The Cherry Tree Cafe

by Heidi Swain

  I laughed and gave Dad a long hug. It was good to be home, even if it did mean putting up with my mother!

  ‘You’d better be off,’ Dad smiled with a nod towards the window and the darkening sky beyond, ‘we don’t want Jemma sending out a search party, do we?’

  Chapter 9

  ‘What do you think of this?’ I asked, holding up a piece of fabric. ‘Is this the sort of thing you’d like?’

  I’d returned from my parents’ the evening before with a bag full of things from my grandmother’s blanket box that I thought might go some way to helping Jemma and Tom with the Café design dilemma. After a few undisturbed hours’ work I’d managed to come up with a couple of pretty ideas using my favourite but recently neglected appliqué, patchwork and cross-stitch techniques, and all with the Café in mind.

  The first design incorporated a cherry tree, like those planted around the Café, only this one was already in blossom. Instead of flowers, however, the tree was covered in little cross-stitch cakes, sandwiches and teacups. The colours were predominantly gentle shades of blue, pink and green, which I felt would complement the kind of cake-decorating Jemma favoured, and the sophisticated but cosy atmosphere she and Tom were keen to create.

  The second design was a sugary cupcake complete with a cherry on top. The cake case fabric was white with tiny pink hearts and the cherry and frosting had been embellished with tiny beads no bigger than a pinhead. It was very pretty but rather impractical. I had got so carried away and immersed in the act of sewing that I couldn’t stop until it looked as sugary and sweet as Jemma’s butter icing.

  ‘To be fair,’ I said, tilting my head and looking at it from arm’s length, ‘I have gone a bit over the top with this one, but we could easily strip it back to the basic design if you like it.’

  Jemma left her station next to the bay window and perched on the arm of the sofa to admire my handiwork. She had been eagerly watching for Tom and Ben’s return from the shops, concern knitting her brow as the day drew to a premature close. As forecast, the snow had fallen steadily all night and then continued on and off throughout the day; a thick white carpet muffled the sounds of the cars as they moved gingerly along the road outside.

  ‘Oh, Lizzie,’ Jemma gasped, ‘they’re both perfect, but how could you have known?’

  She pointed at the cupcake design, her expression rapturous.

  ‘Known what?’ I asked, passing over the pieces so she could have a proper look at them.

  ‘The signature bake I’ve been working on for the Café launch!’ Jemma laughed through sudden tears. ‘It’s a cherry and chocolate cupcake! Cherry because of the trees at the Café, of course, and cupcakes and chocolate because, well, everyone loves cupcakes and chocolate!’

  I started to laugh with her.

  ‘I didn’t know,’ I told her, shaking my head, ‘they just summed up the Café and your baking to me! I take it you like them, then?’

  ‘I love them,’ Jemma cried, ‘they’re exactly what I would have picked out if I had the choice of a hundred designs!’

  We both jumped as we heard the front door slam.

  ‘We’re back!’ Tom shouted. ‘But we’re a bit wet. Can you come and give us a hand?’

  Later that evening we all sat together in front of the fire discussing plans for the Café launch. Everyone loved the cupcake and cherry tree designs as much as I had loved creating them.

  ‘They’re really beautiful,’ Ella sighed, as she sneaked yet another toasted marshmallow from the bowl, ‘really sparkly. Are you sure you made them all by yourself?’

  ‘I am,’ I told her proudly.

  ‘Well I hope you’re going to teach me one day,’ she begged, ‘because Mummy is rotten at that sort of thing.’

  ‘But I’m rotten at cakes,’ I reminded her, ‘and that’s one cupcake you can’t eat.’

  ‘That’s true,’ she grinned, helping herself to the last pink marshmallow. She chewed it thoughtfully, let out a long slow breath and turned to Tom. ‘Daddy, I feel a bit icky,’ she grimaced, her cheeks rosy from sitting too close to the fire.

  ‘Come on,’ said Tom, holding out his hand, ‘come and sit on the sofa with me for a few minutes. Let your tummy settle, then it’ll be time for bed.’

  ‘Do you think school will be closed tomorrow?’ she yawned. ‘Do you think it’ll be a proper snow day?’

  ‘It might be,’ Jemma grinned, ‘you never know.’

  I looked at my old friend remembering how we used to pray for snow days when we were at school. They didn’t happen very often but when they did we’d stay out from first light until dusk, our hands red raw from snowballing and our feet numb. I curled my toes at the memory of the pain a barely warm bath could inflict upon frozen digits.

  ‘These will bring everything together beautifully, Lizzie,’ Ben suddenly announced, waking us all up, ‘menus, tablecloths . . .’

  ‘Bunting, napkins, curtains, even the wall-light shades could be stamped,’ I nodded, instantly swept along by the prospect of seeing the Café so prettily transformed.

  I hadn’t noticed Ben scrutinising my handiwork and was annoyed to feel even slightly flattered that he had found something positive to say about my contribution to the Café renovation.

  Tom stood up and threw another log on the fire.

  ‘I know it’s a huge imposition, Lizzie, and I appreciate that your main priority right now has to be finding a job, but it would be a real bonus if you could spare some time to help us with the decorative finishing touches at the Café. You’ve clearly got an eye for these things.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ I jumped in. ‘It would be an honour and it would save you a fortune!’

  Truth be told, I could already imagine exactly how the Café would look if I had the chance to get my hands on it. With every stitch I’d sewn, I’d been dreading the prospect of Tom and Jemma telling me who would be taking responsibility for its ornamental transformation.

  ‘That isn’t why I’ve asked you,’ Tom said quickly. ‘God, we don’t want you to think we wouldn’t pay you!’

  ‘I don’t want you to pay me,’ I said firmly, shaking my head, ‘after all you two have done for me it’s the least I can do and besides, it will give me something to do whilst I’m job-hunting. Although in fact, I haven’t completely dismissed the idea of working in the pub again,’ I admitted, ‘assuming I can get past the humiliation of the other night, of course. It might well be the perfect place to earn a bit extra whilst I’m helping you two out.’

  ‘Well, what do you know,’ Ben said as he passed back my sewing and drained his pint glass, ‘you really are turning back into your old self again, aren’t you? Just be wary of handsome strangers this time around.’

  ‘Jesus, Ben!’ Tom scowled. ‘That’s a bit below the belt, mate.’

  ‘Oh, she knows I’m only pulling her leg, don’t you, Lizzie?’

  I took a deep breath and turned back to Jemma, my eyebrows raised in that ‘I told you so’ silent form of communication that best friends are famous for.

  ‘Well, as long as you’re sure?’ Jemma asked, also ignoring Ben’s unnecessary comment.

  ‘Just leave it all to me,’ I told her.

  ‘Stay where you are, chick,’ I beamed at Ella from her bedroom doorway. ‘No school for you today!’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really! Mummy just checked the website and your school is definitely closed!’

  ‘Oh yes!’ she shouted. ‘Daddy always says dreams come true but I never really believed him until now. Will you take me out in the snow?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know . . .’ I faltered, thinking of all the planning I wanted to get done in preparation for the Café transformation.

  ‘Please, please.’

  ‘Maybe later,’ I gave in, ‘if Mummy says it’s OK.’

  ‘Yes!’

  Ella punched the air, leapt out of bed and began rifling through her chest of drawers for her snowsuit and I headed down to the kitchen to warn Jemma and Tom
of the whirlwind that would be joining them in considerably less than two minutes.

  ‘Grab your wellies, guys!’ I laughed but then stopped, my growing excitement halted by the solemn faces of my two best friends. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’

  ‘We’ve had a phone call from the bank,’ Tom said quietly.

  ‘What, this early?’

  It wasn’t even eight o’clock.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ I ventured, before thinking how intrusive my question was. ‘Sorry, don’t answer that. It’s none of my business.’

  ‘No,’ Jemma smiled with a shake of her head, ‘it’s OK.’ She looked to Tom for confirmation.

  ‘The initial loan didn’t stretch quite as far as we needed it to,’ he explained. ‘So we’ve applied for another. It’s not a massive amount but without it we can’t finish the Café.’

  ‘It’ll cover the rest of the makeover,’ Jemma said hopefully, ‘and all the bits and pieces we’ve asked you to help with, Lizzie.’

  ‘And without it you really can’t continue?’

  ‘Nope,’ sighed Tom, ‘there’s barely enough left to pay the final bill from the electrician.’

  ‘Then there’s the rest of the kitchen equipment to be installed,’ Jemma added quietly, biting her lip.

  ‘Well, if the bank says no to the loan could you maybe lease some of the equipment instead?’ I suggested, deeply saddened to see my friends looking so defeated, ‘just until you begin to turn a profit.’

  Tom shook his head and began pulling on his boots.

  ‘I dunno,’ he sighed, ‘it was the dodgy bloody electrics we inherited that have put us in this position. If things had been done properly in the first place then we wouldn’t have been lumbered with someone else’s shoddy and frankly dangerous work.’

  ‘There’s no point bringing all that up again now,’ Jemma snapped. ’It won’t alter the fact that we’ve had to pay to have most of it replaced, will it?’

  I loitered awkwardly in the doorway not wanting to interfere but feeling devastated to see my friends arguing and sniping at each other when they should have been getting ready to crack open the champagne.

  ‘Is the kettle on?’ Ben yawned behind me. ‘I thought I’d make a flask and we could take Ella out on the sledge, unless,’ he said as he spotted Jemma and Tom already dressed to go out and clearly not for a snowball fight, ‘you’ve got other plans?’

  ‘We’ve got to go to the bank,’ Jemma explained. ‘Do you mind taking her on your own?’

  Ben shrugged.

  ‘As long as Ella doesn’t mind.’

  ‘Thanks, mate,’ Tom said, ‘you’ll go with them, won’t you, Lizzie?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I faltered.

  The last thing I wanted was to be stuck with Ben on my own all morning, especially after his catty comment last night. Left to our own devices the silences between us were longer than the Boxing Day queues at Next, and for the time being I just couldn’t be bothered with him; I had too many other things on my mind.

  ‘Oh come on,’ Ben said, pinning me with one of his intense stares. ‘Give me a chance to make up for being such a dick last night, Lizzie.’

  Annoyingly, I found myself smiling.

  ‘It was just the beer talking,’ he went on, ‘I really am sorry. I should never have said it, pissed or sober. I’m surprised you didn’t slap me down, to be honest.’

  ‘So am I,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Oh go on, Lizzie,’ Jemma pleaded, sensing I was about to relent, ‘I’ll feel better if you both go. You know what a little sod she can be. She can outsmart one of you, but not two.’

  ‘OK,’ I reluctantly gave in, ‘but there’d better be cake in it.’

  ‘Why aren’t you two a couple?’ Ella frowned.

  I stared hard at the compacted snow beneath my feet, grateful to be focused on staying upright.

  ‘I said . . .’

  ‘We heard what you said,’ Ben cut in, scooping Ella up under his arm and passing me the string that was attached to the sledge.

  ‘I think you’d make each other feel better,’ Ella continued, her enthusiasm to push Ben and me together completely undiminished, ‘you’ve both had your hearts broken, haven’t you? Perhaps you can mend each other?’

  ‘Oh Ella!’ Ben moaned. ‘Will you stop!’ He began tickling her and she screamed to be put down.

  To be fair, the morning had been much more fun than I expected. So engrossed in keeping a fearless Ella safe as she repeatedly launched herself down every hill she could find, there had been little time for conversation. We had simply passed the time together, companionably, the wintery wonderland helping us forget our cares for a while.

  However, despite Ella’s enthusiasm, I wasn’t prepared to fall in love again on the strength of a few chilly hours playing in the snow. Cold and exhausted, we gingerly made our way back to the house and hopefully good news with a slice of well-deserved celebratory cake thrown in for good measure.

  As we finally turned up the path to the house Ben set Ella back down on the snow and let her walk on her own again, which she did with much drama and squealing.

  ‘She’s quite a character, isn’t she?’ Ben smiled down at me.

  ‘Oh yes,’ I grinned back, pleased that he was making light of the situation. ‘She’s a real drama queen. Is my nose as red as yours?’ I asked, trying to wrinkle it. ‘Yours is positively glowing!’

  Ben nodded.

  ‘Yep and your cheeks. You could give Rudolph a run for his money!’

  I was just about to make the obvious ‘and you Santa, with that beard’ retort, when I lost my footing. Ben reached out to grab me and we landed in a heavy heap on the compacted snow.

  ‘Ouch,’ I winced as I tried to disentangle my limbs from his. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I think so,’ he groaned, ‘nothing broken, you?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Eventually finding our feet we stood facing one another, closer than before, our breath sharp in our chests. Ben removed his sodden gloves and gently brushed the snow out of my curls.

  ‘I know you probably won’t believe me,’ he breathed, his face close to mine and his pupils dangerously dilated, ‘but I’ve actually always loved your hair.’

  ‘Oh?’ I said, taking a gulp of freezing air, my eyes locked on his face.

  What exactly did he mean by ‘always’?

  ‘Um,’ he smiled, still a little too close for comfort, ‘you stand out from the crowd, Lizzie, you always have. You’re unique.’

  The spell was broken as quickly as it was cast.

  ‘Don’t say that!’ I snapped, stepping back and losing my footing again.

  ‘What?’ Ben laughed, grabbing my arm to stop me falling. ‘Can’t I pay you a compliment?’

  ‘It isn’t a compliment,’ I shouted, shaking my head.

  ‘It was meant to be,’ Ben said more gently.

  Unwanted shuddering great sobs erupted from nowhere and the tears that I’d been holding back ever since I arrived on Jemma and Tom’s doorstep refused to stay unshed a moment longer.

  ‘Hey,’ Ben soothed, pulling me into his arms and holding me tight.

  ‘It’s what he used to say,’ I sobbed, trying to pull away, ‘before he changed me, before he turned me into someone else. Before he made me fit in with his stupid notions of what a woman should be.’

  ‘God, I’m sorry, Lizzie,’ Ben whispered, kissing the top of my head and holding me tighter. ‘I had no idea.’

  I allowed myself to relax, safe in Ben’s solid embrace until my tears stopped flowing. I don’t know exactly how long we stood locked in each other’s arms, but Ella’s little hands were freezing when she reappeared and tugged at my coat.

  ‘Come on!’ she shouted. ‘They’re back! Mummy’s made cake!’

  The familiar smell of Jemma’s famous Devil’s Chocolate Cake, although welcome, warned me that it wasn’t good news. That kind of indulgence in Jemma’s baking world was equivalent to downing a bott
le of Jack Daniel’s or chain-smoking twenty cigarettes.

  I hid in the utility room on the pretence of sorting coats and boots until I had regained my composure then joined everyone in the kitchen. I glanced over at Ben to gauge his reaction to the cake and from the look he gave me in return I knew he was in on ‘the code’.

  ‘What’s the matter, Lizzie?’ Tom asked the second I appeared. ‘Have you been crying?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ I laughed dismissively. ‘This is how I always look when I’ve come in from the freezing cold! We were just outside for too long, but we had a great time, didn’t we, Ben?’

  Ben nodded in agreement and kindly steered the conversation back to Jemma and Tom’s appointment at the bank.

  ‘So it wasn’t good news, then?’ he asked tentatively as he took the loaded plate Jemma offered him.

  ‘Depends on what you mean by good news,’ Tom said bitterly. ‘We can have the money, but not until we start to turn a profit.’

  ‘But how can they expect you to turn a profit when . . .’

  ‘You can’t afford to open,’ Ben cut in, finishing my sentence despite having a very sticky mouthful of cake.

  I nodded and waved my fork at him.

  ‘Exactly,’ I said, my own mouth now crammed with the luscious layers of sponge and creamy frosting.

  Jemma dumped herself into a chair and pulled Ella onto her lap. She hadn’t even cut herself a slice. This was bad, I realised, really bad. Looking at their expressions, it hit me that they might have to put the Café back on the market and face the heart-ache of seeing someone else capitalising on all their hard work, seeing someone else’s name above the door.

  ‘Have you thought about taking on a partner?’ I suggested, ‘or asking someone to invest?’

  Why hadn’t I thought of this before they went to the bank?

  ‘Like who?’ Tom laughed. ‘Our parents have done all they can already.’

  ‘And you know how I’m set,’ Ben joined in. ‘Sorry, guys.’

  Although my curiosity was again piqued as to exactly why Ben, an intelligent and highly qualified architect in his early thirties, was living out of a suitcase in his best mate’s house, I knew now was not the time.