Chapter 37
Candy’s message simply contained a phone number.
I didn’t give myself the chance to think it through, or talk myself out of it, or worry what the hell I was going to say. With my heart still racing, I called the number and on the first ring, Candy picked up.
‘Hello?’
I swallowed, my mouth dry. I wished I’d made some tea first, but it was too late now.
‘This is Rosie. Sorry to ring so early.’
I rolled my eyes at myself. Why on earth was I starting off with an apology?
‘I’m glad; I’ve been staring at the phone since I sent you my number.’
Candy’s voice was soft and low, a trace of a northern accent. I could hear her nerves too: rapid breathing, a slight tremble in her words. I didn’t recognize it as Callum’s. That might be because ten years had gone by, or maybe it was hormone tablets; I didn’t know much about these things. Suddenly I felt unsure of myself; do I blurt out ‘are you Callum?’ or was that un-pc? Or did the final moments of our relationship allow me to say what the hell I liked?
‘Look,’ said Candy in a rush, ‘I have to ask, are you going to the police? Is that why you’re ringing, because of that last night at the flat?’
‘So it is you,’ I murmured. ‘Bloody hell, Cal—Candy.’
She blew out a long shaky breath.
‘Yeah, it’s me. A lot has changed since I last saw you.’
I’ll say.
I didn’t really know why I was ringing, other than to finally close the door on a chapter in my history as Nonna had done in Sorrento. I suppose I’d expected to contact someone who’d be apologetic, who’d reassure me that he was a changed man. Instead, I found a changed woman. But I wasn’t going to involve the police. What purpose would it serve? Callum didn’t even exist any more; he was a she, not even the same person.
‘No. That’s not why I wanted to find you. I guess I’d hoped you would tell me that nothing like that had ever happened before or since. I guess I was just curious to find out what sort of man you’d become.’
‘Thank you, thank you.’ There was a pause. ‘I bet you didn’t expect to find I’d become a woman?’
‘Well, no.’ I smiled. ‘Bit of a conversation stopper.’
‘I’m glad you called,’ she continued. ‘I’ve lived under the shadow of what I did to you for the last ten years.’
‘You and me both.’
‘Oh shit,’ she groaned. ‘The stupid, stupid thing was that you were the best thing that had happened to me. If I hadn’t been such a coward, we could have been friends all these years, instead of me living in fear of this phone call.’
I swung my legs out of bed, pulled on a dressing gown and padded downstairs.
‘So tell me over a cup of tea,’ I said, switching on the kettle. ‘Tell me how Callum became Candy O’Connor.’
‘OK.’ I heard her making similar noises: the gush of water, the tinkling of spoons, the clunk of a mug.
‘Do you still have huge cups of tea with the tiniest splash of milk?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ I said with a hint of a smile. ‘I haven’t really changed at all. Now come on, spill the beans.’
‘I’d struggled with my gender for years,’ Candy began. ‘But I didn’t want to face up to it, I was afraid to. In my family, men are men and do manly things all day long …’
I made my tea and took it out into the garden. I wiped my sleeve over the damp seat of a chair and sat down, and in the still of the morning with the mist hovering over the distant peaks, Candy told me her story.
Mr O’Connor Senior was a builder and two of his sons, Jacko and Patrick (once he’d retired from rugby), both worked for him and took over the firm when their father died eight years ago. Kevin, the other brother, worked on the oil rigs. All of them were so undisputedly masculine that there was simply no space for the conversation Callum needed to have as a teenager, so he didn’t have it. He left home for university and tried to push aside the feelings of shame and guilt, just wishing he could be like his brothers, be the man his father thought he was. Nobody at home seemed to notice that he’d never brought a girl home until Jacko got married and had a baby. Then the pressure was on and the jokes from his brothers started up: are you gay or something?
‘Or something, I wanted to tell them,’ said Candy with a sigh. ‘But of course I didn’t. I did the most stupid thing I could have done: I decided to prove them wrong.’
‘So you hadn’t had a girlfriend until you met me?’
‘Nope. A virgin at twenty-two.’
I tried to cast my mind back to whether I’d suspected that, but nothing obvious sprang to mind.
I squeezed my eyes shut. This conversation was nothing like I’d imagined having. Instead of anger and accusations, I felt only sorrow and regret. I could see my younger self in my mind’s eye: full of fun, excited at life’s opportunities, totally self-absorbed, oblivious to the needs of others. My life revolved around me: my wants, my needs, my dreams. Callum had needed something, someone entirely different; I must have been blind not to have picked up on it.
‘Cal—Sorry Candy, I’m sorry, really sorry that I didn’t know any of this. And if it’s any consolation, you, well, you know, did OK.’
‘Oh God. I watched a LOT of videos,’ she said and suddenly we both laughed.
‘And please don’t apologize,’ she said. ‘We’re working up to the hard part here, remember?’
It was cool outside, the air was damp and even though I’d slipped my feet into my trainers and was in a thick dressing gown, I was shivering.
‘We don’t have to go over it, Candy,’ I said quietly. ‘Both of us know what happened.’
‘Let me say it; the very least I owe you is an apology and an explanation.’
‘OK, I’m listening,’ I murmured, wishing I’d listened more at the time.
‘I tried, I just thought if I could … I feel stupid even saying it out loud now, but I thought if I could just pretend, get a girlfriend and live like a man, I’d be OK. I couldn’t believe it when you agreed to go out with me; I had the social skills of a mollusc.’
‘You weren’t that bad,’ I insisted. ‘Besides, I like a challenge.’
‘I loved you, Rosie, but it was a desperate kind of love. When you started showing an interest in me, I thought, this is it, I can do this, this beautiful creature thinks I’m a man, so I am. And for a few weeks, it seemed to be working out.’
‘And then I ended it,’ I said heavily.
‘Yes. At the time it felt that my only chance at “normal life” had gone. I tried to cling to what we had. I’m so ashamed of what I did. I’ve looked back on that night a million times, shouting at myself to do the right thing, but of course that’s not possible. Callum raped you and there’s not a day goes by when I don’t think of that.’
A thread of cobweb caught my eye. It ran from the back of the other chair to the stone wall, glistening with dew. I watched as a tiny spider skimmed across it like an acrobat on a tightrope and disappeared from view. Callum had been living like that, on a tightrope, clinging on to me for balance. Until I cut him loose. And now Candy had cut him loose and had distanced herself from the events of that night.
I gripped the phone to my ear and listened to her breathing.
‘Was that the catalyst that made you face up to your gender issues?’
‘Oh yeah, without a doubt. I left London straight away, didn’t even take up that job offer I’d had. Left the UK, actually – spent a couple of years travelling. Only came back when my dad died. Felt really bad about that. Losing my dad hit my family really hard. But about a year after the funeral Mum sat me down and asked me if I was gay. That she’d always wondered, even when I was little, I seemed so much more delicate than her other boys. And it all came out. She’s been brilliant, actually, helped me get counselling, supporting me through my treatment and the surgery. My brothers were a different story … anyway. Water under the bridge. They’re coming round to it now.’
We chatted some more about family and careers; she was still in media, working for an independent film-maker in Leeds; she lived with her mum. We’d been on the phone for nearly an hour; it was time to get ready for work.
I picked up my empty mug and made my way back into the warmth of the cottage. I put the mug in the sink and went upstairs.
‘What made you get in touch now?’ Candy asked.
I thought of Lucinda and the advice I’d given her: about staying in control, about making others aware of what you will and won’t do.
‘I was angry – still – and I wanted you to know that I’d survived, I’ve made a success of life, I’m not a victim and I’ll never let anyone overpower me again.’
There was a heavy silence for a moment.
‘Right.’ Candy sounded thoughtful. ‘Do you mind me asking, are you single?’
I tucked the phone under my ear while I made my bed. It was a double, pillows each side, I slept on the left. The right side was neat and unremittingly unruffled. I wondered which side Gabe slept on.
I sighed. ‘Yes. That night left me with an overwhelming resistance to people, well to men. Actually, to be accurate, one man in particular.’
‘Go on.’
I closed my eyes and indulged myself with images of Gabe Green.
‘He’s called Gabe. I’d like to get to know him better, but I’ve developed such a tough suit of armour that it gets in the way and I repel him like oncoming fire.’
I told her about our near misses, our almost dates and mostly our arguments. And I told her how scared I had been to fall in love in case history repeated itself.
Candy groaned, repeating my name over and over, and saying how sorry she was.
‘The chances of you meeting a man who’s actually a woman living in a man’s body who then goes nuts and attacks you twice in your life are pretty slim. Listen, I’ve been in therapy for years. Take some advice from me, take the armour off, lower the drawbridge ever so slowly and tell him how you feel; let the guy in, love him and I bet he’ll love you right back.’
I conjured up Gabe’s face and wondered. Could I love him, would he love me right back?
I let out a long sigh. ‘I wish, I wish …’
‘What?’
I let myself flop down on the bed. ‘Oh that I could give you a hug, that’d I’d called five years ago, or before … I wish I’d been braver.’
There was a sniffle on the other end of the phone.
‘Me too, Rosie love, I wish all those things for me too.’
‘Funny really. Well, not funny exactly, but in those first few weeks after I left London, I thought you deserved to have your willy chopped off. So you couldn’t do it again.’
‘But I beat you to it,’ she said.
‘UGH, Candy! Too much information.’
I felt oddly peaceful after talking to Candy. In fact, there was a small serene smile on my face which refused to budge for several hours. Talking to her couldn’t change the past, but it did put it into perspective. Rightly or wrongly, I’d forgiven her and as a consequence I felt good. As Nonna had said, a door had closed on an unhappy part of my life. And the rest of my life was an open door.
I stayed like this until it dawned on me around mid-morning that the last time I’d felt so light and happy was after I’d confided in Gabe. I remembered how we’d both got soaked to the skin in the rain and he’d taken me back to the cottage, lit a fire and made me hot chocolate and listened, properly listened, and then made me feel safe and secure. When he’d been a true friend.
Oh God.
He had been such a good friend that day, but since then, he’d started working for Garden Warehouse and, if Jamie were to be believed, he’d suggested to his boss that pizzas might be the way forward in the Cabin Café. Not to mention grabbing me so roughly the other evening. I was so confused …
Friday mornings were always our busiest at the café. And today I was particularly glad of the distraction. By noon Juliet, Lia and I had served countless pots of tea and rounds of avocado on toast, umpteen cappuccinos and slices of cake and the vicar had been in to collect his extra-large pizza order. Juliet was having a clear-up outside and Lia was bracing herself for the lunchtime pizza orders when Mum popped her head round the door.
‘Any chance of a coffee and a chat, darling? My nerves are in tatters,’ she said, sinking down into an armchair and closing her eyes for an instant.
‘Sure,’ I said, taking a mug from the shelf. ‘But I …’
Mum’s eyes popped open. I’d been about to say that I couldn’t join her for a chat as I had lots of jobs to do, but Lucinda’s words were still ringing in my head about how much she missed having her mum to talk to.
I decided to turn a blind eye to the spilt milk on the floor and picked up a second mug. ‘… but I think I’ll have tea.’
I added a plate of biscuits to the tray and brought it across to the table. ‘How have your first couple of days at The Chestnuts Cancer Hospice been?’
Mum groaned, leaned forward and pressed her palms into her eyes. ‘Full on.’
‘That bad?’
‘I may have bitten off more than I can chew. My boss showed me into a giant cupboard yesterday, stuffed to the gunnels with second-hand designer clothes – too good to sell on the rails through the shop. Everything from Valentino to Versace. Wedding dresses, ball gowns … right down to designer jeans. She wants me to come up with a way to make money with them. An event.’
‘Sounds exciting, what are you thinking of?’
She pulled a face. ‘I haven’t got a clue. I’ve been racking my brain ever since, I barely slept last night. I think Nonna’s revelations about my father and our escape from Italy in the sixties have taken more out of me than I realized. I just don’t seem to have the energy or the focus, Rosie.’
It was so unlike Mum to admit any sort of weakness that I nearly spat out my tea. I peered at her; she did look a bit under the weather. And it struck me just how much she had gone through since finding out about her real father. Maybe she should put herself first for once and relax a bit. Not that she was likely to listen to me.
‘Perhaps you should postpone this volunteering job?’ I said tentatively. ‘Give yourself some time off?’
Predictably, she looked appalled.
‘I’m fine physically.’ She waved a hand dismissively. ‘And compared to the other volunteers, my life is a piece of cake. I met a lady called Sharon who is still having chemo. She goes on her own these days because she’s had so many appointments that her friends and her husband can’t take any more time off to go with her. Besides, I need to be busy.’
I raised an eyebrow. I wasn’t sure that was true, but seeing as I rarely took a day’s holiday, I couldn’t really argue.
‘So I have to pull myself together and organize an event,’ said Mum staunchly, taking a biscuit from the plate. ‘This charity is so important because there are hundreds of people just like Sharon.’
‘How can I help? What can I do?’
She lifted a shoulder. ‘Want to buy any second-hand dresses?’
‘I could,’ I said thoughtfully, an idea beginning to unfurl like a new spring leaf. ‘But I think I might know a really good way to sell them.’
I persuaded Mum to leave her fund-raising conundrum with me over the weekend and told her that we’d already thought that The Chestnuts Cancer Hospice could be the beneficiary of our next village event and maybe we could incorporate a clothing angle to it.
She was only too happy to take my advice and dashed off to the hospital where Nonna and Stanley were waiting to come home. The patient was finally being discharged but would need someone with him for the next couple of weeks. Angela had been most insistent that he come back to Bristol with her. But Stanley, seemingly quite enjoying being fought over, had convinced her that she already had far too much to do looking after her own family and he’d be better off at home. So Nonna had packed a case and was moving in with him for a while.
Later that afternoon, I was carrying a Margherita pizza to one of the outside tables when a big silver car glided swan-like around the green, came to a halt and reversed effortlessly into a parking space directly in front of the café. A short man in his fifties, with curly greying hair, an expensive suit and a squashed nose, bounced out of it. He glanced at the sign above the door and then at the potted lemon trees and waited for his passenger to emerge. And out climbed Gabe.
My heart jumped at the sight of him. Then I noticed his navy suit with a jacket that emphasized his broad shoulders and slim-fitting trousers showing off a rather shapely bottom and it jumped a bit more. Gabe was a man made to wear suits, I thought idly.
‘Enjoy,’ I said, setting the pizza down in front of the elderly couple who were sharing it.
‘That must be the big boss from you-know-where,’ Juliet hissed loudly, appearing beside me with a tray to collect empties.
‘Hmm,’ I said and began helping her load discarded plates on to her tray. ‘Fresh from ripping off some poor unsuspecting small business owners like Clementine, no doubt.’
‘Looks like they’re coming for a working lunch,’ said Juliet. ‘Cor, Gabe fills that suit very nicely, I must say.’
The boss-man and Gabe were reaching into the back seat for briefcases and things. I remembered Gabe holding a dust sheet over my head on that very spot and covering me with sawdust. It was almost impossible to reconcile that memory with the city slicker who stood before me, directing the other man to an empty table at the far end of the café’s stretch of pavement.
‘Hello, Gabe!’ Juliet called. ‘Nice to see you back again, isn’t it, Rosie?’
‘You too, Juliet.’ Gabe raised a hand, slipped his jacket off and took a seat quickly, studiously avoiding my eye.
‘Isn’t it?’ she repeated, nudging me.
‘Rumour has it that Gabe has suggested adding pizzas to the Cabin Café menu,’ I whispered to her. ‘So don’t be too nice.’
‘Says who?’ She scowled. ‘I don’t believe that of him. Not for a minute.’
I flushed. ‘Jamie Dawson, their catering manager.’
Juliet still didn’t like him, even if I’d warmed to him.
‘It was probably a joke, like: ha ha, perhaps we should start serving pizzas like the Lemon Tree Café. Rather than a plan to ruin us,’ she suggested.
‘They’ve certainly been scrutinizing the menu long enough,’ I said, nodding to Gabe’s table.
‘Because no one has taken their order, have they?’ she said severely and hefted the heavy tray back inside.
‘Right,’ I muttered under my breath, ‘let’s get this over with.’
I took out my order pad and stood at Gabe’s table, looking from him to his guest and hoping he couldn’t sense my nerves.
‘So, gentlemen, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company here at the Lemon Tree Café?’ I said brightly, as if Gabe and I had never exchanged a cross word.
‘Mark, this is Rosie Featherstone, joint owner of the café.’ Gabe’s eyes met mine briefly and then dropped back to the menu. ‘Rosie, meet Mark Cooper, managing director of the GW group.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’ Mark shook my hand firmly and gave me a friendly smile. ‘We’ve been stuck in an office all day working on a very boring deal. Gabe suggested we had a change of scenery for lunch, get some inspiration from your wonderful café.’
‘Inspiration?’ I flicked my eyes to Gabe who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
‘He was right as usual,’ Mark continued. He took a pair of sunglasses from the breast pocket of his jacket and popped them on. ‘What could be nicer than being outside, with a view of the village green?’
‘Inspiration for what?’ I repeated, staring at Gabe. Jamie was right; they were seriously looking at our pizza menu.
‘For real life,’ said Mark. ‘I’m guilty of not seeing past the figures, whereas Gabe’s rather more philanthropic; he reminds me that we have to consider the people behind the shopfronts. He suggested we leave the spreadsheets for a while and get some sunshine. We make a good team.’
He clapped Gabe on the shoulder.
I folded my arms. ‘Is this the takeover you were telling me about? The proposal to—’
Gabe coughed suddenly and began banging his chest.
‘Sorry,’ he gasped. ‘Swallowed a fly.’
Mark leaned forward in his chair. He looked from me to Gabe. ‘Are you two an item? Because this is confidential.’
‘No,’ Gabe and I both said together.
‘Just friends,’ Gabe added.
I glared at him. ‘That’s debatable. And don’t worry, Mark, he didn’t tell me any details, and frankly I’m not interested in hearing how Garden Warehouse plans to ruin another chunk of England’s retail landscape.’
Gabe inhaled sharply.
‘Wow,’ I heard Mark mutter as I strutted away. ‘She’s a feisty one.’
I glanced down at my order pad, which was completely blank. Damn it. I turned round and marched back.
‘Can I take your order please?’
They both ordered pizza, naturally. Before I left the table Mark stood up and pointed inside.
‘I’ll just go and find the little boys’ room.’
Leaving me facing Gabe. I felt my heart beat faster.
‘I’ll go and put your order into the kitchen.’
‘Rosie.’
Gabe gently put his hand on mine. His touch shot through me like a bolt of electricity.
‘I really am sorry about the way I behaved the other day, before Noah had that accident. I hope you know that I’m not someone who would push a woman around. I grabbed you and I, of all people, should have known how that would make you react.’
I nodded, not knowing what to say.
I really wanted to tell him about Callum – about Candy – about how I’d talked it through with her and made my peace with what had happened. How I regretted not being more sensitive to someone who was crying out for help. But this wasn’t the place. Not now, and certainly not here.
He looked at me with those soft grey eyes and I felt my insides melt.
‘The stupid thing is that I stopped the car to try to mend our broken friendship, to thank you for trying to help out at school, but all I did was push you further away. I am truly, truly sorry.’
I nodded, feeling close to tears all of a sudden. This was an olive branch, a peace offering, a chance to put our argument behind us. Anyone else would have taken it gladly. Unfortunately, I seemed to have been born for battle.
‘Then why bring him here?’ I said sadly, nodding towards Mark’s chair.
Gabe blinked. ‘You don’t want our custom?’
‘Not if it comes at a price.’ I looked through the café windows. ‘Look – Mark’s in there now talking to Lia.’
‘I thought he might.’ He smiled. ‘I knew he’d be interested in the pizza oven.’
‘So it’s true.’ My throat tightened. ‘You want pizzas for the Cabin Café?’
He half laughed. ‘Blimey, news travels fast.’
I stared at him, not believing what I was hearing; how could he be so blasé about it?
‘It’s just an idea but I thought as it is working so well here, why not expand the reach? The Cabin Café could—’
I balled my fists. ‘I’d like you to leave.’
‘What?’ Gabe’s face drained of colour and he raked a hand through his hair.
‘You’ve done enough damage and I want you to leave,’ I said, far more calmly than I felt.
‘What have I done now? And what about Mark? My boss is going to wonder what’s going on. You’ve already nearly dropped me in it by mentioning the Home Stores takeover.’
‘I wasn’t to know.’ I shrugged, although privately I did feel a bit bad about that.
‘Rosie,’ he said calmly, ‘believe it or not I need this job. I’m already skating on thin ice after trashing my car door on day three.’
My heart tweaked for him, despite myself.
‘All right, you can stay for lunch. But then that’s it; you’ve had your final chance with me.’
Gabe’s jaw dropped.
‘Bloody unbelievable,’ he muttered. ‘You are the most difficult person to help in the entire universe.’
He thumped the table and the couple next door to him stopped chewing on their pizzas and flinched.
‘Help? Help?’ I hissed, trying to keep my voice down. ‘In case it’s escaped your notice, Boy Wonder, I don’t need help. And if I did it would be because of the newly opened café trying to steal our business. And who do we have to thank for that?’ I tapped my cheek with my pencil, pretending to think. ‘Oh yes. That would be you.’
Gabe’s eyes burned angrily. I could feel my chest rising and falling as I tried to get my breathing under control.
‘OK, OK.’ He threw his hands up. ‘Got the message.’
‘Good.’ I span round on my heels, eager to get away before the tears came.
‘Rosie, wait.’ Gabe’s voice was barely audible.
I froze, not wanting to turn back, not wanting him to see my expression.
Why do we do this? I wondered. Why do I do this? He makes me so mad and yet … and yet I’m crazy about him too.
‘I’ve spoken to the school. You’re approved to pick Noah up from now on. Because … because I need help sometimes, even if you don’t.’
His words hit my heart like tiny arrows.
‘OK,’ I said hoarsely, nodding. ‘Fine.’
I marched inside, brushing past Mark on his way back to the table. I handed Lia their order and then I carried on going through the café and out into the courtyard where I let the tears of frustration roll down my cheeks and felt like an utterly, utterly terrible person.