Stepping behind the counter, I pull my dress back down over my arse. I bought it because it looked great on the woman modelling it online. However the model, unlike me, is significantly lacking in any lumps or bumps, which gave the dress she is wearing an extra three or four inches on mine. My dress has a lot of uneven terrain to contend with and, as such, is appearing like more of a mini than it was intended. Of course I didn’t really realise this until I left the house. It did that thing outfits somehow manage to do, where it behaved from the house, to the car, and then the second I reached my destination, boom, I’m in self-conscious city.
Viv assures me that I look great, but Viv’s outfit is a beast all of its own. My mum is wearing a pair of super tight black PVC trousers with a black lace top, and she looks amazing in it, it’s just maybe a little bit much for a small-town deli food tasting.
I am also wearing black, which Nathan happily made fun of as we left the cottage.
‘You two look like you’re going out on the pull,’ he laughed. ‘Or to a wake.’
I’m wearing a slinky wrap dress that rides up when I move, courtesy of my butt moving as I walk. If I can stand still I’m fine, it stays in position, but as I move around my hemline starts creeping back up again. My very high heels are ensuring I take small, ladylike steps, which seems to slow the process down a little, thankfully. I’m dreading the moment when I need to bend over for something.
Wardrobe malfunctions aside, the evening seems to be going well, which has taken me by surprise.
When I arrived back at the deli, all dolled up and ready to be disappointed, all of our hard work getting the place ready today was so clearly noticeable. Outside, the deli looked spotless, the flowers all looked amazing, all of the little twinkly lights we put up were visible as the sun started to set – it was everything I had in my mind when Eric and Amanda sent me here and all I could think was that it was such a shame not many people would see it…but then people started turning up. I don’t know if they turned up out of curiosity, for the free food, or because they genuinely wanted to, but the place is packed and, unless this is some kind of co-ordinated act of sabotage, things really might be on the up.
Luckily my bosses had large containers of ready prepared food for the evening, so all I need to do is serve it, which has taken away a lot of the stress of throwing this party.
I’ve spotted a lot of familiar faces already – mums from the school, local business people and, just like he said he would be, Biagio is here. As I approach Avril, Jessica and Mary-Ann, armed with a plate of food for them to try, I notice Biagio heading over.
‘These are fennel, sea salt and cracked black pepper cracker breads with—’
‘You have to guess what kind of cheese it is,’ Biagio interrupts me.
The women stare at him, puzzled, but happily take a cracker bread from the plate.
‘Oh, wow,’ Jessica says through a mouthful of food.
‘It’s not like anything we make,’ Mary-Ann adds, and she sounds relieved, I suppose because she’s the local dairy farmer. This must show her that we’re not trying to step on her toes.
‘We’ve actually spent a lot of time in France,’ Avril starts, lightly dabbing around her mouth with a serviette. ‘So I know a thing or two about European foods, and this is definitely French.’
‘No, no, no,’ Biagio protests, sounding more Italian with each word. ‘It’s Italian. It’s Burrata – Mozzarella on the outside, Stracciatella and cream on the inside. Delicious.’
‘You know your cheese,’ I tell him, impressed.
‘Would you like me to hand some out?’ he asks.
I feel a big, stupid grin slowly creep across my face – I’m just so overwhelmed. If he wants to help out, he must be considering working here.
‘Yes please,’ I reply.
‘I already handed out a few fruit tarts. I told people, they’re all part of your five a day. Entertain your guests,’ he insists. ‘I’ll help with the food.’
‘Lily,’ I hear Alfie call from behind me.
Alfie had texted me and warned me that he was going to be a little late, as Leonardo the alpaca seemed a little off colour, so he’d asked Charlie to stop by on their way to the deli. There was something about his use of ‘their way’, like they came as a pair, that just filled me with jealousy.
I turn around and see him standing behind me. He has his usually wild locks slicked back and, teamed with his black trousers and a crisp white shirt, he looks positively dashing – nothing at all like a farmer.
‘Hey,’ I say brightly. I hurry over, my hands pulling on my hem as subtly as possible, and kiss him on the cheek to greet him. This isn’t something we do and I immediately wonder why I did it.
‘Lily, you look…’ He pauses to find the words and with each second I grow more self-conscious. ‘Incredible.’
I finally exhale and smile.
‘Oh, thank you,’ I say bashfully, and for a moment I feel like the prettiest woman in the room.
‘Hey,’ Charlie says, stepping out from behind Alfie. ‘I didn’t expect so many people to be here – and I didn’t think I’d need to dress up, plus I was just at Alfie’s checking on Leonardo, so I hope it’s OK I came like this.’
You could be forgiven for thinking Charlie had turned up in a white vet coat, covered in cow dung, but she’s wearing a pair of black PVC trousers, not unlike my mum’s, and a plunging V-neck black vest. She looks incredible, with her face perfectly highlighted and her impossibly long eyelashes. In fact, she and Alfie almost look like they’ve coordinated outfits, making them look like they belong together – well, not together together, but like they belong next to each other, at least.
‘You look great,’ I tell her.
‘Says you,’ she replies, her big, toothy smile beaming brightly. ‘I wish I were brave enough to dress like that.’
Her words, whether they were intended to hurt my feelings or not, send a rush of blood to my head. I smile.
‘I just need to check on something in the kitchen,’ I say, hurrying away. I manage to make it through the door just as a tear escapes my eye. I hurriedly wipe it away, just as my mum walks in.
‘Darling, what’s wrong?’ she asks.
‘Nothing,’ I insist. I should know better than to think I can lie to my mum.
‘Something is wrong,’ she says. ‘That’s the fastest I’ve seen you walk in that dress all night, and there’s no fire in here…’
I laugh as another tear escapes.
‘I think Charlie might’ve just insulted me – or maybe I just imagined it, I don’t know.’
‘What did she say?’ Viv asks.
‘She said she wishes she was brave enough to wear this dress…it’s just the way she said it.’
‘Are you really going to let some little girl, who constantly plays “hard to want” around Alfie, upset you?’ my mum asks.
‘Apparently,’ I reply. I laugh, but my true feelings cause my voice to crackle.
My mum puts an arm around me.
‘You look amazing,’ she tells me. ‘I don’t know why she would suggest you were brave for dressing like this but…look, do I really need to tell you that looks don’t matter?’
‘I know they don’t but…y’know,’ I reply.
‘Listen to me,’ Viv starts, squeezing me tightly. ‘You might think Charlie looks better than you do but so what? She’s not going to look like that forever, and you’re not going to look like this forever. You’re going to get old. Really old. You’re gonna go all saggy and wrinkly and grey and you’re gonna go through the menopause and you’re gonna start wearing really big knickers and slippers and watching Loose Women and saying things like “it looks like it’s trying to rain” and “Margaret’s prolapsed again” – and you’re not the only one. I’m going to get there, Charlie is going to get there, and no shallow man is going to stick around for any of that anyway, they’ll be off, trying to find some young thing to replace you. But a real man doesn’t care about any of that, a real man cares about what’s going on inside. I’ve seen the way you and Alfie look at each other and you’ve only known each other five minutes – she’s been trying to get her claws into him for five years, if what Channy tells me is true, and where has it got her?’
I smile. There is no one like your mum for putting things into perspective. I knew all this – of course I did – but it’s easy to forget sometimes.
‘You’re right,’ I tell her.
‘I’m always right,’ she replies. ‘I also wear these trousers better than her, the girl doesn’t have an arse.’
I laugh.
‘Now get back out there and own tonight,’ Viv insists.
‘I will,’ I say, hopping to my feet. ‘Is my make-up OK?’
‘Still perfect,’ she replies. ‘Remember who you are, OK?’
I give her one meaningful nod before turning on my heels, grabbing a tray of Belgian chocolate brownies as I head back out there.
My mum is right, I need to remember who I am. I’m Lily Holmes and I am awesome – and I look great in this dress, whether it rides up when I walk or not. Maybe Charlie is smaller and slimmer than me, with a more impressive job and zero baggage, but she isn’t me and she never will be.
Now I’m walking around with a real spring in my step, dress be damned.
‘You OK?’ Alfie asks. ‘You hurried off a little quickly…’
‘Oh, I’m fine,’ I assure him with an air of unwavering confidence, despite noticing Charlie still lingering at his side. ‘I just remembered the brownies in the oven.’
I hold up the tray of Belgian chocolate brownies. Of course, they came ready prepared, so this is a lie, but it beats telling the truth.
‘Would you like one?’
Alfie raises his eyebrows with delight, the rich smell of chocolate drifting up towards him.
‘I’d love one,’ he says eagerly.
‘Oh, not for me,’ Charlie says, practically turning her nose up at them. ‘Some of us can’t get away with eating stuff like that.’
I shrug.
Luckily before I can reply, Jessica beckons me over.
‘Did you say you baked?’ Jessica asks.
‘Yes, brownies,’ I reply, offering the tray to them. ‘Help yourselves.’
The ladies each take a brownie and eat them in near silence – something I find is often a good sign when it comes to food, because it usually means people are too busy enjoying what they’re eating to focus on anything else.
‘So, you like to bake?’ Avril says.
‘Love to,’ I reply, hoping to find some common ground, even if it’s not strictly true. Well, I’m sure I’d love baking if I knew how and had lots of spare time.
‘Ask her,’ Jessica encourages.
‘As part of the start of autumn festivities, we’re having a bake sale at school, and we could do with an extra baker’s contributions. Would you be interested?’ Avril asks. I can hear a cautious reluctance in her voice, but that only makes me more convinced that this is my shot at proving I am one of them.
‘Oh, yes,’ I say, trying to sound enthusiastic and not at all like I’m lying or panicking. ‘When is it?’
‘The day after tomorrow,’ Avril says. ‘We’re bringing everything in the morning, so that the kids can set it up throughout the day, ready for after school. Will that be a problem?’
‘No,’ I say with a casual bat of my hand. ‘I’ll whip a few things up tomorrow.’
‘Well, OK then,’ Avril says. ‘Great.’
‘Great,’ I reply.
I’m about to walk away when Avril places a hand on my arm.
‘You know, we can see that you’re making an effort to fit in,’ she says. ‘And the food tonight is great.’
‘Also,’ Jessica chimes in, ‘Simon has asked if Frankie wants to come to his birthday party.’
Jessica removes a small, blue envelope from her handbag and hands it to me.
‘Thank you,’ I say, trying to sound casual, but getting the blessing of the head of the PTA is like getting the blessing of the Godfather, and Frankie will be over the moon that one of the kids is including him.
I hurry over to Alfie, pulling him to one side.
‘You’ll never guess what just happened,’ I tell him. ‘Avril said she liked the food, and she said she could tell that I was making an effort to fit in.’
‘Aww, have you finally made friends with the cool kids?’ Alfie teases playfully.
‘Yes,’ I laugh. ‘Frankie too, he’s been invited to a party.’
‘That’s great, Apple Blossom girl. Sounds like you’re getting everything you want.’
Not quite everything I want.
‘I just love that I’ve acquired this nickname – the Apple Blossom girl. The Apple Blossom girl, living in the Apple Blossom cottage – we may as well call this place the Apple Blossom Deli, because that’s all it’s going to be known as.’
Alfie laughs.
‘There are worse things to be called…’
‘And I’m sure I’ve been called those too,’ I reply.
I furrow my brow as a brainwave washes over me.
‘What about “Apple Blossom Deli” for the name – seriously?’ I suggest after a few seconds. ‘It’s beautiful, it sounds good, and it’s definitely personal.’
‘You know what, I love it,’ he replies. ‘It fits in with the town and the name has already caught on for you – there’s no reason it won’t take for the deli too.’
‘I can run it by my bosses and, if they like it, we can get the signs made up, ready for opening.’
‘Erm, Alfie…sorry, Lily,’ Charlie interrupts. ‘I was just thinking – and I know it’s not like me to make a mistake, and I’m sure I haven’t – but I think I might have given Leonardo the wrong injection. Just for my peace of mind, can we go check on him?’
‘Yeah,’ Alfie says, a worried expression consuming his face. ‘Sorry, Lily. I’ll be back.’
‘It’s OK,’ I insist – but it isn’t. ‘It’s nearly kicking out time anyway.’
If I thought for a second that something might actually be wrong with Leonardo, I’d probably drive Alfie up there myself, but this just seems like another one of Charlie’s little games.
He returns the kiss on the cheek I gave him earlier before hurriedly heading for the door.
‘See you, Lily,’ Charlie says with a smile.
‘Bye.’
I slowly follow them towards the door, watching to see where they head. If they came in one car, does that mean Alfie will be driving her home later? Or if they’re friends – does she stay there? She implies that she does, seeing as how they’re BFFs.
I can’t actually see where they’ve gone, so I step outside into the fairy lit garden to glance around. There’s still no sign of them, but then I hear a quiet mumble from around the corner. My curiosity getting the better of me, I peep around the building and there, in the shadows, I spot two people kissing. It’s dark, but what little light is getting around there I can see bouncing off Charlie’s PVC trousers. I can’t help but gasp with shock.
‘Lily, sorry,’ I hear the man say. I’m standing in the light, so he can see exactly who I am. I can’t see him, but I recognise his voice. It’s not Alfie, it’s Biagio.
‘No, I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I didn’t…’
Something suddenly occurs to me. Charlie wasn’t the only person wearing shiny trousers tonight.
‘Mum?’ I ask, as though there might be a doubt in my mind.
‘Hello, darling,’ she says. ‘Still going well?’
‘Oh, marvellous,’ I tell her, slightly traumatised to catch my mum getting off with someone, like outside a school disco. ‘I’ll see you later.’
I hurry back inside, back where things are going well. Things inside the deli might be starting to improve, but outside they’re only getting worse.