‘Of course it would – feel free. But before you do, why don’t you come in for a cuppa? I’ve just put the kettle on. I was probably living here then, so maybe I can help?’
We nod, and follow him through into the back room. I catch Auburn eyeing up his arse as he goes – it is, to be fair, a good arse – and nudge her hard to tell her to behave herself. She grins, and makes a little bump and grind gesture with her hips to let me know exactly what she’s thinking. Just in case, you know, I was completely stupid.
The office is not at all what I thought it would be. It’s clean and uncluttered and the bare brick walls are painted entirely white, giving it a cool antique minimalist look. There’s smooth blonde wood furniture, a MacBook Air, and a tidy pile of papers he’s obviously been working on.
He disappears off into yet another room – maybe they get smaller, like in Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory – and we hear him clunking pottery and pouring water. He comes back carrying the drinks, all in mugs bearing the name of the Twisted Sister Retreat. It’s a lot more corporate than I thought, and I find myself looking around in curiosity as we settle into the guest chairs across from his desk.
‘Not what you expected?’ he asks, noting my inspection and smiling. He sounds amused, not insulted.
‘No, it’s not.’
‘Cleaner? Tidier? No topless women wrapped in Aztec blankets?’
I nod, and smile, uncertain how to react.
‘That’s okay. I keep them all in the back room, ready for our campfire orgies. My name’s Robert, by the way. I run this place – by which, of course, I mean I lead the co-operative. I was born here, and took over from my dad, Malcolm, a few years back. When was it you were here?’
He looks at Auburn, who is fidgeting with the hem of her jumper and staring at him intently. Her face breaks out into a grin, and she says: ‘I remember you! You were a lot older than us, but I remember you – Blister Bum Bobby!’
I groan a little inside, but he bursts out laughing, and points at Auburn like she’s caught him out in something. He has a good laugh, one of those that you catch.
‘Right! That’s me … I had an unfortunate incident when I was doing a daring backwards slip-and-slide off the rocks into the lake, when I was about ten, and got called that for years afterwards. What can I say? Happy times – but please call me Robert in public, I’ve got a rep to protect! So, that dates things. What’s your name, and who were you here with? You’re far too young to have been here on your own.’
‘Why, thank you, kind sir,’ says Auburn, actually batting her eyelashes at him. ‘I’m Auburn Longville, and I lived here with my brothers Angel and Van, and our dad, who died when we were little, and our mum—’
‘Lynnie Longville,’ he finishes for her, the words coming out as something of a sigh. We look at each other in confusion as we watch his face go from jovial and welcoming to something altogether more wistful. Robert gazes off into the distance, over our heads and through the window at the fields beyond.
He realises he’s been quiet for too long, and snaps himself out of it.
‘Sorry – lost in space for a minute there. Yes, I remember you now – your hair was a lot shorter, and you looked like an angry boy. Van was older, wasn’t he? And Angel was the cherub with the blonde curls. It was so sad when your dad died. Lynnie … well, she did her best. She always did. She was an inspirational woman. I missed her when she left. I mean, we all did. She never even said goodbye, and I always wondered what had happened to her …’
He drifts off again, and I look at Auburn as she mouths the words ‘what the fuck?’ to me. I shrug, and make a haven’t-got-a-clue gesture.
‘Your mum and dad were really good friends with my mum and dad,’ he says, explaining. ‘When your father passed, we all spent a lot of time together. I was only nineteen or twenty at the time, but, well … she was a special lady. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you two that. Is she … still around?’
He sounds ridiculously hopeful as he says this, and it’s obvious that the younger Robert had a massive crush on Lynnie Longville. My mother – the femme fatale. I think it’s sweet, but Auburn is starting to look horrified.
She pauses, chews her lip, and stares, before finally, she nods, abruptly. She starts to tap her fingernails on the desk, and then slugs down all her tea in one go, like it’s medicine she doesn’t like the taste of. She stands up quickly, and looks agitated. I have no idea what’s wrong with her, but I get up as well. Looks like our trip down memory lane is coming to an early finish.
‘She is,’ replies Auburn. ‘Alive and well, thanks for asking. And thanks for the tea. And thanks for the talk. And … well, thanks. I think we’ll go and have that wander, now, if that’s still all right? We need to get home in time for our cheese and wine tasting.’
Robert looks confused by the sudden change in mood, and I’m confused by the sudden appearance of a cheese and wine tasting. He nods, and stands up to see us out.
‘Of course. It was lovely to see you again, and to meet you – I’m sorry, what’s your name?’ he asks, holding his hand out to shake mine.
‘She’s Willow,’ says Auburn, quickly, bustling me out of the room, through the shop, and into the courtyard so fast I barely have time to wave goodbye.
‘Say hello to her for me, won’t you? To Lynnie?’ shouts Robert from the doorway, as we leave.
‘Will do! Bye now!’Auburn yells back, saluting him, and practically running off into the distance. I scoot after her as fast as my boots will carry me, eventually catching up at the foot of a hill behind the buildings. I look up to the top, and see the two Twisted Sisters, smooth stone glinting in the sunlight.
‘Race you up …!’ she says, and starts to jog before she even finishes the sentence. I chase, and overtake, and am standing at the top of the hill laughing at her by the time she reaches the crest.
She sits down on the grass, ignoring the fact that it’s damp.
‘I really must give up smoking …’ she says, as she lights a cigarette and takes a deep, desperate puff. I clamber down next to her, grimacing slightly as I feel my leggings go all moist – and not in a good way.
I give her a minute to smoke, and look down from our perch. It really is a beautiful view – the rolling fields and hills a patchwork of every shade of green nature has to offer; the blue sky crashing down to meet them; the distant Norman castle in the little market town of Launceston clear on the horizon.
I amuse myself making a daisy chain until she finishes the cigarette, waiting for her to stub it out on the damp grass. She looks around, realises that there isn’t a handy ashtray up here by ye ancient stone circle, and pops the end into her jeans pocket with a little shrug.
‘So,’ I say, eventually. ‘What was that all about? One minute you’re flirting with him, and the next you’re galloping out of there like your knickers are on fire!’
She looks at me disbelievingly, and shakes her head as though I’ve just won the World’s Greatest Moron championships. Yay, I’m a winner.
‘You really didn’t figure it out?’ she says, sounding shocked.
‘Figure what out? That you’re bonkers? Because, yes.’
‘No! You didn’t notice the way he looked when he talked about Mum?’
‘Of course I did – he turned into a lovestruck teenager, which is weird in a man who seemed otherwise sensible, and must be, what, in his mid-forties? He was obviously completely ga-ga about her.’
Auburn nods, and waits. And waits some more. And pulls a face at me.
‘Okay. Let me put my hypothesis into plainer terms,’ she replies, starting to actually look amused now.
‘Go ahead,’ I say. ‘I’m just a simple country girl, making a simple daisy chain …’
‘Right. Here goes. Pay attention, country girl. Robert, when he was nineteen or twenty, was clearly in love with our mother. Are you with me so far?’
‘Yes, sir,’ I reply.
‘Good. So then my dad died, and as we’ve both
gathered from her, she struggled afterwards. And then, not too long after, she found out she was pregnant with you and for some reason, she uprooted us all and did a runner two counties over. We never got an explanation for that – she literally just bundled us all up in a moving van one day, it was kind of horrible to be honest.’
‘That wasn’t my fault …’
‘I know,’ she says, looking at me like I’m mad. ‘Nobody thinks it was, as you were a foetus at the time – it was still horrible though. Anyway, that’s not the issue. The issue is this – I don’t think the Angel of the Lord came down to create you, Willow – I think Bobby Blister Bum did.’
I drop my daisy chain, and stare at her, eyes wide. I want to tell her it’s nonsense – but now she’s pointed it out, I can’t argue with her logic. I mean, the timing fits at least.
‘Don’t you see?’ she asks, prodding me. ‘It explains it all. Why she left in such a hurry. Why she cut ties with the place. Why she’s always embarrassed and avoids the issue. It’s because our mum was a cougar, before the word was even invented – she had a fling with her friends’ kid, and then ran away to hide the evidence! And the worst thing is, I was even considering shagging him myself …’
Chapter 23
‘So, are you going to tell him?’ asks Cherie, leaning so far forward I can see down her top. I avert my gaze, and think about the question.
‘I don’t know,’ I reply honestly. ‘I mean, we don’t even know there’s anything to tell, really. It’s all just a theory.’
‘A good theory,’ pipes in Auburn, looking up from the magazine she’s reading. Dorset Life.
‘Yes, but still just a theory. What am I supposed to do – waltz in there and demand a paternity test? Plus, you know, what does it really matter? Our family’s always been weird.’
‘All the best families are weird,’ says Edie, looking up from her iPhone. She’s recently become embroiled in an online Boggle community, and is forever on the hunt for new and exciting six-letter words.
‘My family, for instance,’ she continues, putting the phone down on the table. ‘Well, my mother’s older sister and her husband died in the Spanish flu epidemic, so her children were raised by aunts, uncles, even friends from the village. There was no official adoption, or anything done through the courts – they just stepped in and took them. By the time I was born, I had two older sisters who were actually my cousins. The others went elsewhere. They lived in different homes, but all in and around the village, so they could stay in touch. As a result they had about five different sets of parents.’
Zoe is sitting quietly next to her, head buried in a book as usual, but she looks up at this.
‘Wow,’ she says. ‘That’s really interesting – and complicated.’
‘Yes, dear,’ replies Edie, patting her hand. ‘It’s not just your generation who does complicated. The films might have been black and white back then, but our lives weren’t.’
We all nod at this – feeling slightly told off – and make space as Laura approaches with a tray of drinks and salted caramel cookies. We’re having our usual end-of-day catch-up, and the whole café smells heavenly – Laura’s been making Bakewell tarts, and the aroma of almond is so thick you could lick it.
Mum is here with us, but sitting in bookshelf corner with Saul, colouring in. Katie has started a college course, and we’re all chipping in to help her out with childcare.
We’d lowered our voices when we were discussing Paternity Gate, so Mum wouldn’t overhear, but to be honest I don’t think she’s tuned in to us at all.
I glance over, and see her colouring book flat on the table. I note that she is very much not staying within the lines – which is par for the course, it seems.
I’d tried dropping the name Robert into the conversation the night before, asking if she remembered anyone called that. She’d screwed her face up in confusion, and stared off into the distance as though trying to recall, and then finally shrugged and said: ‘No, sorry – my poor sick brain must have blanked it out!’
Now, I’m used to seeing the way that Alzheimer’s affects my mum. The way it befuddles her, and leaves her searching for words, and lost in a jumble of memories that are only related in her own mind. I’ve seen the genuine pain and confusion it causes her, and the way she tries to fight it.
I’ve seen enough of it to know that on this occasion, she isn’t suffering from Alzheimer’s-related memory loss – she’s just plain lying to my face. My mum is one of the most honest people I know. She doesn’t care enough about normality or other people’s approval to lie for it – so this is quite a surprise. Also, something of a confirmation that Auburn might be on the right track.
‘What was he like, then?’ asks Laura, once she’s passed out the refreshments and settled herself down on the chair next to me. She’s had her hair trimmed, but because it’s so curly, it now just sticks out from her head like a dense, springy triangle. I want to touch it, and realise I may be developing something of a problem with feeling up other people’s hair.
‘He was sex on a stick,’ says Auburn, sticking her tongue out at me. ‘Kind of like George Clooney crossed with Negan.’
‘Who’s Negan?’ asks Cherie, frowning.
‘He’s the baddie in The Walking Dead,’ supplies Edie, the almost ninety-two-year-old. Of course. ‘He’s a very handsome man, but pure evil.’
‘Hopefully Robert’s not the same …’ utters Auburn, flicking through the pages of her glossy. She looks up, and glances around the table at us all. I’m dressed in my favourite black top, which I decorated with stick-on purple sequins myself. Laura’s face is covered in flour. Cherie has her Wonder Woman apron on. Zoe is wearing Cal’s cowboy hat, and Edie is in her usual beige cardigan with her neon orange Vans backpack still on her shoulders.
‘You lot,’ she says, wagging her fingers at us. ‘… would not cut it in the pages of Dorset Life.’
‘What do you mean?’ asks Cherie, sounding offended. ‘I’m a well-respected local businesswoman! I could be in Dorset Life if I wanted!’
‘Yeah,’ adds Zoe, smirking. ‘We could be, easily. In fact, we could have our own reality TV show – the Real Housewives of Budbury Village.’
‘None of us are housewives, though,’ Laura adds, looking slightly disappointed that we’ve failed at the first hurdle in our bid for TV fame.
‘True – but we’re all very real!’ responds Zoe. We all like this compromise, and exchange a small round of satisfied high-fives.
‘Cal would love it,’ she continues. ‘Can you imagine him in front of the cameras? He’d be strutting around in his Levis, wearing this hat, laying on the Crocodile Dundee act, accidentally finding reasons to ride a horse topless …’
We all pause for a moment to give that image the respect it deserves.
‘And Sam,’ says Laura, sipping her coffee. ‘He’d be down at the beach, surfing and showing off all his tats, and throwing his hair around looking like a L’Oreal advert. Not Matt though. He’d be the stern, solitary one who only gets caught on film by accident.’
‘So would Tom,’ I reply. ‘They probably wouldn’t get him out of his camper van. He likes you lot, but he still isn’t keen on the social whirl.’
‘He’s like Matt,’ says Laura, grinning at me over her cup. ‘I bet he’s completely different with you than when he’s in public, isn’t he?’
Everyone is suddenly taking a keen interest now, as they’re all desperate for some titbit of loveliness about our relationship. I look around the table, and see a row of puppy dog eyes.
‘He is,’ I answer, smiling. ‘Completely different.’
They sigh as one, and look eager for more.
‘Well, for starters,’ I go on, ‘he dresses as a woman – including the high heels. Sometimes knee-high boots in patent leather. And he walks around Briarwood in one of those turbans made of fruit, like Carmen Miranda used to wear. And he has a fetish for bathing in mango smoothies. Honestly, the man’s a mystery to me …’
Cherie reaches out and swats me across the head with the magazine she’s grabbed from Auburn, and Edie cackles out loud.
‘Carmen Miranda! My goodness!’ she says, clapping her hands together. ‘That’s bananas!’
‘Seriously, though,’ says Zoe, nudging me. ‘How is it going? You seem really happy together. And now Auburn’s here, you at least have the space to see where things lead, don’t you?’
‘For the time being, anyway,’ chips in Auburn, looking thoughtful. ‘I’m due back at work before too long, so I need to make some decisions. I could come back for weekends, or I could look for work closer to here. I’ve been keeping an eye on job sites, checking for anywhere in the area that needs a pharmacist.’
I see Laura frown at this, and notice the look she swaps with Cherie. I know what’s coming, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I cringe a little inside, and suddenly find myself fascinated by the cookie crumbs on my plate.
‘But we need a pharmacist!’ exclaims Laura. ‘Right here in Budbury – how do you not know this?’
There’s an awkward pause after that, where everyone slowly realises that I’ve accidentally not mentioned this serendipitous fact to my sister, the pharmacist. That we’ve had several conversations about her future, and her role in our lives, without me ever casually dropping in the fact that our local chemist’s shop is currently uninhabited. In fact, I’ve distracted her every time we’ve walked past it, which I’m sure she’s now remembering.
‘Oh!’ says Laura, blushing as she knows she’s dropped a clanger. ‘Willow must have forgotten …’
Auburn folds her arms across her chest, and smiles. She smiles, but I see the hurt flicker across her face even as she covers it up, and I feel terrible. Why haven’t I mentioned it? Why am I still such a bloody control freak? Why can’t I just accept the fact that she’s back in our lives, and wants to stay there? Lots of questions, and no answers that don’t involve a hefty dollop of self-loathing.
‘It’s okay, ladies,’ says Auburn, going for cool as a cucumber but still sounding shaky. ‘Don’t worry about it. It seems I’m still on probation with my sister. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.’
Sunshine at the Comfort Food Café Page 20
