The Cherry Tree Cafe (22 page)

‘No it is not,’ Mum and I chorused together.

‘You’re not going anywhere until all those tests come back,’ Mum said sternly. ‘And I’ll be back first thing tomorrow to make sure of that.’

‘But what about your coffee morning?’ Dad said seriously. ‘You’ve been planning this one for weeks.’

‘Don’t you worry about that,’ she said, throwing me a warning glance, ‘I’ve rescheduled it.’

‘I bet old Summers loved that!’ Dad snorted.

Mum chewed her lip but didn’t say anything. Her idol really had fallen out of favour! Ordinarily we weren’t allowed as much as a sneer in her direction.

‘Now,’ she said, ‘we’ll be back first thing to find out what they’re going to do with you.’

‘I’ll go and sort the parking,’ I said shakily, not wanting to say a proper goodbye, ‘see you tomorrow, Dad.’

‘See you tomorrow, old girl,’ Dad winked, ‘and remember to get those pants off the radiator!’

With Mum staying in the flat there was no chance to phone Ben, which turned out to be a blessing. Left to my own devices, in my eagerness to find out just what the hell was
going on I would doubtless have called him straightaway and run the risk of appearing too eager. Which of course I was, but I didn’t want him knowing that.

I might have been secretly thrilled that my high-school crush had reciprocal feelings, but his mother had also said he had gone through phases of hating me and I had absolutely no idea why. I
was, however, perfectly clear in my mind that when I did get a moment’s peace in which to call him, the conversation was going to be messy, probably loud and potentially emotionally
destructive and it was therefore best conducted in private.

When I surfaced the next morning, the sight of Mum sitting at the kitchen table wearing my fleecy dressing gown and sharing a plate of toast with Ella was a clear enough indication that this was
not going to be an ordinary week.

‘Where’s Jemma?’ I asked, pouring myself a cup of tea and buttering a slice of toast.

‘Mummy’s checking an order,’ Ella explained, ‘I was helping her but Nanny Pam said she needed me up here.’

‘Did she now?’ I smiled at Mum wondering where ‘Nanny Pam’ had sprung from.

‘Yes,’ Ella carried on in her most matter-of-fact voice, ‘she needed help to find the breakfast things because she hadn’t actually been in your kitchen before.’

‘Oh, I see and you found everything for her, Ella, did you?’

Ella nodded and gave a toothy grin as she crammed in the crumbly remains of her slice of very jammy toast.

‘Mouth closed, darling,’ Mum said automatically and Ella obeyed, just like that. I was stunned.

‘How did you sleep, Mum?’ I asked.

‘Surprisingly well,’ she smiled, ‘I haven’t slept in a single bed since I got married. I thought it would feel a bit cramped but I just went out like a light.’

‘Well, it was a tiring day,’ I yawned.

‘I’ve had a good look round the flat while you had your lie in.’

‘Oh,’ I said.

It was only seven fifteen.

‘And I have to say you’ve done a lovely job. It isn’t at all how I’d imagined it.’

‘How did you think it would look then?’

Mum shrugged and swirled the teapot before pouring herself another cup.

‘More modern,’ she said decidedly, ‘much more modern. This feels like your grandmother’s house and not just because you’ve got some of her things. It’s
comfortable and cosy, Lizzie. Really lovely. I like it a lot.’

‘I helped with some of the painting,’ Ella chipped in.

‘Yes, well we won’t go into that!’ Jemma laughed, appearing in the doorway looking flustered. ‘Thanks for taking Ella, Mrs Dixon. I knew that driver hadn’t offloaded everything.’

‘Please call me Pamela,’ Mum insisted. ‘What did he forget, dear?’

‘Half a dozen of the big bags of flour and it isn’t the first time,’ Jemma complained. ‘I reckon he leaves something off every other order then sells it on! But
I’ve called his bluff this time. I know where he’s delivering next and Tom’s gone to have it out with him.’

‘Good for you!’ Mum told her. ‘These things have to be nipped in the bud!’

‘Nip!’ squealed Ella ecstatically and squirted honey all over my best tablecloth.

By the time we’d welcomed Angela to her first shift working in the Café and dropped Ella off at Maureen’s to walk up to school, it was rush hour and slow
going towards the hospital.

Dad was sitting up in bed when we finally arrived, neat and clean, and looking every inch the man he’d always been. He’d even got some of his colour back. Mum and I exchanged a
fleeting glance, both of us clearly relieved to find him so apparently recovered.

‘Well?’ he smiled. ‘What did you think?’

‘To what?’ Mum frowned as she peered into the locker next to the bed to check all was shipshape.

‘To the flat, of course! Was it the student slum I predicted?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Mum said, wagging an accusing finger, then added with a sigh, ‘actually, your mother’s things all fit a treat.’

‘Well I’ll be—’ Dad began but was cut off by the appearance of Mr Hanif at the end of the ward.

We watched and sat quietly as he wound his way around his patients, until he finally came and stood at the foot of Dad’s bed.

‘In a high proportion of cases, Mr Dixon, a mini stroke, like the one you had yesterday, turns out to be a warning of what’s to come.’

‘I was afraid of that,’ stammered Mum, reaching for her handkerchief.

Mr Hanif looked at her and shook his head.

‘I can assure you, Mrs Dixon, that quite often these first forerunners are missed, however, in your husband’s case, your daughter’s vigilance has been a huge help. Now we know
what may be lurking on the horizon, we can do our utmost to prevent it happening or limit the trauma if it does.’

Mum took a deep breath and nodded bravely.

‘So,’ she said, ‘what have we got to do with him?’

‘Naturally I will prescribe some medication but there are other things that, after my earlier conversation with Mr Dixon this morning, will I feel go a long way to helping prevent another
more potentially serious stroke.’

‘Such as?’ Mum asked, leaning forward in her seat.

I glanced at Dad. He was looking increasingly tense.

‘Wait for it,’ he mouthed silently.

‘Certain simple diet and lifestyle changes can all have a huge impact on reducing the risk of strokes,’ Mr Hanif carried on, ‘I suggest you and your husband have a think about
the food you eat, as well as the amount of exercise you take.’

I braced myself for the blow, fully expecting Mum to launch off at the suggestion that her decades of rich, hearty cooking might have played some part in putting Dad in a hospital bed, but she
said nothing.

‘I take it neither of you smoke or drink?’ Mr Hanif asked, his eyebrows raised in Dad’s direction.

‘I like a sherry before lunch on a Sunday,’ Mum confessed, ‘but I’ve never been a smoker and he gave up years ago. Didn’t you, love?’

Dad didn’t say anything.

‘Well,’ said Mr Hanif moving away from the bed. ‘I’ll leave you these leaflets and providing you behave yourself today, we’ll discharge you tomorrow, Mr Dixon. How
does that sound?’

‘Perfect,’ Dad smiled. ‘Thank you, Mr Hanif.’

‘What was all that about?’ I hissed, as Mum went to borrow another chair from the patient in the next bed.

‘I never gave up,’ Dad hissed back, ‘what did you think I was doing in the garden all the live-long day? It isn’t exactly Monty Don standard, is it?’

‘There, Lizzie,’ Mum said, pointing at the chair, ‘you sit there.’

I sat as instructed and began flicking through the leaflets trying to pretend I wasn’t going to listen to what was said next.

‘Well I hope you’ve learnt your lesson, Tony Dixon,’ Mum said sternly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ll gladly take some of the blame but I’m not shouldering your damaged lungs on top of all the cream and butter we get through!’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘All the cigarettes you smoke when you’re supposedly gardening. I didn’t say anything in front of Mr Hanif because I didn’t know if you’d told him the truth, but it
ends now. No more cigarettes.’

Dad looked like a child who had been caught with his fingers in the penny sweets.

‘How did you know?’ he gaped indignantly. ‘I’ve always made sure my clothes have had a good airing before I come back in and I use a mouth wash!’

‘Exactly!’ Mum said, her lips a thin set line. ‘Who pops out to do a bit of weeding and comes back in minty fresh?’

We all looked at each other and laughed, but it wasn’t funny. It was time they started taking a bit more care of themselves. It was a shock to acknowledge it, but they weren’t
getting any younger.

‘Perhaps I’ll take up golf or walking,’ Dad said wistfully.

‘No,’ said Mum, ‘perhaps
we’ll
take up golf or walking or both.’

‘But how are you going to fit all that in with your coffee mornings and committee meetings?’

‘I’m giving all that up,’ Mum said determinedly, ‘it’s high time I spent a few more hours with my husband.’

‘Well, I’ll be . . .’ Dad said again.

‘Do you know what you’re going to say?’ Jemma asked, as we set up the laptop in the flat kitchen. ‘Have you gone through it all in your head?’

‘A hundred times,’ I admitted, ‘at least.’

‘I’m sorry it’s come to this,’ she said sadly, ‘I really am. Tom’s asked him to come back, but he says he just can’t do it. I can’t believe
he’s agreed to do this, to be honest.’

‘Neither can I,’ I said, squinting at the monitor. ‘If it wasn’t for Dad being ill, I would have jumped on a plane and gone over there myself, but I guess this is the
next best thing.’

‘Well, it’s a start,’ she smiled, giving me a squeeze. ‘Good luck. I’m pleased we’re OK again, Lizzie. We are, aren’t we?’

‘Of course we are,’ I said, hugging her back, ‘I do understand why you and Tom don’t want to tell me anything. This is Ben’s business and it’s up to him to
take care of it.’

‘Promise you’ll call later and let me know what he said?’

‘I promise.’

Because jetting off to sunny Spain wasn’t an option, I’d asked Tom to arrange a Skype session with Ben. At least that way I could see the whites of his eyes when I demanded to be
told what the hell his mother had been prattling on about but now, as I counted the seconds down I couldn’t help feeling a little vulnerable myself. There was nowhere to hide with the screen
right in front of me but it was too late to back out.

‘Hi!’

‘Hello.’ I swallowed.

The picture wasn’t great but it was unmistakably him. Tanned and no longer sporting a beard, he looked disconcertingly like the boy I had fallen in love with at school.

‘Sorry to hear about your dad.’.

‘Thanks,’ I croaked, my voice thick in my throat.

‘Tom told me,’ he added.

I nodded at the screen, my actions slightly out of sync with my words.

‘What happened to the beard?’

‘Oh it had to go,’ he smiled, ‘too hot out here, you know?’

I nodded.

‘Did Tom tell you why I wanted to talk?’

‘Yes, and I had an email from my mother. She said she had a feeling she might have put her foot in it a bit.’

Understatement of the century!

‘What an interesting character she is,’ I said diplomatically.

Ben grinned sheepishly.

‘Oh yes, she’s a real keeper.’

‘She speaks very highly of your father and the new love in his life.’

‘Yeah, I bet she does,’ Ben laughed.

It was harder than I thought, trying to find the words and ask the right questions. It would have been far easier by text, away from those delicious dark eyes.

‘So . . .’

‘So,’ I responded, trying to find the courage, ‘she said . . .’ I faltered.

How could I ask him to explain without making it sound like a playground drama?

‘She said you had feelings for me when we were at school,’ I said simply.

Ben nodded.

‘I did,’ he said with a sigh. ‘You were my high-school crush, Lizzie.’

I couldn’t believe it. Straight from the horse’s mouth: the very words that I’d used to describe him to myself only weeks before. My heart was beating a tattoo in my chest as I
thought how fantastic school could have been if only we’d been brave enough to seek each other out.

‘But it’s OK,’ he carried on when I didn’t say anything, ‘I know you didn’t like me. You always made a point of staying out of the way when I was around so I
got the message, but it didn’t alter the fact that I liked you.’

‘Why didn’t you ever say anything?’ I asked.

‘Because you made it so obvious, like I just said, you always stayed out of the way. Even after we left school you seemed to do everything you could to avoid me, didn’t
you?’

‘Yes,’ I nodded, ‘I suppose I did.’

It wasn’t a lie. I did avoid him, but I couldn’t face putting my feelings on the line and telling him why, although it probably would have been different if his mother hadn’t
mentioned that he also hated me!

‘I liked you right up until Giles swept you off your feet actually,’ Ben bravely admitted.

Despite the tan and blurry picture I could still make out a slight rosy tinge lighting up his cheeks. Why couldn’t I be as brave as him? Maybe it was the Giles effect? Maybe the toad
really had tainted me for life and left me incapable of being honest about my feelings for fear of ridicule and reprisal.

‘I guess it’s just water under the bridge now,’ Ben shrugged.

‘Not quite,’ I said, trying to see beyond my own regret, ‘the sliding scale, the “Dixon
Dilemma” as your mother called it, it has a more sinister side to it, doesn’t it? She said it had slipped from love to hate fairly recently.’

Ben swallowed, but didn’t say anything.

‘So what was that about?’ I demanded, beginning to lose patience.

‘I’m not sure we should talk about that like this,’ he said, indicating the screen. ‘It doesn’t feel right, it’s not fair.’

‘Oh none of this is fair, Ben!’ I scowled. ‘Believe me!’

‘I know. I’m sorry,’ he ran his hands through his hair, sat up straighter and took a deep breath. ‘OK . . .’ he began.