The Lemon Tree Café

by Cathy Bramley

  She was only too happy to take my advice and dashed off to the hospital where Nonna and Stanley were waiting to come home. The patient was finally being discharged but would need someone with him for the next couple of weeks. Angela had been most insistent that he come back to Bristol with her. But Stanley, seemingly quite enjoying being fought over, had convinced her that she already had far too much to do looking after her own family and he’d be better off at home. So Nonna had packed a case and was moving in with him for a while.

  Later that afternoon, I was carrying a Margherita pizza to one of the outside tables when a big silver car glided swan-like around the green, came to a halt and reversed effortlessly into a parking space directly in front of the café. A short man in his fifties, with curly greying hair, an expensive suit and a squashed nose, bounced out of it. He glanced at the sign above the door and then at the potted lemon trees and waited for his passenger to emerge. And out climbed Gabe.

  My heart jumped at the sight of him. Then I noticed his navy suit with a jacket that emphasized his broad shoulders and slim-fitting trousers showing off a rather shapely bottom and it jumped a bit more. Gabe was a man made to wear suits, I thought idly.

  ‘Enjoy,’ I said, setting the pizza down in front of the elderly couple who were sharing it.

  ‘That must be the big boss from you-know-where,’ Juliet hissed loudly, appearing beside me with a tray to collect empties.

  ‘Hmm,’ I said and began helping her load discarded plates on to her tray. ‘Fresh from ripping off some poor unsuspecting small business owners like Clementine, no doubt.’

  ‘Looks like they’re coming for a working lunch,’ said Juliet. ‘Cor, Gabe fills that suit very nicely, I must say.’

  The boss-man and Gabe were reaching into the back seat for briefcases and things. I remembered Gabe holding a dust sheet over my head on that very spot and covering me with sawdust. It was almost impossible to reconcile that memory with the city slicker who stood before me, directing the other man to an empty table at the far end of the café’s stretch of pavement.

  ‘Hello, Gabe!’ Juliet called. ‘Nice to see you back again, isn’t it, Rosie?’

  ‘You too, Juliet.’ Gabe raised a hand, slipped his jacket off and took a seat quickly, studiously avoiding my eye.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ she repeated, nudging me.

  ‘Rumour has it that Gabe has suggested adding pizzas to the Cabin Café menu,’ I whispered to her. ‘So don’t be too nice.’

  ‘Says who?’ She scowled. ‘I don’t believe that of him. Not for a minute.’

  I flushed. ‘Jamie Dawson, their catering manager.’

  Juliet still didn’t like him, even if I’d warmed to him.

  ‘It was probably a joke, like: ha ha, perhaps we should start serving pizzas like the Lemon Tree Café. Rather than a plan to ruin us,’ she suggested.

  ‘They’ve certainly been scrutinizing the menu long enough,’ I said, nodding to Gabe’s table.

  ‘Because no one has taken their order, have they?’ she said severely and hefted the heavy tray back inside.

  ‘Right,’ I muttered under my breath, ‘let’s get this over with.’

  I took out my order pad and stood at Gabe’s table, looking from him to his guest and hoping he couldn’t sense my nerves.

  ‘So, gentlemen, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company here at the Lemon Tree Café?’ I said brightly, as if Gabe and I had never exchanged a cross word.

  ‘Mark, this is Rosie Featherstone, joint owner of the café.’ Gabe’s eyes met mine briefly and then dropped back to the menu. ‘Rosie, meet Mark Cooper, managing director of the GW group.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you.’ Mark shook my hand firmly and gave me a friendly smile. ‘We’ve been stuck in an office all day working on a very boring deal. Gabe suggested we had a change of scenery for lunch, get some inspiration from your wonderful café.’

  ‘Inspiration?’ I flicked my eyes to Gabe who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  ‘He was right as usual,’ Mark continued. He took a pair of sunglasses from the breast pocket of his jacket and popped them on. ‘What could be nicer than being outside, with a view of the village green?’

  ‘Inspiration for what?’ I repeated, staring at Gabe. Jamie was right; they were seriously looking at our pizza menu.

  ‘For real life,’ said Mark. ‘I’m guilty of not seeing past the figures, whereas Gabe’s rather more philanthropic; he reminds me that we have to consider the people behind the shopfronts. He suggested we leave the spreadsheets for a while and get some sunshine. We make a good team.’

  He clapped Gabe on the shoulder.

  I folded my arms. ‘Is this the takeover you were telling me about? The proposal to—’

  Gabe coughed suddenly and began banging his chest.

  ‘Sorry,’ he gasped. ‘Swallowed a fly.’

  Mark leaned forward in his chair. He looked from me to Gabe. ‘Are you two an item? Because this is confidential.’

  ‘No,’ Gabe and I both said together.

  ‘Just friends,’ Gabe added.

  I glared at him. ‘That’s debatable. And don’t worry, Mark, he didn’t tell me any details, and frankly I’m not interested in hearing how Garden Warehouse plans to ruin another chunk of England’s retail landscape.’

  Gabe inhaled sharply.

  ‘Wow,’ I heard Mark mutter as I strutted away. ‘She’s a feisty one.’

  I glanced down at my order pad, which was completely blank. Damn it. I turned round and marched back.

  ‘Can I take your order please?’

  They both ordered pizza, naturally. Before I left the table Mark stood up and pointed inside.

  ‘I’ll just go and find the little boys’ room.’

  Leaving me facing Gabe. I felt my heart beat faster.

  ‘I’ll go and put your order into the kitchen.’

  ‘Rosie.’

  Gabe gently put his hand on mine. His touch shot through me like a bolt of electricity.

  ‘I really am sorry about the way I behaved the other day, before Noah had that accident. I hope you know that I’m not someone who would push a woman around. I grabbed you and I, of all people, should have known how that would make you react.’

  I nodded, not knowing what to say.

  I really wanted to tell him about Callum – about Candy – about how I’d talked it through with her and made my peace with what had happened. How I regretted not being more sensitive to someone who was crying out for help. But this wasn’t the place. Not now, and certainly not here.

  He looked at me with those soft grey eyes and I felt my insides melt.

  ‘The stupid thing is that I stopped the car to try to mend our broken friendship, to thank you for trying to help out at school, but all I did was push you further away. I am truly, truly sorry.’

  I nodded, feeling close to tears all of a sudden. This was an olive branch, a peace offering, a chance to put our argument behind us. Anyone else would have taken it gladly. Unfortunately, I seemed to have been born for battle.

  ‘Then why bring him here?’ I said sadly, nodding towards Mark’s chair.

  Gabe blinked. ‘You don’t want our custom?’

  ‘Not if it comes at a price.’ I looked through the café windows. ‘Look – Mark’s in there now talking to Lia.’

  ‘I thought he might.’ He smiled. ‘I knew he’d be interested in the pizza oven.’

  ‘So it’s true.’ My throat tightened. ‘You want pizzas for the Cabin Café?’

  He half laughed. ‘Blimey, news travels fast.’

  I stared at him, not believing what I was hearing; how could he be so blasé about it?

  ‘It’s just an idea but I thought as it is working so well here, why not expand the reach? The Cabin Café could—’

  I balled my fists. ‘I’d like you to leave.’

  ‘What?’ Gabe’s face drained of colour and he raked a hand through his hair.

  ‘You’ve done enough damage and I
want you to leave,’ I said, far more calmly than I felt.

  ‘What have I done now? And what about Mark? My boss is going to wonder what’s going on. You’ve already nearly dropped me in it by mentioning the Home Stores takeover.’

  ‘I wasn’t to know.’ I shrugged, although privately I did feel a bit bad about that.

  ‘Rosie,’ he said calmly, ‘believe it or not I need this job. I’m already skating on thin ice after trashing my car door on day three.’

  My heart tweaked for him, despite myself.

  ‘All right, you can stay for lunch. But then that’s it; you’ve had your final chance with me.’

  Gabe’s jaw dropped.

  ‘Bloody unbelievable,’ he muttered. ‘You are the most difficult person to help in the entire universe.’

  He thumped the table and the couple next door to him stopped chewing on their pizzas and flinched.

  ‘Help? Help?’ I hissed, trying to keep my voice down. ‘In case it’s escaped your notice, Boy Wonder, I don’t need help. And if I did it would be because of the newly opened café trying to steal our business. And who do we have to thank for that?’ I tapped my cheek with my pencil, pretending to think. ‘Oh yes. That would be you.’

  Gabe’s eyes burned angrily. I could feel my chest rising and falling as I tried to get my breathing under control.

  ‘OK, OK.’ He threw his hands up. ‘Got the message.’

  ‘Good.’ I span round on my heels, eager to get away before the tears came.

  ‘Rosie, wait.’ Gabe’s voice was barely audible.

  I froze, not wanting to turn back, not wanting him to see my expression.

  Why do we do this? I wondered. Why do I do this? He makes me so mad and yet … and yet I’m crazy about him too.

  ‘I’ve spoken to the school. You’re approved to pick Noah up from now on. Because … because I need help sometimes, even if you don’t.’

  His words hit my heart like tiny arrows.

  ‘OK,’ I said hoarsely, nodding. ‘Fine.’

  I marched inside, brushing past Mark on his way back to the table. I handed Lia their order and then I carried on going through the café and out into the courtyard where I let the tears of frustration roll down my cheeks and felt like an utterly, utterly terrible person.

  Chapter 38

  It was Saturday. Stanley had been home for twenty-four hours and Nonna was moving in properly today. I arrived at his bungalow after work with a chunk of Stanley’s favourite chocolate cake and some biscotti for Nonna as Dad was unloading some of her things from the boot of his car.

  ‘Honestly,’ he said, shaking his head as he pulled out a box marked ‘empty jars’, ‘women.’

  ‘On behalf of women everywhere,’ I said, kissing his grumpy face, ‘I apologize.’

  I left him grunting to himself and went inside.

  The bungalow already seemed a brighter place: there was a vase of tulips and hyacinths in the hall, replacing the faded fake flowers I’d seen on my last visit. The air smelled fresh and there was something delicious wafting from the kitchen.

  I found Stanley in the living room on a recliner chair, two brown slippers peeping out from under a blanket. His face looked a little pale and he’d lost quite a bit of weight, but his blue eyes still held a sparkle.

  ‘Welcome to Antarctica,’ he said, holding up his cheek to be kissed.

  The window was open and a fresh breeze ruffled his white hair which hung round the back of his head from ear to ear like bunting.

  ‘Shall I close that?’ I asked, shivering as I sat on the sofa next to him.

  He shook his head and pulled the blanket under his chin. ‘I need fresh air, apparently. Amongst other unpleasant things. Normally I like air. In moderation.’

  ‘And cake?’ I said, lifting the lid of my cake tin.

  ‘Cake,’ he said, eyeing the contents greedily, ‘is contraband. Quick, let me hide it.’

  He held his hands out for the tin just as Nonna opened the door by pushing her bottom through it. He shoved the tin back at me.

  ‘Your grandmother’s derrière always arrives first.’ He winked. ‘Not that I’m complaining.’

  ‘Eh, cheeky. Green tea,’ she said officiously, planting the tray on the coffee table. ‘Full of anti-somethings. Good for heart. And some biscuits. But not for you, mister.’ She wagged a finger at him. ‘You can have tablets.’

  I attempted to hide the tin behind my back but she held her hands out.

  ‘He can’t eat this. It is poison.’ She lifted the lid and sniffed. ‘Mmm, but you can leave with me.’

  Stanley and I exchanged resigned smiles.

  She straightened up, pressed a hand to his forehead and frowned.

  ‘You look tired, Stanley. Rosie, just five minutes. He need plenty of rest.’

  Nonna was wearing an apron with a bib and she’d got a watch tied on to the front straps. She looked scary and nurse-like and she was obviously really enjoying herself.

  ‘OK, I only popped in to check everyone was getting on all right,’ I said.

  Dad shouted something from the hallway and Nonna went out to answer him, the cake tin gripped firmly in her hands.

  ‘Couldn’t be happier, my dear.’ Stanley sniffed his green tea and took a brave sip. ‘I shan’t want to get better at this rate in case she moves out. It was so nice last night to say goodnight to someone. She’s agreed to live here for two weeks and after that … Well, I shall miss her.’

  I stifled a smile; judging by the enormous pile of boxes in Dad’s car, it looked like she was planning on moving in permanently.

  ‘Maybe she doesn’t have to?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe you could pop the question again?’

  Stanley shook his head. ‘It’s too late for us. I couldn’t go down on one knee again. For a start, I probably wouldn’t get up.’

  He was making light of it, but his shoulders sagged and he gazed into his mug.

  ‘But it would be different this time,’ I said, taking his hand. His nails had grown in hospital and his skin was soft but cold, icy cold. ‘She’s footloose and fancy-free.’

  ‘Exactly. Look at me. I’m on so many drugs, I’ve had to make a list to remember what they’re all for. I don’t want to saddle her with an old crock like me. I couldn’t marry her now, it wouldn’t be fair, she deserves a husband not an invalid.’

  I opened my mouth to argue but Stanley held up a finger.

  ‘I know you mean well, but she’ll be glad to get back to her own home. Back to her greenhouse and a summer spent in the garden, I’d put money on it.’

  ‘Maria?’ Dad barked. ‘For goodness’ sake. Where on earth do you want me to put this Christmas tree?’

  I caught Stanley’s eye. ‘You sure about that?’

  From the hall came a crash, followed by a stream of expletives from Dad. I left Stanley looking thoughtful and went to investigate.

  One of Nonna’s suitcases, which by the look of it she’d brought with her from Italy in the sixties, had burst open. A mountain of pale pink nylon spilled over the hall floor, Nonna was on her knees scooping it up and Dad stooped to help.

  ‘Don’t look, Alec, these are my smalls!’ she yelped.

  ‘Not that bloody small,’ muttered Dad, holding up an enormous pair of knickers. He caught my eye and a reluctant smile crept over his face.

  I smothered a giggle as Nonna grabbed them back off him and thrust them in the case.

  ‘Right, that’s the car emptied,’ he said, brushing the dust from his hands. ‘Now I’ll go and fetch the rest of your clutter.’

  ‘Eh, not clutter! But don’t you want a cup of tea first?’ She tried to do the zip up on the case and gave up.

  But Dad was already out of the door.

  ‘No,’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

  I picked up the broken case, laid it on the single bed in Nonna’s room and went back into the kitchen.

  ‘What’s up with him?’ said Nonna, handing me a tea towel an
d pointing to the drainer full of clean mugs.

  ‘Derby County lost in the semi-final something-or-others,’ I said with a sigh. ‘Mum says he’s had a face like thunder all week.’

  I picked up a mug and stared at it. It was one of hers.

  ‘How long are you staying, Nonna?’

  She took a piece of biscotti from the tin and snapped it in two.

  ‘I don’t know. Couple of weeks. Until he doesn’t need me. How long a piece of wool?’

  I pressed a kiss to her cheek. ‘He’ll always need you, I reckon.’

  She grunted and lifted a shoulder. ‘I not so sure.’

  ‘Well, I am,’ I said firmly. ‘You’ve brought this place to life, and he adores you.’

  She looked down at her hands, plump and wrinkled and completely ringless.

  ‘He want me here as his nurse because it is better than going to stay with Angela, but I think I miss my chance with him. He not say anything about marriage ever again. I missed the bus; story of your nonna’s life.’

  My heart squeezed for her. I wondered whether to repeat what Stanley had just said, but decided against it. This was something they’d have to figure out for themselves.

  I opened all the cupboard doors until I found where to put Nonna’s mugs and began squeezing them in alongside Stanley’s.

  ‘He’s only just come out of hospital, remember. Isn’t marriage supposed to be one of the most stressful things a person can go through?’

  Nonna harrumphed. ‘Certainly was for me. But then I married a dicky head.’

  I smiled at that. ‘Perhaps Stanley feels he’s had enough stress for the moment. I’d give him time. Besides, didn’t you always say you wanted to live with him first anyway?’ I nudged her playfully. ‘This way you get your wish.’

  ‘No I don’t.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘We’re in separate bedrooms.’

  ‘Well,’ I cleared my throat, ‘I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time for that.’

  I didn’t like to dwell on what that might be.

  Nonna looked wistful and put the last piece of biscotti in her mouth.

  ‘Plenty of time?’ She tutted. ‘I seventy-five. Mind you, we had our first lovers’ tiff last night. That good sign. If you row with a man it show you hot for each other.’