The Cherry Tree Cafe (6 page)

‘All done!’ Jemma beamed. ‘I sorted it as we went along.’

‘Eat your heart out, Nigella.’ Ben grinned, grabbing her and quickly planting a whiskery kiss on her cheek.

‘If I didn’t know she hated that fuzz, mate,’ Tom joked, ‘I wouldn’t let you get away with that!’

‘Actually,’ Jemma laughed, ‘it is kind of growing on me!’

‘Right, that’s it!’

This time it was Ella who rolled her eyes as she watched her parents chase each other around the kitchen. I kept my eyes on the table.

‘They always do this,’ she told me in her most grown-up voice, ‘even when we have company.’

‘Lizzie’s not company,’ Tom frowned, skidding to a halt, ‘she’s family.’

‘Yes, and Mummy said she’s broken-hearted so I don’t think you should mess about like that. It might remind her about her old boyfriend, mightn’t it, and what about poor
Ben?’

‘I’ll just go and check the fire,’ Ben mumbled, quickly ducking out of the room.

‘And you, young lady, can come upstairs for your bath,’ said Tom, not daring to look in my direction.

‘God, Lizzie, I’m so sorry,’ Jemma whispered as she quietly closed the kitchen door. ‘I haven’t said a word to her, I promise. The little sod must have been
eavesdropping.’

‘It’s OK,’ I said, ‘honestly.’

‘No it isn’t,’ Jemma frowned, pulling her thick blonde ponytail over her shoulder and hanging on to it.

The gesture made me smile and was a complete giveaway as to how bad she felt. Jemma had been tugging on her ponytail ever since she stepped out in front of my bike and sent me flying after Dad
had taken my stabilisers off.

‘Look, come on,’ I pleaded. ‘Please don’t make a fuss.’

I was just as embarrassed as everyone else but it was done. I knew being around Ella would mean that this sort of thing would happen occasionally and I’d made sure I factored that in when
deciding whether I was going to come back.

‘Let’s talk about something else,’ I suggested, grateful for the opportunity to steer the conversation back to Tom and Ben and the chance to quiz her as to why she’d
insisted I wouldn’t remember him. ‘What’s the big secret between the boys,’ I said casually, ‘and why did you tell Ben that I probably wouldn’t recognise
him?’

‘I was only trying to help,’ she pouted, ‘I thought that if I said you couldn’t remember him it would look as if you weren’t interested in him and there is no
secret, as far as I know.’

‘I’m not interested in him,’ I snapped, fighting back the blush that was threatening to bloom, ‘but they were definitely whispering as we came in to dinner, something
about everything turning out all right.’

‘No idea, probably something and nothing,’ she shrugged dismissively, ‘you know what boys are like.’

‘Not really,’ I said, wrinkling my nose, ‘otherwise I wouldn’t be suddenly single, would I?’

The look of horror on Jemma’s face was enough to make me regret my flippant comment.

‘Oh ignore me!’ I laughed.

I could tell that she did know what the guys had been whispering about, but I also knew that once she had made up her mind about something there was no point quizzing her.

‘I know,’ I suggested. ‘How about we go and have a look at the flat? I can’t wait to see it.’

‘Oh, well,’ she stuttered, her cheeks flushing crimson as she fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth, ‘I don’t think we should go traipsing over there at this time of
night.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, we’ve had all this wine for a start!’ She gestured towards the two bottles and empty glasses. ‘It’s getting late and it’s freezing out
there.’

‘And?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, and what aren’t you telling me?’

I was prepared to let her off with keeping the boys’ secret, but withholding details about my future home was something else.

‘Nothing!’ Jemma’s voice was still an octave too high to quell my suspicions.

‘Jemma!’

‘Oh all right! The boys couldn’t get the boiler going today so there’s no heating yet, but that’s all.’

‘Really?’

‘Really! I mean, the décor leaves a bit to be desired and the damp needs sorting in the back bedroom but apart from that it’ll be fine once you’ve stretched your
creative muscle.’

There was something about the way she carried on fiddling at the table that warned me that perhaps the flat wasn’t going to be quite as welcoming as I’d originally hoped.

I remembered the consequences connected to another time she had been cagey about something and hoped this time around things wouldn’t be so problematic. Years ago she’d borrowed my
first pair of designer leather boots without asking, for a secret date with Tom and somehow snapped the heel off. Consequently I’d looked a right prat when I marched, or should I say hobbled,
back to the store shouting about shoddy workmanship only to be told that the heel had been broken before and glued back on.

‘Look, I know what you’re thinking.’

‘No you don’t!’

‘Yes I do, you’re thinking about those bloody boots!’

We both burst out laughing and the atmosphere that only seconds before had been heading towards fraught had dissolved.

‘I promise we’ll go first thing in the morning,’ Jemma said, ‘tonight I’ll just set up the sofa bed. I’m sure Ben wouldn’t mind moving out of the spare
room for one night.’

‘No,’ I insisted, ‘the sofa will be fine for me. It’ll be a treat with the fire still lit, really snug and peaceful.’

‘OK,’ Jemma smiled, ‘as long as you’re sure. Then a fresh start tomorrow, yes?’

‘Yes,’ I tried to smile back with more confidence than I felt, ‘a fresh start tomorrow.’

By the time Ella had finally decided it was time to stay in bed and go to sleep and Tom and Ben had unloaded the dishwasher, I was more than ready to hit the sack. Jemma had
closed the sitting-room curtains and thoughtfully warmed up the makeshift bed with Ella’s penguin-shaped hot-water bottle. She threw a final log on the fire and told me to help myself to
anything I wanted from the kitchen.

‘We’re so pleased you’ve come back,’ she said kindly, as she wrapped me in a comforting embrace.

‘So am I,’ I whispered.

‘I couldn’t have done it,’ she admitted, releasing me.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Come back on my own,’ she confided, her body emitting a little tremor, ‘I would have gone anywhere but here, anywhere other than where everyone knows me.’

She gave me another quick hug and it suddenly dawned on me that, for the next few weeks at least, my private life was going to be very public. I’d been working in the pub when Giles burst
on the scene and there was barely a resident left in the town that my mother hadn’t bragged to about my ‘high flying’ job and well-bred boyfriend. I shrugged my shoulders,
thinking it was too late to worry about any of that now. I was here and I was safe amongst friends who had offered me a refuge and a lifeline.

‘We’ll brazen it out together,’ I told her firmly. ‘This time next week I’ll be old news.’

As I lay alone that night listening to the comforting crackle of the fire, my mind flitted back to Giles and what he had done when I left him at the bar. Had he scooped up the junk I’d
dumped on him or had he left it all there? Had he abandoned the mess like he’d abandoned me, on the expectation that someone else would clear it all up and make it presentable again?

I thought about what Ella had said as well. Watching Jemma and Tom in the kitchen brought home to me how ‘grown-up’ and sensible my relationship with Giles had been. There was no
denying the sex was always phenomenally satisfying and well, sexy, but we’d never really messed about or laughed uproariously, never chased each other around the flat or gone in for
demonstrative public displays of affection. As I eventually drifted off to sleep I couldn’t help wondering if our ‘big’ relationship had really been worthy of the pedestal I had
so readily put it on.

It was comforting to wake up to the noise and bustle of a house full of people. The building that housed the flat that Giles and I had shared always struck me as exclusive and
extravagant with its river views and concierge, but it had no soul. My heels had always sounded hollow on the polished floor and our voices echoed off the empty walls and high ceilings. There was
plenty of style attached to the sought-after postcode, but little in the way of substance.

‘I’m sorry that Jemma gave you the impression that I wouldn’t recognise you, Ben,’ I apologised, as I passed him the coffee pot.

I knew it wasn’t really necessary to bring the subject up again but to me it still felt like unfinished business and after the humiliation of the beer-bubble snorting and Ella’s
little faux pas, I just wanted to start our relationship over, wipe the slate clean and get off on the right foot. It was inevitable that we were going to be spending a fair bit of time together
over the coming weeks and after the complications I’d left behind in London I was feeling determined to keep life in Wynbridge as simple as possible.

‘It’s OK,’ he shrugged, staring down and pinning me with his seductively dark gaze, ‘I’ll let you in on a little secret, shall I?’

‘What?’ I breathed, my stomach turning over as I stared back full of hope that he was going to enlighten me as to what he and Tom had been whispering about.

‘It was actually more likely that I wouldn’t recognise you!’

‘What, when I arrived you mean?’

‘No,’ Ben smiled wryly, ‘with your trademark hair and freckles it could only be you! I meant from the photographs Jemma showed me.’

‘Oh,’ I said, my eyes now firmly focused on my coffee cup. I was flattered he had remembered something about me, but it was hardly a compliment; my so-called ‘trademark hair
and freckles’ turned out to be more trouble than they were worth as a rule. For once it would have been nice to be remembered for just being me, for my sparkling conversation and razor-sharp
wit. Yeah right. Who was I kidding?

‘You looked very sleek and sophisticated,’ Ben continued, ‘not at all like the girl I used to see around school and working in the pub.’

‘Oh,’ I said again, my already crushed confidence taking another knock. At least he’d ‘seen me around’ but how exactly had I looked then: dull, dowdy,
desperate?

Ben took a swig of coffee then banged down his mug.

‘Shit,’ he muttered, ‘sorry, that didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean you didn’t look good before. Sorry, what I meant was . . .’

‘It’s fine,’ I interrupted. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

I felt even more awkward having guessed which photographs Jemma must have shown him. They were doubtless the set I’d sent her from the company Christmas ball and Ben was right, I had
looked sleek and sophisticated. My hair was smooth and straight, my nails polished and my elegant jade dress and matching Jimmy Choos, which had carried a jaw-dropping price tag, immaculate.

‘Well, I’m back to my old self now,’ I shrugged, tucking my hair behind my ears and desperately trying not to think about anything that was connected to Giles.

‘Good,’ Ben nodded. His expression was deadly serious as he took in my sloppy pj’s and dishevelled curls. ‘It never works, does it? I’ve discovered that for myself
recently.’ His tone was suddenly bitter and sounded far less friendly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Trying to pretend to be someone you’re not. It never turns out how you think it will. There’s a time limit on pretending. It simply isn’t possible to live a lie for
long.’

I opened my mouth to say something but couldn’t find the words. I was only just beginning to come to terms with how much Giles had changed me and my appearance during the course of our
relationship and I certainly didn’t need someone I barely knew nudging me to think about all the reasons as to why he might have done it.

‘I’m going for a shower,’ I mumbled, quickly slipping out of the room and wondering if it was really possible for me to just turn back into my old self. And more importantly,
did I actually want to?

‘Just remember,’ Jemma smiled nervously, ‘it isn’t as bad as it looks and there’s nothing we can’t fix, OK?’

‘That’s it, love,’ Tom laughed, giving his wife a gentle shove, ‘keep going, you’re really selling it to her now! I wish you sounded as confident about overhauling
the Café as you do about the flat.’

We rounded the corner, having dropped Ella at her ballet class, and there it was, The Cherry Tree Café or perhaps I should say, the shell of what had once been The Cherry Tree
Café.

‘So as you can see, the outside needs a bit more work,’ Tom faltered, pulling off his hat and scratching his head as we crossed the icy road. ‘But Jemma’s right, Lizzie,
it’s not actually as bad as it looks.’

Everything was pretty much as I remembered it. The cute picket fence and cherry tree that covered much of the forecourt was still in situ, only now the fence sported more rot than paint and the
once lovely tree looked as though it hadn’t been pruned in years.

‘We’ll go round the back,’ Tom suggested, as he took in my expression, ‘just focus on the flat for today. Ben’s here already. He’s gradually working his way
through the list of jobs you gave him, isn’t he, Jem?’

‘He certainly is,’ Jemma said, smiling again, ‘I’ve already told Lizzie how hands on he is.’

‘Um,’ Tom smiled back as he tickled his wife in the ribs, ‘I bet you have. Anyway, we won’t disturb him for now. Let’s go straight up to the flat and look in on him
after.’

After our earlier conversation I didn’t want to look in on him at all but I was curious to see how the old place was shaping up. I still hadn’t worked out if Ben had been having a
dig at me back at the house but I was going to have to get over it. I was desperate to get on and start moving my stuff up to the flat, but I wanted to have a look around the Café first,
even if Ben Fletcher was there wielding his hammer. Before I could stop them, however, Jemma and Tom had set off down the little path that ran along the side of the building.

‘Hey, hang on, guys!’ I called after them, ‘I want to see the Café first. It can’t be that bad surely!’

They walked slowly back and Jemma tentatively reached for the handle and pushed back the door.