by Heidi Swain
‘There, Lizzie,’ Mum said, pointing at the chair, ‘you sit there.’
I sat as instructed and began flicking through the leaflets trying to pretend I wasn’t going to listen to what was said next.
‘Well I hope you’ve learnt your lesson, Tony Dixon,’ Mum said sternly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ll gladly take some of the blame but I’m not shouldering your damaged lungs on top of all the cream and butter we get through!’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘All the cigarettes you smoke when you’re supposedly gardening. I didn’t say anything in front of Mr Hanif because I didn’t know if you’d told him the truth, but it ends now. No more cigarettes.’
Dad looked like a child who had been caught with his fingers in the penny sweets.
‘How did you know?’ he gaped indignantly. ‘I’ve always made sure my clothes have had a good airing before I come back in and I use a mouth wash!’
‘Exactly!’ Mum said, her lips a thin set line. ‘Who pops out to do a bit of weeding and comes back in minty fresh?’
We all looked at each other and laughed, but it wasn’t funny. It was time they started taking a bit more care of themselves. It was a shock to acknowledge it, but they weren’t getting any younger.
‘Perhaps I’ll take up golf or walking,’ Dad said wistfully.
‘No,’ said Mum, ‘perhaps we’ll take up golf or walking or both.’
‘But how are you going to fit all that in with your coffee mornings and committee meetings?’
‘I’m giving all that up,’ Mum said determinedly, ‘it’s high time I spent a few more hours with my husband.’
‘Well, I’ll be . . .’ Dad said again.
‘Do you know what you’re going to say?’ Jemma asked, as we set up the laptop in the flat kitchen. ‘Have you gone through it all in your head?’
‘A hundred times,’ I admitted, ‘at least.’
‘I’m sorry it’s come to this,’ she said sadly, ‘I really am. Tom’s asked him to come back, but he says he just can’t do it. I can’t believe he’s agreed to do this, to be honest.’
‘Neither can I,’ I said, squinting at the monitor. ‘If it wasn’t for Dad being ill, I would have jumped on a plane and gone over there myself, but I guess this is the next best thing.’
‘Well, it’s a start,’ she smiled, giving me a squeeze. ‘Good luck. I’m pleased we’re OK again, Lizzie. We are, aren’t we?’
‘Of course we are,’ I said, hugging her back, ‘I do understand why you and Tom don’t want to tell me anything. This is Ben’s business and it’s up to him to take care of it.’
‘Promise you’ll call later and let me know what he said?’
‘I promise.’
Because jetting off to sunny Spain wasn’t an option, I’d asked Tom to arrange a Skype session with Ben. At least that way I could see the whites of his eyes when I demanded to be told what the hell his mother had been prattling on about but now, as I counted the seconds down I couldn’t help feeling a little vulnerable myself. There was nowhere to hide with the screen right in front of me but it was too late to back out.
‘Hi!’
‘Hello.’ I swallowed.
The picture wasn’t great but it was unmistakably him. Tanned and no longer sporting a beard, he looked disconcertingly like the boy I had fallen in love with at school.
‘Sorry to hear about your dad.’.
‘Thanks,’ I croaked, my voice thick in my throat.
‘Tom told me,’ he added.
I nodded at the screen, my actions slightly out of sync with my words.
‘What happened to the beard?’
‘Oh it had to go,’ he smiled, ‘too hot out here, you know?’
I nodded.
‘Did Tom tell you why I wanted to talk?’
‘Yes, and I had an email from my mother. She said she had a feeling she might have put her foot in it a bit.’
Understatement of the century!
‘What an interesting character she is,’ I said diplomatically.
Ben grinned sheepishly.
‘Oh yes, she’s a real keeper.’
‘She speaks very highly of your father and the new love in his life.’
‘Yeah, I bet she does,’ Ben laughed.
It was harder than I thought, trying to find the words and ask the right questions. It would have been far easier by text, away from those delicious dark eyes.
‘So . . .’
‘So,’ I responded, trying to find the courage, ‘she said . . .’ I faltered.
How could I ask him to explain without making it sound like a playground drama?
‘She said you had feelings for me when we were at school,’ I said simply.
Ben nodded.
‘I did,’ he said with a sigh. ‘You were my high-school crush, Lizzie.’
I couldn’t believe it. Straight from the horse’s mouth: the very words that I’d used to describe him to myself only weeks before. My heart was beating a tattoo in my chest as I thought how fantastic school could have been if only we’d been brave enough to seek each other out.
‘But it’s OK,’ he carried on when I didn’t say anything, ‘I know you didn’t like me. You always made a point of staying out of the way when I was around so I got the message, but it didn’t alter the fact that I liked you.’
‘Why didn’t you ever say anything?’ I asked.
‘Because you made it so obvious, like I just said, you always stayed out of the way. Even after we left school you seemed to do everything you could to avoid me, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I nodded, ‘I suppose I did.’
It wasn’t a lie. I did avoid him, but I couldn’t face putting my feelings on the line and telling him why, although it probably would have been different if his mother hadn’t mentioned that he also hated me!
‘I liked you right up until Giles swept you off your feet actually,’ Ben bravely admitted.
Despite the tan and blurry picture I could still make out a slight rosy tinge lighting up his cheeks. Why couldn’t I be as brave as him? Maybe it was the Giles effect? Maybe the toad really had tainted me for life and left me incapable of being honest about my feelings for fear of ridicule and reprisal.
‘I guess it’s just water under the bridge now,’ Ben shrugged.
‘Not quite,’ I said, trying to see beyond my own regret, ‘the sliding scale, the “Dixon Dilemma” as your mother called it, it has a more sinister side to it, doesn’t it? She said it had slipped from love to hate fairly recently.’
Ben swallowed, but didn’t say anything.
‘So what was that about?’ I demanded, beginning to lose patience.
‘I’m not sure we should talk about that like this,’ he said, indicating the screen. ‘It doesn’t feel right, it’s not fair.’
‘Oh none of this is fair, Ben!’ I scowled. ‘Believe me!’
‘I know. I’m sorry,’ he ran his hands through his hair, sat up straighter and took a deep breath. ‘OK . . .’ he began.
He opened his mouth to answer, but whatever he was trying to say was drowned out by music blasting through the computer speakers and filling the room. A girl in a sarong and little else appeared in the shot. She draped her arms around Ben’s neck and kissed him on the cheek.
‘Hola!’ she beamed at the screen then began to try to pull Ben to his feet. ‘Come and dance!’ she shouted, gyrating her tanned hips in his direction. ‘Ben, come on! Come and dance!’
‘You better go,’ I said, ‘looks like quite a party.’
‘No it isn’t,’ Ben shouted, ‘it isn’t a party.’
‘See you, Ben.’
I flicked the monitor switch and he was gone. Well, that was it. It didn’t really matter why Ben hated me, after seeing that, I could live without knowing. Obviously he’d moved on with his life and it was high time I did the same. Yes, we’d had feelings for each other in the past but as Ben said, it was all water under the
bridge.
We weren’t like Jemma and Tom. We’d missed our chance and now it was time for me to stop believing in fate and the romance of one true love and focus on my future. I had a fledging business to nurture and if a relationship of some kind did magically materialise, then it would have to be prepared to take second place to my first true love.
Chapter 20
It wasn’t easy getting used to the idea that Dad had a potentially life threatening medical malfunction looming on the horizon. Every time the phone rang, I sprang to answer it and if more than a couple of hours passed I was calling the house to make sure everything was OK.
‘What you need is a distraction,’ suggested Angela, ‘and I don’t just mean from worrying about your dad,’ she added knowingly.
Angela had fitted in to the Café routine seamlessly. She was even allowed to help Jemma in the kitchen and for my control freak of a friend that was a major step forward.
‘Like what?’ I asked, passing her a tray of dishes over the counter and ignoring the implication that she knew I was still stewing over the unsatisfactory Skype fiasco.
‘I think it’s high time you offered another sewing session,’ she said. ‘I know you’ve been worried about your dad amongst other things, but life has to go on, Lizzie. You only have to look at what your parents have been up to see that!’
‘She’s right,’ Jemma chipped in. ‘Since the cigarette-burning ritual they haven’t looked back. You’re the one constantly hanging on the end of the phone! What you need is to launch this business properly. Draw up a schedule of what you want to run and when and we’ll take it from there.’
They were both right, of course. My own life had been running a little off the tracks since Dad’s stroke and Ben’s departure from my life. I’d given Jemma a blow by blow account of what had happened with Ben but had made her swear not to talk about it to anyone or mention his name when I was around. I knew it was tough on her because she knew all the answers and I didn’t, but I was doing a grand job of convincing myself that I didn’t care and that I had far bigger fish to fry.
People were still asking when I was going to get started properly and I knew I couldn’t expect them to show interest indefinitely, especially if I didn’t have even a sketchy suggestion to offer them, but suddenly it felt like such a huge step. What I needed was another Deborah top-up, I realised; another little coaching session to get me back on the right path.
‘You know you are right,’ I told the two eager faces peering at me over the counter. ‘I don’t want to end up a “what if ”, do I? I think I’ll ask Deborah to travel up and have a look at the set-up. How does that sound?’
‘Perfect!’ Angela beamed.
‘Whatever it takes,’ Jemma agreed.
Deborah was ecstatic when I phoned and told her how things had gone with the second session and subsequent flyer distribution in the pub.
‘I’m sorry about your father, Lizzie, I really am, but you mustn’t let life’s little hiccups throw you off course. If you really want to make a go of this you have to do your absolute utmost to get it going, put in the hard work and the hours and most importantly, don’t give up when you hit a hurdle or two!’
I knew what she was saying made perfect sense, but Dad’s stroke had felt like more than just a hurdle to me.
‘I know you probably think I’m a hard-faced old boot,’ Deborah carried on, obviously having heard my sigh, ‘but I want you to succeed, Lizzie. I really think you’ve got what it takes.’
‘So you’ll come?’ I asked hopefully. ‘I can make arrangements for you to stay and I’ll pay your train fare.’
‘You’ll do no such thing!’ Deborah boomed but then her tone softened, ‘Heather’s been a bit under the weather recently, the poor love. A little break will do us both good. I’ve someone here who’s more than capable of running the show for a few days. We’ll take a bit of a tour and see you mid-week. How does that sound?’
‘Perfect!’ I smiled. ‘And thank you so much. I can’t wait to show you everything I’ve done!’
The morning Deborah and Heather were due to arrive I was more nervous than before the first bunting session, and this wasn’t something that went unnoticed by Jay who happened to pop in for a quick bite as he was passing through town. I hadn’t clapped eyes on him since the night in the pub but in quieter moments, when I was cursing men and their associated complications, the thought of him and the leggy blonde had loitered uncomfortably in the recesses of my mind.
‘I’m sorry to hear about what happened to your dad, Lizzie,’ he said kindly, whilst staring pointedly at my shaking hands as I fussed and fiddled, making final adjustments to the crafting area.
An instant wave of guilt crashed over me. For the last hour or so Dad and his problems hadn’t been at the forefront of my mind at all. My sudden attack of nerves was solely down to Deborah’s imminent visit and subsequent judgement on my efforts to impress her.
‘I didn’t know what had happened until last night,’ Jay continued when I failed to answer, ‘I’ve been working away and only found out when I popped into the Mermaid for a quick drink.’
‘He’s much better now,’ I said, throwing what I hoped was an appreciative smile in his direction, ‘thanks for asking.’
Thankfully Dad really was much better. Since he had been discharged from the hospital, Mum had put him and herself on a strict new diet and fitness regime. The exercise had gently increased as the dairy and other fats diminished and half the time they looked like a pair of love-struck teenagers. It was beginning to look like Dad’s stroke had re-ignited their flagging marital spark and I was overjoyed for them on all fronts.
‘Don’t mind the state of her, Jay,’ Jemma teased as she set out the cutlery and cruets, ‘it’s a big day. Come back tomorrow, normal service will have been resumed by then.’
‘Oh?’ Jay questioned. ‘What’s going on? I can’t leave you girls alone for five minutes, can I?’
I shot Jemma a fearsome glance. She knew I didn’t want to make a big fuss about Deborah’s visit.
‘Lizzie’s friend from London is paying an official visit,’ she carried on regardless. ‘She’s a real crafting-café aficionado, isn’t she, Lizzie?’
I opened my mouth to answer, but again she didn’t give me the chance.
‘If she gives Lizzie the thumbs-up then it’ll be all systems go!’
‘What I don’t get is why you’re still hanging back, Lizzie,’ Jay frowned. ‘The Café is spot on and you only have to look at the picture up there to see that you have the skills! Everything is perfect, even you.’
How could I explain that my confidence levels just needed a bit of a boost without sounding all feeble and needy? It had been a while since the last session and although everything was, as Jay so enthusiastically pointed out, looking perfect, I still doubted my ability and wanted Deborah to see me in situ before I took the plunge and officially launched the business.
The fact that Jay had just called me perfect sent all my collated thoughts scattering and I was left red-faced, shuffling my feet and feeling confused. What exactly had he meant by that? Was he suggesting that I was the perfect image of womanhood and loveliness or did he mean that I had the perfect personality and business skills to make the venture succeed?
‘Don’t waste your breath!’ Jemma shouted, coming to my rescue. ‘We keep telling her all that but she won’t believe us. She’s got the perfect set-up here but she’s still holding back.’
‘That isn’t quite what I meant,’ Jay mumbled, suddenly more interested in looking around the Café than at either of us.
‘What did you mean then?’ Jemma asked mischievously, raising her eyebrows in expectation of a quick and concise answer.
‘Never mind,’ he stammered, ‘it doesn’t matter. I’ll pop back later to see how you’ve got on.’
I watched him rush through the door, then turned back around and carried on fussing as if nothing had happened.
‘Why didn’t you say any
thing?’ Jemma scowled. ‘You can’t keep this ridiculous man ban in place forever you know!’
‘I don’t see why not,’ I shot back, annoyingly thinking of Ben, ‘besides I don’t trust him. He was with a tall blonde girl the other night in the pub. Why is he trying to make a play for me if he’s already got someone else? You of all people should know I wouldn’t fall for that one; once bitten and all that.’
Jemma rolled her eyes and flicked me lightly with the tea towel that she seemed to have permanently attached to her person these days.
‘That’s his sister, you idiot!’ she laughed. ‘The one he was making the bunting for!’
Chapter 21
‘Lizzie darling, it all looks absolutely charming!’ Deborah boomed, as she burst through the Café door.
‘You’ve only seen the outside!’ I laughed, then stopped as I caught sight of Heather teetering rather than trotting along behind in Deborah’s enthusiastic wake.
Seeing my change of expression, Deborah quickly turned around and ushered her friend inside.
‘Hello, Lizzie,’ Heather said, ‘this all looks fabulous, so pretty with the trees outside and the little picket fence.’
I nodded and stared then realised what I was doing and fumbled for something to say that would cover my shock.
‘Hello, Heather, Deborah tells me you haven’t been well lately.’
Oh, well done. Zero out of ten for discretion, Lizzie. Heather however, always so accommodating, smiled weakly.
‘No,’ she said, ‘I haven’t been well, but I’m feeling better for getting out of London and seeing a bit of countryside.’
‘Would you like to go up to the flat?’ I offered. ‘Have a bit of a rest from your travels while I show Deborah around?’
‘Top idea!’ Deborah agreed. ‘Lead the way, Lizzie, then we’ll get down to business. Come on, old girl,’ she smiled, tenderly taking Heather’s hand, ‘up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire.’
With Heather settled in the spare room Deborah and I went down to the Café and shared the cake and biscuits Jemma had thoughtfully laid out in the crafting area.
