Finally, she shrugged a shoulder dismissively. ‘So what are you thinking?’
‘Well,’ I cleared my throat, ‘Paolo’s success comes from doing something unexpected, offering what nobody else does. So while everyone in Sorrento claims to serve the best pizza in town, he lets them fight it out amongst themselves and serves buffalo steak. We already know that the Cabin Café menu is almost identical to ours—’
‘Except not such good quality,’ Lia put in.
‘Exactly.’ I nodded, grateful that she hadn’t bitten my head off again. ‘So I thought you could help me think of something that tastes fabulous but is cheap, quick and easy to cook which people can’t get elsewhere.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Lia, sounding bored, ‘chips?’
Ed had dropped her off outside the café earlier and driven straight off without returning my wave. I’d thought at the time he simply hadn’t seen me, but now I was beginning to wonder.
‘Perhaps we could do some research.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Let’s have a look.’
I reached for my iPad, but Lia finished her coffee and set the mug down heavily.
‘It’s Sunday, Rosie.’
‘I know. Thank goodness.’ I flashed her a grin. ‘It means we can spend some time on this without the café being open.’
‘Bank holiday weekend?’ she reminded me.
I blinked. ‘Gosh, I’d forgotten about that. Oh well, even more time to get our heads round trying out a new menu tomorrow. Brilliant! My thoughts are these. The Cabin Café opens on Tuesday serving the bog-standard menu: soup, sandwiches, cakes, etc. Our customers have been eating that kind of stuff for donkey’s years. So we launch a brand-new super-duper-never-been-seen-in-Barnaby-before menu, which will put theirs totally in the shade. What do you think?’
‘Go for it,’ she said, inspecting her nails.
‘Lia, is everything OK?’
She shrugged and refused to meet my eye.
‘Ed says I should stop working at the café; he says you’re taking advantage of me. I argued with him, but he’s right, isn’t he?’ She sank lower in her chair and pushed her hair roughly out of her eyes. ‘I’m always going to be the little sister, hovering in your shadow, while you stand in the spotlight, the star of the family. I thought it might change once I started at the café. But it hasn’t; now that you’re the boss and I’m just the skivvy, it’s even worse.’
I felt like I’d been slapped. Tears pricked at the back of my eyes. Not for myself, but for her. I couldn’t believe that was how she felt, how I’d made her feel.
She scraped at a mark on the table with her thumbnail.
‘Lia, you’re right. It’s not fair that you’re working for free when everyone else is getting paid. And it’s not fair that I’ve asked for your help on a Sunday. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think it through.’
I reached across the table and took her hands and she gave me a wan smile.
I was truly sorry. The problem was that I didn’t know what I could do about it. I’d seen the takings for yesterday while I’d been waiting for Lia to arrive. We had broken even. Just. In theory, now that Nonna wasn’t taking a wage, there should be enough to pay Lia, but Nonna had never taken much as a salary. I was only paying myself a fraction of what I’d earned in my last job, but I needed something to live off. And we’d had to get Juliet and Doreen in for extra shifts over the last week when I’d been so preoccupied with Nonna’s saga. There simply wasn’t enough in the pot to pay for an extra pair of hands. And when the Cabin Café opened on Tuesday, there could be even less.
‘It’s not all your fault.’ She sighed. ‘I was chuffed when you suggested I come and work in the kitchen. I know you were doing me a favour. But now that I’ve told the leisure centre I’m definitely not going back to work as a swimming teacher, I need to start earning. I never earned a fortune, but it helped and now Ed’s feeling the pressure and that’s not fair on him.’
They’d moved into a new house last year when they were expecting Arlo and I’d always known money was tight. Oh what the hell …
‘Look, I need your creativity in the kitchen. I can’t do it without you. We’re a team. How about I pay you to come up with a new menu for the Lemon Tree Café?’
‘Really?’ Lia leapt out of her chair and hugged me till my ribs hurt. ‘This is brilliant! Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely. But not today. You should go. Call Ed to collect you and go home. It’s the weekend; you should be with your family. I’ll … I can work out how we’re going to advertise our new menu.’
She looked at me and frowned. ‘You should go too; bank holiday weekends apply to you as well.’
I wrinkled my nose. ‘The café is all I’ve got, Lia. If I don’t work, what else do I do?’
She looked appalled. ‘Have fun?’
‘Fun,’ I repeated, rolling the word around in my head. I waved a hand over my iPad. ‘Isn’t devising business plans fun?’
‘No. It’s work.’ She tutted. ‘It’s OK to love your job but it can’t be all you do. What about chilling in front of a film, spending time with people you love?’
I felt my chest tighten. Yeah, right, because people were queuing up to fill that vacancy.
‘You’ve always been better at that than me,’ I said, clicking on my emails to avoid looking at her.
She eyed me suspiciously. ‘So you’re saying I’m lazy?’
‘I’m saying you’re lucky.’ I smiled and this time she smiled back warmly. ‘Ring Ed and leave me in peace.’
‘Pizza,’ she said suddenly. ‘You wanted something that people will eat every day. It’s cheap and quick to make and has the added bonus of being one of the most authentically Italian things in the world. We can make fresh, hand-stretched pizza. I guarantee the Cabin Café won’t be able to do that.’
She folded her arms smugly and grinned, her eyes sparkling.
My heart gave a thump. I loved that idea: Barnaby’s first pizza café. It was certainly different yet at the same time, in keeping with our Italian theme, and not too adventurous …
‘And how will we do that? Doesn’t it need a special oven?’
‘We’ll cook it in a traditional wood-fired pizza oven. You sort out how we’re going to promote it and leave the oven to me.’
She pulled out her phone. ‘Ed? Can you come and fetch me, please? And you know we’re due at your parents’ tonight? Do you think they’d lend me their pizza oven? Really? I love you too.’ She blew kisses and ended the call.
‘Sorted,’ she said, tucking the phone and her new recipe book in her bag. ‘See you back here tomorrow afternoon to try out some pizzas.’
‘I thought it was a bank holiday?’
‘It is.’ She winked at me. ‘But it will also be fun.’
‘You are BRILLIANT,’ I cried, grabbing her hands and bouncing on the spot. ‘I knew you’d come up with something.’
‘Culinary genius me,’ she said, feigning nonchalance.
Ten minutes later Lia had gone home with Ed and I got stuck into some promotional ideas as Lia suggested. We only had a couple of days to make an impact, but after the success of the Spring Fair, I was confident that I could use Twitter and Facebook again to launch our new-look menu. We didn’t have time for big changes to the decor, I thought, tapping a pen to my cheek as I surveyed the café. But it would be good to have something new to feature in our relaunch as well as the food. The tables already looked good, thanks to Gabe, and it looked like he’d finished the old dresser too. My eyes searched every corner of the café looking for inspiration, but to me the café was authentically Italian and already full of character, nothing needed changing. I closed my eyes trying to conjure up Bar Bufalo and suddenly remembered Nonna’s reaction when she saw those old black-and-white photographs: the pictures of her family business in the cobbled streets of Sorrento.
Yes! Paolo could send me digital versions of those and we could frame them. Now that was real heritage. You don’t get much more authentic than
that. The Cabin Café could keep its plastic tables and chairs, the Lemon Tree Café had real history!
I fired off a quick email to Paolo and rubbed my eyes. It had been a long day and I was beginning to flag. I stacked our mugs in the dishwasher, turned off the coffee machine, cleaned down the milk pipe and switched off the lights before locking the door and heading for home.
It was already dark when I set off across the village green, but it wasn’t cold or raining and I hummed happily to myself, pleased with what I’d managed to achieve today. It was only when I reached my cottage that I remembered I’d left the key behind the counter in the café.
Thank heavens for the spare! I put my hand into the bird feeder and found the key, remembering how Gabe had teased me that he’d be able to break in now he knew where it was.
As I opened the front door Lia’s words came back to me, about weekends being a chance to spend time with people you love. And I suddenly felt very alone.
Chapter 29
Bank holiday Monday was not a holiday for the staff of the Lemon Tree Café. Although it was a lot of fun.
I’d begun work as soon as I’d woken up, posting on Facebook that tomorrow we would host a pizza party, with a free slice of home-made Italian pizza to every single customer. And the first person who’d seen the news was Doreen who immediately phoned Juliet. Both of them turned up to work even though the café was closed and I’d been so grateful I’d kissed them and had made a pact that whatever happened on Tuesday, they’d both be getting a bonus in their wages.
Ed and Lia had set up the pizza oven, on loan from his parents, in the tiny yard at the back of the café and Dad had gone to find Mr Beecher, who apparently had a stash of fire-wood going spare at the school. Mum and Nonna were having a quiet day catching up on everything Nonna had learned on her trip, including showing Mum the pictures of her father that had been stuffed in that Manila envelope I’d been searching for and a handwritten book of family ice-cream recipes which Alba had thought we might like to have for the café.
While Lia and Juliet had experimented with getting the oven temperature right and deciding on pizza toppings, Doreen had set to work on a huge batch of dough and I’d chopped wood into oven-sized pieces and concocted a Facebook campaign to spread the word about our pizza party.
Over a celebratory bottle of prosecco when all the work had been done, I’d given everyone a pep talk.
‘Remember, folks, “loose lips sink ships”. Garden Warehouse is the enemy from now on. I know that you’ve got a friend who’s working there, Doreen, but our business has to stay that way: our business.’
Doreen nodded faithfully and mimed zipping her lips.
‘The next couple of weeks are critical,’ I continued. ‘The Cabin Café will have an unlimited marketing budget and if their opening strategy of free cappuccinos and copying our bestselling cake is anything to go by, they won’t take our free pizza strategy lying down. I fully expect them to retaliate and I don’t want them to know what we’re up to. We’ve got to beat them on everything – ambiance, service and, of course, food.’
‘What about price?’ Doreen had asked.
I shook my head. ‘I draw the line at that. I’m not devaluing my staff or our café. Take our coffee, for example. You want to drink cheap dishwater coffee, fine,’ I said with a defiant shrug, ‘go to the Cabin Café. But if you want—’
Doreen and Juliet pressed their hands to their mouths.
‘What?’
‘That shrug,’ said Doreen, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
‘Fine,’ Juliet mimicked, lifted her shoulders doing an impression of Nonna’s trademark Latin gesture.
Lia giggled. ‘You’ve got Nonna’s shrug to a tee. Two days in Italy and you’ve gone native.’
I laughed, acknowledging that they were right. But who cares; I came from a family determined not to be brought down by their circumstances. If I’d inherited some of Nonna’s feistiness and perhaps absorbed some of Paolo’s commitment to succeed, so much the better.
‘As I was saying, they’ve got the marketing budget to fight back. We might have free pizza tomorrow, but after that all we’ve got is—’
‘We’ve got you, you’re our secret weapon,’ said Doreen, her pink cheeks dimpling as she smiled. ‘I’d never have thought of doing this.’
‘True that.’ Juliet nodded, pounding her clenched fist into the palm of her hand. ‘We’ll wipe the floor with the bas—’
‘Actually, the pizza was Lia’s idea.’ I raised my glass to my sister and then to Doreen and Juliet. ‘And none of it would have been possible without either of you.’
It was Tuesday already and Garden Warehouse opened its Cabin Café at nine o’clock, by which time we’d prepped enough pizza toppings to feed the Italian army and had huge signs on the road leading to the Garden Warehouse advertising our pizza party.
The celebrity appearance they’d advertised turned out to be a local TV weather girl, someone I’d never heard of. She arrived dressed to the nines in a tight low-cut red dress and heels and flashed her impossibly white teeth at a small crowd of onlookers. She posed between the store manager and my nemesis, Jamie Dawson the catering manager, before cutting the ribbon. She then tottered behind the counter to pour the café’s very first cup of tea for the winner of the in-store prize draw for tea and cake for two.
Garden Warehouse had organized for a photographer to take publicity shots. But that was the sum total of any media coverage. According to Robin, our friendly junior reporter, in his email to me last night, his newspaper wouldn’t cover it because the weather girl was ‘from the competition’. I compared their poor turnout to the media splash we’d had for our Spring Fair and tried not to feel too smug about it.
I’d also received word about their food. As predicted, nothing spectacular to report. The sandwiches were so-so, the cake selection lacklustre and the coffee was not a patch on ours.
The news report came from Mum who had taken her friend Karen up there to spy on my behalf. The two ladies had shared a prawn sandwich that was heavy on mayo and light on prawns and a slice of walnut loaf which Mum suspected had been made before the bank holiday; she said it was so dry she didn’t know whether to eat it or scrub the hard skin on her feet with it.
So, all in all, perhaps not quite the auspicious start the Cabin Café had been hoping for.
Oh what a shame.
The radio station wasn’t covering the opening of the new café in their ‘where to eat this week’ slot either. And I knew that because they were on the phone to me. Live.
I’d planned on taking the call from the radio station in the café kitchen, but the constant arrival of customers holding their ‘free pizza with this voucher’ screenshot on their phones was making it difficult to concentrate.
I managed to nab the last free table in the conservatory, just as the producer warned me to stand by.
At the last moment, Tyson and Lucas, each carrying a mug of beef tea and a slice of pizza, appeared at the table. They pointed at the two empty chairs hopefully and I nodded for them to sit down. I looked for somewhere else to go but the producer was back in my ear whispering that the studio was coming to me in three, two, one …
‘And on the line we have Rosie from the Lemon Tree Café who is going to tell us … WHERE TO EAT THIS WEEK!’ Jeff, the radio presenter, boomed. ‘Hey there, Rosie!’
‘Buongiorno, Jeff!’ I plugged my free ear with my finger to block out the noise of our pleasingly packed café.
‘I understand you’re throwing a pizza party as we speak in the little village of Barnaby?’
‘That’s right. You’ll find us opposite the village green between Biddy’s Pet Shop and Nina’s Flowers and we’re giving a free slice of pizza to every customer today.’
‘Sounds fun! What gave you the idea for that?’ he asked in a jaunty voice.
‘My sister Lia is a talented cook and suggested that it was time our menu became more authentic, in line with our Italian heritag
e. My grandmother is from Sorrento where they serve the best pizza in the world.’
Somewhere behind me I heard Lia squeak. Lucas and Tyson looked from me to each other and pulled impressed faces.
‘Is that right?’ Jeff laughed. ‘So—’
‘Our pizzas are cooked traditionally in a wood-fired oven,’ I gabbled on, determined to say my piece. ‘The toppings are fresh and bursting with flavour, but the base is light, so it’s the perfect thing for lunch.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Tyson, folding the last mouthful of his Parma ham and mascarpone pizza into his mouth.
Lucas dabbed a spot of tomato sauce off Tyson’s chin and tutted affectionately.
‘And will you—’ Jeff began to ask.
‘We’ll be introducing the changes gradually, but in order to get feedback from customers, we decided to celebrate our new menu by giving all our customers a chance to try it. Completely free of charge. One large slice per person.’
I paused for breath, aware that I had talked over the poor man, but I knew I only had one chance to get the message across. I turned towards the counter and caught Lia’s eye.
You are ACE, she mouthed, giving me the double thumbs up.
‘Well …’ Jeff began hesitantly, probably thinking I was going to interrupt him again. I was tempted, but managed to hold my tongue. I didn’t want to appear too rude, after all. ‘I don’t know about our listeners, but my mouth is certainly watering. Make mine a pepperoni, I’ll be right over.’
I laughed coquettishly.
‘I’ll hold you to that, Jeff. Our cakes are pretty good too, and our coffee, if I say so myself, is the best you’ll taste in the region,’ I said boldly. ‘The Lemon Tree Café is the place to be in Barnaby right now if you want a pizza the action.’
The radio presenter guffawed at that and chimed in with his own cheesy joke, which included the leaning tower of pizza as its punchline. I reminded his listeners of our Facebook page and after bidding him a thickly accented ‘Ciao’, I ended the call and I blew out a long calming breath, pleased to have that over with.
The Lemon Tree Café Page 28