Chapter 35
The next morning at the café, I did my best to put that grabbing incident with Gabe behind me. He’d be busy working on his ‘rescue package’ today, so there was no chance that I’d see him. That and explaining to his new boss how his car door had come to be crumpled. I tied on my apron, plastered on a smile, and if anyone noticed that my eyes were a bit watery now and again, thankfully they didn’t mention it.
We had the nicest customers, I decided, later that afternoon. I counted up the tips and divided them into three envelopes, marked ‘Juliet’, ‘Doreen’ and ‘staff night out’. The show of support we’d had since Lia and I had taken over at the café had blown me away and not only in the size of their tips. It wasn’t just the pizzas either; people had been keen to try out our new brunch menu too. Even Doreen, who’d sworn blind that no sane person would ever eat avocado on toast, had had to eat her words.
Bookings for larger groups had also picked up again: Stella Derry had been in earlier to book the conservatory on Monday afternoon for an emergency meeting of the WI committee. She’d ordered afternoon tea for eight and had told me confidentially that the number-one issue on the agenda was Mum’s resignation and the election of a new president. The vicar had asked if we could do an extra-large pizza for the parish council meeting and we’d had two enquiries from mums wanting to know if we’d host children’s birthday parties, which Lia had been thrilled to say yes to. And everyone, without exception, had expressed how happy they were to see the café move with the times and most importantly remain in the village at the heart of the community.
Monetary matters sorted for the moment, I picked up my cleaning cloth and made a start on the serving area. It was almost the end of the afternoon, Lia had already gone to collect Arlo and Juliet was cleaning the outside tables. I might get my trainers out later, I thought, bending down to retrieve a dropped slice of salami, and go for a run down to the river, but not as far as The Neptune. I wasn’t ready to see Gabe again quite yet. Although in a village this size we wouldn’t be able to avoid each other for ever. Noah’s accident had called a halt to our argument and we’d ended up with our arms around each other but there was still a lot unsaid between us and I fully expected our next conversation to be heated.
‘A-hem.’
I straightened up to find myself face to face with Jamie Dawson, Garden Warehouse’s catering manager. He had a suitcase on wheels behind him and a stuffed giraffe under one arm.
So he was the one leaving. With a giraffe. No sign of the hip flask.
I fought the urge to laugh out loud and gave him the cool stare I saved especially for difficult customers.
‘What do you want?’
‘Gee, thanks for the welcome.’ He gave me a lopsided smile.
‘I don’t know how you’ve got the nerve to show your face in here,’ I said, spraying a mist of cleaning liquid on the counter and rubbing it vigorously.
‘It’ll be the very last time, I promise,’ he said meekly. ‘I’m leaving Barnaby tonight.’
‘If you want to know what this week’s bestseller is,’ said Juliet, barging into him on her way past with a full tray of dirty crockery, ‘it’s courgette and lime cake; I’ll let you have the recipe.’
I smirked.
We’d served it a couple of weeks ago when I’d over-ordered on courgettes for Lia’s courgette and parmesan soup. Juliet had used up the excess in a cake but it was green and sour and customers had voted with their feet. We’d happily share that one with the Cabin Café.
He scratched his beard and looked from Juliet to me. ‘Just a guess, but you don’t like me very much, do you?’
I fluttered my eyelashes innocently.
Jamie held up a hand. ‘I come in peace. And also for pizza.’
‘No can do,’ I said, pointing to the oven, which wasn’t lit. There wasn’t enough demand to offer pizzas after three o’clock; we had to think of our running costs. ‘You can have a dry scone and be grateful I’m serving you at all.’
‘Ever thought of entering the national warmest waitress of the year competition?’
There was a snort of derision and a clatter of plates from the kitchen. She can talk, I thought, shooting a dark look over my shoulder.
‘Take it or leave it,’ I said, slapping the scone on a plate; it was actually light and fluffy and not in the least bit dry.
‘Mmm, delicious. Better have a coffee with it too then.’
‘Anything for your friend?’ I nodded at the giraffe.
‘Very funny.’
He sauntered over to the nearest table, tucked his suitcase out of the way, set the giraffe down on a chair and returned for his order.
He held out a five-pound note and when I went to tweak it out of his hands he held on to it.
‘Don’t suppose you fancy joining me?’
I looked at the floor which needed a proper wash and the coffee machine covered in dried-on milk foam and coffee grounds and the pizza toppings which needed covering and putting away until tomorrow and sighed. ‘If I must.’
Pouring myself a glass of water, I took a seat opposite him and next to the giraffe.
‘Gladys, meet Rosie,’ said Jamie, stroking the giraffe’s neck. He turned to me. ‘Gladys isn’t a real Rothschild’s giraffe.’
‘Just as well, I don’t think we’re licensed for wild animals.’
‘Wild?’ He clapped his hands over Gladys’s ears. ‘Don’t listen. My team have sponsored a real giraffe at Chester Zoo, Gladys is just to remind me.’
‘So you’re leaving?’ I said, straightening up the coaster in front of me and setting my glass down in the corner of it.
He sliced into his scone and pressed a finger on the springy inside. He looked up at me and grinned. ‘I’d say this is fresh out of the oven.’
I shrugged, cursing the smile that threatened to give me away.
‘Yes. Going home to Kent for a long weekend. Then straight on to a new project in Bath on Monday.’
‘So the rumour is true.’ I quirked an eyebrow at him. ‘The Cabin Café isn’t doing very well and you’ve got the sack?’
He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence. No. Sorry to disappoint. My job is to get our cafés up and running smoothly. As soon as that happens, I get moved on to the next store opening.’
‘And is the plastic paradise running smoothly?’
His lips twitched. ‘Is that what people call it?’
‘Amongst other things.’ Actually, I’d just made that up but everything was plastic: the tables, chairs, the cutlery, the flowers and some unkind people might say the food …
He frowned and dug his knife into the pat of butter and spread it roughly. ‘Early days. Why, who told you it isn’t doing very well?’
I puffed out my cheeks and counted on my fingers.
‘Andy the postman, Doreen’s friend who shall remain nameless, Biddy’s sister who’s got mobility issues and got stuck in the doorframe in her motorized scooter and some idiot sent her flying down the ramp when he tried to free her.’
Jamie winced. ‘I think I remember that.’
‘Three members of the parish council,’ I continued, ‘the cleaner from the Cross Keys pub, a man who comes in here with two whippets. And my mum.’
He bit into his scone and munched for a few seconds. I folded my arms.
‘Can we talk off the record?’ he said softly.
‘No.’ I sipped my water. ‘I don’t trust you further than I can see you.’
Jamie shook his head and laughed softly. ‘How’s the new pizza oven doing?’
‘Keep your beak out.’
‘Rosie.’ He stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed his ankles and smiled lazily. ‘Off the record, Bath is my last job for Garden Warehouse; my wife is having a baby and I’m fed up with all the travelling. We plan on opening up our own café, or a bistro, not sure exactly.’ He shrugged. ‘But something special, somewhere without disposable spoons. Like this place. There. I’ve told you a secret. You could get me in trouble with that piece of info. I haven’t told the boss yet.’
I stared at him for a long moment. ‘What do you want, Jamie?’
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘To part as friends. We’re both in the business. And I love what you’ve done with this place. I admire you.’
‘I had no choice,’ I retorted, secretly pleased nonetheless. ‘We would have been ruined if I hadn’t done something. Remember the five hundred free cappuccinos? And you nicked our blueberry crumble cake!’
He held his hands up. ‘I know and I do regret that. If it’s any consolation, it didn’t sell for us.’
‘Frozen blueberries,’ I said. ‘You should have used fresh.’
He inclined his head, conceding defeat.
‘True that,’ Juliet piped up from the kitchen.
Jamie looked startled and I grinned at him.
‘But the free coffee thing, we always do that as an opening offer, it wasn’t to sabotage you. Scout’s honour.’
‘Well, thank you for your admiration,’ I said magnanimously. ‘And off the record, we probably wouldn’t have gone down the pizza route if Garden Warehouse hadn’t forced us to examine our offering. At least not as quickly, anyway. So we have you to thank for that.’
‘You’re offering something a bit different. And it has certainly taken us by surprise.’
I raised my eyebrows, pleased with myself.
‘Oh yeah, that day you had the pizza party wiped the smile off everyone’s faces at head office. The publicity you had on the radio, it blew our celebrity weather girl out of the water.’
‘That’s reassuring,’ I said, not bothering to wipe the smile off my own. ‘How’s your scone?’
‘Good,’ he said in a muffled voice through a mouthful.
‘Buttermilk,’ yelled Juliet. Her head appeared round the kitchen door, she bit her lip. ‘Shite. Didna mean to tell him that.’
Jamie laughed.
‘Anyway, they’ve learned their lesson. Garden Warehouse is an urban business through and through. They stuck their neck out with this Barnaby site, in a rural location. The price was irresistible and the boss had read an article about rural communities in crisis, not having access to shops, and had this romantic notion of being a knight in shining armour and saving the day.’
‘With a branch of Garden Warehouse?’ I sniggered.
‘Fair point.’ He grinned. ‘We will never be a destination store, not like the shops you’ve got in this village.’
‘What do you mean?’ I leaned forward, interested in his opinion, trying to remember why I’d disliked him so much and sort of wishing he wasn’t leaving any more.
‘“Let’s take a trip out to the Lemon Tree Café, make a day of it” is destination as opposed to: “let’s pop into Garden Warehouse while we’re in the area”. Basically, people won’t make a special trip to visit us.’
‘Unless they’re people who are really into plastic tat,’ I suggested.
‘They’re learning that not everyone wants that,’ Jamie said tactfully. ‘And we’ve got the menu wrong for this area too.’
‘Even though you copied from the best?’ I gave him a pointed look.
He winced. ‘I have apologized. And if it’s any consolation even our scones aren’t a patch on yours.’
‘Well, that’s something, I suppose.’
‘In fact,’ he gave a half-laugh, ‘someone at the management meeting yesterday suggested we started doing pizzas.’
I sat bolt upright in my chair. ‘You are kidding me?’
‘Nope. That new guy in legal services.’ He swigged the last of his coffee and set the cup back down. He smiled wryly. ‘Though what the café menu has got to do with him is debatable.’
Gabe. My head began to spin. I could hardly believe it. Gabe would do that? I expected he’d want to create a good impression in his first week by coming up with good ideas but that was a low blow. A very low blow indeed.
I swallowed. My face was all crumpled and cross.
‘And what happened? What was the outcome?’
‘I’d put that glass down if I were you.’ Jamie frowned at my hand.
I was gripping my glass of water so tightly that my finger ends had gone white. I set it on the table and looked at him. ‘Well?’
He shrugged. ‘I told him we didn’t have the facilities. Mark the boss seemed keen, though. Anyway, it’s up to them; my work here is done.’ He pulled a face. ‘Only one more “plastic paradise” to install and I’ll be on the phone picking your brains about opening my own café. In Kent,’ he added. ‘No competition to you.’
‘Yeah, sure, I’d be happy to,’ I said distractedly.
I knew we’d had our differences, Gabe and I, but this took the biscuit.
Jamie beamed. ‘Great, I could do with a mentor.’
‘Hardly,’ I scoffed. ‘We’re just a small rural café and I don’t know what I’m doing half the time.’
Jamie opened his mouth as if to argue, but the café phone rang. I shot him a look of apology and stood up to get it but Juliet beat me to it.
‘Who, hen? Will she know what it’s regarding? Oh, OK.’ She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. ‘Rosie, it’s Lucinda Miller, for you; says she’s an actress.’
Jamie’s jaw dropped. ‘The Lucinda Miller?’
I nodded. ‘We worked together, so yeah, probably.’
He got to his feet, laughing. He picked up his giraffe, collected his case and held out his hand.
‘Only a small rural café?’ He shook his head in amazement. ‘I think the Lemon Tree Café is far more than that. And you, Rosie, are one hell of a special girl. I hope we meet again.’
‘Bye,’ I said, shaking his hand. ‘And good luck with the new baby.’
I was still grinning when I took the receiver from Juliet. ‘Rosie Featherstone, can I help?’