‘This is good,’ Gerry says, lifting his bun after he’s taken a bite. It’s the first time I’ve heard him speak.
‘Of course it’s good,’ Dad says, lifting his chin. ‘My Maddie made them. She has her own teashop in town where she sells the best baked goods in Manchester.’
‘Only Manchester?’ Birdie teases. ‘I think you’re selling our Maddie short.’
‘Actually, Mags made these,’ I point out. I could have lapped up all the praise, but I feel a bit of a fraud sitting there while they big-up Mags’s buns (so to speak). ‘But you’re right, they are good.’ Mags has topped the buns with icing that is both sweet and creamy while still managing to be light and complementary to the cinnamon flavour. ‘These are far better than my buns.’
‘Nonsense,’ Dad says, though I note his half is long gone. I pop the last of my own bun into my mouth and lick the icing from my fingers.
‘You have an impressive vegetable patch,’ Birdie tells Gerry as she pours them a mug of tea each. ‘As you’ve probably gathered, I’m not very green-fingered myself. I get my grandson to run the mower over the garden every now and then but I do water my plants myself. Unfortunately, that’s as far as my outdoor space expertise goes.’
Gerry grunts and takes a sip of tea. ‘You can come and have a closer look if you’d like.’
‘Can I?’ Birdie’s high, eager voice makes it sound like Gerry has offered to escort her around The Chelsea Flower Show rather than his rather rustic veggie patch. ‘That would be lovely. Come on then, before this slave-driver has me pulling up weeds again.’ She winks at Dad before heaving herself out of her deckchair and following Gerry to the next plot.
‘I see you’ve found a new owner for the gloves,’ I say, nodding towards the pair still sitting on the table.
‘They were only gathering dust in the shed.’ Dad’s scratches his neck. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Why would I mind?’
‘They were your mum’s. I don’t want you to think I’m taking liberties.’
I almost laugh out loud, but manage to temper my mirth by taking a sip of still-hot tea. ‘Dad, those gloves have been sitting in there for years. I bet they still had the label on, didn’t they?’ Dad nods. ‘Mum was never a fan of this allotment, but Birdie clearly enjoys it.’ We both look over as Birdie chuckles at something Gerry has said. Dad’s bewildered expression matches my own. Surely Gerry hasn’t cracked a joke? ‘I’m glad those gloves are finally being put to good use.’
The gloves, in my mind at least, are a metaphor for Dad’s heart.
‘Maybe you could pop them on and tackle the weeds,’ Dad says, lowering his voice as he glances towards Birdie again. ‘Birdie wasn’t lying when she said she isn’t green-fingered. She pulled up half of my radishes before I realised what was happening. I don’t suppose you want to take some home with you?’
I wrinkle my nose. Radishes aren’t my favourite vegetable. ‘No thanks. I think Jane might like them though. She was telling me how much she enjoyed your spuds.’
Dad blushes and takes a sip of his tea. ‘You want to watch your tongue, young lady, otherwise I might start quizzing you about boys.’
I think about Caleb and his undies and decide to change the subject.
‘I made a flyer for The Sweetest Kiss,’ I say, reaching into my tote.
‘The what?’ Dad pulls his glasses out of the pocket in his shirt and slips them on.
‘The Sweetest Kiss. It’s what we’re calling the dating service. What do you think?’ I pass the flyer to Dad, who probably wishes he hadn’t put his glasses on now.
‘It’s smashing, love.’ He pats me on the arm and offers an encouraging smile. ‘Good job.’
I knew I could rely on Dad to be untruthful when I needed it.
‘What’s this?’ Birdie is bending over Dad and peering at the flyer before I can stop her. ‘Oh. It’s … different.’ Which everyone knows translates as ‘an embarrassingly poor effort’.
‘I’m not very good at designing on the computer,’ I say, stuffing the flyer into the safety of my tote.
‘Why don’t you ask Caleb to give you a hand?’ Birdie asks. ‘He’s very good. He did a bit of graphic design at university before he became a teaching assistant. He designs all the posters at his school for plays and discos and that kind of thing.’
Of course! I remember him telling Nicky’s mum about it the other night, but I can’t ask for Caleb’s help now. Can I? I shake my head, trying to dislodge the image of Caleb’s appalled face as I wittered on about his underwear.
‘I wouldn’t want to take up his time,’ I tell Birdie. ‘This flyer’s fine.’
Birdie pats me on the shoulder as she looks down at the flyer. ‘It’ll be no trouble at all. I’ll ask him to pop round this evening and take a quick look.’
I’m about to protest, but Birdie is already wandering back to Gerry’s plot to check out his sprouts. So, unless Caleb’s busy or can think of an on-the-spot excuse, it looks like we’ll be seeing each other again tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Word has started to spread about The Sweetest Kiss, so that by the time I arrive back from the allotment, our list of female participants has grown.
‘Marjorie and Annette flew in here shortly after Robbie left,’ Mags tells me as I sit down at my desk. If Caleb’s going to be checking out my flyer, I need to have another crack at it otherwise I’ll combust with embarrassment.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’ll be combusting with embarrassment with or without the poster. Why hadn’t I tried harder to talk Birdie out of asking for his input?
‘It’ll be a bit icky if they went on a date with Robbie,’ Mags says, pulling a face at the thought of the family of florists dating each other. ‘So you’ll have to be really careful when pairing them up.’
‘Good point.’ I pick up the stack of completed questionnaires from our female registrations and flick through them. ‘It’s going to be difficult to match people up if we don’t have enough people on our books. I might need to beg Nicky to take part next week, just to up the numbers.’ It’s funny, but The Sweetest Kiss should be right up her street as it contains two of her favourite hobbies: dating and eating cake. But so far, she hasn’t made even a squeak about signing up.
‘The women shouldn’t be too much of a problem,’ Mags says. ‘We’ve had quite a few sign up today alone. It’s the men we need to worry about.’
I put down the questionnaires and pick up the male counterparts. There aren’t nearly as many. ‘Little Jordan seemed to enjoy the trial run. I’ll ask him about it when they’re next in.’
‘If they’re ever in again,’ Mags says. The Builders haven’t been seen all week. Not since Mags’s date with Owen, actually. Not that I’ll point this out to Mags. ‘Do you think they’re staying away because Owen’s realised he’s made a terrible mistake and wants to avoid me?’
‘Absolutely not.’ I reach across the table and give Mags’s hand a squeeze. ‘He’s still texting you, isn’t he?’
Mags nods. ‘Every day. But what if he’s just messing with me?’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘For a laugh?’ Mags suggests. ‘This could have been a piss-take all along. They probably came in one day and saw the sad, desperate cow behind the counter and took bets on how long it would take to get her to go out with one of them.’
‘You are not a sad, desperate cow,’ I say in my sternest voice.
‘Maddie.’ Mags leans towards me, her voice lowering to a barely audible level. ‘I can’t even remember the last time I had sex. I didn’t do the whole getting under a new man to get over your ex thing. I haven’t been with anyone since Graham. Men can detect this kind of thing. It makes us vulnerable.’
‘Does it?’ I hope not. I haven’t been near a man like that since Joel. Seeing your fiancé rutting away at your best friend sort of zaps your libido.
‘I knew he wasn’t serious.’ Mags leans against the desk and folds her arms across h
er chest. ‘Didn’t I keep telling you that? I’ve made a fool out of myself.’
‘You haven’t,’ I tell Mags. ‘Owen isn’t like that. He likes you. If it was just a game, why is he still texting you?’
‘For bonus fun? To see how long he can keep stringing me along before I realise it’s a joke?’
‘No,’ I tell Mags firmly. I put the questionnaires down and start to wander back out into the teashop. I need tea before I even think of tackling the matchmaking side of things. ‘Owen isn’t like that. You know that.’
Mags shrugs, but she doesn’t get the chance to further her argument as the door swings open and the whirlwind that is Beverley Vickery descends upon us. She’s holding her fingers splayed in front of her in the way that only those who have just had their nails done do.
‘This dating night of yours,’ she booms as she strides towards us. ‘I want you to put my niece’s name down. She needs a man – and fast. Biological clocks are ticking and my sister wants grandbabies.’ Forgetting about her nails, Beverley thumps her hands down on her hips. ‘Time’s running out. My sister needs those grandbabies and the fool Nia’s been seeing isn’t fit for the purpose. She needs a new, decent man.’
Maybe that’s a tagline I can put on the flyers …
‘It’s a pity you’re no longer a member of the band,’ Nicky says to Victoria as we sit around the table after closing time to finish off the cinnamon buns. ‘Tom, Daniel and Josh could have signed up.’
‘Life’s a bitch,’ Victoria says, tearing off a chunk of bun with more force than is strictly necessary. ‘Thanks for the reminder. Maybe Nathan can sign up too, since he’s single as well now.’
I flash Nicky a warning look and she holds her hands up in surrender. ‘Sorry, I was only saying.’
‘Well don’t.’ Victoria shoves the torn-off chunk of bun into her mouth and chomps furiously. I assume she’s imagining it’s Nathan’s head she’s chewing and I can’t say I blame her.
‘I hope it does even out,’ Mags says. ‘Otherwise we won’t have a very successful night.’
‘George and Robbie will be in heaven though,’ Nicky points out.
‘I think our female clients will be disappointed if they’re the only ones on offer,’ I say. ‘We’ve promised them five dates.’
‘I think they’ll be disappointed by George and Robbie full stop,’ Nicky says.
‘That isn’t true.’ Mags frowns at Nicky. ‘I know George is a bit …’
‘Of an arsehole?’ Nicky prompts, but Mags shakes her head.
‘A bit arrogant, I was going to say, but he’s quite handsome, and Robbie has such a lovely smile.’
‘Does somebody have a little crush on Robbie?’ Nicky winks at Mags, who eyes the ceiling with a tut.
‘I’m almost old enough to be his mum. You can appreciate a face without wanting to snog it, you know.’
‘Robbie has nice eyes too,’ Victoria says. She gives Nicky a withering look before she even opens her mouth. ‘And no, I don’t want to snog him either.’
‘Got your eye on someone else?’ Nicky asks, despite another warning look from me.
‘Yeah, because five minutes after the end of my long-term relationship, I’m on the prowl again.’ Victoria gathers our empty teacups. ‘I’ll wash these and then I’ll be off. I have a date with a takeaway and my sister’s Miranda box set.’
‘Leave those,’ I say, reaching for the cups. ‘You get off home and enjoy your evening.’
Victoria is slipping on her oversized hoodie (I’m pretty sure it once belonged to Nathan, but I haven’t brought it up, obviously) when there’s a tap at the door. I close my eyes and take a breath as my stomach rolls uncomfortably. Caleb is due at any moment and I’m fighting the urge to bolt out of the kitchen door to hide in the alley behind the teashop.
‘What’s going on with you and Victoria?’ Mags leans towards Nicky to whisper as Victoria heads to the door. I have a matter of seconds to escape, to save myself the embarrassment, before she swings it open.
‘What do you mean?’ Nicky asks, her face a picture of innocence.
‘You’ve been sniping at her since you got here,’ Mags says, but Nicky’s features don’t change.
‘I have not. She’s just being touchy.’
Victoria opens the door but it’s Neal who steps inside, breathing heavily. I release a long, noisy breath of my own. Disaster averted, for a few minutes, at least.
‘I’m so glad I caught you,’ Neal says to Victoria, which causes Nicky’s lips to purse beside me. ‘You know how I’ve been feeling really, really guilty about that article? Well, I think I may be able to make it up to you.’
‘You don’t have to do anything,’ Victoria insists. ‘You’ve done nothing to feel guilty about.’
‘Wait until you hear what it is before you refuse,’ Neal says, a smile itching to break free onto his face. ‘I’m not usually the one who covers music entertainment, but the girl who does was back today, so I asked her if she had any contacts she could put you in touch with.’
‘And?’ Victoria bites her lip, her fingers interlacing in a prayer-like manner in front of her.
‘And she’s good friends with a couple of managers. She can’t promise anything and she doesn’t know if they’re actively looking to take on any new acts, but she’s going to mention you and see if they’re interested in a meeting.’
Victoria sucks in a breath. ‘Are you kidding me?’
Neal shakes his head. ‘Not even a little bit.’
Victoria emits a super-high-pitched squeal and jumps into the air to throw her arms around Neal in a very un-Victoria-like move. He catches her and spins her around in a circle while Victoria whoops.
‘Not on the prowl?’ Nicky hisses at me. ‘Yeah, right.’
It’s true that Victoria doesn’t hug just anybody – let alone allow them to spin her around – but I’m not convinced there’s any chemistry between the pair.
‘You. Are. Amazing,’ Victoria says when Neal releases her back onto solid ground. Stretching up on her tiptoes, she kisses Neal on the cheek.
Maybe I was wrong. Nicky seems to think so, judging by the flared-nostrils look going on beside me.
‘I’d better get going,’ Nicky says, grabbing her handbag from under the table and swinging it roughly over her shoulder and almost taking Mags’s head off in the process.
‘Me too,’ Neal says. ‘I only popped round to deliver the good news.’
‘I’ll walk you to your car.’ Victoria loops her arm through her new bessie mate’s. ‘And you can tell me everything you know about these managers.’
Nicky watches the pair leave, her nostrils growing larger by the second. She waits until they’re out of sight before she stomps out of the teashop.
‘Do I sense a bit of love rivalry there?’ Mags asks as we start to clear up.
‘A bit? Try a bucketload.’
We work together to clean and tidy and then Mags heads home. Caleb hasn’t arrived yet and I’m starting to hope he won’t turn up when there’s another tap at the door.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Caleb isn’t alone when I inch open the teashop door. Clutching his hand is Cara, wearing a blue Elsa outfit, complete with a blonde wig, tiara and sparkly plastic shoes.
Caleb bites his bottom lip. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I brought company.’
Mind? I’m relieved. Having Cara here somehow reduces the pressure I’ve been putting on this evening, and I’m feeling lighter and far less nauseous when I swing the door open fully.
‘Of course not. Come in.’ I step aside and Cara clip-clops her way into the teashop on her plastic heels.
‘She insisted,’ Caleb whispers when he sees me looking at the get-up.
‘And why wouldn’t she?’ I ask. ‘I’m only disappointed I didn’t wear mine.’
I lead the way into the office, where the offensive flyer is already open on the computer.
‘You had cake last time,’ Cara says as she jumps backwar
ds onto the chair, dislodging a plastic shoe when she lands. ‘Do you have cake now?’
Caleb’s eyes widen and his cheeks start to flush. ‘Cara, that’s really rude.’ He looks at me, eyebrows low, cheeks pink. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I say. Cara is preoccupied as she swings from side to side on the swivel chair, but I lower my voice, just in case. ‘It isn’t nearly as embarrassing as the underwear thing.’
Why, oh why have I brought that up?
‘You mean when you said you wanted to see me in my underwear?’ Caleb whispers, eyes flicking to Cara to make sure she isn’t listening.
I gasp and pull Caleb towards the kitchen. ‘I did not! I said your underwear was “ugh”.’ I make the quotation marks with my fingers.
‘You did indeed,’ Caleb says, voice still low. ‘But before that, you said you wanted to see me in my underwear. That’s when you got all embarrassed and made the charming “ugh” comment.’
‘I did not!’ Did I? I’ve been so focused on that one aspect, but should I have been worrying about a far more mortifying comment?
‘You did.’ Caleb folds his arms and leans against the worktop. ‘I was flattered. Until you pointed out that my underwear was gross.’
‘Oh, God.’ I groan and squeeze my eyes shut tight. ‘I didn’t mean it.’
‘I know,’ Caleb says. ‘I’m only teasing you.’
Still, I would quite like the ground to open up and take a huge Maddie-sized gulp.
‘So, cake.’ I decide the best course of action is to forge ahead as though nothing has happened. ‘Do you think Cara would like to bake a batch of fairy cakes while you take a look at the flyer? They’re my favourite.’
‘Fairy cakes?’ Caleb asks. ‘Really? You make all those delicious cakes and a simple fairy cake is your favourite?’
‘It has to have sprinkles on top,’ I say.
Caleb nods. ‘Of course.’
‘And yes, they are my favourite.’ I grab an apron – pink with white dogs printed all over it – and pop it over my head. ‘They remind me of baking with my gran.’
‘Here, let me.’ Caleb steps forward and ties the apron behind my back. It’s a simple act but I find myself holding my breath. A man hasn’t been this close to me since Joel. I feel like a Regency heroine without a chaperone, despite Cara’s close proximity.
The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts Page 16
