Chapter 17
I can’t say I can remember all that much of the cycle ride back to Cuckoo Cottage later that day. My head was abuzz with the prospect of beginning the exciting conversion project and, even though I was a little daunted to be tackling it on my own, deep down I couldn’t wait to get stuck in.
That evening Jemma and Lizzie came out to see me, bringing with them all their plans, clippings and details of what they hoped I would be able to achieve in the tiny space. It was paramount that the caravan should be functional and efficient, but at the same time still look stylish and appealing.
‘Ideally we’d like to be able to seat around four to six people inside,’ said Jemma, biting her lip as she paced out the space.
‘Two next to the door here then,’ I suggested, pointing to where I had in mind. ‘They’ll be able to sit opposite each other with a little fold-down table in between.’
‘And perhaps another four or even five here,’ added Jemma, looking at the fixed seating area in front of the big window at the other end.
‘So that part of the van can stay set up as it is, then,’ I nodded. ‘All it needs is reupholstering and some oilcloth for the table, but this end will need completely remodelling.’
Jemma nodded in agreement and scribbled something on to her pad.
‘Then how about a bigger fridge slotted in here, next to the sink,’ said Lizzie, tapping her pen on her teeth as she squinted, no doubt trying to imagine what it would all look like when it was finished.
‘And I can adapt all of these cupboards to make them more practical and secure,’ I continued. ‘I’m fairly certain I’ll be able to use almost all of what’s in situ already,’ I added, thinking it would be a shame to just rip it all out and start again. ‘That way it won’t take nearly as long to complete and you’ll be retaining most of the original character.’
‘That sounds perfect,’ said Lizzie.
‘Obviously we aren’t planning to cater for hundreds,’ Jemma mused. ‘We’ll have very definite numbers booked, so there’ll be no danger of overstretching ourselves or not having enough space.’
‘We’re thinking small weddings and tea parties to begin with,’ Lizzie continued. ‘Everything will be baked, prepared and packed back at the café, and then carefully transported to the venue, and we won’t venture too far from Wynbridge to begin with.’
‘So basically,’ I said, ‘when you arrive, it will just be a case of setting everything up and making it look as pretty as The Cherry Tree Café before serving.’
‘Exactly,’ said the friends together.
‘And if it’s a complete disaster,’ said Jemma, sounding suddenly doubtful, ‘at least the kids will have gained a very chic playhouse.’
‘I hardly think that’s going to happen,’ said Lizzie firmly. ‘Folk have been asking us about something like this for months, Jem, there’s no way it will fail. We can even make use of it at Christmas when we have the market stall set up again.’
‘That sounds like a great idea,’ I agreed. Gwen had told me all about the lovely stall and its fabulously festive bakes and wares. ‘You could serve some hearty soups perhaps and warm rolls and marshmallow-topped hot chocolate with spiced gingerbread men.’
Given the mini heatwave the east of England was currently experiencing, it was all too easy to get caught up fantasising about the chillier days of winter.
‘But we’ll need extra staff,’ countered Jemma.
She was clearly having a wobble and was determined to voice every challenge this new branch of the business could possibly encounter. Given everything I was currently going through, I could sympathise with how she was feeling.
‘And you know as well as I do that we have people by the dozen coming in and asking for weekend work,’ tutted Lizzie. ‘Finding someone to help out in either the café or in here really isn’t going to be an issue.’
‘True,’ said Jemma, sounding somewhat calmer. ‘And I do know you’re both right. It’s just all a bit scary.’
‘In that case,’ I said, thinking it would be as comforting for me as it would be for her, ‘let’s take it just one step at a time. How about I start ripping out what you don’t want to keep and then you can come back and have another look?’
‘Excellent idea,’ said Lizzie.
‘Because you might want to reposition a couple of things after that.’
‘That’s true,’ said Jemma, stepping up to give me a hug. ‘That sounds like a great idea. Thank you, Lottie.’
‘I’m sure you’ll feel better if we can talk through the changes at every stage,’ I said, hugging her back. ‘It’s like taking baby steps before you start to run, isn’t it? Whatever challenges or changes you face in life,’ I added wisely, ‘if you take them one step at a time, they don’t feel anywhere near as daunting.’
‘She’s right, you know,’ nodded Lizzie.
‘Of course she is,’ smiled Jemma, looking far happier for having been on the receiving end of my drugstore psychology. ‘Now, I’d better get home and see if Tom’s managed to achieve the impossible and get Ella and Noah to bed on time.’
Thankfully the conversion wasn’t going to be anywhere as near as complicated as it could have been. I knew I could meet the tight deadline and could already picture the completed van in my mind’s eye, and what with that and an answerphone message from Matt’s cousin Simon, telling me that he would be coming out in the morning to make a start on the electrical work, it really felt as if my new life was finally poised to begin and I didn’t care a jot for what the gossips said. I was determined to make amazing things happen.
‘So what are your plans for these?’ asked Jemma as she hopped out of the Bailey and pointed at the other vans. ‘I hope they aren’t all going to be mobile cafés. I don’t think we need that amount of competition, do we, Lizzie?’
‘Oh, I shouldn’t worry about that,’ I told her. ‘I’ve no more mobile teashops planned. In fact, I haven’t got anything sorted for these yet,’ I added, looking at the three vans. ‘But I’m sure inspiration will strike soon.’
I hung around the cottage the next morning wishing that Simon had been as punctual as the delivery guy who had caught me, still dressed in the miniscule shorts and vest top that were masquerading as PJs in the heat, when he turned up to deliver my new shower.
‘Bit warm, isn’t it?’ he grinned when I had to open the door more than an inch to take the box off his hands.
‘Yes,’ I blushed, taking care not to lose what little dignity I had left as I struggled to sign his ‘confirmation of delivery’ gadget. ‘It is a bit.’
‘Have a nice day,’ he waved. ‘Don’t forget the sunblock.’
Leaving the shower propped against the hall wall, I rushed back upstairs to pull on a slightly bigger vest and longer shorts, with one ear cocked for the sound of an engine, but I needn’t have worried. An hour later and there was still no sign of Simon and I was itching to begin work on the Bailey. The mobile number he had left on his message was annoyingly ringing straight to voicemail, so I tried to send him a text, backed it up with a note pinned to the door, and strode purposefully off down to the barns to begin sizing up my debut solo project.
‘Hey, Minnie,’ I said to my little companion who was, as ever, close at my heels, ‘can you hear that?’
I could hear a woodpecker somewhere in the field, making its unerring call, and remembered what Gwen always said about the big birds foretelling or calling up rain when they started to make that noise. I hoped she was right. The lawn was beginning to look particularly parched around the edges and could do with a prolonged soaking. As long as the bossy bird didn’t unsettle Thor, I thought with a little shudder, then all would be right with the world.
In the barn, I took my time having a good look through the paperwork Jemma and Lizzie had left and then went through the van with a fine-tooth comb. This transformation was going to be fairly straightforward but I wanted to have a good look at the plumbing and electrics before I got stuck in. Fortunately a former owner had competently updated both and it wasn’t long before I was ready to start dismantling the loo cubicle and cupboard which would make way for the new seating area.
It was hot, thirsty work and later that morning I took a trip back up to the cottage to make a drink and collect the post. There was still no word from Simon so, having left him yet another message and refilled mine and Minnie’s water bottles, I went back to admire my handiwork and tidy up a bit. The van already felt far bigger, and where I had been wondering how easy it would be to squeeze two customers in next to the door, I could now see there was ample space.
I sat down at the table in the window for another breather and flicked through the pile of post. Most of it was junk mail for Gwen, but there were two unexpected gems hidden amongst the flyers for invisible hearing aids and inducements to install solar panels that simply took my breath away.
I thumbed through the glossy pages of the holiday brochures she had signed up for and it finally dawned on me exactly what she had in mind for the caravans and, joy of joys, it would mean I would never have to part with any of them. Exciting possibilities leapt off the pages and I felt my heart pick up the pace in response.
Giddy with anticipation, I ripped into an envelope with a telling bump in the shape of a free biro and scribbled until the ink began to flow. I then quickly set about making lists and notes, terrified that now inspiration had struck it would disappear just as quickly and I would have no physical record of my light-bulb moment.
When I had finished writing, I rushed outside and hurriedly opened up the other two barns and stood back, keen to see if they had the potential I was hoping for. Yes, it was all there. With my head fit to burst, and tears pricking my eyes, I could imagine the transformation as clearly as if it had already happened. I could see every last detail in all its glory and wished I could tell Gwen that I had worked it out; that what I was looking at was a truly vintage idea in every possible sense.
I had just about got my heart rate back under control when I heard a vehicle pull off the road and into the yard. Typical. All morning I’d been desperate for Simon to show up and now he had all I wanted was to be left alone with my notes, lists and simmering excitement.
‘Hey there, Lottie!’
I was delighted to see that it wasn’t Simon after all, but Amber.
This time she was wearing full-length floral-patterned wellies and had her pretty daughter, Honey, with her. The little girl was toddling towards me with painstaking slowness and looking about her with keen and interested eyes.
‘Hello!’ I called back, waving to them both. ‘You have no idea how excited I am to see you.’
Amber was the perfect person to share my moment with and sensing intrigue she scooped Honey up into her arms and picked up the pace.
‘I’ll come up to the cottage,’ I called.
‘No, don’t do that,’ Amber insisted. ‘I’ve got something to show you and I want to take another peek at those vans, if you don’t mind.’
I walked to meet her and quickly relieved her of the heavy bag she had on her shoulder.
‘Lottie,’ she smiled, jiggling her daughter about in her arms. ‘This is Honey. I know you didn’t really get to meet her properly at the party so I thought I’d bring her to say hello today.’
‘Hello, Honey,’ I smiled. ‘Aren’t you gorgeous?’
Honey, rosy-cheeked and dark-haired, pulled off her sun hat, shoved her fingers into her mouth and dissolved into giggles.
‘Are you sure you should be carrying her?’ I asked, trying to convey my concern without sounding too obvious. ‘She must weigh more than this bag.’
‘I knew you’d guessed,’ Amber groaned, rolling her eyes and transferring Honey from her arms to mine. ‘I swear I’ve still got baby brain from when I had her.’
Honey didn’t seem at all concerned to find herself in the arms of a complete stranger. She lightly touched the plastic flamingo-shaped dangly earrings I was wearing and, after examining them closely for a few seconds, shoved her thumb in and nestled into my shoulder. I was besotted.
‘I haven’t told anyone,’ I said to her mum. ‘Not mentioned it to a soul.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, rubbing my arm and tucking a curl behind Honey’s little ear. ‘I’m almost at the three month mark so we’ll be making a proper announcement after that. Unless of course everyone has already worked it out,’ she wailed. ‘Jake and Annie know, of course, and you, and Jessica and Harriet. Oh dear,’ she added, biting her lip. ‘I think the cat is probably already out of the bag, don’t you?’
I transferred Honey to my other hip and hoisted her up a bit. I had no idea that such tiny tots weighed so much.
‘Well,’ I smiled, ‘like I said, no one’s heard anything from me.’
‘Thank you, lovely.’ Amber smiled kindly. ‘I really appreciate your discretion, especially as my own isn’t quite up to scratch.’
I had barely taken three steps when I had to stop again to rearrange the weighty load I was carrying.
‘She weighs a ton, doesn’t she?’ said Amber, wrinkling her nose at her sleepy daughter and taking the bag from my other shoulder. ‘I thought she might have fallen asleep on the way here, but she’s every inch as stubborn as her father.’
‘Actually,’ I puffed, my knees beginning to complain, ‘she is a bit of a weight. Shall we go and sit inside one of the vans?’
I could feel my temperature rising and my heart thumping more quickly again just at the mere mention of them. Now I knew what it was I was going to do, I couldn’t bear to be parted from them.
‘Sorry,’ tutted Amber, ‘I almost forgot I’ve actually come to show you something and you seemed so excited when I arrived. What’s going on?’
‘You first,’ I insisted, talking to her over the top of Honey’s hot little head. ‘Show me what it is you’ve found and then I’ll spill the beans.’
While Amber rearranged Honey’s blanket and some of the caravan cushions and settled her daughter in a cosy little nest, I stuffed the post together into a haphazard pile, carefully ensuring she wouldn’t be able to see what I had been looking at when the penny had finally dropped. I wanted it to be a complete surprise.
Minnie, having overseen what Amber was doing, curled herself around Honey’s makeshift bed ready to stand duty, while Amber and I looked at one another and grinned, but neither of us still knowing why.
‘OK,’ she said, sliding around the side of the table and reaching for her bag. ‘Now, you’ll just have to go with this because I admit it is a bit off the wall, and it might be way off the mark, but having seen them I simply had to show you. What do you make of these?’
She spread out three much-thumbed magazines. Each had neatly folded, colour-coded Post-it notes attached and I couldn’t help but grin at my new friend and her exceptional organisational skills.
‘You know what,’ I sighed. ‘I reckon you must be Monica Geller’s twin.’
‘Never mind my penchant for order,’ she tutted. ‘Just listen.’
‘Sorry,’ I whispered.
‘When I first moved to Skylark Farm,’ she began, ‘I had a bit of an obsession with these magazines. Still do, to be honest,’ she admitted. ‘And Jake used to tease me all the time, until I turned to them for inspiration when we needed to think seriously about diversification projects for Skylark Farm.’
‘I take it these helped then,’ I interrupted.
‘Oh yes,’ she smiled, ‘they certainly did, and I’ve never thrown away a single issue, which is a blessing really because if I had I might have missed out on spotting just what I think you could be looking for.’
She flicked open the magazines to the marked pages and spun them around. I stared at the carefully created images in disbelief and then reached for the pile of mail and showed her what had caught my eye just moments before she and Honey had arrived
‘Well, I’ll be . . . ’ gasped Amber. Her face was an absolute picture. ‘It’s like we’re one mind.’
‘Isn’t it?’ I laughed.
‘How spooky is that? Is this what you were so excited about just now?’
‘Yes!’ I said, trying not to squeal and jump up and down in my seat in case I disturbed Honey. ‘So I’m not completely bonkers, then?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Amber, happily paraphrasing Lewis Carroll, ‘but all the best people are!’
‘Stop joshing,’ I said, tapping her hand, ‘and be serious for a minute. Do you reckon I’m thinking too big here?’
‘Absolutely not,’ she insisted. ‘If you can pull this off, Lottie, and let’s face it,’ she said, looking around, ‘you’ve certainly got the best possible start here, then the results will be phenomenal.’
We looked at each other and then back to the papers and magazines again.
‘A truly bespoke vintage experience,’ I said wistfully. ‘Somewhere unique, where people can spend their holidays in beautifully refurbished caravans nestled amongst the backdrop of big skies which frame the Fenland landscape.’
‘It’s perfect,’ she sighed, ‘and you’ve literally got everything you need to get started right here.’
‘Obviously I haven’t thought it all through properly yet,’ I went on, ‘but I was thinking that perhaps the small barn would make a good office and perhaps a camp shop, stocking all the basics and some local goods, and the middle one might be suitable to convert into a luxurious shower block.’
‘And you could have music and entertainment in here,’ said Amber, enthusiastically picking up the thread. ‘This would be the perfect space to hang out in if the weather wasn’t all that great. You could probably even barbecue in here, couldn’t you? I can offer you a great price on local free-range pork.’ She winked.
I shook my head, thinking how clever she was. She might still be suffering from baby brain, but her business brain didn’t miss a trick.
‘I’m going to give these three Cheltenham vans a makeover,’ I rushed on. ‘Make them picture-perfect and then look for another three from a slightly different era. I don’t think I’d want more than six. Too many would spoil the ambience and make it too crowded. I want each van to have its own special place in the field with cars parked somewhere else to keep it all as peaceful and unobtrusive as possible.’
We looked at the magazines featuring slick airstreams and shepherd huts and just for a second I felt a small, but very real pang of doubt.
‘But what if no one comes,’ I swallowed. ‘What if people don’t like the idea?’
Now I’d got my heart set on it I really didn’t want to give it up, but I had to be sensible. It wasn’t going to be cheap to set up and I wasn’t exactly rolling in ready cash.
‘Lottie,’ said Amber seriously, gripping my hand, ‘if I had a pound for every booking I’ve had to turn down this year because the diary for the bungalow is already full, then I’d never have to pick another apple again.’
‘But there’s a big difference between holidaying in a cottage and glamping in a vintage caravan,’ I reminded her.
‘I know,’ she said with a wink, ‘and I hope I don’t regret saying this, given that you’re going to be the competition, but actually they’re a lot more fun, aren’t they?’