The Cherry Tree Cafe (8 page)

As we slipped up the icy pavement that ran alongside the River Wyn and towards the cheerily lit haven at the end of the road, I considered throwing myself into a pot hole in the hope that I
would sprain or even break an ankle to avoid the inevitable humiliation which I could feel pulsating towards me with every step. Unfortunately Jemma, my telepathic companion, guessed what was afoot
and clung on even tighter. She didn’t say anything, but her grasp suggested that if I was going down I was going to have to take her with me.

‘Ready?’ she asked, her pretty face and long blonde hair lit by the soft glow emanating from the pub windows.

‘No,’ I smiled nervously. ‘Not really. Can we just go home, please?’

‘Oh come on! What can possibly go wrong?’

I looked up at the weather-beaten sign as it creaked in the icy breeze and the piercing gaze of the mermaid as she sat upon her rock, haughtily brushing her long locks with a sea shell comb.

‘Everything,’ I whispered. I stepped back just as Jemma lifted the latch on the heavy wooden door. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,’ I stammered, ‘not
yet. I’m just not ready.’

I turned with the intention of rushing back down the road to the sanctuary of Jemma and Tom’s welcoming hearth, but the door was thrust open and before I’d taken a single step, I
felt myself being helpfully nudged backwards by my ‘friend’.

It was inevitable of course that I should lose my footing and fall flat on my backside across the welcome mat. The pub fell silent as Jemma rushed, apologising profusely, to pull me to my feet
and dust me down as if it had been Ella who had fallen rather than foolish thirty-something me.

‘Well, well, well!’ I heard Evelyn Harper, the pub landlady’s shrill voice ring out. ‘Look what the cat’s dragged in!’

Tom and Ben sat as promised, in the shadowy nook next to the fire, nursing their drinks and shaking their heads.

‘Hello, Evelyn,’ I tried to smile, my face aglow, ‘long time no see.’

‘Too bloody long!’ shouted a voice next to me. It was Evelyn’s husband, Jim. ‘How the hell are you, girl?’

He spun me round and hugged me tight, my face barely reaching his chest.

‘Crikey, Jim!’ I spluttered. ‘Have you grown?’

As I regained my composure and felt some of the heat in my face recede, I noticed everyone turning back to their own conversations. The babble of chatter in the pub grew steadily louder until it
was once again almost impossible to hear yourself think and I was subjected to nothing more agonising than the odd questioning glance. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as bad as I first
thought.

‘I thought you were more interested in grand exits than entrances?’ Jim winked as he levered himself to his station behind the bar.

Evelyn, who barely came up to his shoulder but was very much in charge, dug him hard in the ribs.

‘You leave her alone!’ she snapped. ‘Ignore him, my love. You know what an old tease he can be. Now what can I get you – it’s on the house?’

Tom and Ben forced their way through the crowd towards the bar where Jemma and I were perched on a couple of stools. Their fireside seats were taken long before they reached us.

‘We didn’t think there was much point hiding in the corner after that!’ Tom laughed. ’Do you girls fancy a song?’

Jemma rolled her eyes and tugged at Tom’s sleeve.

‘Please not tonight,’ she begged, ‘can’t we just have one night off, one single, solitary trip to the pub that doesn’t turn into a bloody Mumford
tribute?’

‘No,’ Tom laughed, kissing the top of her head. ‘We thought a bit of a sing-song might take the heat off Lizzie for a bit. Feel free to join in, won’t you?’ he
winked at me.

He disappeared amongst the crowd again with Ben following on behind. He didn’t say anything as he passed and I struggled to believe that the impromptu entertainment was really for my
benefit and even if it was, it certainly wasn’t Ben who had come up with the idea.

‘I get the impression Ben doesn’t like me!’ I shouted to Jemma, after I’d made sure he was out of earshot.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, shouting back above the noise.

‘I can’t explain it,’ I shrugged, ‘it’s just a couple of things he’s said.’

Jemma shook her head.

‘Don’t take it personally,’ she insisted, ‘he’s got a lot on his plate right now.’

‘Like what?’

Jemma took a sip of her pint.

‘I’m sorry, Lizzie, I’m not supposed to say anything.’

‘Oh,’ I said, feeling a bit put out.

‘Let’s just say Ben is pissed off with pretty much everyone and everything right now,’ she explained, ‘so don’t take his comments personally, OK?’

I was intrigued. My hunch at the Café was obviously right.

‘That’s easy for you to say!’ I told her. ‘I haven’t heard him snap at you!’

‘Oh, he’s had his moments, believe me.’ Jemma smiled.

A thought suddenly struck me.

‘He isn’t cross because you offered the flat to me, is he? I mean, he was already with you before you asked me if I wanted to move in, wasn’t he?’

‘No, no! It’s nothing like that. I don’t think he’s planning on hanging around long after the Café’s open,’ Jemma reassured me. ‘He hasn’t
talked about staying on, anyway.’

‘Fair enough,’ I muttered. ‘I’ll try not to take his comments to heart next time.’

Jemma didn’t say anything else and I knew I wasn’t going to get anything more out of her. It wasn’t fair to try and force her to fess up, but I still couldn’t help
feeling left a little out in the cold. After all, Ben knew why I was sleeping on the sofa in my best friend’s sitting room; the least he could do was return the favour and share his woes with
me, wasn’t it? I’d already worked out we were going to be spending a lot of time together at the Café over the coming weeks and without knowing why he had come back I was bound
to put my foot in it and incur his wrath.

Jemma turned to face me again. She was obviously feeling guilty.

‘Like I said, he’s got a lot on his mind right now. He’s coming to terms with some pretty major stuff that’s happened in his life, but bear with him. You’ll really
like him once you get to know him and I dare say he’ll fill you in when the time’s right.’

I drank a mouthful of my pint and glanced over to where the guys were preparing to entertain the crowd. Tom, sitting at the piano, was grinning broadly and Ben, miraculously smiling, was
fiddling intently with the strings on a double bass. A third member of the crowd joined them and cheers went up as he whipped a banjo out from behind his back. I looked around at the ruddy,
slightly unfocused faces and thought how the place hadn’t changed at all. We were certainly in for a fun evening.

A little while later Jim had somehow tempted me behind the packed bar and I found myself pulling pints with the same dexterity I had achieved when I was a paid member of staff. ‘You
wouldn’t happen to be looking for a bit of part-time work, would you?’ Evelyn asked as she squeezed past with a handful of change. ‘Only we’re a body down at the moment and
you’ve obviously still got the knack.’

‘Crikey, I don’t know!’ I laughed.

This was the second job offer I’d had in days and neither bore any resemblance to the one I’d just given up. Perhaps Ben was right after all; perhaps I’d been kidding myself
all along, trying to be someone other than plain old Lizzie Dixon, but surely if I took Evelyn up on her offer it would feel like the last two years hadn’t happened. I would feel like I was
admitting, if only to myself, that I would have been better off staying put and pulling pints in Wynbridge.

‘I only got back yesterday,’ I told Evelyn, ‘I don’t even know if I’m staying yet.’

I looked over at Jemma, who was now sitting on the stool next to Tom and singing her head off. Another pang of unwanted jealousy hit. Perhaps I’d made a mistake in thinking I would be able
to rebuild my life back here? Maybe I would have been better off going somewhere different, somewhere I could be the new girl in town, the only baggage attached to me stowed away in the boot of my
car? What if, I cringed, everyone here was thinking the same thing as Ben had suggested. Were they all thinking I deserved what had happened because I’d got ideas above my station?

‘Well, have a think about it and let me know,’ Evelyn said, her eyes following my gaze. ‘I know Jemma’s been looking forward to seeing you and I’m sure she could do
with a hand with the Café and that little rascal Ella. Your friend has certainly got her hands full at the moment, that’s for sure!’

Evelyn was right, of course. I excused myself and headed for the ladies. I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I jumped ship when my best mate needed me most, would I? In the past Jemma had
always been there for me and now I only had to think about how keen she was to offer me the flat to know that she had my best interests at heart.

‘Lizzie Dixon! Well this is a surprise!’

My heart sank as I looked up into the mirror above the sinks.

‘Erica Summers,’ I smiled through gritted teeth, ‘how lovely to see you.’

‘Actually, it’s Erica Dawson now,’ the woman drawled, waving a bejewelled left hand at my reflection. ‘I got married last summer.’

‘Oh yes, Mum did mention it.’ General consensus was that it was the most expensive, extravagant and ostentatious wedding the town had ever seen. ‘Congratulations.’

‘You next!’ she giggled as she primped her hair and reapplied her lip gloss. ‘Will you be doing it here?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘The wedding,’ she said, her recent Botox permitting only the merest hint of a raised eyebrow as she stared back at me in the mirror, ‘will you be having it here in Wynbridge
or is it going to be on Giles’s family estate?’ she gushed.

‘I don’t know . . .’

‘Don’t tell me you haven’t decided yet!’ she laughed. ‘If you don’t hurry up you’ll never book the caterer or musicians you want or anything! If you
aren’t careful you’ll end up with those buffoons out there!’ she laughed, inclining her head back towards the bar door where the distant roar of ‘I Will Wait’ was
being thumped out at full volume. ‘Believe me,’ she confided in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘organising a wedding takes a lot of commitment. I can give you the details of the
planner I used, if you like?’

‘Erica,’ I said, trying not to cry, be sick or show any trace of emotion that would let my old enemy know that she was getting to me. ‘I think there’s been a
mistake.’

‘Oh no mistake, your mother . . .’

‘My mother,’ I interrupted, cursing her under my breath, ‘has made a mistake.’

Erica, wide-eyed, blinked slowly and gave her carefully coiffured head a little shake of confusion. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. I couldn’t stand there and tell her that
I was back in town as a singleton with no romantic prospects or attachments.

I pushed past her back into the bar.

‘There’s no mistake,’ she called close behind me, her voice losing its upmarket tone. ‘I read it in the paper!’

The music came to a shuddering halt and everyone clapped and cheered for an encore.

‘What?’ I shouted above the din.

‘We all did!’ Erica shouted back, her expression triumphant. ‘Everyone knows! Your mother put an announcement in the paper the other week.’

She grabbed the pile of stacked local newspapers from the bar just as Jim lunged for them. Gradually, as the noise subsided, all faces turned to us. Erica rifled through the pile, Jim still
ineffectually trying to snatch them from her grasp. Erica held on tight as she finally found her quarry and my heart began beating as if it was chasing the hundred-metre gold.

‘Here it is!’ she laughed, her cruel voice ringing through the air as the last discarded pages settled around her feet. ‘Mr and Mrs Dixon are proud to announce the engagement
of their only daughter Elizabeth to Giles Worthington . . .’

She was cut off in mid-flow by Evelyn who had raced around the other side of the counter and snatched the paper from her grasp. I watched on incredulously as she screwed it into a ball and threw
it aside.

‘You’re barred!’ she shouted in Erica’s face. ‘Go on! Out! And this time you won’t be coming back!’

She frog-marched Erica through the door and Jemma and Jim led me back behind the bar and into the pub kitchen.

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

Jemma shook her head in disbelief as she watched me pacing the floor.

‘How could you let me come in here, knowing that was sitting on the bar?’ I shouted. ‘Whatever must everyone be thinking?’

Still Jemma said nothing.

‘I think,’ Jim said nervously, ‘everyone thought you’d come in to brazen it out, love. Get it over and done with quick, like,’ he added. ‘Like pulling off a .
. .’

‘If you say band-aid, Jim, I’ll bloody swing for you,’ I seethed, ‘I really will.’

Jim gave a wry smile and rubbed his stubbly chin.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said kindly. ‘Take your time. You can go out the back way if you like.’

‘No way,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I’m not hiding now. When I leave it’ll be through the front door.’

‘Good for you,’ he smiled, ‘give me a shout if you need anything.’

He backed out of the door and closed it quietly behind him. All the time he’d been talking, Jemma had sat silent and unmoved.

‘Well?’

‘I don’t know what to say,’ she said, reaching for her hair.

‘How about, I’m sorry?’

‘I’m not saying sorry for something I knew nothing about!’

‘How could you not have seen it?’ I shouted. ‘It was there, large as life in black and white. What did you think? That if I knew then I wouldn’t come back?’

‘I’m telling you,’ Jemma said patiently, ‘that I, we, didn’t know. No one had mentioned it and we don’t always get a local paper these days. They’re not
always delivered and with everything else going on I don’t have time to chase the newsagent about it!’

I slumped down in the chair opposite and rested my head on the edge of the table.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Jemma whispered. ‘If I’d had any idea . . .’ her words trailed off as the door quietly opened.

‘Shall we head off?’ It was Tom with our coats.

‘Yep,’ I said, jumping up, ‘I want to get out of here, but I’m not going out the back.’