Chapter 13
I spent the whole of the weekend with my head in the café’s accounts. Nonna hadn’t recorded so much as a single payment since parting company with her accountant a year ago and I needed to put everything in order to avoid getting into trouble before the tax office began asking awkward questions.
She had called in to my cottage with two shopping bags full of pieces of paper on Saturday and I’d given myself a headache trying to sort them into date order and input everything into a spreadsheet. But by Monday I was more or less straight and had even contacted an accountant friend of Dad’s to take a look at it. All this extra work meant that it was the following Tuesday before I had the chance to call Verity and tell her about hanging out with Gabe and Noah.
‘I know all about it and I am so proud of myself,’ said Verity smugly. ‘Gabe was moaning about their local school being rubbish and yet refusing to entertain any sensible suggestion I came up with. And then you mentioned your village school inspection. I dropped a few meteor-sized hints about Barnaby’s primary school being successful et voilà! Plus, he’s always had a soft spot for you. That helped.’
‘Has he?’ I asked casually.
‘Yeah. Since that time in the hospital last year. You were brilliant with Noah when Gabe and I were so upset.’
I cast my mind back to that awful night in Plumberry. Verity and I had been having cocktails in a restaurant when the call came through that Gloria, who was Gabe’s mother-in-law and Verity’s good friend, had been rushed to hospital. Gabe and Noah were already there when we arrived and I’d played with Noah while Gabe and Verity spoke to the doctors.
‘I was glad I could be of use. That was such a tough night.’
‘It was,’ Verity sighed. ‘But back to you and Gabe; tell me everything.’
I craned my neck to look into the conservatory, checking up on our business customers. Three men and one woman had been here for at least an hour having a meeting and I was chuffed to bits. I’d created a LinkedIn profile for the café last week in a bid to attract more business lunches and it seemed to be working. We never normally had customers who spent so much and stayed so long.
I laughed. ‘I’ve been round to the boat for hot dogs, Verity. That’s all. As friends.’
‘Oh I know, I know,’ she said blithely, ‘but even so. He invited a woman to The Neptune and he cooked for you.’
She said ‘cooked’ as if that was just the sweetest thing.
‘Verity Bloom,’ I said calmly, ‘he was glad to see a friendly face in a new place. That’s all. Nothing happened. Honestly.’
I was glad she couldn’t see my face right now; I was grinning from ear to ear remembering the fun the three of us had had toasting marshmallows under blankets and gazing up at Jupiter, pointed out ably by Noah.
There was something so intrinsically good about Gabe: his manner with Noah, the way he’d offered to help Clementine, even though he wasn’t a solicitor any more, and the way he’d accepted Dad’s invitation to the football, even though he must have had a million and one more pressing things to do. (Dad had had a great time with Gabe and Noah on Saturday, and he was already talking about the next home game.)
A man like that … well, even I’d be safe, wouldn’t I?
‘Of course nothing happened,’ she laughed. ‘He’s not your type. But do me a favour, will you?’
‘What?’ I said, feeling miffed that she’d dismissed the idea of Gabe and me so easily. Was I really that bad a prospect?
‘Introduce him to some single girls. Try to fix him up. It’s time he got back out there.’
I opened my mouth to argue that perhaps Gabe would prefer it if people stopped interfering in his life, but thought better of it; she just cared, that was all.
‘Sure, sure,’ I said, my eyes flicking to the door as Stella Derry helped her elderly mother inside and made the international sign for tea. I gave her the thumbs up. ‘Although I can’t think of anyone offhand.’
Anyway, the thought of another woman taking my place on his boat under the stars made my toes curl.
‘Well, keep your eyes peeled. And isn’t Noah just the best boy in the world?’
‘He’s a star,’ I agreed, remembering how he’d entertained me on Friday with his theory of why dinosaurs were ‘stinked’.
Noah had been in charge of the marshmallow toasting, getting far too close to the flames for my liking, and I had said as much to Gabe. He had been totally cool and said sometimes you have to learn the hard way. And then he’d said, “God you’re right, Mimi would have killed me …” Then he’d grinned and apologized for talking about Mimi again and I’d reassured him that I was glad she still managed to talk sense into him. And he’d kissed my cheek secretly when Noah wasn’t looking and said that he was pleased to have a friend in Barnaby.
‘Rosie?’ Verity said sharply. ‘Are you there?’
‘Hmm? Yes. I’m here. And Noah looked so cute in his school uniform yesterday.’
It had been the first day of the summer term and Noah had been the only new starter at the village school. He’d looked so little but, at the same time, grown up in his shirt and tie. They hadn’t come into the café, but Gabe had tapped on the window so that Noah could give us a twirl.
Verity fell quiet.
‘I’d have loved to have been there on his first day of school,’ she said after a pause. ‘As Mimi couldn’t be. Children need a mother figure in their lives, so badly. Oh well, you’re there now to help him. I’m sure you’ll do a great job.’
I laughed nervously and brought the call to an end. In the space of two minutes, Verity had successfully recruited me to be a matchmaker for Gabe and a mother figure for Noah. That woman should be running the country …
An hour later the party of business people were still there. Which was fine; they’d ordered plenty of drinks and now food, but they weren’t very friendly and covered up their documents when we went near them. I’d looked for company logos on their paperwork for a clue as to what they were up to but had spotted none. I was intrigued.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Lia, emerging from the kitchen with a tray of crispy jacket potatoes. Her cheeks were pink and tendrils of golden hair had slipped from her bun.
‘Have you?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you need a lie-down?’
She giggled. ‘I know! I think my baby brain doesn’t know what’s hit it. Talking of my baby. Look.’
She took her phone out of her pocket and showed Doreen and me a picture of Arlo wearing a big inflatable jacket and a striped swim nappy. ‘His first lesson. I don’t know who enjoyed it more, him or Mum.’
‘Ah,’ Doreen and I chorused dutifully.
‘Anyway.’ She stuffed her phone back in her pocket. ‘I was thinking that we could perhaps be a bit more adventurous with the menu.’
Doreen paused from cleaning the coffee machine.
‘We are adventurous,’ she said, looking put out. ‘Half the people round here had never had sourdough bread until we started doing it as an alternative toast option.’
‘Toast is not adventurous,’ Lia scoffed. ‘That’s what I’m talking about. We’ve got a proper kitchen through there but most of what we do is simply an assembly job: quiche with a salad garnish, jacket potatoes with bog-standard fillings, rolls filled with the usual suspects. Everything is fresh and delicious, but we don’t stand out from the crowd as much as we could.’
Doreen flicked her plait over her shoulder and stared at Lia. ‘Why would we want to stand out?’
‘We’re an Italian café in a Derbyshire village,’ I said. ‘I think that makes us already stand out.’
‘Italian decor, maybe. But if we’re going to attract more of those sorts of people,’ she nodded towards the conservatory, ‘we should jazz things up a bit.’
She had a point; the table of business people had scanned the menu rather despondently when ordering lunch. I’d steered them towards the pasta salad in the end, suggesting that it was easy to eat with one hand, seeing as none of them seemed able to put their phones down for more than two seconds.
‘Refreshing the menu is a good idea,’ I said diplomatically, ‘as long as we don’t upset our regulars with too much change.’
‘Fine.’ Lia sighed and trotted back to the kitchen.
‘She’s right.’ Doreen picked up her cloth and started attacking the dried-on milk splashes on the coffee machine with gusto. ‘The whole café is ready for an overhaul. I s’pose you’ll be wanting to get rid of an old-timer like me soon too.’
‘No way!’ I cried. ‘The café wouldn’t be the same without you. Remember when Lia and I used to come in after school to see you?’
She chuckled and nodded. ‘You both always wanted a fresh crust thick with butter and I used to have to cut both ends off a new loaf.’
I smiled at the memory. ‘Best part of my day that was.’
‘That’s nice to hear.’ She heaved a deep sigh. ‘And I’m glad; I’d hate to leave. This café has been the hub of the community for donkey’s years. Whenever there’ve been problems, the whole village has always congregated here to get things sorted. Like when the sewers got blocked with disposable nappies years ago and the village green flooded.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Clarence Fearnley drove down from the garden centre on his little digger. He scooped out the blockage into a big mound.’ She winced at the memory. ‘Not a pretty sight. Or smell.’
I shuddered. I’d had the pleasure of changing Arlo’s nappy once or twice and that had been bad enough.
‘And then everyone helped with spades and big black bin bags,’ she went on, misty-eyed. ‘Anyway, the point is that your nonna made this place the centre of it and, despite the stench and the state of the floorboards, it was great fun. Really brought the village together.’
I liked the idea of the Lemon Tree Café being the hub of the community. It was what I wanted social media to achieve, but it looked as though we’d been doing it for years anyway.
‘And,’ she tapped her nose, ‘the till didn’t stop ringing all day. We sold out of everything.’
‘Excuse me,’ said one of our business customers, waving her hand in the air to attract our attention. ‘Could you clear? We’re ready for coffee now. Four Americanos with milk. Oh sorry!’ she said with an apologetic laugh. ‘That’s just four normal coffees.’
‘Thanks for explaining that,’ Doreen muttered under her breath.
‘And can we have another couple of chairs? We’ll be joined by two others shortly.’
‘Of course,’ I said, wiping my hands on my apron.
‘I’ll clear and bring chairs from the table right next to them,’ said Doreen, picking up an empty tray. ‘You get the normal coffees on.’
I set four cups into saucers and felt a presence at my side. Lia whistled under her breath and pointed out of the window. ‘Isn’t that Gabe?’
A tall man was striding purposefully to the door. It was Gabe, but dressed so differently to the last time I’d seen him in his jeans and T-shirt that I had to look twice. He pushed the door open, checked his watch and scanned the café.
In a navy linen suit and soft pink shirt, he exuded style and assertiveness, helped in bucketloads by those intelligent grey eyes and confident smile. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
‘Check you out,’ I said.
‘Scrub up all right, don’t I?’ Gabe held his arms out to the side. ‘Good old Mum; those boxes of stuff turned up just at the right time. I haven’t dressed like this since I was an office boy. Although the least said about the patchwork quilt Noah decided to make while you and I were out on deck, the better. Fabric scraps everywhere.’
‘Sorry,’ I cringed, imagining Mimi’s wedding dress in tatters. ‘My fault for suggesting it.’
‘Don’t apologize,’ he said, giving me a look that made my insides melt. ‘It kept him occupied all weekend. And making a memory quilt is a lovely idea. Thank you.’
‘So you had a good weekend?’
‘Yes. Busy. Football on Saturday with your dad, then Clementine came round on Sunday, asking for help. Before I knew it, it was Monday, Noah started school and I took Clementine to see her bank manager.’
So she had taken him up on his offer of help; I was so pleased.
‘How did we all manage before you arrived?’ I said playfully.
‘It’s a nice feeling to be useful,’ he said shyly.
A man like Gabe could be very useful in all sorts of imaginative ways, I reflected, noticing a pinging in the pit of my stomach.
‘Why are you grinning like that?’ he asked.
‘Nothing.’ I shook myself. ‘Are you going to order something?’
‘Actually, I’m here for an appointment.’ He inclined his head discreetly to the business meeting in the conservatory. ‘With Clementine’s bank and an … other person.’ He cleared his throat, as if realizing he’d given too much away. ‘And Clementine will be here any moment too. I suggested holding it here rather than at the bank or the garden centre. I thought it would make a traumatic meeting less emotional for her if it was on neutral territory.’
‘Oh right.’ I blinked. So much for thinking it had been my amazing marketing skills that had brought them in. ‘A lovely thought, thanks.’
‘You’re welcome. Here she is now.’
Sure enough, the door opened slowly and Clementine, looking pale and gaunt in a black dress and pearls, glided towards us, her head high.
Gabe held out his arm and she clung on to it. ‘Are you ready?’ he asked.
‘Not really.’ She exhaled a shaky breath. ‘But let’s get it over with.’