Chapter 16
The next morning, I was frying eggs at the griddle with one hand and jotting down ideas for a village event with the other when Lia approached me, holding out a spoon.
‘Taste this,’ she said.
I blew on the food and opened my mouth for her to pop the spoonful in. It was packed with flavour: aubergines, tomatoes, garlic and herbs with a cheesy breadcrumbed crust.
‘Seriously good,’ I confirmed. ‘What is it?’
‘Aubergine Parmigiana. I thought I’d try something different, even though you’re resisting all my attempts to revamp the menu.’
I looked at my sister, her face animated and her smile wide, and felt a wave of pride for her.
‘I think you’ve found your talent, you know,’ I said, putting down my pencil and giving her a one-armed hug. ‘Cooking makes your eyes sparkle. Oh BOGOF!’
I released her and scribbled the word down.
‘I was going to say thank you,’ said Lia wryly, ‘but on that note …’
‘Not you. Buy one get one free,’ I said, turning my attention back to the griddle. ‘Juliet?’
I peered over my shoulder and waited for her to catch my eye. ‘Two eggs sunny side up for Barry, to go with the beans on toast.’
Juliet swooped into the kitchen with a warmed plate and some new orders and bore Barry’s breakfast away.
‘I’ll take over,’ said Lia, wrestling the spatula from my hand. ‘You go and scribble insults on your pad.’
I breathed a sigh of gratitude. ‘Thanks. I can’t relax until I know how we’re going to help Clementine make money from those seedlings with an event like I promised.’
‘Shouldn’t the café be your priority, now that you’re the manager?’
‘The café still is my priority; we’re having all the furniture renovated this week,’ I said, picking up my notebook and pencil. ‘Gabe should be here any minute.’
My heart gave a little leap. I’d made such a mess of last night. I’d made him think his job wasn’t good enough when really I admired all he’d achieved. I’d have to make it up to him today somehow.
‘Funny,’ she said slyly, cracking two more eggs into the pan. ‘I’ve never heard you say that the furniture needed work. Then Gabe turns up and hey presto.’
‘It was Nonna’s idea, not mine,’ I said, concentrating on keeping my features neutral. I checked through the café to see if he’d arrived. Not yet. Friends with benefits. I stared at the words I’d written and tried to ignore the fizzing in my stomach: ‘free plant with every purchase’ and ‘BOGOF’. Hardly thrilling.
‘Plus,’ I said, ‘he needs the work; we’re doing him a favour.’
‘With absolutely no ulterior motive,’ sniggered Lia.
‘Absolutely none. Anyway,’ I continued, blithely, ‘back to this event. If I’m smart about it, I can put the café on the map and help Clementine. I just need to come up with a plan.’
‘You’ll think of something,’ Lia said airily. ‘You’re brilliant like that. That is your talent. Besides, you’ll have to; the whole village is counting on you.’
‘No pressure then,’ I said with a groan and headed out of the kitchen.
The café was busy this morning and a huddle of customers queued at the counter; the weather was damp and drizzly and the people of Barnaby had obviously decided that a warm café was infinitely preferable to the chilly outdoors.
Juliet looked up from sprinkling chocolate powder on two cappuccinos and jerked her head towards a man behind the counter.
‘Just sign for that parcel,’ she said. ‘He’s been waiting ages.’
The courier held a large plastic bag out to me. ‘Name?’
‘Rosie Featherstone.’
‘Signature here, please.’
I signed for the parcel, which was addressed to Dad from a posh lingerie company, and dialled his number.
‘A parcel of ladies’ undergarments has just arrived, Dad. Is Dolly Parton making a comeback?’
‘Dolly? No! That was a one-night-only performance. This is a surprise for your mum. I couldn’t have them arriving in my office. People jump to all sorts of conclusions.’
They certainly do, I thought, remembering how Lia and I had done just that where Dad was concerned.
After a rather tongue-in-cheek write-up in the paper on Sunday about how midlife crisis affected professional men, featuring Dad in his sparkly dress, he had consigned his drag act to history. His agent, who it turned out was just a chap from a working men’s club in Sheffield, had been gutted; he’d already lined Dad up to sing at a stag party. Dad had appeased him by passing on the number of the Russian Cossack dancers from Liverpool. Now Gabe had got him interested in narrowboats and he’d bought himself a book on the history of English waterways. Mum wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or not.
‘How lovely,’ I said. ‘What’s this in aid of?’
He lowered his voice. ‘Remember when she caught me looking at bras online and she said to you she only wore plain boring ones?’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, not any more. I thought she deserved something beautiful, just like her.’
I felt a lump in my throat suddenly. How lovely to have someone to dream up little ways to brighten your life. I thought back to how I’d woken up with stomach cramps this morning; I’d have loved to have been able to nudge someone and ask if they wouldn’t mind fetching me some tablets or simply have given me a cuddle to make me feel better.
I shook myself; that wasn’t going to happen, was it? Not while I dispatched every suitor who came my way with a curt ‘thanks but no thanks’.
‘She’ll love it, Dad, and she’ll love you for thinking of her.’
I was still smiling about it when Stanley came in for his breakfast.
‘Awful out there,’ he said. ‘But I step in here and it’s like being on holiday.’
‘Glad to hear it.’ I helped him out of his wet anorak and he looked round automatically for Nonna.
‘And when Maria smiles at me, it’s like the sun comes out. Where is she this morning?’
My heart lunged again: someone else whose day was brightened by the existence of another.
‘Gone to see Clementine,’ I told him, as he settled himself into his armchair with the crossword. ‘For moral support when the new people turn up at the garden centre next door.’
‘Maria is a dear soul,’ said Stanley. ‘Such a good loyal friend.’
‘And always at the centre of any trouble,’ I added with a grin.
I could just imagine the pair of them at Clementine’s front window waving their fists in defiance as the buyers arrived to claim their investment.
‘In that case, I’ll have a bacon sandwich with both slices of bread buttered please,’ he said with a wink and spread his paper out on the table. ‘But don’t tell your grandmother.’
Nonna had been keeping an eye on his cholesterol since Clarence’s heart attack. Stanley pretended not to like it, but it was obvious he loved being cared for.
‘Sneaky,’ I replied. ‘Your secret’s safe with me, but in return, if you have any bright ideas to help Clementine sell those seedlings, do share them. I’m really struggling. All I’ve got so far is a buy-one-get-one-free promotion and I can’t see that attracting much interest.’
Stanley withdrew a pen from the breast pocket of his blazer and pulled the cap off.
‘Sometimes the harder you try to solve a puzzle, the more elusive the answer becomes.’ He took his glasses off and swapped them for another pair. ‘And when that happens I stop thinking about it and the answer always comes in the end.’
‘So I should try to forget about it?’
‘Exactly.’ He smiled and his blue eyes, magnified in his reading glasses, crinkled at the corners. He ran his fingers down the clues and began to read. ‘Fourteen down: just an obstruction of the heart; ten letters. Hmm. Aneurysm? No, too short …’
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gabe’s van drive slowly past looking for a parking spot. I had an obstruction of the heart too, I thought with a sigh, rendering me completely incapable of letting anyone in, and I had no idea how to get rid of it.
Gabe had picked Nonna up on his way to the café and she was full of news from Fearnley’s when the two of them came in.
‘All the plants being packed up and taken away on big lorry!’ she said, pausing to pinch a fresh basil leaf from a pot on a table and lift it to her nose. ‘We should have taken more; they not even checking what was there, just doing job as quick as possible. Dicky heads.’
Gabe nodded to the conservatory where every spare inch of space was covered in seed trays. People who couldn’t help us last night had promised to come in and collect them later on and we were storing them in the meantime. ‘You did pretty well, Maria. Besides, where would you have kept them without raising suspicion?’
‘True, you smart boy,’ Nonna admitted and went to say hello to Stanley, leaving me face to face with Gabe.
‘Hello again,’ I said.
My stomach gave a little flip. We’d parted as friends last night, but if I hadn’t been so quick to fob him off, perhaps things would have ended differently. And looking at him now, with a gentle smile lighting up his handsome face, his eyes studying me with such intensity that it felt as if he could read my mind, I felt a pang of regret.
‘Hello,’ he said, pulling the end of his tape measure out and then letting it zip back in. ‘Where shall I start?’
‘I have no idea,’ I admitted with a grin. ‘We’ve got customers at almost every table and tomato plants at the rest. How about I make you a coffee first?’
‘You see what I mean?’ said Gabe, nudging me softly with his shoulder. ‘Friends with benefits are the very best sort.’
‘Give me a flapjack with that,’ said Nina a bit later on when she came in for a toastie. ‘I need a sugar hit.’
I popped the largest square into a paper bag and pushed it across the counter. ‘Stressful morning?’
‘With knobs on,’ she confirmed. ‘The shop’s as dead as a dodo in this rain. Luckily we’ve had three Fone-A-Flower orders for big bouquets to do. But it’s not that. Fone-A-Flower have also sent me a weird email, wanting to renegotiate my terms. From next month, my territory will be reduced, so we’ll get far fewer orders.’
Juliet screwed the lid on to the smoothie maker, folded her arms and scowled. ‘Haven’t used Fone-A-Flower since I ordered some flowers for my mum. They arrived late, half dead and looking nothing like the website.’
Nina’s frown deepened. ‘My bouquets are always bursting with life and we’re never late.’
‘Just saying.’ Juliet turned the smoothie maker on and Nina poked her tongue out at her back.
‘I hate to break it to you,’ I said as I walked Nina to the door, ‘but it sounds to me like you might be getting a new competitor.’
‘My worst nightmare.’ Nina heaved a sigh. ‘There’s little enough business to go round as it is. And Juliet’s right, unfortunately: some florists do give Fone-A-Flower a bad name. They don’t seem to do proper checks on shops, you only have to fill in a few forms and send some pictures of your work and they add you to their stockist list. I don’t like them, but I couldn’t survive without them. Then again, I probably can’t survive with a new competitor either. Let me know if you hear anything on the grapevine, won’t you?’
‘Of course,’ I said, giving her arm a comforting squeeze as she opened the door.
As Nina left, a man came in I hadn’t seen before. He flicked his wet hood down to reveal a handsome face, bright eyes and a neatly trimmed beard.
‘Welcome to the Lemon Tree Café,’ I said, smoothing my hair down and hoping I didn’t smell of fried eggs.
‘Thanks.’ He looked round, nodding appreciatively, and gave me a warm smile. ‘Nice to be out of the rain.’
He shrugged his arms out of his raincoat and looked around for somewhere to hang it.
‘I’ll take that,’ I offered, admiring his outfit of tailored polo shirt, jeans and jacket.
‘Thanks.’
He handed me his coat and I found space for it on one of the coat pegs.
‘Mmm, what a lovely aroma! What coffee is this?’
My spirits lifted; we’d had a flurry of new likes on our Facebook page over the weekend and I’d even had some interest from food bloggers who reviewed cafés on their blogs. I had an inkling he could be one of those. He certainly seemed very interested.
‘We have it roasted exclusively,’ I said, tapping my nose. ‘It’s a secret but I can tell you it’s an Italian roast.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Impressive.’
We approached the counter together and he took a small notebook out of his pocket. I slipped behind the counter, leaving him to study the menu and the cakes under the glass domes.
‘So,’ I smiled at him, ‘anything tempt you?’
He raised an eyebrow playfully.
‘The exclusive coffee, obviously, black please,’ he said. ‘And what else do you recommend?’
Juliet looked up from slicing rolls.
‘I recommend that,’ she said, pointing to the blueberry crumble cake. ‘Our bestseller this week.’
‘Is that so,’ he said, writing a note in his book and slipping it back in his pocket. ‘I’ll have a slice of that, then, please.’
I chatted about what else sold well and he asked me where most of our customers came from while I made the coffee.
‘And how did you come across us?’ I placed his Americano on to the tray.
‘Word of mouth,’ he said, folding his arms and leaning on the counter with a smile.
‘The best form of marketing,’ I said happily.
‘You said virus marketing was the best sort?’ Juliet argued, cutting him a far slimmer slice of cake than I’d have done.
‘Viral,’ I corrected. ‘And it’s sort of the same thing; viral marketing is simply spreading the word digital-style, through blogs. Wouldn’t you say?’
I smiled at our charming customer.
‘I guess so.’ He held up a menu. ‘Mind if I take a copy?’
‘Be my guest,’ I said, pleased we seemed to be getting his approval. ‘Our Instagram and Twitter details are at the bottom, as is the wifi code. Anything else you need, let me know.’
‘Sure.’
I’d had the menus reprinted to give them a fresher look and I was really pleased with them.
‘You probably aren’t interested in lunch,’ I said, pointing to the blackboard, ‘but we do have an aubergine Parmigiana special on today. And feel free to take any photos.’
He looked amused. ‘Right,’ he said, picking up his tray. ‘The proof of the pudding, as they say …’
‘He’s as slippery as an eel, that one,’ Juliet hissed darkly as soon as he was out of earshot.
‘He’s a blogger; he’s just remaining aloof, that’s all,’ I whispered.
‘Aloof, my arse,’ I heard Juliet mutter under her breath. ‘If anyone wants me, I’ll be in the kitchen washing up.’
I rolled my eyes at my colleague; sometimes I despaired, I really did.
I had agreed with Gabe that he would take eight tables at a time to strip back and revarnish. He had driven four tables away in his van. I was expecting him back any minute for the others.
‘I’ve got it: impediment,’ I said, looking over Stanley’s shoulder at the crossword.
‘What’s that, dear?’ He lowered his reading glasses to peer at me.
‘Fourteen down. Just an obstruction to the heart. As in, if you know of any cause or just impediment why these two … blah, blah, blah, speak now or for ever hold your peace.’
‘Yes!’ He gave a bark of laughter. ‘It fits, thank you. I was thinking medical like angina or something.’
Stanley looked over at Nonna as she bustled to the door to let Gabe in and gave a little sigh. ‘Most of the time we are our own impediments, holding ourselves back from the things we most want.’
‘I agree,’ I murmured, unable to drag my eyes off Gabe as he tried to fend off Nonna’s attempts to feed him. ‘Daft, aren’t we?’
‘Absolutely.’
We both sighed.
‘Rightio, that’s it,’ Stanley said abruptly. He levered himself out of his chair and folded his paper. ‘I’m off.’
‘Where to?’ I asked, startled by his sudden movement. I held his coat out for him and he slipped his arms in before replying.
‘Bristol.’
It seemed a bit sudden but I kissed his cheek and waved him off.
‘Where he going in a hurry?’ Nonna demanded, watching her beau stride across the village green.
‘Bristol, apparently,’ I said, throwing Gabe a smile before going to help Juliet with the washing-up.
‘Mamma mia,’ said Nonna with a groan. ‘What he have to do that for?’
I blinked at her; perhaps ‘Bristol’ was some sort of old person’s code.
‘He didn’t say,’ I said with a shrug. ‘But he seemed very definite about it.’
Nonna tutted and shook her head and Gabe and I exchanged confused looks.
Whatever it meant, it seemed to be important to both of them. I would have stopped to find out, but the lunch rush was about to commence and I wanted to get the kitchen sorted.
‘Right, troops,’ I said, reaching for a tea towel, ‘help is at hand.’
Juliet had the radio on in the kitchen, much to Lia’s disgust.
‘I wouldn’t mind if it was something I could sing along to,’ she moaned.
‘Shush,’ said Juliet harshly. ‘It’s Gardeners’ Questions. The expert is just helping a listener choose plants for clay soil. That’s what we’ve got: a wet bog in winter and hard as brick in summer. I could do with some advice.’
‘That’s it!’ I started with a gasp. ‘That’s our event: Barnaby does Gardeners’ Questions. Stanley was right, I stopped thinking about my problem and now I’ve got a solution. We can build a massive publicity campaign and bring loads of people to the village with their questions.’
Juliet looked sceptical. ‘Only one problem, hen. How is that going to make money?’
‘Details, Juliet, mere details,’ I said confidently. ‘Barnaby might have lost its garden centre, but we’ve still got our resident expert who was the heart and soul of the garden centre anyway.’
‘Yay! Well done, sis!’ Lia hugged me. ‘I knew you’d do it.’
Just then Gabe and Lucas poked their heads into the kitchen, both looking very grave.
‘Sorry to barge in,’ said Gabe.
‘But we think we know who the new owner of the garden centre is,’ said Lucas, pressing his fingertips to his lips.
‘Who?’ we demanded.
‘I had a call from a greetings card supplier today, saying I’d no longer have exclusivity in this area for their range because a big player,’ Lucas added sarcastic air apostrophes, ‘is moving in.’
‘Nina had something similar happen to her with Fone-A-Flower,’ I added.
‘I hope it’s Waitrose,’ said Lia dreamily. ‘It’s a nightmare getting preserved lemons round here.’
I shot her a look.
‘It’s not Waitrose,’ said Gabe. ‘I asked my old boss from the law firm to look into that investor we met yesterday. Turns out he’s a scout for Garden Warehouse, he sources new sites for a fee.’
‘Oh no,’ I said, my heart sinking.
Garden Warehouse was a big retailer originally based up in the north, buying up cheap locations and erecting huge shed-like buildings. They sold everything under the sun, with the emphasis on the outdoors.
‘They have a huge gift section,’ said Lucas. ‘Cards, wrapping paper, the lot. I’ll fold, I just know it.’
Tears pricked his eyes and he turned into Gabe’s chest. Gabe patted his back stiffly.
‘There, there,’ he murmured.
Juliet’s eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t they do pet stuff as well, and fresh flowers?’
‘And don’t forget the café,’ I said, feeling sick with dread. ‘They always have a café.’
‘What are we going to do?’ Lia said in a shaky voice. ‘This could spell the end for our little business community.’
I blinked at her, trying to absorb the news: Garden Warehouse, the biggest chain of garden centres in the country, was coming to Barnaby.
‘I don’t know exactly,’ I said firmly, ‘but we will be putting up a damn good fight, that’s for sure.’