The Lemon Tree Café by Cathy Bramley (34)

Chapter 34

The good weather had continued for the next couple of days. And when the other shop owners all converged on the café at the same time as each other quite by chance on Wednesday afternoon, Lucas suggested we sit outside for a coffee and a catch-up. We were all there except Adrian who’d gone on a lads’ golfing week to the Algarve, and Clementine, who though not technically a village retailer any more I still thought of as part of our little business network. She was in a meeting with an editor about the possibility of a regular monthly magazine column and Tyson was spending the afternoon helping Lucas in the gift shop.

It was only two thirty; too early for the school crowd to start arriving, but that didn’t stop me keeping one eye on the green as everyone sorted themselves out with drinks and cake at the tables I’d hastily pushed together.

I thought I might hear from Gabe after my playground humiliation, but I hadn’t so far. I wasn’t sure if this was a good or a bad thing. I’d thought he might appreciate my attempt to help him out. On the other hand, he might be furious with me for trying to abduct his child. Lia pointed out that I was overthinking it; starting a new job was exhausting and he was probably falling into bed as soon as Noah went to sleep. But that didn’t help because then I couldn’t stop thinking about him lying tangled in the sheets, those long lashes resting on his cheeks, broad chest rising and falling and possibly a muscular buttock, just visible under …

‘Cheeky,’ said Lucas, smacking Ken’s hand away from the crumbs on his plate. ‘Get your own French fancy.’

‘Not allowed. The missis has put me on a diet,’ said Ken, patting his belly. ‘Told me I should get “lean in fifteen”, whatever that means.’

‘It’s the Instagram hashtag for a hot sports guy in shorts,’ said Lucas who blushed and popped the rest of his cake in his mouth. ‘Allegedly.’

Nina and Lia giggled; Biddy and Ken looked none the wiser.

‘Come and work with me, Ken,’ said Lia. ‘Making pizzas for a living is the best way to lose weight ever. I’m sick of the sight of them; I’ve gone right off my food.’

‘Ahem,’ I said, dragging my eyes away from the road and giving my sister a pointed look. ‘Although our pizzas are delicious, is what she meant to say.’

Lia clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Whoops. Are you sure you want to be in business with me, Rosie? I’m hardly known for my business skills.’

‘Nor me for my cooking skills,’ I reminded her. ‘Yet here we both are.’

‘Teamwork,’ said Biddy, slipping a piece of frankfurter under the table to Churchill, whose tail gave a happy thump against the table leg. She passed the rest to Ken who wolfed it down equally appreciatively. ‘We all benefit from that.’

‘And on that note, I’ll leave you business bods to discuss world domination, while I prepare some pizza samples for the cardboard box man,’ Lia said.

I smiled, watching her go back inside singing away to herself, stopping at the potted lemon trees either side of the door to pick off dead leaves just like Nonna used to do.

The ‘cardboard box man’ was actually a major supplier of pizza cartons. Lia had had the bright idea of offering a takeaway service – just a couple of times a week to start with, she thought. If any of us was planning world domination it was her. She was far more savvy than she gave herself credit for. I’d been too busy mooning over my disastrous love life to do anything more than take people’s orders accurately this week.

‘It must be nice having a partner,’ said Lucas wistfully, gazing over at his shop window where Tyson was inside, swishing cobwebs away with a feather duster. ‘Someone to lean on after a tough day.’

Nina rearranged the vase of greenery in the centre of the table, putting the larger stems in the centre and fanning out the more feathery sprigs. Fresh flowers were my little indulgence. We should really invest in some plastic posies but there was something lovely and authentic about having real ones. And I knew from a bit of secret snooping that the Cabin Café had plastic carnations, which already looked dusty. Besides, it was worth it to see Nina’s face light up when I went into the flower shop and placed my fortnightly order.

‘How about another charity event?’ said Nina. ‘Like the Barnaby Spring Fair. That was brilliant teamwork.’

‘That was a lovely day,’ agreed Biddy, removing her chunky crocheted cardigan and hanging it on the back of her chair. ‘We could call it the Barnaby Summer Fair.’

‘Anybody got any charity links?’ said Ken. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He picked up a napkin, wiped his head, refolded it perfectly and set it on the stack with the others.

‘Mum has,’ I said, making a mental note to collect every napkin from the table when we left, even the ones that looked unused. ‘The Chestnuts Cancer Hospice. Maybe any money raised could go to them. I’d like that, actually; it would give her some brownie points with her new boss.’

‘Perhaps we should sell veggies and stuff again?’ said Ken. ‘Keep with the gardening theme?’

‘Shame we can’t grow chestnuts,’ said Biddy. ‘Ooh, what about chestnut mushrooms?’

Everyone agreed that was a good idea, Ken said he’d talk to Clementine about growing mushrooms and I opened up my iPad to look at the calendar. A debate followed about suitable dates, trying to fit in around a dog show in Derby, various weddings that Nina was doing the flowers for, Lucas and Tyson’s weekend trip to Brighton and Ken’s annual pilgrimage to Blackpool. I didn’t have any events to plan around so I opened the café’s Twitter account to send a couple of promo tweets while they chatted, and found we’d had a lot of new notifications since I’d last been on this morning.

A hundred to be precise. One hundred new notifications. That was a record. I scrolled back through the activity to see if I could spot what might have triggered it. New followers, apparently: we’d had over fifty new followers in the last twenty-four hours. How odd. I was so engrossed in the task that Lucas had to nudge me twice.

‘First Saturday in July,’ he said. ‘OK with you?’

‘I expect so,’ I said distractedly as one particular new follower stood out from the rest. ‘Wow. Lucinda Miller has just followed us on Twitter! I’ve worked with her, or her agent at least.’

‘Who?’ Biddy and Ken said together.

Nina sat up tall. ‘The actress? Quick. Ask her if she wants to do a celebrity opening at our event.’

‘She’s followed us on Twitter, not asked to be friends in real life.’ I laughed, secretly hoping that she might ask exactly that.

‘I like her in Raw Recruits,’ said Lucas. ‘A proper woman with curves.’

I looked at him in surprise. He shrugged and rubbed his neck sheepishly.

‘And totally kick-ass,’ Nina added.

I clicked on Lucinda’s profile to check it was the Lucinda Miller: Actress currently in Raw Recruits, love my French bulldog Purdie, polka dots and tea. Yep, definitely her. That couldn’t be a coincidence, could it, that she’d followed us? It had to be because of our mutual connection? I followed her back. Seconds later a direct message popped up:

I typed one straight back.

God knows what I expected her to say to that. Anyway, before she had a chance to reply Ken dropped a bombshell.

‘We could ask Garden Warehouse if they want to sponsor our event,’ said Ken, offering a packet of sugar-free mints round the table. ‘Raise a few more quid.’

I glared at him. ‘Ken!’

He shrugged. ‘Why not? They’ll attract lots of people.’

‘Because, because,’ I stammered crossly, ‘they’ll take over, that’s why and they’re a threat to our village identity. This is a village event. Village businesses only. Agreed?’

I looked at the others for support.

Biddy was stroking Churchill’s head so vigorously that his fur was coming off in her hand. Nina was plucking fronds from a sprig of fern and Lucas was concentrating on collecting all the crumbs from his French fancy and putting them in its paper cake case.

‘Agreed?’ I said again.

Biddy raised her hand.

‘I know you’re very angry about them opening up, but I must be honest,’ she said timidly. ‘Since I converted a quarter of the shop into a grooming salon, business is doing better than before. I’m also doing a roaring trade in pamper products for dogs.’

‘I’m not angry,’ I said crossly. ‘I’m just—’

‘Pamper products?’ Nina pulled a face. ‘What like shampoo and conditioner?’

Biddy nodded. ‘And much more besides. We’ve got paw balm, detangle serum, breath spray, even doggie perfume. And,’ she looped her hair behind her ears self-consciously, ‘shoes and clothes.’

Nina giggled and said she thought Barnaby’s dogs weren’t looking so ‘ruff ruff’ these days and Lucas said he might like a dog, especially if he could dress it smartly.

‘As I said …’ I tapped the table with a spoon to get their attention.

They looked at me, startled, and I set the spoon down gently.

‘Sorry. We were all agreed; that company has invaded our territory, our small rural territory. I thought we were going to stand against them. Put up a united front.’

Ken chuckled. ‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist, love. This is Derbyshire, not Dunkirk.’

Biddy clasped her hands together meekly. ‘I’m sorry. But they’ve done me some good. Having them on my doorstep has forced me to rethink my range. I’m going upmarket and I rather like it.’

Having said her piece, Biddy went pink and buried her head in her mug.

‘I’m really happy for you, honestly,’ I said with a sigh. ‘Would anyone else like to include Garden Warehouse in our event?’

Lucas shrugged. ‘I’m easy. I have lost some sales of greetings cards, admittedly. They have a range of “five for a pound” cards; and that sort of product doesn’t belong in The Heavenly Gift Shop. But on the flip side, I’m selling more big items. One lovely lady came in this morning with an envelope full of money from the café—’

I eyed him beadily and folded my arms.

‘That awful Cabin Café,’ he clarified, realizing his mistake. ‘Someone is leaving and they had a whip-round. Spent fifty quid on a giant giraffe and a hip flask. That’s a lot for my shop and I’ve been dying to get rid of that giraffe; its neck was going limp.’

So someone was leaving the café already and it had only just opened. Odd.

‘What about you?’ I said, turning my attention to Nina, who was stripping the leaves off a eucalyptus twig.

‘Oh balls,’ she said heavily. ‘I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m doing better as well. And as usual, I have no idea why. Honestly, it’s a miracle I’m even in business at all.’

‘And I was never against it,’ Ken reminded me gruffly, patting my shoulder. ‘Remember? We all have to adapt, I said. And I have to say, girl,’ he gestured towards the pizza menu tucked between the vase and the pot of sugar sachets, ‘you’ve done that with knobs on.’

Adrian had had more customers in the pub too, especially for Sunday lunch. I seemed to be the only one still with an axe to grind.

‘Right. First Saturday in July. That’s agreed. Thanks very much, meeting adjourned.’ I snapped my iPad closed and stood up.

‘So are we going to approach Garden Warehouse for sponsorship?’ Lucas asked, turning to take a photograph of his own shop where Tyson was building a leaning tower of gift boxes in the window.

‘Not yet,’ I said vaguely. ‘Let’s, well, let’s just see, shall we?’

‘Back to work, then,’ said Nina, standing up and leaving some money on the table.

‘Me too,’ said Biddy, dropping half a frankfurter as she got to her feet.

Ken swooped down and picked it up before Churchill and popped it in his mouth with a gleeful, ‘Ha!’

The dog gave a disgruntled woof and they all walked off to their respective shops leaving me with the uncomfortable feeling that instead of a village-wide crusade against Garden Warehouse, there may just be a one-woman campaign.

Later that evening I was walking home from work, as I was about to turn into the path beside the churchyard a car pulled up alongside me. It was Gabe in his new car. Noah was in the back on a booster seat with a football and his dinosaur on his lap.

A frisson of heat rippled up through me, settling annoyingly on my cheeks; this was the first time I’d seen him since we’d argued. Over two weeks ago. Not that I was counting. Oh God, I’d missed his lovely smile.

Gabe wound down his window. ‘Hello.’

He leaned an arm out. He was wearing a white shirt and the sleeves were pushed up to the elbow. He looked very smart. This was the new corporate Gabe, the Garden Warehouse Gabe in his posh car.

‘Hello,’ I replied.

The word came out all croaky and awkward and I had a sudden flashback to being sixteen and a boy from sixth form, who I worshipped from afar, asking me out and me trying to sound cool but instead sounding like a Dalek. I cleared my throat and focused on Noah instead. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt and had mud on his face.

‘Hi, been playing football?’ I said, smiling at him as he held up the ball for inspection.

‘I scored a goal!’ he said and then aimed a kick at the seat in front.

‘Nice wheels.’ I risked a brief look at Gabe before admiring the car, which I assumed came with the job.

‘It was,’ Gabe said, shooting his son a warning look, ‘until they let us in it. Although a certain person prefers the old van.’

‘I like sitting in the front best.’ Noah scowled. ‘Now I have to sit in the back like a baby.’

‘Listen, Rosie, I’ve only just heard what happened at school on Monday,’ said Gabe, running a hand through his hair. It was standing up in peaks. I could just reach a hand in through the window and smooth it down … ‘Miss Cresswell told me when I picked Noah up from football club.’

‘Ah,’ I said, unsure whether I was in trouble or not.

He massaged his eyes briefly. His shirt was crumpled and he looked tired. I wondered how much of a strain it was on him, starting this new job and constantly having to worry about being there at the end of the school day for Noah.

‘Did I do the right thing? Well, obviously not,’ I laughed self-consciously, ‘because I was virtually frogmarched off the premises.’

‘Have you got any more cake?’ Noah piped up from the back.

I shook my head.

‘Come into the café,’ I said automatically, before catching Gabe’s eye.

‘I thought I was persona non grata?’ he murmured, tilting an eyebrow challengingly.

‘True.’ The pink flush to my cheeks ramped up to fuchsia. ‘But Noah isn’t.’

Gabe’s lips twitched at that.

‘Anyway, I didn’t stop the car to have another argument with you; I just wanted to thank you. It meant a lot that you’d pick Noah up from school.’ He fixed his soft grey eyes on me. ‘Even without parental permission.’

‘I didn’t think.’ I shrugged. ‘When I went to that school they just opened the doors at the end of the afternoon and we all wandered off. I hadn’t bargained on such tight security. But it’s a good thing. Better to be safe than sorry.’

‘Definitely, but I’m sorry if you were made to feel uncomfortable.’

‘If I ever have children I’ll just have to hope Miss Cresswell has left by then, I can’t show my face again.’

Gabe laughed softly, shaking his head. ‘I can imagine. She and Fiona together are a force to be reckoned with.’

I smiled and felt ridiculously happy all of a sudden. It was so good to be talking to him again. I said the first thing that came into my head.

‘I’ve missed you.’

He held my gaze and nodded. ‘Ditto.’

This time his voice was the one that cracked. He flushed and coughed, banging his chest extravagantly.

‘Dad, what’s for tea?’

Gabe rolled his eyes at me and grinned at his son in the rear-view mirror.

‘Will fish-finger sandwiches do you?’

‘YAY!’

‘Verity’s favourite,’ I said and smiled.

It was on the tip of my tongue to say ‘mine too’ in a subtle so-why-don’t-you-invite-me way. But we were making friends again, building trust; I didn’t want to push things. Besides, I was totally aware that I owed him an apology. And I’d do that any second …

Gabe looked wistful. ‘She and Mimi used to make them for me when we were students. My cooking skills haven’t evolved much since those days.’

I held a hand to my mouth and whispered behind it: ‘Don’t tell anyone, but you and me both.’

‘Congratulations to you and Lia on the café, by the way; everyone’s been telling me about your new pizza oven. Sounds great.’

He left the comment hanging in the air, but I knew what he was thinking; he hadn’t been in because I’d told him we couldn’t be friends …

I was an idiot. Everyone else, even Clementine who was most affected by the new store opening up right next to her house, seemed to have accepted them. It was only us at the café who were still so anti Garden Warehouse. And now, facing this man, who I had to admit made my heart skip like no one else had ever done, I couldn’t remember exactly what it was I had against them.

‘How’s the new job?’ I said, trying to keep my face neutral.

Gabe blinked at me in surprise and then rubbed a hand over his forehead. ‘Knackering. Totally knackering. We’re pulling a proposal together to take over another company, a family-owned retailer in homewares with about fifteen branches. They’ve got some great locations, but aren’t making money. I’m seeing my boss about it tomorrow to put a rescue package to the bank.’

I bristled and folded my arms tightly across my chest. There it was. That was what I had against them: their total disregard for the people behind the numbers. It was all about turning a profit, about how many pounds per square metre generated.

‘Not another family business? For goodness’ sake, Gabe, Garden Warehouse are a bunch of vultures, what are you going to offer them this time, ten pence per shop? How do you sleep at night?’

I glared at him, feeling my heart thudding angrily as the friendly atmosphere between us leached away into the cracks in the pavement at my feet.

‘Dad, I’m hungry. Can we go?’

Gabe glanced over his shoulder at Noah. ‘One second.’

Noah took another swipe at the seat with his foot.

‘It’s not like that, Rosie,’ he said evenly. ‘What sort of person do you think I am?’

‘Honestly? I thought you were the very best kind.’

He held my gaze with such an intensity that I felt my insides quiver. ‘Were?’

‘I don’t know any more,’ I murmured, not wanting to argue in front of the little boy. I managed a smile. ‘Bye, Noah.’

Gabe muttered something not fit for small ears and I turned on my heel and began to walk away from the car, towards the footpath at the side of the church where he couldn’t follow me. The car door slammed and I heard footsteps running towards me.

‘Rosie, I’m not letting you run away from me.’

He grabbed hold of my arm and spun me round to face him. A flame of anger crackled through me.

‘You’re not letting me? How dare you?’ I shouted in his face.

What was it with him and me? Five minutes in his company and I exploded with fury? And he … he’d used his size against me. Just like Callum. I couldn’t – wouldn’t – be bullied into doing something just because he had more physical strength than me.

He released me instantly and held his hands up in defence. ‘I’m sorry, God, I’m sorry. Rosie, I didn’t think—’

‘You of all people,’ I said breathlessly. My legs had turned to jelly and tears of anger weren’t far away, ‘should know that forcing me to do anything is unforgivable.’

He bowed his head. ‘I apologize unreservedly, but—’

‘Dad?’

‘Stay in the car, Noah,’ he ordered.

‘I’ve dropped the football out of the window.’

‘OK,’ he shouted. ‘I’ll get it.’

The sound of an engine approaching made us both turn to the road. And then time slowed down, each second stretching into a full-length horror movie as Noah flung open his car door just as a white van overtook Gabe’s car. There was no time for the driver to react. A sickening crunch of metal on metal splintered the evening air as the rear door was smashed back towards the car.

Screams seemed to bounce off every surface as Gabe and I tore back down the path to the road, both of us yelling Noah’s name. The van screeched to a halt and the driver, a man in his forties wearing work-stained clothes and sunglasses perched on his head, held his arms out to the side.

‘What the …?’

Gabe grabbed at the other rear door, wrenched it open and dived inside. I was right behind him, gulping at air to stop myself from being sick, filled with dread at what we might find.

‘Daddy,’ sobbed Noah, ‘I’m sorry.’

Oh, thank God.

Noah’s little face was white with terror, but he was still in one piece, clutching his dinosaur.

‘Are you OK?’ Gabe gasped, dragging the little boy from the car.

The van driver wiped a hand over his face and swore viciously. ‘I’m so sorry, mate; I didn’t see the door. Is he hurt?’

The door was a mass of twisted metal and shattered glass. Noah, miraculously, seemed completely unscathed.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Gabe, glancing at the driver. ‘And it wasn’t your fault.’

Gabe sank down on to the pavement, cradling his son in his arms.

I didn’t think twice. I threw my arms round both of them and hugged them like I never, ever wanted to let them go.

Our stupid row evaporated into the evening sunshine. Nothing else mattered. Only these two.

Later that night when Gabe had taken Noah home, I poured myself a glass of wine, pulled on a thick jumper and sat in my garden in the dark and went over and over what had happened this evening with Gabe on the pavement and then afterwards with the crash.

Two things I knew: first, I wasn’t over Callum after all. Far from it. What had happened with him had made me lock away my heart where no one could hurt it. And second, Gabe and Noah may just hold the key.