The Lemon Tree Café

by Cathy Bramley

  Gabe wound down his window. ‘Hello.’

  He leaned an arm out. He was wearing a white shirt and the sleeves were pushed up to the elbow. He looked very smart. This was the new corporate Gabe, the Garden Warehouse Gabe in his posh car.

  ‘Hello,’ I replied.

  The word came out all croaky and awkward and I had a sudden flashback to being sixteen and a boy from sixth form, who I worshipped from afar, asking me out and me trying to sound cool but instead sounding like a Dalek. I cleared my throat and focused on Noah instead. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt and had mud on his face.

  ‘Hi, been playing football?’ I said, smiling at him as he held up the ball for inspection.

  ‘I scored a goal!’ he said and then aimed a kick at the seat in front.

  ‘Nice wheels.’ I risked a brief look at Gabe before admiring the car, which I assumed came with the job.

  ‘It was,’ Gabe said, shooting his son a warning look, ‘until they let us in it. Although a certain person prefers the old van.’

  ‘I like sitting in the front best.’ Noah scowled. ‘Now I have to sit in the back like a baby.’

  ‘Listen, Rosie, I’ve only just heard what happened at school on Monday,’ said Gabe, running a hand through his hair. It was standing up in peaks. I could just reach a hand in through the window and smooth it down … ‘Miss Cresswell told me when I picked Noah up from football club.’

  ‘Ah,’ I said, unsure whether I was in trouble or not.

  He massaged his eyes briefly. His shirt was crumpled and he looked tired. I wondered how much of a strain it was on him, starting this new job and constantly having to worry about being there at the end of the school day for Noah.

  ‘Did I do the right thing? Well, obviously not,’ I laughed self-consciously, ‘because I was virtually frogmarched off the premises.’

  ‘Have you got any more cake?’ Noah piped up from the back.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Come into the café,’ I said automatically, before catching Gabe’s eye.

  ‘I thought I was persona non grata?’ he murmured, tilting an eyebrow challengingly.

  ‘True.’ The pink flush to my cheeks ramped up to fuchsia. ‘But Noah isn’t.’

  Gabe’s lips twitched at that.

  ‘Anyway, I didn’t stop the car to have another argument with you; I just wanted to thank you. It meant a lot that you’d pick Noah up from school.’ He fixed his soft grey eyes on me. ‘Even without parental permission.’

  ‘I didn’t think.’ I shrugged. ‘When I went to that school they just opened the doors at the end of the afternoon and we all wandered off. I hadn’t bargained on such tight security. But it’s a good thing. Better to be safe than sorry.’

  ‘Definitely, but I’m sorry if you were made to feel uncomfortable.’

  ‘If I ever have children I’ll just have to hope Miss Cresswell has left by then, I can’t show my face again.’

  Gabe laughed softly, shaking his head. ‘I can imagine. She and Fiona together are a force to be reckoned with.’

  I smiled and felt ridiculously happy all of a sudden. It was so good to be talking to him again. I said the first thing that came into my head.

  ‘I’ve missed you.’

  He held my gaze and nodded. ‘Ditto.’

  This time his voice was the one that cracked. He flushed and coughed, banging his chest extravagantly.

  ‘Dad, what’s for tea?’

  Gabe rolled his eyes at me and grinned at his son in the rear-view mirror.

  ‘Will fish-finger sandwiches do you?’

  ‘YAY!’

  ‘Verity’s favourite,’ I said and smiled.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to say ‘mine too’ in a subtle so-why-don’t-you-invite-me way. But we were making friends again, building trust; I didn’t want to push things. Besides, I was totally aware that I owed him an apology. And I’d do that any second …

  Gabe looked wistful. ‘She and Mimi used to make them for me when we were students. My cooking skills haven’t evolved much since those days.’

  I held a hand to my mouth and whispered behind it: ‘Don’t tell anyone, but you and me both.’

  ‘Congratulations to you and Lia on the café, by the way; everyone’s been telling me about your new pizza oven. Sounds great.’

  He left the comment hanging in the air, but I knew what he was thinking; he hadn’t been in because I’d told him we couldn’t be friends …

  I was an idiot. Everyone else, even Clementine who was most affected by the new store opening up right next to her house, seemed to have accepted them. It was only us at the café who were still so anti Garden Warehouse. And now, facing this man, who I had to admit made my heart skip like no one else had ever done, I couldn’t remember exactly what it was I had against them.

  ‘How’s the new job?’ I said, trying to keep my face neutral.

  Gabe blinked at me in surprise and then rubbed a hand over his forehead. ‘Knackering. Totally knackering. We’re pulling a proposal together to take over another company, a family-owned retailer in homewares with about fifteen branches. They’ve got some great locations, but aren’t making money. I’m seeing my boss about it tomorrow to put a rescue package to the bank.’

  I bristled and folded my arms tightly across my chest. There it was. That was what I had against them: their total disregard for the people behind the numbers. It was all about turning a profit, about how many pounds per square metre generated.

  ‘Not another family business? For goodness’ sake, Gabe, Garden Warehouse are a bunch of vultures, what are you going to offer them this time, ten pence per shop? How do you sleep at night?’

  I glared at him, feeling my heart thudding angrily as the friendly atmosphere between us leached away into the cracks in the pavement at my feet.

  ‘Dad, I’m hungry. Can we go?’

  Gabe glanced over his shoulder at Noah. ‘One second.’

  Noah took another swipe at the seat with his foot.

  ‘It’s not like that, Rosie,’ he said evenly. ‘What sort of person do you think I am?’

  ‘Honestly? I thought you were the very best kind.’

  He held my gaze with such an intensity that I felt my insides quiver. ‘Were?’

  ‘I don’t know any more,’ I murmured, not wanting to argue in front of the little boy. I managed a smile. ‘Bye, Noah.’

  Gabe muttered something not fit for small ears and I turned on my heel and began to walk away from the car, towards the footpath at the side of the church where he couldn’t follow me. The car door slammed and I heard footsteps running towards me.

  ‘Rosie, I’m not letting you run away from me.’

  He grabbed hold of my arm and spun me round to face him. A flame of anger crackled through me.

  ‘You’re not letting me? How dare you?’ I shouted in his face.

  What was it with him and me? Five minutes in his company and I exploded with fury? And he … he’d used his size against me. Just like Callum. I couldn’t – wouldn’t – be bullied into doing something just because he had more physical strength than me.

  He released me instantly and held his hands up in defence. ‘I’m sorry, God, I’m sorry. Rosie, I didn’t think—’

  ‘You of all people,’ I said breathlessly. My legs had turned to jelly and tears of anger weren’t far away, ‘should know that forcing me to do anything is unforgivable.’

  He bowed his head. ‘I apologize unreservedly, but—’

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘Stay in the car, Noah,’ he ordered.

  ‘I’ve dropped the football out of the window.’

  ‘OK,’ he shouted. ‘I’ll get it.’

  The sound of an engine approaching made us both turn to the road. And then time slowed down, each second stretching into a full-length horror movie as Noah flung open his car door just as a white van overtook Gabe’s car. There was no time for the driver to react. A sickening crunch of metal on metal splintered the evening air as t
he rear door was smashed back towards the car.

  Screams seemed to bounce off every surface as Gabe and I tore back down the path to the road, both of us yelling Noah’s name. The van screeched to a halt and the driver, a man in his forties wearing work-stained clothes and sunglasses perched on his head, held his arms out to the side.

  ‘What the …?’

  Gabe grabbed at the other rear door, wrenched it open and dived inside. I was right behind him, gulping at air to stop myself from being sick, filled with dread at what we might find.

  ‘Daddy,’ sobbed Noah, ‘I’m sorry.’

  Oh, thank God.

  Noah’s little face was white with terror, but he was still in one piece, clutching his dinosaur.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Gabe gasped, dragging the little boy from the car.

  The van driver wiped a hand over his face and swore viciously. ‘I’m so sorry, mate; I didn’t see the door. Is he hurt?’

  The door was a mass of twisted metal and shattered glass. Noah, miraculously, seemed completely unscathed.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Gabe, glancing at the driver. ‘And it wasn’t your fault.’

  Gabe sank down on to the pavement, cradling his son in his arms.

  I didn’t think twice. I threw my arms round both of them and hugged them like I never, ever wanted to let them go.

  Our stupid row evaporated into the evening sunshine. Nothing else mattered. Only these two.

  Later that night when Gabe had taken Noah home, I poured myself a glass of wine, pulled on a thick jumper and sat in my garden in the dark and went over and over what had happened this evening with Gabe on the pavement and then afterwards with the crash.

  Two things I knew: first, I wasn’t over Callum after all. Far from it. What had happened with him had made me lock away my heart where no one could hurt it. And second, Gabe and Noah may just hold the key.

  Chapter 35

  The next morning at the café, I did my best to put that grabbing incident with Gabe behind me. He’d be busy working on his ‘rescue package’ today, so there was no chance that I’d see him. That and explaining to his new boss how his car door had come to be crumpled. I tied on my apron, plastered on a smile, and if anyone noticed that my eyes were a bit watery now and again, thankfully they didn’t mention it.

  We had the nicest customers, I decided, later that afternoon. I counted up the tips and divided them into three envelopes, marked ‘Juliet’, ‘Doreen’ and ‘staff night out’. The show of support we’d had since Lia and I had taken over at the café had blown me away and not only in the size of their tips. It wasn’t just the pizzas either; people had been keen to try out our new brunch menu too. Even Doreen, who’d sworn blind that no sane person would ever eat avocado on toast, had had to eat her words.

  Bookings for larger groups had also picked up again: Stella Derry had been in earlier to book the conservatory on Monday afternoon for an emergency meeting of the WI committee. She’d ordered afternoon tea for eight and had told me confidentially that the number-one issue on the agenda was Mum’s resignation and the election of a new president. The vicar had asked if we could do an extra-large pizza for the parish council meeting and we’d had two enquiries from mums wanting to know if we’d host children’s birthday parties, which Lia had been thrilled to say yes to. And everyone, without exception, had expressed how happy they were to see the café move with the times and most importantly remain in the village at the heart of the community.

  Monetary matters sorted for the moment, I picked up my cleaning cloth and made a start on the serving area. It was almost the end of the afternoon, Lia had already gone to collect Arlo and Juliet was cleaning the outside tables. I might get my trainers out later, I thought, bending down to retrieve a dropped slice of salami, and go for a run down to the river, but not as far as The Neptune. I wasn’t ready to see Gabe again quite yet. Although in a village this size we wouldn’t be able to avoid each other for ever. Noah’s accident had called a halt to our argument and we’d ended up with our arms around each other but there was still a lot unsaid between us and I fully expected our next conversation to be heated.

  ‘A-hem.’

  I straightened up to find myself face to face with Jamie Dawson, Garden Warehouse’s catering manager. He had a suitcase on wheels behind him and a stuffed giraffe under one arm.

  So he was the one leaving. With a giraffe. No sign of the hip flask.

  I fought the urge to laugh out loud and gave him the cool stare I saved especially for difficult customers.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Gee, thanks for the welcome.’ He gave me a lopsided smile.

  ‘I don’t know how you’ve got the nerve to show your face in here,’ I said, spraying a mist of cleaning liquid on the counter and rubbing it vigorously.

  ‘It’ll be the very last time, I promise,’ he said meekly. ‘I’m leaving Barnaby tonight.’

  ‘If you want to know what this week’s bestseller is,’ said Juliet, barging into him on her way past with a full tray of dirty crockery, ‘it’s courgette and lime cake; I’ll let you have the recipe.’

  I smirked.

  We’d served it a couple of weeks ago when I’d over-ordered on courgettes for Lia’s courgette and parmesan soup. Juliet had used up the excess in a cake but it was green and sour and customers had voted with their feet. We’d happily share that one with the Cabin Café.

  He scratched his beard and looked from Juliet to me. ‘Just a guess, but you don’t like me very much, do you?’

  I fluttered my eyelashes innocently.

  Jamie held up a hand. ‘I come in peace. And also for pizza.’

  ‘No can do,’ I said, pointing to the oven, which wasn’t lit. There wasn’t enough demand to offer pizzas after three o’clock; we had to think of our running costs. ‘You can have a dry scone and be grateful I’m serving you at all.’

  ‘Ever thought of entering the national warmest waitress of the year competition?’

  There was a snort of derision and a clatter of plates from the kitchen. She can talk, I thought, shooting a dark look over my shoulder.

  ‘Take it or leave it,’ I said, slapping the scone on a plate; it was actually light and fluffy and not in the least bit dry.

  ‘Mmm, delicious. Better have a coffee with it too then.’

  ‘Anything for your friend?’ I nodded at the giraffe.

  ‘Very funny.’

  He sauntered over to the nearest table, tucked his suitcase out of the way, set the giraffe down on a chair and returned for his order.

  He held out a five-pound note and when I went to tweak it out of his hands he held on to it.

  ‘Don’t suppose you fancy joining me?’

  I looked at the floor which needed a proper wash and the coffee machine covered in dried-on milk foam and coffee grounds and the pizza toppings which needed covering and putting away until tomorrow and sighed. ‘If I must.’

  Pouring myself a glass of water, I took a seat opposite him and next to the giraffe.

  ‘Gladys, meet Rosie,’ said Jamie, stroking the giraffe’s neck. He turned to me. ‘Gladys isn’t a real Rothschild’s giraffe.’

  ‘Just as well, I don’t think we’re licensed for wild animals.’

  ‘Wild?’ He clapped his hands over Gladys’s ears. ‘Don’t listen. My team have sponsored a real giraffe at Chester Zoo, Gladys is just to remind me.’

  ‘So you’re leaving?’ I said, straightening up the coaster in front of me and setting my glass down in the corner of it.

  He sliced into his scone and pressed a finger on the springy inside. He looked up at me and grinned. ‘I’d say this is fresh out of the oven.’

  I shrugged, cursing the smile that threatened to give me away.

  ‘Yes. Going home to Kent for a long weekend. Then straight on to a new project in Bath on Monday.’

  ‘So the rumour is true.’ I quirked an eyebrow at him. ‘The Cabin Café isn’t doing very well and you’ve got the sack?�
�

  He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence. No. Sorry to disappoint. My job is to get our cafés up and running smoothly. As soon as that happens, I get moved on to the next store opening.’

  ‘And is the plastic paradise running smoothly?’

  His lips twitched. ‘Is that what people call it?’

  ‘Amongst other things.’ Actually, I’d just made that up but everything was plastic: the tables, chairs, the cutlery, the flowers and some unkind people might say the food …

  He frowned and dug his knife into the pat of butter and spread it roughly. ‘Early days. Why, who told you it isn’t doing very well?’

  I puffed out my cheeks and counted on my fingers.

  ‘Andy the postman, Doreen’s friend who shall remain nameless, Biddy’s sister who’s got mobility issues and got stuck in the doorframe in her motorized scooter and some idiot sent her flying down the ramp when he tried to free her.’

  Jamie winced. ‘I think I remember that.’

  ‘Three members of the parish council,’ I continued, ‘the cleaner from the Cross Keys pub, a man who comes in here with two whippets. And my mum.’

  He bit into his scone and munched for a few seconds. I folded my arms.

  ‘Can we talk off the record?’ he said softly.

  ‘No.’ I sipped my water. ‘I don’t trust you further than I can see you.’

  Jamie shook his head and laughed softly. ‘How’s the new pizza oven doing?’

  ‘Keep your beak out.’

  ‘Rosie.’ He stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed his ankles and smiled lazily. ‘Off the record, Bath is my last job for Garden Warehouse; my wife is having a baby and I’m fed up with all the travelling. We plan on opening up our own café, or a bistro, not sure exactly.’ He shrugged. ‘But something special, somewhere without disposable spoons. Like this place. There. I’ve told you a secret. You could get me in trouble with that piece of info. I haven’t told the boss yet.’

  I stared at him for a long moment. ‘What do you want, Jamie?’

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘To part as friends. We’re both in the business. And I love what you’ve done with this place. I admire you.’