by Rosie Green
Even after I moved into the flat, I popped in most days for a coffee and a chat. In the early days, that little ritual helped keep me sane. Without my chats with Sylvia, I might have talked to a shop assistant or two, but that would have been the extent of my social life.
Still, I was content to be here, knowing I’d defused an impossible situation. I was in constant contact with Jules, and after a month or so of me living in Sunnybrook, she told me she’d bumped into Grant. She said it was clear he thought I was now living with my parents in Edinburgh, where they’d moved when they retired.
After that, I started driving every Tuesday to the stables and joining Jules, Chloe and Titch for the girls’ riding lessons.
I still can’t think of that first meeting without getting choked up. I hadn’t seen Titch for six weeks by then and I was nervous as I drove along the pot-holed lane to the stables. What if our bond was no longer as strong? What if it was a case of ‘out of sight, out of mind’?
But thankfully, it was rather more ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’. When Titch saw my car, she let out a shriek and started running over. While I parked, she was literally jumping up and down, waiting for me to get out of the car. Then after a big bear hug and a swing around, she barely stopped talking – except for the horse-riding bit, which seemed fairly incidental that day for both of us. She filled me in on all the important little details of her life since I’d been away. Such as the current status of her teeth (three lost, four growing in), the spelling test where she got every single one right and the teacher had awarded her a gold star, and her brand new TV which Grant had hung on the wall for her.
I still feel as if I’m living in limbo here, not able to tell anyone my story in case it somehow gets back to Grant that I’m here, in Sunnybrook, just fifty miles away, and not in Scotland as he thinks. I worry that if he ever finds out, he’ll take action to make sure I never see Titch again . . .
A lot has happened in my life since I’ve been in Sunnybrook.
The Little Duck Pond Cafe was in quite a run-down state when I arrived and extremely cluttered. Sylvia, a widow, was clinging hard to the past and the glory days with her husband, when they used to love travelling to antiques fairs and cramming their house and the café with all their treasures.
Then Ellie arrived in the village and Sylvia finally finished smartening up the flat above the café so she could rent it out to Ellie. I must admit, when Ellie came on the scene I rather resented her blossoming friendship with Sylvia. But then she and Fen came to one of my zumba classes in the village hall, and I liked them both immediately. The two of them worked in the bakery under a horrible boss, who they nicknamed Monster Madge. The woman exploited Fen’s shy, good nature, paying her peanuts for baking everything in the shop, claiming she baked it all herself.
I was over the moon when mousey Fen finally told Madge where she could shove her job!
Then poor Sylvia had heart problems and Ellie took over The Little Duck Pond Café. This situation became permanent when Sylvia, who thankfully recovered well, finally gave in to the amorous attentions of her next-door neighbour, a charming man called Mick. They now seem to spend their days either planning cruises or going on cruises, and I’m really happy for both of them.
Ellie, meanwhile, has worked wonders with The Little Duck Pond Café. Her plan is to make it the centre of the local community, and to that end, she’s drafted in Fen to do the catering. Together, they run an Old Movie Night once a week, which gets pretty packed out, and an extension at the back of the building houses a brand new studio/function room where the new Quilting Club takes place every Tuesday night, and I teach regular zumba and yoga classes.
Ellie’s even developing an on-line business, with the help of her lovely boyfriend, Zak, selling a range of traditional biscuits and tray bakes created by Fen, all under The Little Duck Pond Café label.
The logo is perfect. It’s a painting of Ellie’s favourite duck out on the pond, wearing pink-spotted wellies. She says the duck, who she’s named Jessica, reminds her of when she first arrived in Sunnybrook and how far she’s come since then. It was definitely her lucky day when she met Zak, Sylvia’s handsome nephew. They’ve been together a month or two now and seem blissfully happy.
And now, on this blisteringly hot summer Sunday, Ellie is thanking the villagers for all their support for her new venture by throwing a celebration tea party.
Harry is mercifully quick getting his shots inside the café. It’s far too hot to be inside and everyone is itching to get to the tables and chairs laid out on the grass outside.
When I clapped eyes on Harry this morning, it was the first time I’d seen him since the day I arrived, back in January. I have to say, I find him just as irritating now as I did then, with his non-stop jokes and permanent grin. I doubt he’s ever had a serious conversation in his life.
As the guests pile out of the cafe, shielding their eyes from the strong sun and rummaging for their shades, I use the distraction to slip away from the crowd, wandering over to where the trees cast some cool shade over the duck pond.
It’s so peaceful here. I often sit on the grass by the pond, just watching the antics of the ducks, thinking about everything that’s happened and wondering if I could have handled things with Grant differently. But I always come back to the same conclusion. Jules’s plan seems to be working for now, so I should just thank my lucky stars that I can still see Titch and stop thinking too far into the future . . .
There’s some flapping and squawking going on at the other end of the pond and I get up and walk over. By the time I get there, the gathering of ducks has dispersed. There’s just one, alone by the side of the pond, and by the looks of things, something is not quite right.
I kneel on the grass to get a closer look and the first thing I notice is that it’s actually Jessica, Ellie’s favourite of all the ducks. She’s different to all the rest – her beak is a lovely blue-grey colour. Ellie says she bonded with Jessica because she herself felt like a duck out of water when she first arrived in Sunnybrook.
‘It’s got a broken wing,’ says a deep voice behind me. Harry Bentham. ‘We should probably call the RSPCA and they’ll come and rescue it,’ he adds.
I turn and from my kneeling position on the grass, I’m on a level with Harry’s long legs in a pair of fitted dark jeans. Venturing further up, his rugby logo T-shirt moulds to the broad shoulders I remember and his summer tan brings out the intense green of his eyes. His chestnut brown hair is cropped shorter than last time, which suits him better.
‘Right. I don’t know anything about ducks.’ I get to my feet, shading my eyes to look up at him. ‘Do you want to phone or shall I?’
He’s already whipping his phone out of his pocket. I fold my arms and study poor Jessica as he makes the call.
‘Someone’s coming out,’ he says, popping his phone back.
‘Great. Should I wait with her?’
His mouth quirks up at one side. ‘Well, you could, but I don’t think Duckie here is going to mind if you go about your normal business.’
Embarrassment scorches my cheeks. ‘Well, no, obviously not. But I feel bad leaving her here when she’s injured. Shouldn’t we take her inside at least?’
He shakes his head. ‘Best leave it to the experts. Birds get stressed enough being handled as it is.’
‘Right.’
‘But not as stressed as you when there’s a camera in the area,’ he points out wryly and my blush deepens.
‘I don’t like having my photo taken, that’s all,’ I snap, sounding like a prudish great-aunt.
‘Lots of people don’t. But that’s because they don’t know the trick.’
I narrow my eyes suspiciously. ‘What trick is that, then?’ It’s bound to be something with a punchline so I’m not going to fall into the trap of taking him seriously!
‘Squinching,’ he says.
I frown. ‘Oh, yes?’
He shrugs. ‘You tense your eye muscles when you smile
. All the celebrities do it.’ He does a quick demonstration. ‘Like this.’
‘Very good,’ I say caustically.
‘Did you notice the difference?’
‘Not really.’ I did, actually, but I’m not going to tell Harry that!.
‘Try it. It works.’
I sigh inwardly. He’s got another think coming if he imagines I’m going to ‘squinch’ to order!
I wish he would just go away. I came out here to be on my own, and I can’t stand guys who feel they have to crack jokes all the time. Call me suspicious but I tend to think they must be hiding something beneath all that in-your-face charm. Grant is always charm personified with everyone he meets, which is why people no doubt believe him when he tells them I’m a heartless woman who walked out on him and Titch and stole ‘his’ money into the bargain! (Jules has had to correct a few people in the village on this score and tell them what really happened.)
I paste on a smile. ‘I’m sure squinching is a fantastic tip. But since I tend to avoid having my photo taken, I doubt if it would ever come in handy. So there wouldn’t be much point practising it, would there?’
‘Fair enough.’ He nods, looking at me in a puzzled sort of way, as if he can’t believe his charm hasn’t worked this time. ‘Right, well, bye Duckie.’ He fixes me with a solemn look. ‘I’d say cheerio to the duck as well but I don’t know her name.’
‘Oh, ha ha! It’s Jessica, actually.’
He cocks his head on one side, looking bemused. ‘You’ve given the ducks names?’
‘No, just her. She’s special. She’s . . . oh, never mind.’
Even this makes him smile. Is the guy ever serious about anything?
‘It’s nice to see you again, Jaz. I hope you’re enjoying Sunnybrook?’ He’s walking backwards as he talks, mercifully departing.
‘I am, thank you.’
‘No cowgirl outfit today?’
‘Oh, ha-ha!’
He laughs, raises a hand and walks away.
What a truly irritating bloke, I think to myself, as I show an invisible camera my ‘best side’ and squinch my eye muscles experimentally . . .
CHAPTER FIVE
A few days after the party, I walk into the café for a catch-up with Ellie and find her sitting at a table with her mum, Rose. It’s late afternoon, almost closing time, and they’re drinking tea and enjoying a slice each of Fen’s popular Bakewell tart cake.
It’s always busy on Tuesday afternoons, now that the new weekly art classes have started in the studio at the back of the café, and all the tables in the café need clearing. But Ellie is ignoring the mess for once and focusing all her attention on Rose.
Ellie smiles. ‘Grab yourself a cuppa, Jaz, and join us.’
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ I say, helping myself. ‘Hello, Rose. How are you?’ I sit down to join them.
Rose, who’s sadly suffering from Alzheimer’s, is small with blonde hair and a radiant sunshine smile. She gazes at me. ‘Are you my daughter?’
Ellie takes her hand and says gently, ‘No, Mum. I’m your daughter. Ellie.’
Rose frowns at her. ‘Well, I know that!’
‘This is my friend, Jaz.’
‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Jaz,’ says Rose and offers her hand, even though we’ve met and talked at least a dozen times before. We solemnly shake and she leans towards me and murmurs, ‘Well, Jaz, I’m not sure what’s been going on here while I’ve been out.’ She frowns and says in a loud stage-whisper behind her hand, ‘There’s a naked man in there!’ She points in the direction of the studio.
I grin at Ellie, remembering her telling me the art class were organising a ‘life drawing’ session.
Ellie laughs. ‘He’s not there any more, Mum. He’s gone home.’
‘Oh.’ Rose sits back, looking quite put out. ‘That’s a shame. He reminded me a bit of Roger.’
‘Gosh, which bits?’ Ellie jokes.
Rose’s face breaks out into a mischievous smile. ‘The bits that rarely see the light of day!’
Laughter bursts out of me and Ellie gasps, ‘Mum!’ She turns to me, covering her eyes. ‘Honestly, I can’t take her anywhere these days. Just this afternoon she informed Mr Partridge in the art class that he really needed to lose weight because otherwise the legs on his stool would fall off.’
‘Well, it’s true!’ exclaims Rose, smiling at my fake shock. She leans over to Ellie and murmurs, ‘Who the dickens is Mr Partridge?’
Ellie takes Rose to the loo and I can hear her in there, trying to help.
‘Yes, of course I know that’s toilet paper!’ I hear Rose snap. ‘Whatever do you think I imagine it is? A painting of the Queen?’
‘Okay, Mum. Well, I’ll just be outside.’
She sits back down opposite me and rakes her hands through her blonde hair in agitation. ‘God, I hate that Mum lives at that place and not here, with us.’ She sighs. ‘Actually, I should probably rephrase that. I hate that I can’t bring myself to ask her if she wants to move in here.’
I frown in sympathy. ‘Don’t beat yourself up. She seems quite happy living at Rose Court.’
‘I think she is.’ Ellie laughs. ‘Rose Court, where Rose likes to hold court! Whenever I visit her, she’s always got friends round for tea and it has to be a proper teapot or she’s not happy.’
‘Well, there you go, then. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’
She frowns, not looking convinced.
I shrug. ‘It would probably be hard for allof you if she moved in with you and Zak. Your mum is a woman who likes her independence and at least where she is, she has her own little bungalow but with a warden on call to make sure she’s okay. Plus, she’s only a few miles away. It’s the perfect place for her.’
Ellie heaves a sigh. ‘I suppose. Doesn’t stop me feeling guilty as hell, though.’
‘But you shouldn’t.’
‘I just worry that something will happen and I won’t be there to help her. And it will be all my fault because I didn’t have her to stay here.’
I glance around me. ‘She could live here, I suppose. But what will she do during the day when you and Zak are working? At least where she is there’s a lovely communal area where she can have lots of company if she feels like it.’
‘True.’
‘Who’s Roger, by the way?’
Ellie smiles sadly. ‘Roger was her favourite uncle and for some reason, he’s lodged in her mind. She keeps mentioning him as if she only saw him yesterday.’ She shakes her head wearily. ‘It’s a very cruel and unpredictable disease, Alzheimers.’
The toilet flushes and we hear the taps running.
Rose comes out. ‘You need to get that toilet seat fixed on properly. I nearly fell off it!’ she says, sitting back down at the table.
‘There’s nothing wrong with the toilet seat, Mum,’ says Ellie patiently.
‘Well, I beg to differ,’ snaps Rose. ‘Have a look for yourself.’
Ellie rises to her feet and goes into the loo, emerging a moment later looking sheepish. ‘You’re right, Mum. It’s dodgy.’
‘See!’ says Rose with a pleased smile. ‘What do I keep telling you?’
‘Mothers are always right!’ chants Ellie. Then she smiles wistfully at Rose. ‘Do you like where you live now, Mum?’
Rose beams. ‘Of course I do. I love it!’
Ellie’s eyebrows lift hopefully. ‘Really?’
‘Forty-four Sycamore Street,’ chants Rose, looking pleased with herself. She gets up and wanders over to the next table, helping herself to a biscuit left by the previous customers.
Ellie doesn’t seem to have the energy to object. ‘Forty-four Sycamore Street was her address when she was a girl,’ she murmurs gloomily.
The door opens and in walks Sylvia, looking full of the joys of spring. ‘Hello, girls. And Rose!’ She bends to give her friend a little squeeze. ‘I hope you’ve been behaving yourself. I’m taking you back to Rose Court so Ellie can get on and clear up here.’ S
he draws a DVD out of her handbag. ‘What do you say we give this a whirl?’ Sylvia glances at Ellie and me and laughs. ‘No pun intended. It’s the musical, Carousel!’
Rose nods, getting to her feet. ‘Yes, please.’
I smile at Ellie. She’s looking quite misty-eyed at her mum’s special friendship with Sylvia. The two bonded over all the old musicals when Ellie first brought Rose to The Little Duck Pond Cafe.
‘Right, let’s go, then,’ says Sylvia, linking arms with Rose.
‘Doesn’t Mick mind you deserting him this evening?’ asks Ellie.
‘Ha! No. He’s got his bowling club. I’m a firm believer in having separate interests so that you always have something interesting to tell the other! Toodle-oo!’
We watch them go then get up to start clearing the tables.
Ellie starts storing the remains of today’s bakes in special cake boxes.
‘They look fab.’ I place a loaded tray on the counter and drool over the goodies.
‘Don’t they just? Fen definitely has a heavenly touch when it comes to making cakes. I think her chocolate mousse-filled cupcakes are my favourite.’
‘Ooh, it’s a toss up between the iced lemon cakes and the Bakewell tart tray bakes for me!’
‘Thank God Fen and I handed in our notice at the bakery and escaped from Monster Madge. None of this would be happening if we hadn’t.’ Ellie glances around with satisfaction at the newly-decorated café. It looks so gorgeous and summery – all cream and forget-me-not blue, from the walls to the pretty patterned crockery and the comfy cushions on the chairs.
An idea occurs to me. ‘Madge still hasn’t hired anyone to replace you two. Do you think she might consider taking me on at the bakery?’ I wince slightly at the thought of Madge as my boss. But my financial situation is stressing me out so badly, I’d literally do anything to earn some extra cash. The money I brought with me is not going to last much longer at this rate.
