Gabe snapped the radio off with a groan. ‘I sounded like an idiot.’
‘You are KIDDING!’ I stared at him disbelievingly. ‘You were amazing, Gabe! Seriously. I’m so proud of you. And what you said about families was lovely, really lovely.’
And embarrassingly similar to what I’d just said to Mark in a far more accusatory tone.
‘Thank you.’ He stared ahead as the car’s satnav informed him to turn left at the next junction.
‘Perhaps I was a bit quick to judge Garden Warehouse,’ I admitted. ‘Everyone else seems in favour of it. You’re enjoying this job, aren’t you?’
He wrinkled his nose. ‘I am. It’s just hard, you know, with Noah. I thought it would be easier now he’s a bit older, but,’ he shrugged, ‘he’s only been in school five minutes and already they’ve got a week off next week. Luckily Verity has offered to have him, but it’s not going to be easy.’
‘I’ll help whenever I can,’ I said. ‘Now I’m officially approved.’
‘Thanks.’ His face broke into a smile and then dropped again. ‘The thing is Mark really wants me to go to head office.’
‘When?’ I reached for my phone. ‘Because I can look after Noah, I’ll put it in my calendar now.’
‘Well, it might be more of a …’ He coughed and looked uncomfortable. ‘Regular thing.’
‘I don’t mind,’ I said cheerfully. ‘Did I tell you Lia and I used to spend every afternoon in the café as kids? Noah could do the same. Oh hold on.’
A text came through on my phone. I opened it quickly, hoping it would be from Lia. But it was Gina:
Feeding ducks with the kids and came across this!!! Where’s he going?
I stared at the message, wondering what on earth she meant, when a second text came through from her. This one was just a photograph of a woman in overalls next to a houseboat by the river. I zoomed in on it to see that the woman was nailing a FOR SALE sign to Gabe’s boat.
My heart plummeted.
Was that what he wanted to tell me? That he was selling up and leaving Barnaby?
I looked across at his handsome profile, the tip of his tongue protruding as he checked both ways at a junction. I didn’t want him to leave. But what did he have to stay for? I’d done nothing but argue with him and shout at him since he arrived. And he’d just said how much he loved his job.
I wish I could strip everything away – our jobs, our differences, our pasts – and just be. Just be together. The three of us. But life wasn’t like that, was it? It was messy and complicated and we were all to a greater or lesser extent a product of everything that has gone before.
Yes, Callum had made me reluctant to let anyone close to me, but I’d faced that now and whilst I’d never forget what happened, I could forgive, move on. I could go through the open door, just like Nonna, and love again.
We turned into a leafy lane and I stared at him, watching the dappled shade flicker across his face.
‘So you’re enjoying it, this new job, you’ve found your place in the world?’ I said softly.
He nodded. ‘Mark’s a good boss. He listens to my ideas – that means a lot to me, especially after being out of the corporate loop for so long. It’s reassuring to know that someone appreciates me.’
We pulled up at traffic lights. Gabe’s hand was on the gear stick. I took a deep breath and gently laid my hand over his.
‘I appreciate you too.’ I looked at him from under my lashes. ‘And I know we have our ups and downs, but we’re friends, aren’t we?’
He looked at me briefly just as the lights changed to green. He thrust the gear stick forward to change gear and my hand fell away. ‘I thought that wasn’t allowed any more?’
‘That was a mistake,’ I said, looking out of the window to hide my embarrassment. ‘Heat of the moment. You know what I’m like.’
‘Do I?’
‘Well, I …’ The words died on my tongue.
My heart throbbed as adrenalin flooded through me. I stared at his lovely face, not caring if he was aware, imprinting his smile, the curve of his cheek, the way his hair stuck up at the crown just like his son’s.
But there was so much more to Gabe than a handsome face. He was worldly-wise and hard-working and ambitious with strong family values. He’d loved and lost, but was still prepared to love again. He was quite simply, I realized, a good man. That was what made him attractive to me. Instinctively I felt that my heart would be safe in his hands. Or would have been. Because stupidly, I’d done exactly what Nonna had warned me not to do: I’d left it too late.
We drove past The Chestnuts Cancer Hospice charity shop, the last in a row of similarly despondent-looking façades, and then a sign for the hospice appeared on our left.
Gabe touched his top lip with the tip of his tongue and flicked the indicator on.
‘Rosie, when I said Mark wants me to go to head office, I meant permanently. To take a seat on the board.’
Hence selling the boat.
‘Oh right. Congratulations.’
I couldn’t think what else to say. I certainly wasn’t about to stand in his way, but the thought of him and Noah leaving Barnaby made my toes curl in my shoes.
We pulled into the car park of the hospice; Gabe scouted round for a space, not looking at me.
A woman in her fifties with shoulder-length blonde hair and big glasses appeared on the steps and waved at us with both arms.
‘I think that must be Helena.’
The Chestnuts Cancer Hospice was a large square building made of chunky red stone; it must have been a lovely smart residence at one time. It was still rather lovely now. It stood set back a little from a busy road and had a decent-sized car park at the front. I spotted Mum’s car in the end space, squeezed between a minibus and a row of prickly bushes.
‘Rosie?’ The woman marched towards us, hand out-stretched. ‘She’s a good bleeder your mum. Only a tiny nick to the back of the head, but she’s made quite a mess of the carpet.’
‘Sorry about that,’ I said, shaking her hand. ‘This is Gabe.’
He nodded at her. She cast an eye over him approvingly.
‘Do you run marathons? Triathlons?’
He shook his head. ‘’Fraid not.’
‘Pity,’ she said, marching back towards the building, her tweed skirt swishing against her thighs. ‘We’re always looking for fit volunteers to raise money. Come on through.’
Helena skimmed us through a wood-panelled reception so rapidly that I barely had time to smile at a girl in a headscarf with carefully drawn-on eyebrows behind a desk and take in the smell of beeswax and old wood and the delicate scent of a bunch of freesias on a table in the corner.
She turned abruptly through a doorway and Gabe nearly ran into the back of me as I changed direction to follow her.
Mum was slumped on a chair at one of two desks in the dim office with a bloody cloth pressed to the side of her head, a glass of water on the desk beside her and a bucket at her feet.
‘Darling!’ She sat up straight too quickly and then grimaced, blinking her eyes. ‘There was no need for you to come, I’ll be fine after a sit-down, I’m just overtired, that’s all,’ she said. And promptly threw up in the bucket.
Helena’s nostrils flared. She stomped to the window and opened it wide. I handed Mum the glass of water and stroked her hair and Gabe stepped forward with a handkerchief.
‘Mum, this has got to stop,’ I said. ‘You need to listen to your body even if you won’t listen to anyone else.’
She nodded weakly and grasped my hand. ‘I know. And I’ve decided to put this job on hold for a little while, just until I get my strength back. I’m sorry.’
‘Oh,’ said Helena, pouting, pointing to a small storeroom leading off the office. ‘But I thought you were going to organize an event for me?’
‘Well,’ said Mum with a sigh, ‘I suppose I could just do that one job.’
‘No,’ said a voice firmly. ‘You’ll do no such thing. Luisa, I’m
here now, to pick you up.’
We all turned to see Dad standing in the doorway. He swept across the room, giving me the tiniest wink and then with an extravagant manoeuvre, he took Mum in his arms, tipped her back and kissed her passionately.
If that isn’t a sign of true love, I thought, pushing the sick bucket out of the way of Dad’s feet, then nothing is.
‘Oh,’ Mum squeaked.
‘I’m taking you away from all this, right now,’ he declared. ‘I love you, Luisa, you’re selfless and kind and always the first to help others. But enough is enough. Now it’s time for me to take care of you.’
We stood back as he picked Mum up and staggered towards the door.
‘Oh, Alec,’ Mum said breathily. ‘That was so masterful.’
‘Actually, darling,’ he said with a wince, ‘my back … Do you mind if I put you down?’
Gabe and I grinned at each other and I turned to Helena who’d walked to the far side of the office and was staring into the storeroom in dismay.
‘Oh bugger,’ she said. ‘Luisa promised to help me with the designer stuff.’
The perimeter of the room was bulging with rails of clothes.
‘If you don’t mind hanging on for a couple of weeks,’ I said, tapping her on her shoulder, ‘I think I can help you out with this lot.’
Gabe reached in, tugged at the sleeve of a charcoal suit jacket and whistled. ‘Paul Smith!’
Helena regarded me over the top of her big glasses. ‘Are you volunteering?’ She swished across to her desk and picked up a clipboard. ‘Rosie, isn’t it?’
I had the feeling I needed to be firm with Helena.
‘Yes, but I’m only volunteering to help once,’ I said, holding my nerve, ‘on social media, but I need to confirm a model first.’
‘Well,’ she sighed, ‘beggars can’t be choosers. All help gratefully received, thank you.’
Helena’s eyes flicked over to Gabe who was shrugging his arms into the rather smart jacket. ‘You can try on the trousers if you like. I’ll shut the door.’
He looked at me. ‘Do you mind? It’ll only take a minute.’
I shook my head. ‘I’ll just call the café to check up on Mark.’
The phone at the café rang and rang and eventually switched to voicemail, which I tried to see as a good sign that we were busy and not a bad sign that Mark had got fed up with waiting for us and had disappeared with the takings, which was hardly likely seeing as in my haste I’d forgotten to charge this morning’s customers and there was a grand total of £4.49 in the till.
‘What do you think?’ Gabe asked, self-consciously turning full circle.
‘Made to measure,’ Helena purred.
‘Lovely,’ I said with a dry mouth, thinking that I’d quite like to see him without the suit on too.
‘Fifty pounds to you,’ said Helena.
Gabe pulled a face. ‘Will you take an IOU? I don’t have cash on me.’
‘I’m afraid not,’ she said with a sniff. ‘I don’t have time to chase creditors.’
‘I’ll buy it for you, I’d like to,’ I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. ‘As a leaving present.’
Gabe’s eyes met mine and he nodded and somehow I managed to smile back.
‘Thank you,’ he said simply and stepped backwards into the cupboard, reappearing thirty seconds later with the suit over his arm.
I handed over the cash to Helena and promised to be in touch soon.
‘Let’s get you back to your café, then,’ said Gabe. ‘And then Mark and I can finish our meeting and leave you in peace.’
‘Great,’ I said, trying to summon up enthusiasm.
Chapter 40
‘Oh my giddy AUNT!’ came an unmistakable squeal from inside the café.
‘Lia’s back,’ I said to Gabe as we approached the door.
‘And it looks like Mark hasn’t sent all your customers to the Cabin Café,’ he replied, arching an eyebrow at the busy scene before us.
The café was humming with customers, some of whom were braving a brisk breeze under the awning and the sound of laughter and clattering crockery spilled out through the open door.
‘He may have tried,’ I said sweetly. ‘But our customers know what’s good for them.’
Gabe laughed and very gently rested his fingers against my back as we walked in together. The sensation was tantalizing and I slowed down, just so he would bump into me and for one second our bodies would be touching. I turned quickly, catching the scent of him before he murmured an apology and I walked on.
‘Quick,’ Mark said to Lia when he spotted us, ‘look miserable, your sister’s here.’
He wasn’t looking quite as dapper as when he’d arrived. His forehead was shiny with perspiration, his curly grey hair had an awful lot of flour in it and he had a big blob of tomato sauce on the seat of his trousers. The serving area looked like there’d been a food fight and both he and Lia were giggling and dancing about to the radio, which was on much louder than normal (no wonder they didn’t hear the phone) and they both seemed to be enjoying themselves.
‘Ooh yes.’ She swept the hair from her pink face with her forearm and pulled the corners of her mouth down. ‘Mark and I have had a terrible time. How’s Mum?’
‘She’ll be fine.’ I reached for my apron from a peg behind the kitchen door, slightly annoyed at being cast in the role of killjoy. ‘She was whisked away by a tall dark handsome hero and they rode off into the sunset together. And Arlo’s jabs?’
‘Screamed the place down,’ said Lia, peering into the oven to check on a pizza. ‘And that was just me.’
‘Poor thing,’ I said with a smile.
She stood up and rubbed her tired eyes. ‘He was OK. It’s his teeth that are bothering him, his cheeks – both sets – are as red as … Mark’s … and he’s got terrible nappy rash. But hey, sleep’s for wimps anyway.’
‘Try crushed ice, Lia,’ said Gabe, ‘wrapped in a clean cloth, to suck on, not to put on his cheeks. Noah liked that.’
I felt a rush of affection and had to stop myself flinging my arms round him; there was nothing this man couldn’t handle.
‘I will, thanks,’ said Lia, raising her eyebrows thoughtfully.
‘That’s what I could do with.’ Mark pressed the cold can of squirty cream to his face and sighed. ‘And for the record, only one set of my cheeks are red.’
‘Wrong.’ Lia snorted and elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Have you seen your trousers?’
Mark, much to her amusement, tried to see behind his own back and groaned.
Gabe cleared his throat. ‘Mark, have you mentioned …?’
‘No.’ Mark’s face grew serious and he looked at Lia and then me. ‘When that next pizza is done, can we all have a chat? All four of us?’
I opened my mouth to say that we couldn’t all leave the counter (in true killjoy manner) but as luck would have it Doreen arrived, a little tearful, and after telling us that baby Bethany and her mum were doing well she bustled straight into action and shooed us all out of her way.
Five minutes later Lia and I were sipping cappuccinos in the conservatory and listening intently while Gabe and Mark outlined their pizza plan. To say I had got the wrong end of the stick was an understatement. Their proposal was for the Lemon Tree Café to completely take over the running of the Cabin Café.
‘So we’d have two cafés?’ Lia’s jaw dropped and she stared at me with a big goofy grin.
‘Correct,’ said Gabe. ‘We’ve suggested a one-year lease to begin with, with us putting up some of the initial investment for the kitchen.’
‘Is this the pizza oven I keep hearing about?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘I only received the figures last night; I wanted to have the full details before we discussed it. With both of you. What do you think?’
I hadn’t expected this in a million years; Lia and I were still getting to grips with running one café let alone two, but it was a fantastic opportunity.
‘I’m
… well … speechless,’ I stuttered.
‘God, that’s a first,’ Lia said with a smirk.
Gabe scratched his chin and I got the distinct impression he was trying not to laugh.
‘All our other branches are urban,’ Mark explained, stirring his coffee. ‘Our menu, our set-up, our ethos is geared towards that. We got it wrong here, and I hold my hands up, it was probably my fault. My wife said can’t we have a Garden Warehouse somewhere nice for once and with Fearnley’s coming on the market, I just snapped it up without enough research. Don’t get me wrong, the rest of the business is doing well. It’s just the café. We’re no competition for this place.’
‘Well, the Lemon Tree Café is a destination café,’ I said, parroting Jamie. ‘People make a special trip for our food.’
‘We agree,’ said Gabe, ‘which is why we thought that putting a second pizza oven in at Garden Warehouse would be such a winning idea. It would double your capacity, plus you could employ staff who want to work longer hours on the evenings that our store is open until nine at night.’
‘It would give you more flexibility too,’ Mark offered. ‘For when life gets in the way of work and you find yourself short staffed.’
‘That might be useful,’ I conceded.
‘Takeaways!’ said Lia. ‘We could offer takeaways from the Cabin Café – there’s much better parking there. Did I show you the boxes I’d found, Mark?’
The two of them began discussing printed over plain cartons and I found myself gazing at Gabe.
‘So this was always your plan?’ I murmured. ‘It was never to try to muscle in on our business.’
Gabe smiled ruefully and shook his head. ‘I thought you knew me better than that.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, feeling wretched.
Lia reached for my hand under the table and squeezed it. ‘I’m so excited.’
‘It’s all in here,’ said Mark, laying a thick white envelope on the table. ‘Our proposal, well, Gabe’s proposal. All his idea. We’ll leave you to mull it over. Now if you don’t mind I’d better get back to celebrating my anniversary while I still have a marriage to celebrate.’
The Lemon Tree Café Page 39