Chapter 33
‘Everyone’s here,’ she hissed, pressing herself close to me, ‘except—’
‘Gabe.’
‘Gabe? I was going to say Ed.’ Lia raised an eyebrow.
‘I meant Ed,’ I said, fooling no one.
‘Gabe’s in London for a meeting, isn’t he?’ She chewed her lip. ‘Didn’t you know?’
‘Yeah, yeah, I remember now,’ I muttered, doing my utmost to conceal my disappointment, although what exactly I was disappointed about was tricky to pin down. Also, the grinning crowd seemed to be inching closer. ‘How do you know?’
‘Gina told me when we dropped Arlo off. Gabe had been in a flap, apparently. It’s his first day in a new job today and they sprung this meeting on him at the last minute. He asked Gina to take Noah in after school, but she’s at capacity and couldn’t help him.’
Oh God. Poor Gabe, poor Noah.
‘So where is Noah going?’ I said, feeling a bit sick and knowing that if things had been different, Gabe would have asked me. I so wish he’d asked me.
Lia shrugged and then yelped with joy. ‘My men!’
‘Sorry I’m late!’ cried Ed, running in to join the crowd with Arlo bouncing along, clutched to his side. He grinned at his wife and squeezed in between Mum and Dad.
And then Juliet and Doreen pushed into the middle of the café with trays of prosecco and people dived in until Nonna clapped her hands and everyone, even the bemused customers, fell silent.
‘No big speeches,’ said Nonna, passing Lia and me a glass each. ‘But I wish you lots of luck and love in the Lemon Tree Café.’
I couldn’t help noticing that she looked directly at me when she said ‘love’.
Everyone clinked glasses, Nina leapt forward with flowers for both of us, Lucas presented us with a gift-wrapped box which he insisted was nothing special and Lia and I were nudging each other to respond with a toast of our own when Juliet cleared her throat ominously and turned a furious shade of red. We all stopped talking again.
‘On behalf of Doreen and myself, I’d just like to say that in a café, of course, there are going to be bad days, when customers complain over nothing, or bugger off to that shite-hole café up the road to drink cat’s pee—’
‘Thank you,’ I said, stepping forward to cut her off, ‘for pointing that out.’
Doreen dropped her head into her hands.
Juliet continued obliviously: ‘Or we run out of wood, or dough, or the loos get blocked but—’
‘But mostly, there will be GOOD days,’ Doreen interrupted loudly. ‘And we wish you lots of those. Congratulations to Rosie and Lia!’
Everyone applauded, Doreen dragged Juliet back to the counter where they whipped out a huge celebratory cake and after a slice of that and downing their drinks, the other business owners said their goodbyes and went back to their shops. Ed kissed Lia and dashed off to take Arlo back to Gina’s and himself back to work, leaving Stella Derry, Mum and Dad to lend a hand clearing up.
‘We thought the occasion should be marked,’ said Dad, collecting up the empty bottles to hide the evidence of illegal alcohol consumption in unlicensed premises.
‘We are so proud of you both,’ said Mum, looking pink after her prosecco.
‘Thanks.’ I gave her a hug. ‘I’m really happy. It’s not what I expected to be doing, but I’m proud of what Lia and I have done too.’
She leaned into my ear.
‘Plus you succeeded where I failed, getting Nonna to finally hang up her apron,’ she said in a stage whisper.
But Nonna hadn’t had anything to hang her apron up for before Stanley, nothing to fill the gap, I thought, and simply hadn’t been ready to do so. But now, having faced up to her past, she was set to make the most of her future. She was quite an inspiration, my grandmother.
‘Mum has some news too, don’t you, Luisa?’ Dad prompted, putting an arm round her shoulders.
‘Oh?’ I smiled at her. ‘Do tell.’
‘I wasn’t going to mention it, I don’t want to steal your thunder on your opening day,’ said Mum coyly, clearly bursting to tell us. ‘It can wait.’
‘Are you ready to take over at the WI again? That is good news,’ said Stella unconvincingly.
Mum shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask the committee to release me from those duties permanently, Stella.’
She paused dramatically and Stella’s mouth formed an O.
‘Because I’ve been offered a position at The Chestnuts Cancer Hospice as fund-raising officer,’ Mum finished, smoothing her hair.
The cancer charity? I stared at Mum wondering when this had all happened.
Dad frowned. ‘Oh. I thought you were just volunteering two days a week?’
Mum elbowed him sharply and coughed.
‘Congratulations!’ I said. ‘You’ll be brilliant, but—’
‘I’ll be planning my first event very soon, Stella,’ said Mum, interrupting me smoothly. ‘I hope I can count on the Women’s Institute’s support?’
‘Of course!’ said Stella, darting to the counter with the last batch of dirty glasses. She hiked her handbag on to her shoulder. ‘So that’s definite, then, you’re definitely not coming back as president?’
‘Definitely,’ Mum confirmed.
‘I’ll go and let the rest of the committee know right away. Bye, all.’
I stood aside as Stella nearly knocked me over in her haste to spread the word. Lia led Dad away to show him the pizza oven, leaving Mum and me alone.
‘Where did this come from, Mum? I thought you were going to cut back on your voluntary work?’
‘My committees, yes,’ Mum corrected, looking shifty.
‘What’s the difference?’ I said, already feeling sorry for Dad, who had cherished the extra free evenings that his wife’s less cluttered diary had afforded them.
‘Remember the second-hand book stall that The Chestnuts Cancer Hospice had at the Barnaby Spring Fair?’
I nodded.
‘I bought a couple of books and got chatting to the volunteers and I realized that I’ve still got a lot to give. I’m only in my fifties, I want to make a proper contribution to something important, something that will make a real difference,’ she said self-consciously. ‘I was on the verge of offering to help in their charity shop when Helena, one of the managers, asked me who had organized the Spring Fair and … well, I may have embellished my role somewhat.’
‘Mum!’ I shook my head affectionately; she had attended all the meetings, and along with Lia had been responsible for the children’s activities, but strictly speaking, it had been a team effort.
‘I know,’ she said, nibbling her lip. ‘Before I knew it, Helena was begging me to bring my event-management skills to Chestnuts and I was so caught up in the whole notion of being useful that I agreed. Goodness knows how I’m going to live up to my own promises.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be fine,’ I said confidently. ‘You’re very good at … delegating.’
‘Giving orders, you mean.’ She gave me a knowing smile. ‘Don’t worry, I admit it.’
‘Well …’ I grinned.
‘All the committees I’ve been on … they filled the days after my redundancy and after you girls flew the nest. It’s hard, you know, one minute being the hub of the family and superfluous the next. And my own mother didn’t want me at the café, so I made myself indispensable in other ways, by doing what I was good at …’ She blushed. ‘Which turned out to be bossing people around.’
‘At least you’re honest,’ I said with a grin.
Mum gave a sheepish laugh. ‘But happily, that’s precisely what the cancer charity is looking for. And yes, I did tell your father it was only two days a week, but it can be more if I’d like it to be, and although it’s a voluntary position now, the manager said there is a chance of some budget for a salary later in the year and I’d like a bit of independence again.’
‘But what about your plans to spend more time with the family?’ If I knew Mum, two days would soon turn into five and before long she’d be too busy to take any time off to go on holiday with Dad.
‘Arlo is going to the childminder’s three days a week now and he won’t need me so much, and my evenings will still be free to go gallivanting with your father. But during the day I can do something useful, something less self-indulgent. Do you remember when my friend Karen had cancer and a group of us did a charity walk in our bras?’
I nodded. ‘You raised a fortune.’
The press had covered it and had printed a big picture of Mum and her friends in their bras decorated with feathers and sequins. Nonna had been horrified.
‘Doing that gave me such a buzz. I’d like to get that back, perhaps even do something in the village, like, I don’t know, set up a little support group, somewhere to go when you need to talk. They say charity begins at home, don’t they?’
She took a deep breath and smiled at me, her eyes were shining and I could almost see the ideas whirring round in her head.
‘They do and I think that’s a brilliant idea.’
I hugged her, thinking how proud I was of her and, come to that, of all the women in my family. Lia and Nonna were just the same: full of surprises, willing to take risks, daring to tackle new things and brave enough to admit their faults. They could teach me a lot, I reckoned. A sudden thought dawned on me.
‘What time does school finish?’ I asked.
‘Three fifteen,’ she replied.
‘Thanks.’
Gabe might not feel he could ask me to look after Noah, but there was nothing to stop me offering …
Gabe didn’t have anyone else in Barnaby, no backup, no support team to rely on when he was stuck at work or, like today, had a last-minute meeting foisted on him. My fingers itched to phone him, to let him know I’d help, that I’d always help out if he needed me. But I couldn’t. I’d yelled at him that we couldn’t be friends, I couldn’t just ring him now, in the middle of his first day at work and say, ‘Oh by the way, shall I look after Noah this afternoon?’
But I really wanted to. I missed him. I’d shoved all the nice bits about our friendship into the corner of my mind. For the last few weeks I’d focused on building a strong business, buttressing the café, protecting it from Garden Warehouse and that was partly because the Lemon Tree Café was very important to me, but partly so I didn’t have to think about what I might have thrown away.
Poor Gina, I bet she felt awful when she had to say no to Gabe; but there were serious penalties for looking after more children than you were licensed for, Gabe would have understood that. I pictured Noah’s cheerful little face, watching all his friends go home with their mums or grandparents and having to wait behind with the teacher until his dad came for him, and my heart squeezed for him. There was no need, no need at all.
Charity, as Mum rightly pointed out, begins at home.
Gabe and I might have our differences of opinion, I thought as I marched towards Barnaby Primary School with a crowd of others, but I wasn’t going to let that get in the way of doing the right thing where Noah was concerned. I’d take him back to the café until Gabe was able to pick him up and simply send him a quick text to let him know Noah was safe with me. That way I wouldn’t have to speak to him. Lia and I had spent most of our after-school afternoons in the café when Mum had been working: making up dance routines to Steps songs, chatting to customers and eating, a lot of eating. And there was no reason why Noah wouldn’t enjoy it too, although maybe not the dance routines …
The bell rang and Mr Beecher appeared from behind the wheelie bins and unlocked the gates and adults slowly overtook the playground, chattering in their little clusters. I looked around for Gina but couldn’t spot her so I stood awkwardly on my own where hopscotch had been painted on to the concrete, clutching the piece of cake I’d brought with me, and trying to work out where Noah might appear from. Then two school doors were flung wide and neat lines of children appeared behind their teachers. I scanned from one line to the other trying to spot Noah as each child was made to wait and dismissed individually when their expected adult was identified.
My confidence wavered for a moment; I hadn’t realized there would be such tight security. Never mind, Noah would vouch for me, it would be fine; it wasn’t as if I was an axe-murderer or anything. I stepped a bit closer to find him in the line-up.
‘Noah?’
I whirled round to see who’d called his name and recognized Fiona, Robbie’s mum, waving at the two boys as they stood next to their teacher at the top of the steps.
‘Hi,’ I said, joining her.
Fiona blinked at me in surprise. ‘Hi?’
‘Is that Noah’s teacher?’ I asked, pointing towards a young woman in a denim shift dress with big patch pockets and a whistle round her neck.
‘Miss Cresswell, yes.’ Fiona nodded and waved.
Robbie waved back and both boys were released by the teacher. Noah saw me and waved with both hands in the air.
‘I’ll go and explain to her that I can take Noah,’ I said as we walked up to meet the boys.
‘You can’t.’ Fiona looked at me. ‘Gabe asked me.’
‘Did he?’ I said, feeling a tiny stab of jealousy. ‘Right.’
It was my own fault. Of course Gabe would have asked Fiona. How idiotic of me to think he wouldn’t have made some arrangements for his boy.
‘Although I was a bit surprised,’ Fiona added sniffily, ‘after the last time.’
‘Oh?’ I looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate.
‘Anyway.’ She gave her head a little shake. ‘I hope Gabe’s not going to make a habit of it, it’s really not convenient.’
That did it. Noah wasn’t going where he wasn’t wanted, not when there was someone who really cared about him.
‘Excuse me, Miss Cresswell!’ I skirted a group of mums in front of me and waved my hand in the air to attract her attention, just as Noah’s firm little body barrelled into me.
‘ROSIE!’
‘Hey, dude.’ I bent down, laughing, and gave him a one-armed hug, while trying not to squash the cake in the other hand. I risked pressing a swift kiss into his unruly sandy hair before he pulled away.
Fiona and Miss Cresswell both arrived together.
‘Hello?’ said the teacher, smiling helpfully.
‘Hi, I’m Rosie,’ I began, wondering the best way to word this without offending Fiona who struck me as the sort to get easily miffed.
‘Is that cake?’ said Noah, wide-eyed, looking at the contents of the napkin.
Robbie, who was taller than his friend with pale blue eyes and spiky red hair, licked his lips. I’d only got one piece, but it was big enough to share.
‘It is.’ I beamed. ‘Would you like some too, Robbie?’
‘Do you know this lady, Noah?’ Miss Cresswell frowned as if I was some sort of child-catcher trying to lure him away with my buttercream icing.
‘Of course he does.’ I desperately tried not to frown; Miss Cresswell had been into the café, and although we hadn’t spoken, technically she knew me too.
Fiona produced two peeled carrots from a Tupperware box and pursed her lips. ‘I don’t condone sugary snacks after school.’
Robbie sighed and crunched into a carrot. I stifled a tut. Who begrudges a hungry boy a slice of home-made cake?
‘Yes, miss,’ Noah nodded, slipping his hand into mine, ‘Rosie is daddy’s friend.’
Hooray! I smiled triumphantly.
‘Rosie helped me cut up Mummy’s wedding dress with scissors.’
Fiona and Miss Cresswell recoiled as if they were in the presence of a she-devil.
‘It wasn’t quite like that,’ I stammered.
‘And she told me to make a slide out of my bedroom window.’ He nodded proudly.
Miss Cresswell stared at me. ‘Doesn’t he live on a boat?’
Fiona leaned into the teacher. ‘That’s why I won’t let Robbie go round to play. Floating death trap.’
This was not going well. At all.
‘I was joking,’ I said weakly, ‘because Noah wanted a bed with a slide.’
Miss Cresswell pressed her lips into a thin line and folded her arms; Fiona gave a humourless laugh.
Noah turned to Robbie. ‘You know Katy Perry?’
Robbie shook his head glumly, still sad about the carrot.
‘She’s a girl singer,’ Noah carried on blithely. ‘Daddy says Rosie looks like her. He says he wants to hear her roar.’
Miss Cresswell and Fiona exchanged appalled looks as Robbie and Noah began to roar like lions and run round the playground. At which point I realized I’d got as much chance of leaving school with Noah as Cruella de Vil would have adopting a puppy from Battersea Dogs Home.
‘You’ve clearly got this covered, Fiona,’ I said stoutly, and risking a public stoning, kissed Noah and thrust the cake into his hands. ‘I’ll leave Noah with you.’
‘I think that’s best,’ said Miss Cresswell, shooting a look of relief at Fiona. ‘Under the circumstances.’