CHAPTER NINETEEN
A week or so later, I’ve made great strides.
The place looks amazing without all the clutter – so much bigger and lighter, too. Especially now that two of the walls have been painted the colour of pale primroses. I’m currently half way up a ladder starting on the third wall.
It’s light really early now we’re into May, so I rose at six this morning, hoping to get in a couple of hours’ painting before going to work at the bakery. I’m amazed at how I’ve managed to motivate myself. I think it’s the thought of seeing Sylvia’s face when she returns to a lovely new café that’s spurring me on.
We’ve talked on the phone a few times and I’ve kept her abreast of everything I’m doing. It was Sylvia herself who suggested sunshine yellow walls, and I was only too happy to oblige. She keeps asking me when I’m going to leave my job at the bakery and manage the café for her full-time. She says it half-jokingly, but I have a feeling she means it. She says she and Mick are planning to travel a bit once she’s back from Bournemouth. Of course I’m delighted for her that she’s discovered this new lease of life with Mick, but she knows I can’t possibly stay in Sunnybrook. Not with Mum to consider.
I’ve been experimenting with the baking side of running a café, and to be honest, that’s not going quite as well as the physical make-over.
It’s really bad, actually.
I tried to make a chocolate cake and it looked more like a brown Frisbee. (I don’t think cakes are meant to be aero-dynamically efficient.) Maisie could have had great fun flinging that at the ducks. So I went back to basics and attempted a plain sponge cake, thinking even I couldn’t fail to make one of those look edible if I smothered it in fresh strawberries and cream.
But for some reason, it sloped down at one side and just looked really sad and soggy. It tasted all right but it definitely wasn’t something I’d feel proud to have on display to tempt the customers. Zak came in at entirely the wrong moment, while I was trying to hide its slope with strawberries. He said hello and deposited more boxes, and the atmosphere between us was uncomfortably charged. Then he saw my cake and actually laughed, which broke the ice. I pretended to be insulted but I ended up laughing along with him.
He hung around for a bit, sitting on the edge of a table, talking to me about the café make-over and I wondered if he was hoping I’d offer to make him a coffee. But I held back to protect myself. It felt so bitter-sweet to be chatting as we always did but to know that Zak was completely off-limits to me. He went silent for a bit, as if he was thinking about something, then he told me that Beth was bringing Maisie for another visit the following week, and if I wanted to join them for another picnic, he was sure Maisie would love that.
I smiled and said I really appreciated the invitation, but I’d still be busy getting the café ship-shape for Sylvia’s return. He left soon after that and I watched him go with an actual physical ache in my heart.
It would have been different if he’d said that he would love my company at the picnic . . .
Saying I’d be busy with the café wasn’t actually an excuse – I need to get it looking beautiful because Mick has asked if he can throw a welcome home party for Sylvia in the cafe. She’s back in just two weeks’ time, so I also have to brush up my baking techniques. I think Sylvia would be secretly horrified if she came back to find all the cakes had been bought in and not home-made right here at The Little Duck Pond Café!
*****
The next morning, I arrive at the bakery just after nine, and Jaz is there, chatting to Fen.
I smile at Fen and start telling her about where I’m at with the café. I pointedly ignore Jaz and she very quickly gets the hint and leaves.
Fen frowns. ‘That was a bit rude. Not like you at all.’ She does one of her jaw-breaking yawns. ‘God, I’m knackered!’
‘Jaz isn’t exactly my favourite person.’
‘She’s actually okay when you get to know her.’
I heave a sigh. ‘Look, I wasn’t sure whether I should say anything, but on Monday, when I came through from the back, I caught her acting really suspiciously. I think she might have been stealing from the till.’
Fen looks down at her feet and gives her head a little shake.
‘But honestly, something was going on. She looked really shifty.’
To my surprise, Fen’s eyes well up with tears and she looks away, hiding her flushed face behind her hands. ‘It wasn’t like that,’ she mumbles.
‘What do you mean?’ I stare at her. ‘Tell me, Fen.’
She sighs. ‘That day when Jaz came into the shop, she caught me taking twenty pounds from the till. I was going to put it back but she took it from me and put it in my pocket. Then she fished out her purse and put a twenty of her own into the till.’
‘She gave you twenty pounds?’ I stare at her in astonishment.
Fen nods miserably. ‘That’s what she was doing when you walked in from the back. She said I should pay her back only when I could afford to and there was absolutely no rush.’
I absorb this information with raised eyebrows. ‘That was so lovely of her. I can’t quite believe it.’
‘She’s nice.’ Fen nods eagerly. ‘I didn’t like her that time at the zumba, but I think she’s just a bit wary of people until she gets to know them properly. I had a chat with her in the street the other day and she’s really funny. And quite sweet, actually.’
‘Crikey, well, I’m sure she is! It’s just I haven’t seen that side of her yet.’
Fen frowns. ‘I think she came here to escape from a bad relationship. She pretty much stuck a pin in a map before deciding on Sunnybrook. She didn’t know a single soul and I think that was the point.’
I groan. ‘Oh God, that’s awful. And I was really rude to her just now, ignoring her. I feel terrible.’
We both lapse into silence, thinking about Jaz.
Then Fen grins. ‘I wouldn’t worry. She’s probably used to people being browned off by her attitude. You can make it up to her next time you see her.’
‘How about the two of you come to Sylvia’s welcome home party at the cafe? Mick said I could invite whoever I liked. We can toast my amazing café make-over with coffee and cake and fizz.’
Fen’s eyes light up. ‘Ooh, yes, that would be so incredibly lovely! Thank you.’
I grin at her, touched by her child-like enthusiasm.
She gives me a sheepish look. ‘You can tell I don’t get out much.’
Madge arrives in a cloud of flowery perfume. ‘Morning, ladies. How are we today? I have to say, I’m completely shattered. These baking sessions at silly o’clock will be the death of me!’ She catches my eye. ‘Oh, Ellen, I hear it’s all over with wonder boy Zak and he’s moved out.’ She puts her head on one side. ‘What a shame.’
Fen gasps. She knows all about my feelings for Zak. A feeling of despair floods through me but I’m determined not to give Madge the reaction she wants.
I shrug. ‘We were never an item. He’s just a friend.’
She laughs. ‘Ooh, is he, now? Well, that’s not what I heard. You know, Ellen, it’s never a good idea to punch above your weight. Especially if the object of your affections is still pining for his druggie ex! You need to accept the fact that you’ll never be together and move on.’
My whole body is trembling. I try to brush off her hurtful words, the way I usually do. But this time they cut too deep. I start taking off my overall, all the time calmly holding her gaze.
Her face falls. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m resigning with immediate effect. I hope your artisan bakery flourishes but I won’t be part of it.’ I drop the overall on the counter. ‘You might be a brilliant baker but as a person, you leave a lot to be desired and I truly think you should - ’
‘She’s not a brilliant baker,’ buts in Fen.
‘Well, she is.’ I cast Fen an apologetic look.
Madge has gone bright red and is staring at Fen so intently, her eyes look like they might pop out.
Fen shakes her head. ‘You think she bakes all this? Well, she doesn’t.’
‘What?’ I stare from her to Madge. ‘So who does?’ I ask slowly.
‘Me.’ Fen shrugs and starts undoing the poppers on her overall. ‘That’s why I’m always so knackered. Not because I’ve got a secret lover but because to my shame, I’ve allowed Madge to bully me into being part of this whole deception.’
‘Who the hell’s Madge?’ barks Madge, her eyes flashing dangerously. ‘Now listen Fen, you’d better shut your mouth right now or I might just have to - ’
‘What?’ Fen demands. ‘What will you do? Fire me?’ She laughs and looks across at me. ‘She wants people to think her artisan bakery is the best in the land and that she bakes everything herself. But it’s not her getting up at four in the morning to slave away in the kitchen for the minimum wage.’
‘Now, let’s not be hasty, Fen.’ Madge changes her tack and tries to laugh it off but I can see the panic in her face. ‘We were doing this for the good of the business. It was our little secret and it’s probably high time I rewarded your loyalty.’ She swallows. ‘How about a pay rise? You won’t turn that down, surely? If you stay on, I’m willing to give you a very substantial step up in salary.’
I stare at her. I bet she is! The whole bakery collapses if Fen leaves!
Fen shakes her head. ‘No, thanks. Not interested. You could offer me a million pounds and I’d still tell you that you can keep your poxy job. Because I quit!’
‘Yeah, right,’ Madge snarls. ‘Because of course you’ll snap up another job tomorrow! I don’t think.’
I clear my throat. ‘Actually, Fen is coming to work for me at the café, Madge.’
The look of bewilderment on Madge’s face is priceless. Then she shakes her head. ‘You can’t both leave me in the lurch without working your notice.’
‘I think you’ll find we can,’ Fen says. ‘Sorry, Mrs A, but we’re off.’
She deposits her overall on the counter, gives Madge a cheery smile and walks out with her head held high.
When I join her outside, she’s leaning against the wall for support, looking white as a ghost.
‘I can’t stop my hands from trembling. Look.’ She holds them out and we giggle. ‘But I did it!’
I beam at her. ‘You did indeed. You told her!’
Laughing, I high five her. ‘How on earth did you manage to keep those early morning baking sessions a secret all this time?’
‘She threatened to fire me if anyone ever found out. I’ve got rent to pay.’ She pauses. ‘Is there really a job at the café? Or were you just saying it to spite Madge. I wouldn’t blame you.’
Her question takes me by surprise. ‘Well . . . we definitely need someone who can make scrumptious cakes, because I’ll let you into a little secret - my efforts are downright tragic.’
‘So you want me to bake for you?’
I give her a huge smile. ‘Welcome to The Little Duck Pond Café, Fen!’