The Lemon Tree Café by Cathy Bramley (9)

Chapter 9

I refreshed the screen on my phone. Again. Still nothing. Oh well. I’d make another coffee and then try again in ninety seconds.

Michael had told me that HitSquad’s managing director, Finnegan O’Reilly, was making a decision today, but that I’d made a very good impression. I hoped so; it was only a week since Nonna had fired me from the café, but I was already bouncing off the walls. I didn’t even have any DIY to do at home – I’d had everything done that needed doing when I bought it last year. Even the garden was low-maintenance.

Coffee made, I sat on the sofa, switched on daytime TV, turned it straight off again and checked the café’s Twitter feed. The National Pet Month tweets I’d continued to do despite being sacked had garnered quite a bit of interest, including a retweet from Dog-Friendly Days Out. I wondered how the café was doing and what the mood was like following CabinetGate. I was tempted to walk down and see for myself, but I wasn’t entirely sure I’d be made welcome. I was so cross with Nonna. I thought by now she’d have come to apologize for the way she’d treated me but no … That woman certainly knew how to bear a grudge.

My phone beeped with a message and I fell on it hungrily. Please, please say I’d got the job …

It was from Dad.

I couldn’t remember the last time we’d all been out together, I thought, as Mum and I, arm in arm, followed Lia and Ed along the corridor and into the Riverside Hotel’s large function room later that night.

‘This is very unexpected,’ Lia said, giving Dad a sly look as he showed us to our seats. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’

Dad seemed a bit frazzled: there was a sheen of perspiration on his forehead and he looked pale as he ran a finger around his collar. ‘All in good time, Lia.’

It was a large room with, at a guess, thirty or forty tables. The chairs had been arranged so that we could all see the stage and our table was right at the front. Frank Sinatra songs crooned away in the background and a babble of chatter and chinking of glasses added a party atmosphere. As we reached our table and slipped our jackets off the lights dimmed and a spotlight flicked on to the empty stage.

‘I don’t mind why we’re here; it’s just great to be out.’ Ed sighed with pleasure. ‘Our first child-free night.’

He and Lia smiled at each other, but they’d both checked their phones for messages from the babysitter at least half a dozen times since we’d arrived in the car park.

‘Great seats, Alec,’ said Ed. ‘What did you have to do to get them?’

Dad turned bright red and laughed so heartily that a woman at the next table turned and stared at him.

‘Ha ha, nothing, nothing at all,’ he blustered. ‘Luck of the draw, I guess.’

‘Whose drawers? That’s what I want to know.’ Lia sucked in her cheeks and looked knowingly at me.

My stomach flipped and I ignored her, pulling out a chair for Mum instead. ‘Sit here, Mum, it’s got the best view.’

‘As long as we don’t get one of those comedians who likes to pick on people as part of their act,’ Mum shuddered, hanging her velvet blazer on the back of the chair. ‘I’ll be mortified.’

‘I’ll jump up in your place,’ Dad promised. ‘Never fear.’

She chuckled and kissed his cheek. ‘My hero.’

My heart gave a little bounce as I watched her tuck her dress under her legs and sit down. She looked stunning tonight in a gold shift dress that set off her olive skin perfectly; Dad would have to be insane if he was actually having an affair. Lia and I hadn’t said anything to Mum about bumping into Dad here a week ago. I had no idea what he was planning for this evening, but I hoped whatever he had up his sleeve would banish all our concerns once and for all. I averted my eyes as he picked up Mum’s hand and kissed it. The room was filling up nicely now and the lights had been dimmed another notch.

‘Here are Nonna and Stanley,’ said Lia, waving to attract their attention.

I felt my face grow hot and tried to avoid eye contact as Nonna scanned the room looking for us. Tonight would be the first time we’d been in the same room since she sacked me and I’d been really hoping that I could announce my new job in front of her. Unfortunately, HitSquad had got a rush project on and the whole company had been caught up in it all day so Finnegan hadn’t been in touch. Michael had passed my mobile number to him on the off chance he’d still get around to calling me, but I didn’t hold out much hope for a call tonight.

‘At least Stanley has finally got a second date with her after her meltdown and the aborted cinema trip,’ I said wryly.

‘Been there, got the T-shirt,’ said Mum. ‘I don’t want to say I told you so, but—’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ I rolled my eyes.

‘Talking of which,’ Ed teased, ‘when did you last go out on a date, Rosie?’

‘February,’ I replied promptly. ‘With a man called Lewis. He took me to play golf at his club. I hated it.’

‘Oh, darling, why?’ Mum’s brow creased with concern.

I shrugged. ‘We’d only got to about the fourth hole and he said he knew it was early days but he thought he was in love with me.’

‘Ah, that is so sweet,’ chorused Mum and Lia together.

‘Sweet? It was our first date,’ I retorted. ‘I called him a weirdo and told him he’d got the wrong end of the stick.’

‘What was it – an eight iron?’ Ed put in, laughing at his own joke.

Mum and Dad chuckled.

Lia joined in. ‘So you could say the date was a little below par?’

‘And I bet he didn’t get a hole-in-one,’ Ed continued, elbowing his father-in-law in the ribs. ‘Eh?’

‘Too far,’ said Lia, giving him a hard stare. She turned to Dad.

‘What about you, Dad?’ she said slyly. ‘When was your last date?’

I sent her a look that I hope conveyed not-in-front-of-Mum vibes. Dad opened his mouth to answer when there was a polite cough from behind.

‘Evening, all.’ Stanley, with Nonna on his arm, tapped Dad on his shoulder. ‘Very good of you to invite me, Alec. Where would you like us?’

Dad jumped up and shook Stanley’s hand and settled them both into seats, thankfully not next to me. Nonna blew kisses to Mum and Lia across the table. I gritted my teeth as she pretended not to see me. Fine. Two people could play at being stubborn. It was obvious she needed help in the café; I was motivated by love for her, nothing else; I was hurt that she couldn’t see that but getting increasingly cross too.

‘Good evening,’ said a waiter, depositing a bottle of prosecco and glasses on our table. One bottle didn’t go far between seven but he poured a tiny splash into each glass. ‘Compliments of the management.’

‘Why?’ I asked the waiter.

‘All the performers get one.’ He smiled briefly and swanned off.

‘Performers?’ I frowned. ‘But we’re not—’

‘Ssshhh! Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth, Rosie,’ said Dad, downing his in one.

‘Must be some mistake.’

‘I’d like to propose a toast,’ said Lia, reaching for her prosecco.

Dad pouted. ‘I was going to do that. This is my evening.’

‘Is it?’ Lia opened her eyes wide. ‘I thought it was a family night?’

I dug her in the ribs, but she held her glass aloft. ‘Mum, I’m so proud of you, you look absolutely gorgeous tonight. Doesn’t she, Dad?’

Dad nodded fervently. ‘I was going to say—’

‘And Ed and I would like to thank you for helping out with Arlo,’ she continued. ‘So I’d like to toast your health. To Mum!’

We all joined in with the toast and I watched Dad’s face for clues, but there was nothing but love reflected in his eyes. What are you up to, Dad? I pondered as I drained the last of my bubbles.

‘Also I’ve been thinking,’ Lia continued. ‘I’ve decided to change career; I’m going to cook for a living. And Nonna, I wondered if you’d let me come and work at the café?’

‘You must think I mad as a kipper,’ said Nonna, glaring at her. ‘I not having any of you ever again.’

Mum and I exchanged looks.

‘Typical,’ Lia huffed, flashing her eyes at me. ‘That’s your fault, that is.’

Ed pulled a face and disappeared off to the bar, leaving Lia to sulk. Stanley had taken his glasses off to read the small type on the programme and Nonna was staring resolutely ahead. Dad looked anxiously around the room, his leg jiggling under the tablecloth. He waited until Ed was back with two more bottles of prosecco and coughed importantly.

‘I’d like to propose a toast to Luisa too.’ He reached for Mum’s hand. ‘Whenever you decide to do something you put your heart and soul into it, whether it be looking after the family or your voluntary work, and you’ve given me the inspiration to follow suit. I’m proud of you, Luisa, and I hope you can say the same of me.’

‘Oh, Alec, of course I’m proud.’ Mum looked a bit misty-eyed. ‘What a lovely thing to say.’

They kissed, leaning into each other and Lia and I shared a smile. Whatever else was going on with Dad, that wasn’t fake. It couldn’t be.

And then the evening kicked off. The music changed to some sort of big-band number. Lights flashed and a compère took to the stage and in the next hour we were totally entertained by an acrobatic troupe, singers, a magician and a dancing dog and Mum didn’t let go of Dad’s hand once.

During an extremely scary martial arts act involving samurai swords and pineapples, Dad pressed a kiss to Mum’s cheek and stood up.

I need the loo, he mouthed.

‘Get another bottle,’ I said, waving an empty one at him. ‘And hurry back.’

He nodded, and bending down so as not to obscure anyone’s view, he circumnavigated tables and chairs and disappeared from view.

‘OK, Mum?’ I whispered, patting her hand as the samurai warriors took their final bows and swished their weapons in a figure of eight as they filed off stage.

She nodded, eyes sparkling in the reflected stage lights. ‘More than OK. A night out as a family was just what we needed. If only you and Nonna would make up, it would be perfect.’

She raised an eyebrow hopefully and I bit my lip, looking over at Nonna and wondering whether I should make the first move. But the next act to come out on stage was an Abba tribute band. Lia, Mum and I took one look at each other and jumped to our feet, pushing our chairs back to make some room. Nonna and Stanley clapped along more sedately.

‘VOULEZ-VOUS, UH-HUH!’ We all did a sort of shouty-singing and began to dance.

Ed slunk down in his seat as if he were trying to make himself invisible and drained the dregs of his prosecco.

‘Come on, Ed,’ I shouted, ‘join in.’

He shook his head nervously.

‘I’ll go and help Alec with the drinks,’ he yelled and darted off.

The audience was still wolf-whistling and clapping the retreating Abba lookalikes when Ed returned with another bottle. We all collapsed back into our chairs out of breath.

‘Whoohoo,’ Lia cried, ‘more fizz.’ Although she already looked like she’d had enough.

‘Where’s Alec?’ Mum asked, frowning.

Ed shrugged. ‘No sign of him at the bar. But I didn’t check the Gents.’

Mum sighed. ‘He’s probably found a newspaper and locked himself in a cubicle.’

The music for the next act started up and we all looked at each other and grinned; nobody who lived with Alec Featherstone could not recognize this one. It was the opening bars to Dolly Parton’s ‘9 to 5’: his favourite song.

We were all on our feet in seconds, even Nonna, Stanley and Ed. Lia was clapping her hands above her head in time to the music. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a tall stocky blonde dance her way on to the stage.

‘Shall I go and check the loo, Luisa?’ Ed asked. ‘He wouldn’t want to miss this.’

But Mum didn’t answer; she couldn’t drag her eyes off the singer.

‘He’s right, Mum,’ I said, shaking her arm. ‘Dad would love to see this.’

Still no response from her; it was as if she’d gone into a trance. I didn’t know why; it was Dad who was the big Dolly Parton fan in the family, not her.

‘If you wouldn’t mind, Ed,’ I said, answering for her.

But before Ed could move, the singer launched into the first line of the song and the crowd erupted in applause and whistles, eager to continue their dancing.

‘He’s brilliant,’ Mum breathed, pressing her hands to her cheeks.

‘He? Is it a man? Ooh yay!’ Lia shielded her eyes, pointing at the stage. ‘It’s a man in drag.’

‘I think the legs were a giveaway.’ Ed laughed. ‘And the eighties wig.’

‘That’s not a man,’ said Mum in a wavering voice. ‘That’s—’

‘Mamma mia!’ yelled Nonna. ‘It’s not Dolly Parton, it’s Alec!’