by Heidi Swain
‘You can use my laptop if you like,’ she offered, disappearing back inside. ‘It’ll be far easier than trying to work on your phone.’
‘Thanks,’ I called after her.
‘And,’ she said, rushing back out and setting it on the table I had sat at with David during my first visit, ‘when I’ve got a sec I’ll come and tell you all about what I want you to do with that Bailey.’
My heart leapt when she said that. Clearly it was going to be my project after all, and if Amber’s suspicions about Jemma wanting the café to go mobile were correct, it was going to be a hugely exciting one at that.
With the speediest connection in the area it was mere minutes before I had my new (but not too powerful) shower ordered, and with the guarantee of express delivery, it was going to be delivered by the end of the next day at the very latest. I closed my eyes as I finished my coffee, revelling in the thought of showering in safety and not having to worry about the dreaded complexities of the fuse box from hell in the cupboard under the stairs.
‘Well, well, well,’ boomed a voice, pulling me out of my moment of indulgent contemplation. ‘If it isn’t Lottie Foster.’
‘Hello, Chris,’ I said, opening one eye and then the other. ‘How are you?’
‘Very well,’ he beamed. ‘And how are you?’ He didn’t wait for me to answer. ‘From what I’ve been hearing, you’ve beaten me to the punch on both fronts!’
‘Both fronts?’ I questioned, wishing he would lower his baritone a little.
‘First you bag yourself one of the handiest fellas in the county, and now you’re sorted with four wheels as well.’
‘Well, the four wheels bit is right enough,’ I said loudly enough to hopefully set the record straight with the customers closest who were soaking up every word. ‘But the fella in question has only been bagged, as you put it, to carry out some work at the cottage, nothing more,’ I added, assuming he was talking about Matt. ‘Like I said the day I moved in, I’m very happily single, thank you very much.’
‘Yeah right,’ he said with a conspiratorial wink, which did nothing to suggest that he was convinced. ‘We’ll see. But you did tell me you needed someone to manhandle those pesky pickle jars, didn’t you?’
‘Oh Chris,’ chastised Jemma as she handed him an insulated cup. ‘Leave the poor girl alone. She’s had enough to contend with during the last few months without throwing the complexities of love into the mix. Isn’t that right, Lottie?’
‘Totally,’ I agreed, momentarily grateful for her timely interruption.
‘At least give her time to settle in,’ she grinned.
‘Well, I’ll think about it,’ said Chris with yet another wink, ‘and I haven’t forgotten about that promise of a Sunday cuppa, Lottie.’
‘You’re more than welcome any time,’ I told him. ‘As long as you haven’t got the local singles ads with you, and besides, I reckon I owe you and Marie rather more than a few cups of tea given how you got the cottage ready for me before I moved in.’
‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ he said, ‘but according to David, we do need to have a chat about Gwen’s little collection of . . . ’
‘No need,’ I jumped in before he announced to the world that my benefactor had been collecting caravans. ‘Jemma’s going to fill me in about all that right now.’
‘Fair enough,’ he chuckled, ‘I’ll be round for my Sunday cuppa soon, then.’
He handed Jemma the money for his drink and strode back to his stall.
‘He really is incorrigible,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Why ever did you tell him you’re looking for a relationship?’
‘I didn’t,’ I insisted in a low voice. ‘I was just joking about it the day I moved in and now he won’t let it drop. Anyway,’ I reminded her, ‘I didn’t pedal all this way to talk about my non-existent love life.’
‘You didn’t pedal here at all,’ she reminded me with a nudge. ‘The most handsome man around drove you in, remember?’
There was no point contradicting her.
‘So,’ I said, ‘come on. Tell me. What are these “crazy plans” you have for the Bailey I’ve got sitting back in the barn?’
‘Well,’ she began, edging her chair a little closer and laying her order pad and pencil on the table. ‘I don’t even know if it’s doable of course, but Lizzie and I have been thinking about the possibility of having the van converted into a sort of mobile, but very chic, Cherry Tree Café.’
‘Wow,’ I smiled, delighted that Amber had been on the right track and thrilled by the prospect of being the one responsible for the potential conversion.
‘And don’t worry about dropping Amber in it,’ said Jemma, giving me another nudge, ‘I bet she’s already said something to you about it, hasn’t she?’
‘Well,’ I began. I could feel my face going red so there was no point denying it.
‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I don’t mind. In fact, it was because of the weddings at the farm that we first came up with the idea.’
‘Well, I think it all sounds wonderful,’ I told her. ‘And yes, it’s completely doable. I worked on something similar for a guy last year who had a hankering to make crêpes on the go.’
‘Excellent,’ she gushed, bobbing up and down in her seat. ‘So you’ll do the work for us and then once it’s finished we’ll buy it from you, but only if that falls in with your plans, of course?’
‘Absolutely,’ I told her. ‘I’d be honoured to do it and if you’re happy to work to an estimate after we’ve talked through what exactly it is that you want, how you want the space to work in terms of storage and so on, then I’ll be able to get going straightaway.’
‘And you’ll make it look beautiful, won’t you?’ asked Jemma, her expression serious. ‘It has to look the part.’
‘Oh, it will,’ I told her, spinning her laptop around so she could see the screen. ‘What do you think of these?’
A quick online search had pulled up a dozen or so pretty vans and Jemma grabbed her pencil and began making notes and taking down the details of those she liked the best. Personally I favoured anything that included red polka dots and Cath Kidston rose-patterned fabrics, and for the most part Jemma was in complete agreement.
‘How are you getting on?’ said Lizzie, as she peered over her friend’s shoulder.
‘Brilliant,’ said Jemma, clasping her hands together before pointing at the screen. ‘Lottie has agreed to do the conversion work and then sell us the van.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ Lizzie smiled. ‘I had a feeling you would. Oh, I rather like that one.’
‘Very practical, isn’t it?’ I agreed. ‘A perfect example of how to squeeze in all those tables and chairs you’ll no doubt want to travel with you.’
‘And I like this big awning,’ said Jemma with a nod. ‘At least if the weather lets us down we can still serve people in relative comfort if we have an awning the size of that one. It covers the entire van and all of the outdoor seating.’
‘But have you told her the catch?’ Lizzie asked, bending down so her head was level with Jemma’s.
I swallowed, keeping my eyes on the screen.
‘It’s not really a catch,’ said Jemma, clearly keen to smooth the way.
Lizzie sighed and I felt my stomach sink. I’d only just agreed to take the project on and I certainly didn’t want to be beset by problems and hold-ups already.
‘Has she not told you when we’d like it for?’ said Lizzie, looking at me.
‘No,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘But there isn’t a rush, is there?’
My heart picked up the pace as I thought of the potential stress of working under the pressure of a tight timeframe on my first solo project.
‘Harriet and Rachel are having a party to launch their nursery,’ said Jemma, smiling winningly, ‘and ideally, we’d like it ready for that if possible.’
‘OK,’ I said, looking from one of them to the other. ‘And when exactly is the launch?’
; ‘It’s in six weeks,’ said Lizzie.
I have to admit, I was rather glad I was sitting down when she said that.
Chapter 17
I can’t say I can remember all that much of the cycle ride back to Cuckoo Cottage later that day. My head was abuzz with the prospect of beginning the exciting conversion project and, even though I was a little daunted to be tackling it on my own, deep down I couldn’t wait to get stuck in.
That evening Jemma and Lizzie came out to see me, bringing with them all their plans, clippings and details of what they hoped I would be able to achieve in the tiny space. It was paramount that the caravan should be functional and efficient, but at the same time still look stylish and appealing.
‘Ideally we’d like to be able to seat around four to six people inside,’ said Jemma, biting her lip as she paced out the space.
‘Two next to the door here then,’ I suggested, pointing to where I had in mind. ‘They’ll be able to sit opposite each other with a little fold-down table in between.’
‘And perhaps another four or even five here,’ added Jemma, looking at the fixed seating area in front of the big window at the other end.
‘So that part of the van can stay set up as it is, then,’ I nodded. ‘All it needs is reupholstering and some oilcloth for the table, but this end will need completely remodelling.’
Jemma nodded in agreement and scribbled something on to her pad.
‘Then how about a bigger fridge slotted in here, next to the sink,’ said Lizzie, tapping her pen on her teeth as she squinted, no doubt trying to imagine what it would all look like when it was finished.
‘And I can adapt all of these cupboards to make them more practical and secure,’ I continued. ‘I’m fairly certain I’ll be able to use almost all of what’s in situ already,’ I added, thinking it would be a shame to just rip it all out and start again. ‘That way it won’t take nearly as long to complete and you’ll be retaining most of the original character.’
‘That sounds perfect,’ said Lizzie.
‘Obviously we aren’t planning to cater for hundreds,’ Jemma mused. ‘We’ll have very definite numbers booked, so there’ll be no danger of overstretching ourselves or not having enough space.’
‘We’re thinking small weddings and tea parties to begin with,’ Lizzie continued. ‘Everything will be baked, prepared and packed back at the café, and then carefully transported to the venue, and we won’t venture too far from Wynbridge to begin with.’
‘So basically,’ I said, ‘when you arrive, it will just be a case of setting everything up and making it look as pretty as The Cherry Tree Café before serving.’
‘Exactly,’ said the friends together.
‘And if it’s a complete disaster,’ said Jemma, sounding suddenly doubtful, ‘at least the kids will have gained a very chic playhouse.’
‘I hardly think that’s going to happen,’ said Lizzie firmly. ‘Folk have been asking us about something like this for months, Jem, there’s no way it will fail. We can even make use of it at Christmas when we have the market stall set up again.’
‘That sounds like a great idea,’ I agreed. Gwen had told me all about the lovely stall and its fabulously festive bakes and wares. ‘You could serve some hearty soups perhaps and warm rolls and marshmallow-topped hot chocolate with spiced gingerbread men.’
Given the mini heatwave the east of England was currently experiencing, it was all too easy to get caught up fantasising about the chillier days of winter.
‘But we’ll need extra staff,’ countered Jemma.
She was clearly having a wobble and was determined to voice every challenge this new branch of the business could possibly encounter. Given everything I was currently going through, I could sympathise with how she was feeling.
‘And you know as well as I do that we have people by the dozen coming in and asking for weekend work,’ tutted Lizzie. ‘Finding someone to help out in either the café or in here really isn’t going to be an issue.’
‘True,’ said Jemma, sounding somewhat calmer. ‘And I do know you’re both right. It’s just all a bit scary.’
‘In that case,’ I said, thinking it would be as comforting for me as it would be for her, ‘let’s take it just one step at a time. How about I start ripping out what you don’t want to keep and then you can come back and have another look?’
‘Excellent idea,’ said Lizzie.
‘Because you might want to reposition a couple of things after that.’
‘That’s true,’ said Jemma, stepping up to give me a hug. ‘That sounds like a great idea. Thank you, Lottie.’
‘I’m sure you’ll feel better if we can talk through the changes at every stage,’ I said, hugging her back. ‘It’s like taking baby steps before you start to run, isn’t it? Whatever challenges or changes you face in life,’ I added wisely, ‘if you take them one step at a time, they don’t feel anywhere near as daunting.’
‘She’s right, you know,’ nodded Lizzie.
‘Of course she is,’ smiled Jemma, looking far happier for having been on the receiving end of my drugstore psychology. ‘Now, I’d better get home and see if Tom’s managed to achieve the impossible and get Ella and Noah to bed on time.’
Thankfully the conversion wasn’t going to be anywhere as near as complicated as it could have been. I knew I could meet the tight deadline and could already picture the completed van in my mind’s eye, and what with that and an answerphone message from Matt’s cousin Simon, telling me that he would be coming out in the morning to make a start on the electrical work, it really felt as if my new life was finally poised to begin and I didn’t care a jot for what the gossips said. I was determined to make amazing things happen.
‘So what are your plans for these?’ asked Jemma as she hopped out of the Bailey and pointed at the other vans. ‘I hope they aren’t all going to be mobile cafés. I don’t think we need that amount of competition, do we, Lizzie?’
‘Oh, I shouldn’t worry about that,’ I told her. ‘I’ve no more mobile teashops planned. In fact, I haven’t got anything sorted for these yet,’ I added, looking at the three vans. ‘But I’m sure inspiration will strike soon.’
I hung around the cottage the next morning wishing that Simon had been as punctual as the delivery guy who had caught me, still dressed in the miniscule shorts and vest top that were masquerading as PJs in the heat, when he turned up to deliver my new shower.
‘Bit warm, isn’t it?’ he grinned when I had to open the door more than an inch to take the box off his hands.
‘Yes,’ I blushed, taking care not to lose what little dignity I had left as I struggled to sign his ‘confirmation of delivery’ gadget. ‘It is a bit.’
‘Have a nice day,’ he waved. ‘Don’t forget the sunblock.’
Leaving the shower propped against the hall wall, I rushed back upstairs to pull on a slightly bigger vest and longer shorts, with one ear cocked for the sound of an engine, but I needn’t have worried. An hour later and there was still no sign of Simon and I was itching to begin work on the Bailey. The mobile number he had left on his message was annoyingly ringing straight to voicemail, so I tried to send him a text, backed it up with a note pinned to the door, and strode purposefully off down to the barns to begin sizing up my debut solo project.
‘Hey, Minnie,’ I said to my little companion who was, as ever, close at my heels, ‘can you hear that?’
I could hear a woodpecker somewhere in the field, making its unerring call, and remembered what Gwen always said about the big birds foretelling or calling up rain when they started to make that noise. I hoped she was right. The lawn was beginning to look particularly parched around the edges and could do with a prolonged soaking. As long as the bossy bird didn’t unsettle Thor, I thought with a little shudder, then all would be right with the world.
In the barn, I took my time having a good look through the paperwork Jemma and Lizzie had left and then went through the van with a fine-tooth comb. This transf
ormation was going to be fairly straightforward but I wanted to have a good look at the plumbing and electrics before I got stuck in. Fortunately a former owner had competently updated both and it wasn’t long before I was ready to start dismantling the loo cubicle and cupboard which would make way for the new seating area.
It was hot, thirsty work and later that morning I took a trip back up to the cottage to make a drink and collect the post. There was still no word from Simon so, having left him yet another message and refilled mine and Minnie’s water bottles, I went back to admire my handiwork and tidy up a bit. The van already felt far bigger, and where I had been wondering how easy it would be to squeeze two customers in next to the door, I could now see there was ample space.
I sat down at the table in the window for another breather and flicked through the pile of post. Most of it was junk mail for Gwen, but there were two unexpected gems hidden amongst the flyers for invisible hearing aids and inducements to install solar panels that simply took my breath away.
I thumbed through the glossy pages of the holiday brochures she had signed up for and it finally dawned on me exactly what she had in mind for the caravans and, joy of joys, it would mean I would never have to part with any of them. Exciting possibilities leapt off the pages and I felt my heart pick up the pace in response.
Giddy with anticipation, I ripped into an envelope with a telling bump in the shape of a free biro and scribbled until the ink began to flow. I then quickly set about making lists and notes, terrified that now inspiration had struck it would disappear just as quickly and I would have no physical record of my light-bulb moment.
When I had finished writing, I rushed outside and hurriedly opened up the other two barns and stood back, keen to see if they had the potential I was hoping for. Yes, it was all there. With my head fit to burst, and tears pricking my eyes, I could imagine the transformation as clearly as if it had already happened. I could see every last detail in all its glory and wished I could tell Gwen that I had worked it out; that what I was looking at was a truly vintage idea in every possible sense.
