’s seeing Jake?
There’s nothing else for it.
I’m going to have to follow her tonight to the pub and witness their lovers’ tryst for myself …
Chapter 39
My plan is to finish off the baking then head down to The Three Blackbirds just before eight to catch Paloma and Jake in the act of going on a date.
I get all my baking equipment out, then I realise to my irritation that I’ve run out of plain flour for the scones the next day. Grabbing my purse, I dash out to catch the local mini supermarket before it closes.
It’s been another humid day and once outside, I immediately sense a change in the air, as if a storm is brewing. I glance anxiously overhead, and sure enough, clouds are gathering, obscuring the sun. They’re dark and threatening. I need to grab the flour and get straight home before the storm hits.
Coming out of the store, I’m focusing so hard on getting home fast that I practically mow down someone coming in.
Lucy.
‘Oh, hi,’ she says in her grating voice. ‘I gather your launch went well, despite the little problem with the Pavlovas?’
I smile frostily. ‘News travels fast. Yes, it was a huge success actually.’
‘Well, good for you. I suppose you’ve heard the news about me and Jason? We’re off to Paris next week to find a place to live.’
She looks so smug, I want to slap her. But I need to get home, away from the storm, and brawling with Lucy would hold me up.
So I smile sweetly. ‘I hope you’ll be very happy in Paris. With Jason. Must dash.’
Leaving her standing there, I glance up at the darkening sky and hurry for home.
What a piece of work Lucy is! Preening over getting back with Jason, when actually, it was probably her dad’s offer of a job for Jason that swung it for her! And how the hell did the nosy cow find out about the Pavlovas?
I walk on, thinking about this. How did she find out? Betty, Doreen and I agreed we wouldn’t tell anyone, so she must have spoken to someone from the Women’s Institute.
No, surely not.
My mind starts working overtime, mulling over something that seems totally unbelievable …
Could Lucy have switched off the fridge?
Now I think about it, there was a certain superior smile on her face when she mentioned our Pavlova disaster. Almost a triumphant look.
She told me there was a van outside the house and I hurried off to see who it was, leaving the café door unlocked. But there was no van! Oh my God, Lucy could easily have doubled back and sneaked in to do her dirty work with the fridge. I told Jason about the delicate Pavlovas in the fridge – he must have mentioned this innocently to Lucy and then she concocted her plan!
If it was anyone else, I’d think I was going mad even entertaining this theory.
But this is Lucy, so it’s absolutely possible. Not only possible, but highly likely …
I stop in my tracks, my head whirling with sheer incredulity. She must really hate me to go to such extreme lengths. But what have I ever done to her to deserve it?
I recall Jason saying there were things I didn’t know about her. Things that, if I knew them, might make me understand her better.
But what things?
An urge to know suddenly grips me. I need to find out once and for all why she hates me so much!
A rumble of thunder in the distance turns my insides to water. But as I stand there, shocked to the core by Lucy’s latest antics (and thoroughly dismayed at myself for not suspecting anything), I’m torn in two.
I want to race home to relative safety, out of the way of the storm. But something has reached boiling point deep within.
Glancing back, I spot Lucy coming out of the shop and heading in the opposite direction. Watching her jaunty, self-satisfied walk, I want to run after her and yell, ‘Why, Lucy? Why am I the target of your breathtakingly spiteful behaviour?’
I hesitate.
She’s not worth the bother. She’s going to Paris soon and I won’t have to worry about bumping into her in the street any more.
Love Among the Treetops Page 26