The Cherry Tree Cafe

by Heidi Swain

  ‘Sounds like a good idea to me,’ Heather smiled. ‘Have you got anywhere in mind?’

  ‘Wherever the wind blows me!’ I laughed.

  Chapter 30

  It didn’t take long to pack my few sticks of furniture and boxes ready for the return journey, but how to get them to my parents’ house was proving something of an issue. Having parted company with Jay after discovering his malicious motives meant that I was a van driver down and Dad was still out of the country.

  ‘I could help you out,’ Henry offered, ‘if you’re really desperate, but I won’t be free for a few weekends I’m afraid.’

  ‘Thanks, Henry, I appreciate the offer. I’m sorry we haven’t managed to get together.’

  ‘So am I,’ he replied, ‘I really wanted you to meet Cass. I think she could be the one,’ he added in a clandestine whisper, ‘I really do.’

  ‘I’m so pleased for you, Henry,’ I said. ‘Out of everyone I know who is still single, you are the one person who shouldn’t be!’

  ‘What about you?’ Henry replied. ‘We’ve got to get you spliced soon!’

  ‘Oh don’t worry about me,’ I told him, ‘when I get back from this holiday I’m buying a couple of cats and my fate will be sealed! Look, I’ve got to go, someone’s at the door.’

  ‘OK, but promise you’ll keep me posted about this move?’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘And any kittens?’

  ‘Of course!’ I laughed.

  I threw my mobile on the sofa thinking I was going to have to hire a removal firm to help me out and crossed the room to answer the door. It was Rob.

  ‘Hey, Rob,’ I smiled, ‘what’s up? Is everything OK downstairs?’

  ‘There’s a guy in the Café asking for you,’ he said shyly.

  ‘Is there?’ I asked. ‘What’s his name?’

  I knew it couldn’t be Henry because we’d just been chatting on the phone. The only other ‘guy’ who knew where to find me was Jay. My heart sank. What did the rat want this time?

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t ask his name,’ Rob apologised, ‘but he’s really cute. Shall I send him up or do you want to come down?’

  ‘Oh send him up,’ I sighed, ‘if it’s who I think it is I can’t imagine the conversation will be polite enough for the ladies in the Café.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Yeah go on, quick before I change my mind.’

  While waiting for Rob to send Jay up I wondered how he’d travelled to London and whether I could bring myself to ask him if he’d give me and my stuff a lift home.

  ‘Make it quick,’ I snapped on hearing him running up the stairs, ‘I have to be somewhere.’

  ‘Hello, Lizzie.’

  Oh god. That voice. It could only be –

  ‘How did you find me?’ I gasped, spinning around. ‘Who told you I was here?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Of course it matters!’ I gulped, my voice cracking from the shock, ‘I bet Jemma told you, didn’t she? Well, she had no right to. She and Tom have done enough damage already. I don’t want to see you, Ben. I don’t want you here. Please leave.’

  ‘Not until you hear what I have to say.’

  He looked exhausted, his brow deeply furrowed, but I didn’t care for any of what he had to say. I didn’t care that my stomach had done that annoying flip thing again or that my heart was hammering so hard against my ribcage that I expected to look down and see it bursting through my shirt.

  ‘All I ever do is listen to what you have to say!’ I shouted. ‘And I never feel any better for it! I told you the last time you should have sent a text and saved yourself the journey.’

  ‘I have been bloody texting!’ he shouted, crossing the room and snatching my phone up off the sofa. ‘Here! Look! Dozens of the bloody things stacked up unread. You left me no choice but to come and find you, Lizzie.’

  ‘You could have phoned the Café,’ I said, struggling to keep my voice level and my emotions in check.

  ‘Look, just shut up and sit down, will you?’ Ben demanded.

  ‘No,’ I said flinging open the flat door, ‘just say whatever it is you think is so important and bugger off.’

  ‘OK,’ he sighed, running his hands through his hair, ‘fine. Have it your way.’

  I stared back at him, my chin held stubbornly high ready for the next instalment of the Ben and Natasha sob saga. Perhaps my visit had got Natasha thinking about him and now they were getting back together. Perhaps they wanted Giles and me to give it another go and make up a cosy foursome at the flat.

  ‘It’s Jemma.’

  ‘What about Jemma?’

  I snapped, feeling confused. ‘She’s not been well,’ Ben began, then stopped.

  ‘Do you mean she’s had a cold or she’s been really ill?’ I demanded, my heart hammering for a different reason.

  ‘She’s been really ill,’ he said, biting his lip, ‘she’s pregnant, you see.’

  ‘She’s what?’

  ‘She’s pregnant, just a couple of months, but she’s been trying to keep the Café going and look after Ella and everything else.’

  ‘Oh, for god’s sake, Ben!’ I shouted. ‘Just spit it out, will you?’

  ‘She’s in hospital,’ he said finally. ‘She might lose the baby.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say this as soon as you walked in?’ I demanded. ‘Why didn’t you come sooner?’

  ‘I wanted to but I didn’t know whether I should. I didn’t want to interfere. Tom and Angela had been nagging her to take it easy for weeks but she wouldn’t and now, well, now she’s in real trouble.’

  ‘But she hasn’t lost the baby?’

  ‘No, but she still might. Everything’s a right mess, Lizzie. Tom says they’ll have to close the Cherry Tree. Angela can’t manage all alone and there’s no one else Jemma trusts to keep it going.’

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ I sobbed, dropping down on to the sofa. ‘I don’t bloody believe this. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t left.’

  ‘You can’t say that!’ Ben frowned. ‘It was us that made you leave. It was my fault that Jemma and Tom had to keep my stupid secret from you. If anyone’s to blame for all this mess it’s me, you know it is. Come back with me, Lizzie,’ he begged. ‘Come back and we’ll put it all right.’

  Apart from a freak encounter with a kitchen knife whilst parting frozen pork chops I had managed to stay relatively injury-free throughout my adult life and consequently out of hospital. Since my return to Wynbridge, however, two of the people I loved most in the world had been in-patients and forced me through the doors into that most daunting of environments.

  ‘I know we’re a bit late for visiting,’ I whispered to the statuesque nurse who was standing guard outside Jemma’s door, ‘but we’ve travelled up from London and the traffic was horrific. I promise we won’t be many minutes,’ I pleaded, ‘I just want to see her.’

  ‘Go on then,’ she said, ‘but it will only be for a few minutes.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I whispered, ‘I really appreciate it. Are you coming in?’ I asked Ben.

  He had driven me back at break-neck speed, my few belongings crammed into his battered old estate car and balanced precariously on the roof rack. We hadn’t talked much, both lost in our private world of complications and regrets.

  ‘No, I’ll wait out here,’ he said, plonking himself tiredly on a chair outside the door, ‘and then I’ll drive you to the house. Give her my love though, won’t you?’

  I took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy door. The lamp next to the bed cast a dim light across the sheets and Jemma’s pale, sad face.

  ‘Lizzie!’ she gasped. ‘Oh my god!’

  ‘Now then,’ I said sternly, ‘don’t start any of that or I’ll be thrown out.’

  I sat in the chair by her side and stroked her hand and kissed it.

  ‘Ben’s told me everything that’s happened;’ I said quietly, ‘so don’t go through it all again now. How are you feeling?’


  ‘Better than I was,’ she said, smiling weakly, ‘so far so good,’ she said, squeezing my hand, her few words speaking volumes.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I was going to after the first scan,’ she said, ‘like I did with Ella, remember?’

  I smiled at the memory. She had taken me out for lunch and given me a card to open. It wasn’t my birthday or Christmas but when the scan photo fell out of the envelope I had felt even more excited than if it was.

  ‘I remember,’ I said. ‘I didn’t even know you’d been trying this time round.’

  ‘We weren’t,’ she laughed. ‘I think we can blame this one on a night in the pub and one of Tom’s bloody Mumford tributes!’

  ‘I thought that turned you off rather than on!’

  ‘Depends on how much I’ve had to drink.’

  ‘Oh,’ I laughed, ‘I see.’

  ‘I don’t know how we’re going to cope, though,’ she said, her fleeting smile suddenly replaced with a frown, ‘there’s no way I can run the Cherry Tree and Ella and a baby. It’s just not possible.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ I told her firmly, ‘that’s what I’m here for.’

  ‘Are you coming back?’ she asked, wide-eyed. ‘Are you really thinking about coming back?’

  I nodded.

  ‘But what about all the other stuff?’ she asked. ‘All the arguments and stupid bloody secrets?’

  ‘Jemma,’ I said, looking right at her, ‘does any of that really matter now?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said worriedly, ‘Tom and I should have never agreed to keep Ben’s secret just because he got to us first. We should have made him tell you sooner but it was just so difficult. I know you think I have the perfect life, Lizzie, and in many ways I do and I wanted you to have that too. I wanted to make sure that nothing could hurt you again but I got it all wrong. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘No,’ I said, shaking my head, ‘we were all in a difficult position, each and every one of us. We were all to blame in one way or another but none of us were wholly responsible for the mess, but now you’re having a baby, Jemma, another Ella, and nothing matters beyond making sure you’re fit and well. Do you understand that?’

  I watched as a single tear rolled down Jemma’s cheek and tried to swallow away the lump in my throat.

  ‘Now get some sleep,’ I commanded, ‘I’ll come back tomorrow night.’

  ‘Not in the morning?’ she sniffed.

  ‘No, of course not in the morning, you silly bugger. I’ll be helping Angela at the Cherry Tree!’

  I didn’t think it could be possible for anyone to look more washed out than Jemma, but Tom did and the fact that Ella was already in bed and asleep, having made no fuss about going up even though she knew there was a chance I might turn up, pretty much broke my heart.

  ‘I’m so pleased you’re here, Lizzie,’ Tom cried, grabbing hold of me and squeezing me tight. ‘I’m so glad you agreed to come back. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.’

  ‘Not even that time when Jemma’s dad caught the pair of you in the garden shed?’ I reminded him, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

  ‘Not even then,’ he smiled, releasing me and wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve. ‘Please tell me you’re staying?’ he begged.

  ‘Of course I’m staying,’ I told him.

  I didn’t think it was necessary to add that I didn’t know how long for. There was no point making the situation any more stressful and besides I wouldn’t be going anywhere until my best mate was one hundred per cent better.

  ‘Can I stay here, though,’ I asked, ‘at yours, just until Mum and Dad get back?’

  ‘Not at the flat?’ Ben frowned, as he passed me a big mug of tea and a plateful of thickly sliced buttered toast.

  ‘I thought it would be easier if I was on hand for Ella,’ I lied, reaching for the marmalade, ‘so Tom can focus on Jemma without having to worry.’

  ‘Thanks, Lizzie,’ Tom said gratefully, ‘that would be a huge weight off my mind. Yes of course, stay as long as you want.’

  I didn’t dare look at Ben.

  With Ella hugged, washed, dressed, fed, hugged again and dropped off at Tom’s mum’s house the following morning, there was nothing stopping me from rushing off to help Angela open up the Cherry Tree. Fear, excitement and a hint of trepidation bubbled through my veins as I made my way along the road, wondering if the place had changed in the few weeks I’d been away. I turned the last corner in the road and there it was; the Cherry Tree Café in all its glory and it had changed, but only a little.

  Now the weather was warmer and less changeable, Tom had arranged the sets of metal tables and chairs under the canopy of the cherry tree. They were a timely reminder that the year was moving on fast.

  Tom had given me his set of keys, which included one for the flat, but I had no intention of venturing up there for the time being. Working in the Café was going to be enough of a jolt. As I swung open the little picket gate and secured it on the hook behind to indicate that we were open, the Café door was flung back on its hinges and Angela ran up the path, her arms outstretched.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been more pleased to see anyone in my whole life!’ she said, pulling me into a suffocating hug, ‘and that’s really saying something coming from a woman whose family live on the other side of the world!’

  ‘Hello, Angela,’ I smiled, ‘it’s good to see you too!’

  ‘Come on, let’s get inside and get cracking. Come and see what I’ve got!’ she said impishly.

  Everything inside the Café was perfect and to be honest it didn’t look like Angela had been struggling at all. I didn’t dare ask just exactly how late she had been staying to make sure everything was ship-shape for the next day. The bags under her pretty eyes were proof enough that it was late.

  ‘Here you go,’ she beamed, ‘all washed and pressed! I knew I’d see you in it again one day!’

  I felt my throat tighten as Angela spun me around, tying my apron in place. It was every bit as pretty as I remembered and everything in the Café was as simple and straightforward as I remembered and I loved it, but I knew in my heart that it would be too much of a struggle for me to move back permanently. I’d overheard Ben telling Tom that he was definitely settling back in Wynbridge and I just didn’t know how I would cope with the risk of running into him on a daily basis.

  ‘Thank you, Angela,’ I smiled as I fondly patted the heart-shaped pocket and reached for my order book and pen from the counter. ‘What would you like me to do?’

  ‘First item on the agenda today,’ Angela instructed, ‘is a nice cup of tea for the workers, don’t you think? It’s market day today, remember? Give it an hour or so and we’ll be rushed off our feet.’

  We sat together at one of the tables and I ran my hands lightly over the painted chair next to me. It felt like a lifetime since I’d sanded and primed until my hands were raw. So much had happened; too much.

  ‘Penny for them,’ Angela asked as she refilled my cup.

  ‘I couldn’t possibly tell you,’ I said quietly, my bottom lip trembling, ‘I can’t even make sense of them myself.’

  Late that afternoon when I finally closed the gate and locked the door we’d sold out of practically everything and an evening of baking stretched ahead. Part of me wished I hadn’t been so stubborn about the flat. Nothing would have been nicer than to pop upstairs for an invigorating shower and half an hour to recuperate before starting work again. Tom’s keys weighed heavy in my pocket. The flat was drawing me in; the key to the door was my very own One Ring.

  ‘I’m just going to nip up to the flat,’ I called after Angela’s retreating back.

  ‘OK,’ she shouted as she raced off home, ‘I’ll be back as soon as I’ve fed the cat and then you can pop off and see Jemma when we’ve got the cakes in!’

  Tentatively I turned the key and pushed open the flat door. I’d been expecting the place to smell fusty and the air to be stale,
but the place felt as fresh as it did the last time I was there. The majority of things were still in situ and whether it was because I was tired or whether it was something else, more than ever the little place felt like home.

  A light breeze from the open window in the kitchen stirred the curtains and something on the table caught my attention. A huge vase of pale pink roses filled the tabletop, their heady perfume filling the air.

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.’

  I spun round. Ben was standing in the hallway leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, his ankles crossed and a shadow of his former beard clearly visible on his chin. My stupid stomach did a loop the loop and my heart joined in the betrayal, bouncing about like a jack-in-the-box straining to be released.

  ‘Did you want something?’ I asked. ‘Is everything all right? It isn’t Jemma, is it?’

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ he smiled, pushing himself off the wall and walking towards me. ‘Tom called, the hospital has said Jemma can come home the day after tomorrow as long as she doesn’t come back to work and takes it easy at home.’

  The relief was overwhelming but I would not allow myself to cry; I’d done enough of that lately.

  ‘Well, that’s great,’ I said shakily, ‘such a relief.’

  Ben was standing just inches from me now, his gaze bearing down on me.

  ‘Was there something else?’ I swallowed.

  ‘Just one more thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I love you,’ he smiled.

  Epilogue

  Waking late on a Monday, usually the first day of the working week, was a rare treat. I rolled over and blinked at the clock on the bedside table. I knew it was far later than I would usually wake; the light was a dead giveaway. Seven thirty, not all that late but to me, who was usually on the go before six these days, it felt like half the day had passed me by. I lay back and let the warm, soft breeze from the open window caress my face as gently as a lover’s tender kiss. There was no noise from the Café kitchen and the murmur of distant traffic was unusually quiet.

  August bank holiday weekend was upon us and I could hardly believe how much time had passed since I’d returned once again to Wynbridge and the comfort and healing warmth of family and friends. Since Jemma’s pregnancy scare, Angela and I had been practically running the Café, but somehow I had still managed to oversee the crochet and knitting circles and run a dozen more crafting and sewing sessions along with some holiday classes specifically for family groups.