The Cherry Tree Cafe (17 page)

‘Of course,’ I nodded, remembering how Deborah had told me people would enjoy the opportunity to socialise as much as sew. ‘I’ll keep you posted, but do pop in and say
hello any time, won’t you? I’m always here.’

I watched as she headed out the door, the silver bell on her bag tinkling gently as she disappeared.

‘So?’

‘So what?’

‘So much to talk about,’ Jemma laughed, ‘that I hardly know where to start!’

‘How about you start by telling us just what your wayward daughter has been up to this time!’ Ben suggested as he handed around the plates of spaghetti bolognese that I was serving
up and passing him.

Ella was spending the night with Tom’s mum so we could have a Café catch-up and general discussion about how the taster session had gone.

‘Oh yes!’ I teased. ‘You never said when you came back. What’s she been up to now?’

Jemma and Tom exchanged glances.

‘She got in a bit of an argument at playtime yesterday.’

‘Not again!’ Ben and I chorused together. ‘What about this time?’

Playground differences were becoming almost a weekly grievance in Ella’s little world and I hoped the impact of having so little time with Jemma wasn’t the reason behind it. I was
about to say something, but catching the concern on her face, decided against it.

‘I bumped into Sarah and Rachel when I went to collect Ella from school,’ Ben smiled, successfully steering the conversation back to the business in hand. ‘They were both
grinning like Cheshire cats.’

We all walked back to the sitting room and sat, our plates balanced precariously. ‘Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea!’ I joked, trying to spin spaghetti onto my fork without
spilling it. ‘Never mind that,’ Ben scolded, ‘how do you think the session went, Lizzie?’

‘It was brilliant!’ I beamed. ‘A total success. Everyone had a great time. In fact, they were all clamouring to know what we could make next!’

Looking back, I couldn’t imagine why I’d been so worried. I’d finally got the opportunity to do something I was passionate about in the company of some lovely people and
eventually, if everything went to plan I would be able to make a living at it. The only twinge of doubt in the back of my mind revolved around Jemma and whether she would want different groups
meeting in the Café on a weekly basis.

‘That is assuming there’s going to be a next time,’ I added.

‘What do you mean?’ Tom asked, wiping his tomato-stained chin on his shirt sleeve.

‘Well, Jemma might not want half the Café taken over every week by a raucous group of unruly craft enthusiasts!’

I was trying to make light of the situation but my heart was hammering in my chest.

‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t.’

I swallowed hard and nodded, forcing myself to remember that the Café was her dream and Tom’s. I was going to have to look elsewhere to fulfil mine.

‘I want it taken over every day!’ she laughed. ‘This afternoon was amazing, Lizzie. It was everything we ever dreamt of; no, actually it was so much more than that! I
don’t see why you can’t run a different group every afternoon and maybe even establish the knit and natter thing you were on about at the same time.’

‘Really?’ I choked. ‘You really want me to carry on?’

‘Of course, you silly mare!’ Tom laughed. ‘We know a golden opportunity when we see it, don’t we, Jemma?’

The ‘meeting’ that evening lasted far longer than we expected and it was almost midnight before Jemma and Tom said their goodbyes and headed home to bed. Ben
lingered behind, ostensibly to help me with the dishes, but I could tell there was something else he wanted to say.

‘So you really enjoyed yourself this afternoon?’ he asked, as we stood at the sink, me washing and him drying.

‘It was fantastic,’ I nodded, ‘I can’t believe I was so nervous, though! You must have thought I was a right idiot.’

‘Not at all,’ he smiled, ‘I was relieved actually.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh I don’t know. I guess it was a relief to see that you were taking it all so seriously.’

‘Why would you think I wasn’t?’

‘You just seemed different after the Café opened,’ he said hesitantly, ‘distracted almost. To tell you the truth, we all thought you were thinking about leaving again.
Then when you went to stay with your old boss last weekend we half wondered if you’d come back.’

‘But I told Jemma I was going to see Deborah at the Crafting Café,’ I frowned. ‘The trip was all about my commitment to the Cherry Tree.’

I kept my eyes on the sink full of dishes, unwilling to return Ben’s penetrating gaze.

‘We know that now,’ he said gently, ‘and I don’t want you thinking we were talking about you behind your back, Lizzie. It wasn’t like that. I promise. We were just
worried about you.’

I nodded, dried my hands on the towel and spread it across the radiator to dry.

‘Do you want a coffee?’ I offered.

Even though it was late I didn’t want to be on my own. I knew that if Ben left now I would go to bed and start stewing over imaginary and bitchy conversations that he, Jemma and Tom might
have had about me, which of course they hadn’t.

‘Yeah, thanks. Coffee would be good.’

We stoked up the fire and sat in the siting room staring at the flames.

‘About what you asked me earlier,’ Ben said, breaking the silence, his voice thick in his throat, ‘about why I’ve come back.’

I held up my hand to stop him.

‘It’s fine,’ I insisted, ‘you don’t have to tell me anything. It’s your business. I know how it feels to have the world and his wife talking about you, so
please don’t feel obliged to explain anything just to make me feel better. I didn’t mean to sound so tetchy earlier, I was just nervous.’

‘It’s OK,’ he whispered, ‘I want to tell you. I want you to know.’

‘Well that’s different,’ I said.

He took a deep breath and set his mug of coffee down on the table.

‘I came home because, like you, I had a relationship breakup,’ he said tentatively. ‘The girl I was seeing smashed my heart into a thousand pieces and I couldn’t bear to
be anywhere near where she was.’

I tucked my feet under me and sat back in the chair ready to listen.

‘Another broken heart,’ I sympathised.

‘Another broken heart,’ Ben repeated.

Seconds passed.

‘Do you want to tell me what she did?’ I said eventually.

Ben looked at me for a second then back to the fire. I think, lost in his thoughts, he’d forgotten I was even there.

‘I don’t know where to start,’ he laughed.

‘Well, how about the beginning?’

‘Oh no, you wouldn’t like the beginning.’

‘Then why don’t you tell me what she did to break your heart, assuming it isn’t too close to the beginning?’ I suggested, trying to help him.

‘I thought she was ill,’ he began quickly. ‘For weeks she’d seemed pale and tired but there was nothing I could put my finger on. I knew she was working too hard, but she
was always working too hard.’

He stopped for a second, cleared his throat and ran his hands through his hair.

‘She came home from work one day and told me she was going to France for a few days, some business conference. I told her she wasn’t well enough but she said she had to go, that the
whole thing depended on her being there.’

He stopped again and stared into the fire, the memory of it all clearly playing out in his mind.

‘Did she go?’ I whispered, an assumption that she had had an affair with a colleague already forming in my mind.

Ben nodded.

‘Yes, she went,’ he said bitterly. ‘The morning after she left, I set about tidying the flat. I took the rubbish down to the bins and the bag split. Amongst the detritus I
found a pregnancy test.’ He took a swig of coffee. ‘It was positive.’

I let out a long slow breath, my heart rate picking up with every word I heard.

‘Was that why she seemed ill? Did she have morning sickness?’

‘I guess so. I was angry at first. Angry that she hadn’t told me, I thought she was going to try and trap me. I didn’t want a kid; I wasn’t ready to have a
kid.’

Typical, I thought.

‘But as the days went on and I waited for her to come back, the idea began to grow on me. I mean, I was in love with the girl, wasn’t I? Yes, it was sooner than I expected but there
were worse things to be than a father.’

I nodded and retracted my uncharitable thought, but didn’t say anything.

‘Anyway she came back looking even paler and more tired than ever. I looked after her. Took her home and put her to bed. She agreed to take a week off work and that seemed to help. Every
day she looked better and grew stronger and all the time I waited for her to tell me.’

‘And did she?’ I couldn’t see where any of what he was telling me was heading now.

‘The evening before she went back to work I couldn’t stand it any more so I showed her the pregnancy test. I told her not to worry, that I was pleased, that I would support her and
the baby.’

‘What did she say?’ I asked, leaning forward in my chair.

‘She told me she hadn’t been on a business trip. She’d checked into a clinic and had an abortion.’

‘Oh god,’ I gasped, ‘how could she? How could she do that?’

Ben shook his head.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh Ben, I’m so sorry.’

‘I told myself that day,’ he continued bitterly, ‘that I would never trust another woman again, that I would never love another woman again and I hate her for that. I hate her
for taking the possibility of loving someone again away from me.’ I didn’t say anything, but I knew exactly how he felt. My relationship turned car crash with Giles had ruined love and
trust for me too. My coffee was cold when I reached for the mug and I put it back down again. Ben was sitting with his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking. I moved to the sofa and took one
of his hands and kissed it. This was doubtless what he meant about having regrets. He was probably thinking that he should have been a father by now, that he should have had a family of his
own.

When he finally looked up his expression was utterly forlorn but his skin was seductively warm, the smell of him masculine and desirable. Without speaking, without thinking we moved together and
began to kiss, our bodies entwined on the sofa. I moaned and arched my back to meet him as he hungrily tore at the buttons on my shirt. I wrapped my legs around his back, pulling him hard down on
to me. I was desperate to feel all of him, to shut out the rest of the world and give in to desire. In that moment I wasn’t looking for love and tenderness; I just wanted to feel taken over,
if only for a while.

‘No,’ Ben gasped, pushing me away, ‘we can’t. Not like this.’

I tried to kiss him again, but he pulled further away.

‘Lizzie, we can’t. We’d be doing it for all the wrong reasons. I think more of you than that.’

The fragile bubble of intensity that had surrounded us burst and along with it our moment of spontaneous passion. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t move. I just watched him walk
away.

I didn’t go down to the Café the next morning. I knew Ruby was coming in early to help Jemma so there was no need for me to put in an appearance until mid-morning
when the rush would begin. I told myself I could begin planning the next sewing session, but what I actually did was wander aimlessly from room to room thinking about Ben and everything he’d
told me.

It was little wonder he wasn’t the life and soul of the party. He probably spent most of his days with one eye on the calendar trying to work out exactly when he should have become a
father. I couldn’t imagine why any girl would do that to him. I mean, it wasn’t as if it was some one-night stand that had resulted in her pregnancy. From what I could gather they were
living together as a couple, so why would she do that? On what planet did she think her actions were acceptable? Ultimately of course the final decision would have been hers, but surely Ben had a
right to know, surely he deserved the chance to offer an opinion?

I couldn’t get our feverish embrace out of my mind either. We had been drawn together out of sympathy, a mutual understanding of what each of us had endured in the name of love over the
last few months, but those kisses, the lust his hands awoke in me meant much more than a quick sympathy fumble.

‘Can I come in?’

It was Jemma and she already had.

‘Are you OK?’ she asked, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. ‘Only, you’ve normally put in an appearance by now.’

She stopped suddenly, her eyebrows raised.

‘Oh,’ she smirked, ‘feeling a bit tired, are we?’

‘I didn’t sleep particularly well, but what do you mean?’

‘Haven’t you looked in a mirror this morning?’

I frowned and crossed the room to look at my reflection in the mirror hanging above the fireplace.

‘Or maybe you have,’ she giggled, ‘and that’s the reason why you haven’t come down. I could be mistaken,’ she concluded smugly, ‘but that to me looks
very much like the kind of raw skin you’d get from snogging someone who sports a fine crop of facial hair!’

She was right and I was mortified. My neck and chin looked red raw. I cursed Ben and his beard. There could be no denying what had happened after Jemma and Tom left us alone now. I was just
about to try to find something to say that would explain my tell-tale appearance when I heard another set of feet thundering up the stairs.

Ben stopped in the doorway panting and red-faced.

‘Don’t mind me,’ Jemma laughed, backing out of the room. ‘I’m just popping down to the chemist to get Lizzie some calamine. See you later.’

‘What was that about?’ Ben frowned. ‘Are you hurt?’

I turned to face him.

‘Oh,’ he said, ‘sorry about that, occupational hazard I guess. You’re the first girl I’ve kissed since – well, let’s just say – since I started
growing it. I wasn’t sure what the impact would be. Does it hurt?’

‘Don’t worry about my face,’ I told him, brushing aside his concern in my eagerness to talk, ‘look, about what happened.’

Ben shook his head looking embarrassed.

‘I’m really sorry about everything,’ he interrupted, ‘I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the shock of telling you everything, I dunno.’