Chapter 29
Bank holiday Monday was not a holiday for the staff of the Lemon Tree Café. Although it was a lot of fun.
I’d begun work as soon as I’d woken up, posting on Facebook that tomorrow we would host a pizza party, with a free slice of home-made Italian pizza to every single customer. And the first person who’d seen the news was Doreen who immediately phoned Juliet. Both of them turned up to work even though the café was closed and I’d been so grateful I’d kissed them and had made a pact that whatever happened on Tuesday, they’d both be getting a bonus in their wages.
Ed and Lia had set up the pizza oven, on loan from his parents, in the tiny yard at the back of the café and Dad had gone to find Mr Beecher, who apparently had a stash of fire-wood going spare at the school. Mum and Nonna were having a quiet day catching up on everything Nonna had learned on her trip, including showing Mum the pictures of her father that had been stuffed in that Manila envelope I’d been searching for and a handwritten book of family ice-cream recipes which Alba had thought we might like to have for the café.
While Lia and Juliet had experimented with getting the oven temperature right and deciding on pizza toppings, Doreen had set to work on a huge batch of dough and I’d chopped wood into oven-sized pieces and concocted a Facebook campaign to spread the word about our pizza party.
Over a celebratory bottle of prosecco when all the work had been done, I’d given everyone a pep talk.
‘Remember, folks, “loose lips sink ships”. Garden Warehouse is the enemy from now on. I know that you’ve got a friend who’s working there, Doreen, but our business has to stay that way: our business.’
Doreen nodded faithfully and mimed zipping her lips.
‘The next couple of weeks are critical,’ I continued. ‘The Cabin Café will have an unlimited marketing budget and if their opening strategy of free cappuccinos and copying our bestselling cake is anything to go by, they won’t take our free pizza strategy lying down. I fully expect them to retaliate and I don’t want them to know what we’re up to. We’ve got to beat them on everything – ambiance, service and, of course, food.’
‘What about price?’ Doreen had asked.
I shook my head. ‘I draw the line at that. I’m not devaluing my staff or our café. Take our coffee, for example. You want to drink cheap dishwater coffee, fine,’ I said with a defiant shrug, ‘go to the Cabin Café. But if you want—’
Doreen and Juliet pressed their hands to their mouths.
‘What?’
‘That shrug,’ said Doreen, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
‘Fine,’ Juliet mimicked, lifted her shoulders doing an impression of Nonna’s trademark Latin gesture.
Lia giggled. ‘You’ve got Nonna’s shrug to a tee. Two days in Italy and you’ve gone native.’
I laughed, acknowledging that they were right. But who cares; I came from a family determined not to be brought down by their circumstances. If I’d inherited some of Nonna’s feistiness and perhaps absorbed some of Paolo’s commitment to succeed, so much the better.
‘As I was saying, they’ve got the marketing budget to fight back. We might have free pizza tomorrow, but after that all we’ve got is—’
‘We’ve got you, you’re our secret weapon,’ said Doreen, her pink cheeks dimpling as she smiled. ‘I’d never have thought of doing this.’
‘True that.’ Juliet nodded, pounding her clenched fist into the palm of her hand. ‘We’ll wipe the floor with the bas—’
‘Actually, the pizza was Lia’s idea.’ I raised my glass to my sister and then to Doreen and Juliet. ‘And none of it would have been possible without either of you.’
It was Tuesday already and Garden Warehouse opened its Cabin Café at nine o’clock, by which time we’d prepped enough pizza toppings to feed the Italian army and had huge signs on the road leading to the Garden Warehouse advertising our pizza party.
The celebrity appearance they’d advertised turned out to be a local TV weather girl, someone I’d never heard of. She arrived dressed to the nines in a tight low-cut red dress and heels and flashed her impossibly white teeth at a small crowd of onlookers. She posed between the store manager and my nemesis, Jamie Dawson the catering manager, before cutting the ribbon. She then tottered behind the counter to pour the café’s very first cup of tea for the winner of the in-store prize draw for tea and cake for two.
Garden Warehouse had organized for a photographer to take publicity shots. But that was the sum total of any media coverage. According to Robin, our friendly junior reporter, in his email to me last night, his newspaper wouldn’t cover it because the weather girl was ‘from the competition’. I compared their poor turnout to the media splash we’d had for our Spring Fair and tried not to feel too smug about it.
I’d also received word about their food. As predicted, nothing spectacular to report. The sandwiches were so-so, the cake selection lacklustre and the coffee was not a patch on ours.
The news report came from Mum who had taken her friend Karen up there to spy on my behalf. The two ladies had shared a prawn sandwich that was heavy on mayo and light on prawns and a slice of walnut loaf which Mum suspected had been made before the bank holiday; she said it was so dry she didn’t know whether to eat it or scrub the hard skin on her feet with it.
So, all in all, perhaps not quite the auspicious start the Cabin Café had been hoping for.
Oh what a shame.
The radio station wasn’t covering the opening of the new café in their ‘where to eat this week’ slot either. And I knew that because they were on the phone to me. Live.
I’d planned on taking the call from the radio station in the café kitchen, but the constant arrival of customers holding their ‘free pizza with this voucher’ screenshot on their phones was making it difficult to concentrate.
I managed to nab the last free table in the conservatory, just as the producer warned me to stand by.
At the last moment, Tyson and Lucas, each carrying a mug of beef tea and a slice of pizza, appeared at the table. They pointed at the two empty chairs hopefully and I nodded for them to sit down. I looked for somewhere else to go but the producer was back in my ear whispering that the studio was coming to me in three, two, one …
‘And on the line we have Rosie from the Lemon Tree Café who is going to tell us … WHERE TO EAT THIS WEEK!’ Jeff, the radio presenter, boomed. ‘Hey there, Rosie!’
‘Buongiorno, Jeff!’ I plugged my free ear with my finger to block out the noise of our pleasingly packed café.
‘I understand you’re throwing a pizza party as we speak in the little village of Barnaby?’
‘That’s right. You’ll find us opposite the village green between Biddy’s Pet Shop and Nina’s Flowers and we’re giving a free slice of pizza to every customer today.’
‘Sounds fun! What gave you the idea for that?’ he asked in a jaunty voice.
‘My sister Lia is a talented cook and suggested that it was time our menu became more authentic, in line with our Italian heritage. My grandmother is from Sorrento where they serve the best pizza in the world.’
Somewhere behind me I heard Lia squeak. Lucas and Tyson looked from me to each other and pulled impressed faces.
‘Is that right?’ Jeff laughed. ‘So—’
‘Our pizzas are cooked traditionally in a wood-fired oven,’ I gabbled on, determined to say my piece. ‘The toppings are fresh and bursting with flavour, but the base is light, so it’s the perfect thing for lunch.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Tyson, folding the last mouthful of his Parma ham and mascarpone pizza into his mouth.
Lucas dabbed a spot of tomato sauce off Tyson’s chin and tutted affectionately.
‘And will you—’ Jeff began to ask.
‘We’ll be introducing the changes gradually, but in order to get feedback from customers, we decided to celebrate our new menu by giving all our customers a chance to try it. Completely free of charge. One large slice per person.’
I paused for breath, aware that I had talked over the poor man, but I knew I only had one chance to get the message across. I turned towards the counter and caught Lia’s eye.
You are ACE, she mouthed, giving me the double thumbs up.
‘Well …’ Jeff began hesitantly, probably thinking I was going to interrupt him again. I was tempted, but managed to hold my tongue. I didn’t want to appear too rude, after all. ‘I don’t know about our listeners, but my mouth is certainly watering. Make mine a pepperoni, I’ll be right over.’
I laughed coquettishly.
‘I’ll hold you to that, Jeff. Our cakes are pretty good too, and our coffee, if I say so myself, is the best you’ll taste in the region,’ I said boldly. ‘The Lemon Tree Café is the place to be in Barnaby right now if you want a pizza the action.’
The radio presenter guffawed at that and chimed in with his own cheesy joke, which included the leaning tower of pizza as its punchline. I reminded his listeners of our Facebook page and after bidding him a thickly accented ‘Ciao’, I ended the call and I blew out a long calming breath, pleased to have that over with.
A round of applause broke out behind me and I turned to see Doreen, Juliet, Lia and even a few customers clapping and cheering enthusiastically.
‘You are amazing!’ Lia squealed, darting towards me, arms wide. ‘A media star in the making!’
‘I don’t want to tempt fate,’ I said, unable to get the huge grin off my face, ‘but this is going even better than I imagined.’
‘That’ll put us on the map, hen, right enough,’ said Juliet.
‘We had every faith, didn’t we, Ju?’ Doreen nudged Juliet.
‘We did, Dor, we did.’
I raised an eyebrow; when did these two get so pally? Not that I was complaining.
‘Group hug!’ Lia extended her arm to include Doreen and Juliet and to my surprise they both dived in to be hugged.
‘Come on, girls,’ said Doreen, nodding towards the counter where a cluster of people was queuing up and glancing our way. ‘We’ve got customers. What’s Italian for let’s get a wiggle on?’
I left Doreen to serve the queue, Juliet to stretch dough into rounds and Lia to load the oven with a fresh batch of Caprese pizzas, while I cleared some tables and handed out some hastily printed new menus to customers.
We’d been blessed with a lovely day today. The spring sun was out in full force, bringing people out of their homes in droves after such a chilly weekend. Everywhere looked fresh and new; from the bluebells nodding gently along the edge of the stream opposite the café right up to the tops of the distant hills, which now glimmered in a hundred shades of green.
Inside, the café looked dressed for spring too. I’d splashed out and ordered posies of freesias for every table from Nina, which smelled heavenly. Mum had washed all the cushion covers and plumped up every cushion on every chair. I’d bought a few new toys from Lucas’s shop – heavy-duty wooden ones that even Alfie Sargent would struggle to break – and of course along the wall next to the old dresser was the row of photographs that Paolo had kindly emailed to me and I’d had blown up and framed.
But it was the sheer number of customers that was the biggest difference. There was someone at each table both inside and out on the pavement and while the pizzas were no doubt a big hit (Lia and Juliet, who’d been taking it in turns to shovel pizzas into the oven were both looking pink from the heat), we were selling everything else on the menu too. This level of business was unlikely to continue, but for now I felt incredibly grateful and more than a little proud.
At lunchtime, Ed came in with Arlo. The way my brother-in-law had the baby casually tucked under his arm made me smile; no pushchair, no changing bag, just him and his boy.
I sent him into the back yard to see Lia and he came back five minutes later munching a slice of garlic mushroom pizza, which Arlo was desperate to get his hands on. Ed pulled a piece of the crust off for him and placed a shy kiss on my cheek.
‘I just wanted to say thanks for giving Lia some responsibility,’ he said, scuffing his toe against the corner of the counter. ‘It means the world to her, you asking her to come up with this pizza menu.’
‘Some paid responsibility,’ I reassured him. ‘I do realize that I should have done that earlier, but we’re not exactly awash with cash.’
‘It’s not about the money,’ said Ed, meeting my eye finally. ‘It’s about self-esteem. She idolizes you, you know. She gauges her achievements by how she measures up to you and she constantly finds herself wanting.’
That made me feel very sad. My sister had always followed a different path to me, but it wasn’t better or worse. In some respects, I thought, looking at Arlo giving the piece of crust a good sucking, hers was a lot richer.
But if working at the café would help give Lia the self-esteem she lacked, I could sort that out right now. It probably wasn’t viable straight away. But what the hell? I was learning that taking risks and letting your heart rule your head was sometimes worth it and I felt that this might be one of those times.
‘I haven’t mentioned it yet,’ I whispered, checking no one was in earshot, ‘but I’m going to offer her a job. I know that’ll help out at home too.’
‘She’d like that.’ Ed laughed softly under his breath. ‘But I’ll let you into a secret. If I had my way, I’d like her not to work at all. Coming home to her and Arlo is the best bit of my day. And the food she’s been making …’ He looked down at his stomach. ‘I’m going to have to watch my figure. I know it’s an old-fashioned view, and I wouldn’t dream of holding her back, but there you have it.’
He hefted Arlo on to his shoulders. Arlo looked very precarious but he was beaming with gummy delight.
I looked at him quizzically. ‘I thought things were tight?’
He shook his head. ‘Cash flow was under pressure due to the office move, but the company is expanding. We don’t need her to work. But that’s not the point, she needs to feel valued.’
‘Understood.’ I tapped my nose. ‘And believe me, she is completely valued. It has just taken me a while to realize how much.’
Customers and friends continued to pop in all afternoon and I was thrilled to see Gina at three o’clock, just before the after-school rush, with the two little boys she’d been looking after last week.
After settling the boys at a table with the new wooden toys and a slice of pizza cut up into finger-sized morsels and a glass of water each, she joined me at the counter.
‘So,’ she said, pushing her pink hair out of her eyes, ‘tell me all about your Friday night.’
I finished slicing a fruit scone, set it on a plate with butter and jam and passed it to Doreen before answering and smiled at my old school friend.
‘It was like coming home,’ I said simply.
‘Ah, I’m so pleased,’ said Gina, her smile going all melty.
‘It was my first time, and some things were hard to hear. But I can’t wait to go again. Probably the best weekend of my life.’
‘Wow.’ Her eyes popped out on stalks. ‘Weekend?’
I nodded, happy to float off in a reverie of Italian memories for a moment. ‘There’s something about being so close to the ocean,’ I sighed, ‘the sky seems bigger and there’s more room to breathe.’
‘You are funny.’ She giggled and shoved my arm. ‘I think ocean is stretching it a bit, and I can’t imagine there’s much room on Gabe’s boat, but anyway … What?’
I was staring at her. Clearly we’d been talking at cross purposes. My stomach plummeted.
‘I wasn’t with Gabe; I took Nonna to Italy for the weekend.’
‘Whoopsie.’ She pressed a hand to her mouth, appalled by her own blunder. ‘I babysat Noah at my house on Friday. Gabe didn’t say who he was meeting, but he was all dressed up and smelled divine … Sorry.’ She cleared her throat and shrugged sheepishly. ‘I just assumed it was you. I wonder who it was, then.’
Hmm, I wondered that too, and I couldn’t help feeling a bit miffed. I’d seen him on Friday morning before my Italy trip to let him know I’d be away. He had told me he planned to work on the dresser on Saturday but hadn’t mentioned anything about ‘a date’. And of course, while it was none of my business, I thought he knew me well enough to confide in me, that was all. Especially after he’d literally been my shoulder to cry on the other day.
‘It’s fine, really,’ I said brightly, pasting on a smile. ‘I told you, Gabe and I are just friends. That’s all. He’s his own man, entitled to his secrets.’
‘Right.’ Gina didn’t look convinced.
I felt a sudden urge to extract myself from this conversation.
‘Here.’ I passed her a cup of tea. ‘On the house. And er … I think the boys are trying to attract your attention.’
Gina looked down to see two faces smeared in tomato sauce. One was in tears and the other had a piece of pizza wedged up his nose.
‘Oh joy,’ she groaned. ‘I’d better go and …’ She pressed her lips together. ‘Sorry about the Gabe thing.’
I smiled bravely and waved her apology away.
Good for Gabe, I told myself resolutely, dipping his toe back into romantic waters. This was an excellent thing. So why did I suddenly feel like crying?