Chapter 38
It was Saturday. Stanley had been home for twenty-four hours and Nonna was moving in properly today. I arrived at his bungalow after work with a chunk of Stanley’s favourite chocolate cake and some biscotti for Nonna as Dad was unloading some of her things from the boot of his car.
‘Honestly,’ he said, shaking his head as he pulled out a box marked ‘empty jars’, ‘women.’
‘On behalf of women everywhere,’ I said, kissing his grumpy face, ‘I apologize.’
I left him grunting to himself and went inside.
The bungalow already seemed a brighter place: there was a vase of tulips and hyacinths in the hall, replacing the faded fake flowers I’d seen on my last visit. The air smelled fresh and there was something delicious wafting from the kitchen.
I found Stanley in the living room on a recliner chair, two brown slippers peeping out from under a blanket. His face looked a little pale and he’d lost quite a bit of weight, but his blue eyes still held a sparkle.
‘Welcome to Antarctica,’ he said, holding up his cheek to be kissed.
The window was open and a fresh breeze ruffled his white hair which hung round the back of his head from ear to ear like bunting.
‘Shall I close that?’ I asked, shivering as I sat on the sofa next to him.
He shook his head and pulled the blanket under his chin. ‘I need fresh air, apparently. Amongst other unpleasant things. Normally I like air. In moderation.’
‘And cake?’ I said, lifting the lid of my cake tin.
‘Cake,’ he said, eyeing the contents greedily, ‘is contraband. Quick, let me hide it.’
He held his hands out for the tin just as Nonna opened the door by pushing her bottom through it. He shoved the tin back at me.
‘Your grandmother’s derrière always arrives first.’ He winked. ‘Not that I’m complaining.’
‘Eh, cheeky. Green tea,’ she said officiously, planting the tray on the coffee table. ‘Full of anti-somethings. Good for heart. And some biscuits. But not for you, mister.’ She wagged a finger at him. ‘You can have tablets.’
I attempted to hide the tin behind my back but she held her hands out.
‘He can’t eat this. It is poison.’ She lifted the lid and sniffed. ‘Mmm, but you can leave with me.’
Stanley and I exchanged resigned smiles.
She straightened up, pressed a hand to his forehead and frowned.
‘You look tired, Stanley. Rosie, just five minutes. He need plenty of rest.’
Nonna was wearing an apron with a bib and she’d got a watch tied on to the front straps. She looked scary and nurse-like and she was obviously really enjoying herself.
‘OK, I only popped in to check everyone was getting on all right,’ I said.
Dad shouted something from the hallway and Nonna went out to answer him, the cake tin gripped firmly in her hands.
‘Couldn’t be happier, my dear.’ Stanley sniffed his green tea and took a brave sip. ‘I shan’t want to get better at this rate in case she moves out. It was so nice last night to say goodnight to someone. She’s agreed to live here for two weeks and after that … Well, I shall miss her.’
I stifled a smile; judging by the enormous pile of boxes in Dad’s car, it looked like she was planning on moving in permanently.
‘Maybe she doesn’t have to?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe you could pop the question again?’
Stanley shook his head. ‘It’s too late for us. I couldn’t go down on one knee again. For a start, I probably wouldn’t get up.’
He was making light of it, but his shoulders sagged and he gazed into his mug.
‘But it would be different this time,’ I said, taking his hand. His nails had grown in hospital and his skin was soft but cold, icy cold. ‘She’s footloose and fancy-free.’
‘Exactly. Look at me. I’m on so many drugs, I’ve had to make a list to remember what they’re all for. I don’t want to saddle her with an old crock like me. I couldn’t marry her now, it wouldn’t be fair, she deserves a husband not an invalid.’
I opened my mouth to argue but Stanley held up a finger.
‘I know you mean well, but she’ll be glad to get back to her own home. Back to her greenhouse and a summer spent in the garden, I’d put money on it.’
‘Maria?’ Dad barked. ‘For goodness’ sake. Where on earth do you want me to put this Christmas tree?’
I caught Stanley’s eye. ‘You sure about that?’
From the hall came a crash, followed by a stream of expletives from Dad. I left Stanley looking thoughtful and went to investigate.
One of Nonna’s suitcases, which by the look of it she’d brought with her from Italy in the sixties, had burst open. A mountain of pale pink nylon spilled over the hall floor, Nonna was on her knees scooping it up and Dad stooped to help.
‘Don’t look, Alec, these are my smalls!’ she yelped.
‘Not that bloody small,’ muttered Dad, holding up an enormous pair of knickers. He caught my eye and a reluctant smile crept over his face.
I smothered a giggle as Nonna grabbed them back off him and thrust them in the case.
‘Right, that’s the car emptied,’ he said, brushing the dust from his hands. ‘Now I’ll go and fetch the rest of your clutter.’
‘Eh, not clutter! But don’t you want a cup of tea first?’ She tried to do the zip up on the case and gave up.
But Dad was already out of the door.
‘No,’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
I picked up the broken case, laid it on the single bed in Nonna’s room and went back into the kitchen.
‘What’s up with him?’ said Nonna, handing me a tea towel and pointing to the drainer full of clean mugs.
‘Derby County lost in the semi-final something-or-others,’ I said with a sigh. ‘Mum says he’s had a face like thunder all week.’
I picked up a mug and stared at it. It was one of hers.
‘How long are you staying, Nonna?’
She took a piece of biscotti from the tin and snapped it in two.
‘I don’t know. Couple of weeks. Until he doesn’t need me. How long a piece of wool?’
I pressed a kiss to her cheek. ‘He’ll always need you, I reckon.’
She grunted and lifted a shoulder. ‘I not so sure.’
‘Well, I am,’ I said firmly. ‘You’ve brought this place to life, and he adores you.’
She looked down at her hands, plump and wrinkled and completely ringless.
‘He want me here as his nurse because it is better than going to stay with Angela, but I think I miss my chance with him. He not say anything about marriage ever again. I missed the bus; story of your nonna’s life.’
My heart squeezed for her. I wondered whether to repeat what Stanley had just said, but decided against it. This was something they’d have to figure out for themselves.
I opened all the cupboard doors until I found where to put Nonna’s mugs and began squeezing them in alongside Stanley’s.
‘He’s only just come out of hospital, remember. Isn’t marriage supposed to be one of the most stressful things a person can go through?’
Nonna harrumphed. ‘Certainly was for me. But then I married a dicky head.’
I smiled at that. ‘Perhaps Stanley feels he’s had enough stress for the moment. I’d give him time. Besides, didn’t you always say you wanted to live with him first anyway?’ I nudged her playfully. ‘This way you get your wish.’
‘No I don’t.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘We’re in separate bedrooms.’
‘Well,’ I cleared my throat, ‘I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time for that.’
I didn’t like to dwell on what that might be.
Nonna looked wistful and put the last piece of biscotti in her mouth.
‘Plenty of time?’ She tutted. ‘I seventy-five. Mind you, we had our first lovers’ tiff last night. That good sign. If you row with a man it show you hot for each other.’
‘Really?’ I perked up.
In that case maybe there was hope for me and Gabe yet; we did nothing but row …
The sound of Dad’s car returning dragged us both back from our reverie.
‘I’ll go and help him,’ I said, hanging the damp tea towel over the kitchen door handle to dry. ‘See if I can get a smile out of him.’
Outside Dad was lifting a rusty old exercise bike out of the back of his car.
‘God knows what she wants to bring this for,’ he grumbled, setting it down.
I perched on the edge of the open boot and waited until I had his attention.
‘Dad, what on earth is wrong with you?’
He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked out at a few loose stones on Stanley’s drive.
‘I know I shouldn’t say this, but when your mother gave up all those committee nights, I felt happier than I’d done for years. It was just her and me. We booked a holiday, we planned some work in the garden and we looked after Arlo together when I wasn’t at work in the Easter holidays. I felt I’d got my wife back. I thought she’d enjoyed it too. But now she’s as bad as ever. And I know she wants to help this charity, but I honestly think she’s exhausted.’
I nodded thoughtfully. ‘I agree. Can’t you persuade her to take a break, even for a long weekend somewhere?’
He shook his head.
‘I’ve decided. I’m going to insist she gives up this hospice job,’ he said defiantly. ‘It’ll be the death of her.’
I sucked in air. ‘She won’t thank you for interfering, Dad.’
His brow furrowed and he dived into the car to pull out a box marked ‘winter boots’.
‘I’m not interfering. I’m looking after her. I’m loving her. Doesn’t that count for anything?’
‘Of course it does.’ I rubbed his arm. ‘But sometimes people just have to make their own mistakes. All we can do is be there when they fall. That’s how they know we love them.’
Dad appeared to accept that and after I’d kissed Nonna and Stanley goodbye I went for a long walk down to the river where I sat outside the Riverside Hotel at the table furthest from the water’s edge, huddled low behind a tall glass. As the sun sank lower in the sky and the moon, full and round, began to cast its silvery shadows on the water, I watched Gabe and Noah playing and laughing together on the deck of The Neptune. And I wished with all my heart that I was playing too.
No sooner had I opened up on Monday morning than Doreen called in a flap. Her daughter was in labour six weeks early and she was very sorry but she wouldn’t be coming into work. I knew Lia wouldn’t be in either: she was taking Arlo to the doctor for his jabs first thing. I called Juliet to see if she could help out but her phone had gone to voicemail.
I was flying solo for breakfast duty.
I didn’t mind; I was in a good mood and felt like I could conquer anything. Sunday had been very productive: I’d got a brilliant plan sorted to help Mum out with her designer clothing and I’d had a second chat with both Lucinda Miller and Candy O’Connor.
The rain we’d had the night before had cleared, making everywhere sparkle, and the grass on the village green was steaming in the warmth. This time next week, the school children would be on their May half-term holiday and we’d have a run on milkshakes and cookies. I made a mental note to refill the sweetie jar on the counter. I wondered what Noah would be doing; Gabe wouldn’t be able to have time off already. He could perhaps come here for a day or two; we could entertain him between us, like Nonna had done when Lia and I were small. Assuming Gabe and I could be civil to each other for long enough to sort out arrangements, that was.
I was setting up the outside chairs and tables, when Nina flew round the corner and began fumbling with the keys for her flower shop.
‘Morning, Nina!’ I called. ‘You’re early.’
‘Busy, busy, busy. Big, massive, HUGE bouquet order from Fone-A-Flower. That big boss from Garden Warehouse. Oh balls, I can’t get the key in the door, I’m all flustered.’
‘Mark Cooper?’ I strode over, took the keys from her and opened the door smoothly.
‘That’s him.’ Nina could barely stand still with excitement. ‘He’s gone for the Couture Collection. Fone-A-Flower wanted Garden Warehouse to do it, but apparently he insisted on us. Eighty pounds! Eighty!’
‘That was good of him,’ I said, meaning it. Presumably he’d have got a staff discount if he’d bought from Garden Warehouse.
She chewed her lip. ‘I just hope I’ve got enough eryngium.’
‘Me too,’ I said with a smile. ‘Whatever that is.’
I walked back into the café, flipped the closed sign to open and turned the hot water on for the coffee machine.
The café landline and my mobile both rang at the same time. I dashed for the landline but I was too slow, the answerphone picked it up. I was just answering my mobile when Stella came into the café carrying some leaflets.
‘Juliet, thank goodness,’ I said into the phone, giving Stella a wave.
WI jumble sale, Stella mouthed, leaving a pile next to the bookcase.
I gave her a thumbs up and she carried on her way, calling over her shoulder, ‘See you later for afternoon tea.’
‘Hello, hen, sorry I missed your call,’ said Juliet in a whisper. ‘What’s up?’
‘I’m short staffed, any chance you can help?’
Juliet groaned. ‘No can do, I’m at a funeral. In Glasgow.’
‘Oh my condolences, I didn’t know.’
‘My mum’s old next-door neighbour. Only found out about it yesterday. Thank heavens for cheap flights.’
Just then Mark Cooper’s car swooped into a space outside and both he and Gabe got out. Mark jogged into the florist and Gabe headed directly for the café.
‘Hope it goes well. Got to go,’ I hissed down the phone. ‘Customer.’
I smoothed down my hair and took a few deep breaths.
Do not argue with him, repeat, do not argue …
‘My first customer of the day,’ I said as he approached the counter. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Rosie,’ said Gabe in a serious voice, ‘have you got a minute?’
‘Yes.’ I spread my arms, indicating the empty café. ‘I’m all yours. Is anything the matter?’
No sooner had I said that than two separate groups of people trooped in: a party of cheerful women, wearing walking boots, sunhats and matching ‘LISA IS 50 TODAY!’ T-shirts and an assorted group of all ages each with a dog, or in some cases two. For the next ten minutes I ran backwards and forwards with pots of tea, frothy lattes and dog bowls. I mashed avocado, grilled bacon and toasted bread, refusing all offers of help from Gabe who sat fidgeting at the counter, watching me get warmer and warmer.
Eventually all I had left to do was grill a portobello mushroom and gruyère panini. I laid the filling on the bread, sandwiched it together and put it in the sandwich press.
‘Right,’ I turned back to Gabe. ‘You wanted me?’
‘Rosie,’ Gabe spread his hands on the counter, ‘all I wanted to say was that—’
‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any wholegrain mustard?’ said a man with bushy eyebrows and a droopy moustache. He had a grey Miniature Schnauzer under his arm and they looked uncannily like brothers.
‘We do.’ I retrieved it from the cupboard and passed it to him.
‘Sorry, Gabe, you were saying?’
He swept a hand through his hair.
‘This is probably not the time or place,’ he murmured.
‘When is it ever?’ I said wryly.
I hope I sounded cool; my body was about as cool as a basking hyena on the Serengeti plains. My pulse rate was in competition with the coffee machine for high-pressure whooshing and I had a sneaking suspicion that my face was glowing like a radioactive tomato.
‘I don’t know why I keep saying and doing the wrong thing,’ he began. ‘I don’t know why I keep messing it up. It should be so easy, to tell you that …’ He cleared his throat portentously. ‘What I’m trying to say is that no matter how hard I try to impress you and get your attention, it always seems to backfire. But the truth is that you are the best thing that has happened to me – to me and Noah – in a long, long time.’
‘Am I?’ I said innocently. ‘Have I happened to you?’
He nodded. ‘I think you have. We’re both suffering from Rosie withdrawal symptoms.’
‘Oh.’
I quite liked that idea. We both grinned.
‘And there’s more,’ he began.
The landline rang again and I realized that the previous caller hadn’t left a message.
‘I hate to interrupt you,’ I said, still beaming, ‘but I should get this.’
I dragged my eyes away from him to pick up the phone just as Mark came in, staggering under the weight of Nina’s bouquet.
He slapped Gabe on the back in a manly fashion. ‘Have you told her yet?’
‘Not yet,’ said Gabe hurriedly. ‘Hold on, Mark … wait, I was just … working up to it.’
My eyes narrowed. ‘Told me what?’
‘You should get the phone,’ said Gabe.
Mark set the flowers down gently on a table. ‘About the pizza oven.’
‘No, he hasn’t,’ I said coolly, staring at Gabe. He looked away, his jaw clenched.
I darted for the phone before I missed another call. ‘The Lemon Tree Café; can I help you?’
‘Hello, this is Helena from The Chestnuts Cancer Hospice, who am I speaking to?’
My heart began to pound.
‘Rosie, Rosie Featherstone, Luisa’s daughter.’
‘Oh good. Well, not good, I’m afraid your Mum’s collapsed; nothing to worry about. Well, not much.’
‘WHAT?’ I gasped.