He tilted his head. ‘You’re right. But I’m not doing anything tomorrow night – I don’t mind coming over again if it helps.’
Sadie hesitated, wondering what Daniel would think, and whether she could trust herself to behave like an employer. Then she shook the doubts away; there was a lot riding on these wedding favours and she didn’t want to disappoint the bride. One way or another, the order had to be ready. ‘I’ll need to put Lissy to bed first – if she knows you’re here then she’ll never go. And maybe you could try your hand at the more detailed stuff?’
Adam started to shake his head. ‘I don’t think—’
‘After a quick lesson and some time to practise,’ Sadie pressed on. ‘You’ve got to learn some time.’
‘Maybe,’ Adam said. ‘You might change your mind when you see how terrible I am at drawing. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.’
‘You’d be surprised how many people think that,’ Sadie replied. ‘And most of them are wrong. All you need is a bit of confidence.’
Adam smiled. ‘Yes, miss.’
Sadie grabbed the nearest tea towel and swatted him on the arm with it. ‘Careful or I’ll make you do lines – ice out one hundred times, I must not cheek the teacher.’
‘No, miss,’ he said, his hazel eyes sparkling. ‘Sorry, miss.’
That made Sadie giggle too and they laughed together for several long seconds.
‘This was fun,’ Adam said, once their amusement had died down. ‘Thank you.’
She nodded her head once. ‘All part of your professional development. Thanks for your help.’
‘I enjoyed it,’ Adam replied, meeting her gaze. A small silence stretched between them as they watched each other, then he seemed to give himself a shake. ‘I’d better get going. Thanks again for the lesson.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she said warmly. ‘See you tomorrow.’
Chapter Six
Castle Court was starting to fill up with the post-work Friday night crowds as Cat locked the door of Smart Cookies. The temperature had plummeted and the wind was far too bitter for anyone to dine outside, but there was a queue beside the pop-up crepe cart and a few hardened smokers were shivering beneath the oak tree. Cat checked the time and fixed her gaze on the steamed-up windows of Let’s Go Dutch; with a bit of luck, Jaren would be finished work by now and they could find somewhere quiet to talk. And then she could hurry home and try to get ahead with more stock for the shop . . .
She was halfway across the Court when she heard her name being called. Glancing around, her heart sank when she saw Cherie hurrying towards her. But there was a purposeful look on the older woman’s face and Cat knew there was no escape.
‘Hello, Cherie,’ she said stonily. ‘Did you want something?’
‘I won’t take up much of your time,’ Cherie said bluntly. ‘It’s about Greg and this business at La Perle.’
Cat let out an impatient sigh. ‘I don’t have anything to say about that.’
Cherie waved her comment away. ‘Look, I just want you to know that I had no idea Greg had gone telling tales to François. And for what it’s worth –’ she paused and threw a glance towards the glowing windows of La Clé d’Argent bistro, ‘well, I’m happy to state on the record that you didn’t say anything defamatory in December.’
Cat couldn’t help gaping; whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t support. ‘You’ve changed your tune.’
The other woman raised her chin. ‘I was . . . mistaken about you,’ she said, her tone stiff. ‘When I am wrong, I admit it.’
They stared at each other for a few seconds, then Cat gave a single incredulous nod. ‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’
‘You’ll let me know if there is anything I can do?’ Cherie said. ‘I’m not so well-connected as Greg, but I do have one or two friends in high places, thanks to my late husband.’
Cat was almost tempted to ask her who she meant, but time was ticking by and she didn’t want Jaren to think she had forgotten him. ‘I’ll let you know,’ she promised. ‘And . . . thanks again.’
Cherie’s usually haughty expression softened a little. ‘It’s the least I can do. Goodnight, Cat.’
She turned on her heel. Cat watched her walk away, wondering whether she’d somehow dreamed the whole exchange. Of course, there was always the possibility that Cherie was playing a double agent, hoping to win Cat’s confidence so she could feed back anything she learned to Greg, but Cat didn’t think so. Cherie might be hard-faced, but there had been genuine consternation behind her words.
Wait until Sadie hears about this, Cat thought, setting off for the pancake house once more. She’s not going to believe her ears.
*
‘Wow,’ Jaren said, as they dodged the crowds on Eastgate Street and headed for a quiet bar tucked away just inside the old city walls. ‘That’s unexpected. It’s like one of those films where the old warrior suddenly comes to their senses and starts fighting for the young pretender.’
Cat grinned. ‘Let’s not go that far. I think she’s probably just realised that it’s pretty lonely on Greg’s team, that’s all.’
Jaren glanced sideways. ‘Maybe . . . I don’t think anyone invited her to the last shopkeepers’ drinks.’
‘I rest my case,’ Cat said. ‘But I don’t mind what her reasons are, as long as she stops trying to cause trouble for Sadie and me.’
The pub was a tiny bit dingy, but warm and welcoming and, just as Jaren had predicted, not too busy. ‘It’s a hidden gem,’ he said, with a cheery wave at the barman. ‘Not trendy enough for the hipsters and far enough from the city centre to avoid the Friday night revellers. It’s a well-kept secret among the regulars.’
‘So, how do you know about it?’ she asked.
He smiled. ‘I live around the corner. This is actually my local.’
The news surprised Cat. She didn’t know much about Jaren, other than that he came from the Netherlands and had a passion for food that almost rivalled her own, and she’d never thought to wonder where he lived. Seb and Elin had garret rooms above Castle Court, Sadie and Adam were in the villages to the east of the city, and she knew Andrew and Earl shared a brand new flat in one of the converted buildings that lined the canal, much like her own home. But Jaren was more of a mystery; it was time to find out more, she decided.
They ordered their coffee and found a seat by the window. ‘So,’ Jaren said, leaning forwards with a curious gleam in his eye. ‘What’s all this about?’
Cat told him about the letter, and her visits to the other shopkeepers. When she’d finished, Jaren snapped his fingers.
‘That’s why Cherie has switched sides. She’s finally realised what a low-life Greg is.’
‘I hope so,’ Cat said. ‘So, what about you – will you write something to say what happened at the end of last year?’
‘Of course,’ Jaren said, spreading his hands. ‘I’m amazed you even have to ask.’
‘Thank you,’ Cat said. ‘Everyone has been so kind.’
He shrugged. ‘Like I said when we first met, Castle Court is like a family. We look out for each other.’ He paused and sipped his coffee. ‘Except for Greg, obviously. He’s that nasty cousin nobody likes.’
Cat smiled. ‘It’s certainly the perfect home for Smart Cookies.’
Jaren sat back in his seat, his dark eyes fixed on Cat. ‘And you? Is it also your perfect home?’
‘Yes, I think it might be,’ she said honestly. ‘But enough about me. How long have you been at Castle Court?’
‘Three years,’ he said. ‘Before that, I worked in the Dutch pancake house in London. And before that, I ate a lot of pancakes at my grandmother’s house. So, I guess you could say I’m a pancake expert.’
‘Wow,’ Cat said, straight-faced. ‘That sounds like a tough job.’
Jaren shook his head sadly. ‘No one appreciates how hard it’s been.’
‘And you don’t mind the competition from the crepe cart on the Court tonight?’
/> He spread his hands in a gesture of openness. ‘They’re French – we’re Dutch. There’s room for both in Castle Court.’
He turned the conversation back to Cat, teasing out the details of her friendship with Sadie.
‘And you’ve been best friends since school?’
‘Yeah,’ Cat said. ‘Although it’s hard to stay close when your lives go in such different directions; I went off travelling and Sadie married Daniel. When Lissy came along, I was working my way around Thailand, learning how to make pad thai and red curry, and then I spent most of the last three and a half years in Paris, at La Perle.’
‘I think true friends can always pick up as though they have never been apart,’ he commented with a smile. ‘And how are things working out with Seb? Does he make you happy?’
‘Of course,’ Cat said. ‘I know some people might think it’s a bad idea to date someone you practically work with, but we’re both so busy that we haven’t really had time to get bored of each other’s company.’
Jaren nodded. ‘He’s been different since you came. More settled.’
She gave him a knowing look. ‘Less of a player, you mean.’
‘That too,’ he agreed. ‘Although why would he play elsewhere when he has you?’
Cat felt herself blush. ‘What about you?’ she asked, turning the tables. ‘Have you got your eye on someone or are you still playing the field?’
He was quiet for a moment. ‘I have my eye on someone,’ he said eventually.
‘I knew it!’ she burst out, leaning forwards. ‘It’s Elin, isn’t it?’
Jaren took a long swig of his drink. ‘She’s a very attractive woman. I’m not sure I’m her type, though.’
‘Are you crazy?’ Cat said incredulously. ‘She’s definitely interested.’
‘Oh?’ he said, raising one eyebrow. ‘How do you know?’
‘She told me. So, if you’re waiting for some kind of green light, this is it. And what better time of year to make your move? Send her a Valentine – I’ll even bake one for you, if you like.’
He looked thoughtful. ‘That would be very kind. I don’t have much room to cook in my kitchen at home.’
Cat grinned. ‘It can’t be much smaller than Seb’s – those attic rooms are tiny. His is like a galley.’
‘Ah,’ Jaren said, his lips quirking into a smile, ‘whereas mine actually is a galley. I live on a houseboat, moored on the canal.’
‘No way!’ Cat gasped, her jaw dropping. ‘That sounds amazing!’
‘It has its moments,’ he said. ‘The summer is obviously more enjoyable than the winter, but she’s a sturdy boat and cosy enough once the wood burner is lit.’
Cat pictured Jaren sitting on the deck of a brightly painted barge at sunset, a bottle of lager in one hand. ‘Wow. I’m seriously impressed.’
‘You can come and see it for yourself, if you like?’
‘Can I?’ Cat said eagerly. ‘When?’
Jaren shrugged. ‘What are you doing right now?’
*
The canal was a five-minute walk from the pub. Jaren led Cat along the towpath that ran alongside, pointing out the boats belonging to his neighbours.
‘That one is just passing through,’ he said, pointing to a large black and white barge. ‘We get a lot of holidaymakers on boating trips stopping here.’
Cat looked up and down the canal, taking in the warm yellow glow in some of the windows and the air of peacefulness. ‘I can understand why.’
He stopped beside a beautiful green and orange boat tightly moored to a black metal post. A lantern hung at one end, sending flickering shafts of light and shadows spilling over the black roof. ‘And this is mine. Cat, meet Anika.’
Cat reached a hand to touch the smooth paintwork. ‘Pleased to meet you, Anika,’ she said gravely. ‘What a beautiful name.’
Jaren cleared his throat. ‘Named after my mother. She died when I was ten.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Cat said softly. ‘That must have been hard.’
‘It was,’ Jaren said. ‘But life goes on. My grandmother moved in, with her amazing pancake recipes, and the rest, as they say, is history.’ He held out a hand. ‘Want to come aboard?’
‘Absolutely,’ Cat said, placing her fingers in his.
Jaren led the way, climbing down a steep, narrow staircase to a door. He unlocked it and pushed it back, flicking a switch as he did so. Inside, the boat was even more charming. Two table lamps lit up a tiny living room with old, mismatched furniture and a wood burner against one wall.
Cat gazed around in wonder. ‘I love it,’ she breathed. ‘I really, really love it.’
‘I doubt you’ll love the kitchen,’ he said dryly and led her to another door at the far end.
He wasn’t wrong, Cat thought, staring at the minuscule oven and a sink that was barely wide enough to fit a frying pan.
‘Don’t you bang your head?’ she asked, glancing up at the low ceiling; Jaren had to be six feet tall, at least.
‘I used to,’ he admitted. ‘But now I am used to it.’
Cat’s gaze travelled to a final door at the end of the boat.
‘The bathroom,’ he explained. ‘Complete with shower.’
‘But where do you sleep?’ Cat said, frowning.
Jaren laughed. ‘You’ve just been standing in my bedroom. The sofa folds out to make a bed.’
‘Oh!’ Cat said, feeling stupid. ‘Of course it does.’ She looked around again. ‘No TV?’
‘No TV,’ he said. ‘I have a tablet for watching Netflix, but most of the time, I read.’ He waved a hand and now she saw the low bookcase stacked with paperbacks.
‘You know this is a lot of people’s idea of a dream home, right?’
Jaren beamed with pleasure. ‘I’m glad you like it.’
She smiled back and they stood there for a moment. Then Cat’s phone vibrated in her pocket. Pulling it out, she peered at the screen: Seb’s name flashed at her.
‘Sorry,’ she said to Jaren and turned away to take the call. ‘Hi, Seb, everything okay?’
‘Are you at home?’
Cat glanced over at Jaren. ‘Just on my way. Why?’
Seb’s tone was grim. ‘Turn around and get back over to the shop. Someone’s thrown paint all over your window.’
*
‘What a mess,’ Cat said, staring in dismay at the thick black paint splattered all over the front of Smart Cookies. ‘How could this happen?’
Seb shook his head. ‘Obviously not by accident. And we don’t have to look too far to work out who might have done it.’
‘How am I going to get it off?’ Cat wondered.
‘Depends if it is gloss or emulsion,’ Jaren said. ‘Water-based paint will wash off. Gloss is trickier.’
‘Only one way to find out,’ Seb said. ‘I’ll go and get a bucket of water and a cloth.’
Cat eyed him. ‘The bar must be busy tonight. Why don’t I come and get the bucket? That way you can get back to your customers.’
She knew from the flash of relief that crossed his face that she was right.
‘I hate to leave you to deal with this on your own.’
‘She’s not alone,’ Jaren said, stepping forwards. ‘I’ll help. And there’s no need to go all the way up to the third floor for water – I can get some from my place.’
Seb looked as though he was going to argue.
Cat touched his arm. ‘Go on. I’ll be fine.’
With a reluctant nod, Seb gave in. ‘But both of you come and see me when you’re done, okay? You’ll be in need of a drink by then.’
Ten minutes later, Cat and Jaren stood in front of the blackened window, buckets of water and sponges in their hands.
‘Let’s start with a small corner,’ Jaren suggested. ‘If it doesn’t come off, we’ll need to think again.’
‘If it doesn’t come off, I’ll have to call Sadie,’ Cat said. ‘She’ll know what we need.’
She stepped forwards and dipped her spon
ge into the cold water. Raising it to the sticky glass, she held her breath and dabbed at the paint. To her immense relief, the paint began to dissolve and run in dirty charcoal-coloured rivulets down to the pale-blue window frame.
‘It’s emulsion,’ Jaren said, coming to join her. ‘Come on, we’ll soon have this done.’
It took thirty minutes of hard scrubbing to clear the glass completely. Passers-by stopped to watch them from time to time and Andrew came out of the Bus Stop with a pair of stepladders to help them reach the top corners, shaking his head in disgusted sympathy. It wasn’t until Cat and Jaren were standing back to admire the results of their hard work, breath puffing into steamy clouds, that they heard a familiar sneering voice.
‘Oh dear, have you had an accident? Or does someone hate you almost as much as I do?’
Cat whirled around to glare into Greg’s amused eyes. ‘Like you don’t know.’
His chubby features split into an innocent smile. ‘How could I know? I’ve been at a meeting on the other side of the city, with several important councillors.’
‘Liar,’ Cat snarled, her eyes narrowing.
‘I can assure you I am not lying,’ Greg countered. ‘The meeting started at five-thirty and ended some fifteen minutes ago. So I’d be very careful who I accused, if I were you, Cat.’
‘Then you paid someone else to do it,’ she said flatly. ‘Either way, it amounts to the same thing – a cowardly move.’
Greg laughed. ‘Sticks and stones. You’ll have a hard time proving this has anything to do with me and I’m sure you have better things to do with your time. Haven’t you got a court hearing to prepare for?’
Cat clenched her fists and counted to ten. ‘No, I have a meeting to attend. There’s no way this is going back to court – it’s your word against mine.’
‘Or your word against a recording,’ he corrected. ‘It’s amazing what smartphones can do these days.’
The comment gave Cat cause to pause. It was perfectly possible that Greg had recorded their run-in. But would it tell a different story to the one she and her friends remembered? They couldn’t all be wrong, surely?
Frosty Mornings at Castle Court Page 5
