Sunshine at the Comfort Food Café

by Debbie Johnson

  Cherie gives her a hug. Laura kicks me under the table. Even Edie is looking distressed by this stage, which is absolutely unforgivable. I have breached the number one rule of Budbury life: Thou Must Not Upset Edie May. And, yeah, upsetting my sister feels pretty crappy too.

  I reach out across the table, knocking the sugar dispenser over as I go, and grab hold of her hand. She doesn’t meet my eyes, but she doesn’t spit at me either.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, simply. ‘Honestly, I am. I’m so used to doing all of this on my own, it’s taking me ages to accept that I might not even have to. I’m clinging onto it all far too hard, and that isn’t your fault, okay? It’s mine. I’ve let my whole life be defined by the fact that I look after my mum – and she’s actually our mum, not just mine. I want you to stay. I really do. I might want to kill you at least three times a week, but I want you to stay. Forgive me? Please?’

  Auburn stays silent for a moment, as does every other single person around the table. All I can hear is Saul and Mum chattering away in the background, and the gentle hiss of the temperamental coffee machine, and the sound of my heart banging away in my chest.

  She squeezes my fingers, and blinks her eyes rapidly, and finally says: ‘Okay, sis. I can do that.’

  There is a group exhale of relief, and I realise that I’m crying a little bit. So is everyone else, even Zoe, who’s normally tough as nails.

  Just at that moment, Becca walks through the doors, pushing Little Edie in her buggy. She pauses. Stares at us all, with our leaky eyes and trembling lips, and says: ‘Oh God. What did I miss? Did someone finally break the news to Laura that Santa Claus isn’t real?’

  Chapter 24

  My name is Willow Longville. I am twenty-six years old. I live in a village called Budbury, with my mum Lynnie. I work as a waitress at the Comfort Food Café, and I run my own cleaning business called Will-o’-the-Wash. I have a dog called Bella Swan, and I love my life. In the last twenty-four hours, the following things have happened …

  1. I have spray painted an old pair of Doc Marten boots neon pink, to go with my outfit for Edie’s party. We are making our own dresses, which could be interesting.

  2. I have managed to source a life-size cardboard cut-out of Strictly Come Dancing’s Anton du Beke, also for Edie’s party.

  3. I have learned how to make choux pastry from Laura and I rock at it – am now considering becoming a chef.

  4. I cleaned a small apartment building that’s just been renovated from top to tail, which was very satisfying.

  5. Carole broke the news that the day centre is cutting back to one day a week for dementia patients, which was bad news, but not as bad as it would have been before Auburn came.

  6. Auburn has contacted Ivy Wellkettle, and is looking at ways to get a business loan to buy her out of her pharmacy in Budbury. Cherie is considering chipping in and running it as some kind of village co-operative, joking that Frank needs somewhere to get his Viagra. At least I think it was a joke – I didn’t want to think about it too much.

  7. I watched a TV show called Descendants with my mum, which was all about the children of fairytale heroes and villains. I haven’t stopped singing the songs since – there are so many ways to be wicked.

  8. It has rained and rained and rained, for three days solid, and Cal threatened to start building us a very big ark. Today, we woke up to glorious sunshine and not a cloud in the sky.

  9. I have cyber-stalked the man who might be my dad, discovering that he is single, otherwise childless, and has a pet pig called Stanley.

  10. I have decided that Auburn is right, and I can possibly now take a risk and have a night away – she has promised me she will look after Mum. She’s told me to stay with Tom and explore the Big Bang Theory. I pretended to have no idea what she meant, but am fizzing inside.

  Chapter 25

  It’s been a beautiful day. The land around us has started to dry out after the storms, and looks fresh and wild and green because of them. Superwurzel is still looking very sorry for himself though, his felt hat drooping and his bright red pants askew.

  I came home after the lunch shift at the café, and was immediately ordered to go and ‘turn into a girl’ by my sister. Mum isn’t quite sure what’s going on, but understands I’m going for a sleepover. She seemed most concerned that I remember my pyjamas, take my toothbrush, and let her know what time I need picking up in the morning.

  I’ve kept a careful eye on her, checking in case this is unsettling her, but she doesn’t seem distressed – she might think I’m twelve and going to a friend’s house, but she’s not distressed. In fact, she packs me a goody bag for my ‘midnight feast’, which consists of some Babybel cheese, a packet of organic cashew nuts, and an entire head of celery. Whoo. Party time. This explains why I never got invited to many sleepovers as a kid.

  Auburn has also packed me a goody bag – but hers consists of a bottle of vodka, a multi-pack of Mars Bars, and a big box of glow in the dark condoms. Subtle.

  It takes me quite a long time to actually leave, because I am easily the most stressed person in the cottage. I go over the night-time routine with Auburn again and again, making her repeat things out loud, which she does patiently – for a while, at least.

  Eventually, she snaps, and stamps on my toe to shut me up. Sisters, eh?

  ‘Just go, will you?’ she says, physically pushing me out of the door and onto the pathway. ‘I know what I need to do. I’m not an idiot. I can call you if I need you, but it’ll all be fine. Stop being a Worrying Winnie and bugger off.’

  I smile at that one. It’s a mum classic – don’t be a Worrying Winnie, or a Stressed-out Susan, or a Fretful Fanny. Always girls’ names, which makes sense – the boys never seemed to worry about much at all.

  Tom arrives just then to pick me up, and Rick Grimes leaps out of the back of the Fiat and streaks towards the cottage. Tom tests out one of his obedience commands, and the huge creature actually stops mid-lumber, and drops to the ground, shaking with the effort of restraining himself. We are all delighted, and Rick gets a treat, which he gulps down before dashing off to find Bella.

  Rick Grimes is also having a sleepover, at the cottage. That’s probably for the best, because if we do decide to explore the Big Bang Theory, I’m not sure I want a slobbery Rottweiler cross to be taking an interest.

  I give Auburn a hug, wave at Mum, who is smiling at us through the window, and get into the car.

  ‘You okay?’ asks Tom, as he pulls out of the drive. He’s wearing an especially fine Goonies T-shirt today, stretched over his body in a far sexier way than its designers probably ever anticipated.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, smiling. ‘Just being a bit of a Paranoid Patsy. I’ve not left her before, you know?’

  ‘Well you don’t have to now,’ he says, beeping his horn at Frank as we pass him in one of his fields. ‘This is a no-pressure situation. I won’t take it personally if you want to come back later – in fact, I won’t even drink, so I can drive you. How does that sound?’

  It sounds like pretty much the sweetest thing a man has ever said to me, and I feel a sudden rush of affection for him that translates into me placing my hand on his thigh and leaving it there.

  ‘That’s really kind. But I’ll be okay – I just need to get a grip, and let myself decompress. I’m looking forward to a night away, honestly. It’ll just take me a little while for my brain to accept that fact.’

  He nods, and we spend the rest of the drive in comfortable silence. When we arrive at Briarwood, I immediately see that the transformation is well and truly underway.

  There’s a new roof, and the brickwork has been repointed. The driveway has been cleared and laid with fresh, pale gravel, and the gardens look less like a jungle. The fountain has been fully drained and all the moss and gunk cleaned out, and there’s a new front door. There are building supplies around, and some scaffolding at the side of the house, so everything is still ongoing.

  ‘Wow,’ I say, climbing
out of the car and gazing at it all. ‘It looks so much better already. Where are all the work dudes?’

  ‘I gave them the day off,’ he says, winking at me. ‘Told them I might get lucky with a hot chick.’

  ‘No you didn’t.’

  ‘No, I didn’t – obviously I turn into a wimp every time I’m around a man with a tool belt. Male banter is completely beyond me. I did give them the day off, though. Do you want to look inside?’

  ‘Of course I do!’ I say, skipping ahead, excited. I know he’s pouring his heart and soul into this project – why wouldn’t I be excited?

  As soon as I step into the hallway, I see the difference. The dark, gloomy wood panelling is now glinting, and the cloakrooms are being opened up to create more space and light. The floor is covered in sheeting to protect it, and the whole place is scattered with discarded tools and buckets and ladders.

  ‘Still a work in progress,’ he explains, leading me up the stairs. I nod, and look into one of the rooms. There are new windows, and new sinks, and the horrible old carpets have been pulled up so the floorboards beneath can be sanded down.

  ‘I was going to make them all en-suite,’ he says, as we wander. ‘But I ended up deciding it was too much hassle. Instead I’m going to add extra bathrooms on each floor, as well as a kitchen and communal living space. It’ll cut down the number of places, but that’s okay – it’s not like when I was here, and they needed to fit as many kids in as they could.’

  We walk up to the top floor, and again I see new windows, new sinks, and the beginnings of re-decorating. The damp patches have gone, as has the football wallpaper. Instead, the rooms that have been completed are painted cream, making them feel brighter and airier and bigger. It now feels less like something from a horror film, and more like a posh character hotel.

  I ooh and aah at appropriate places, and we make our way back downstairs, where he wants to show me the ballroom – or what used to be the communal dining hall.

  The changes here are obvious. The plasterwork on the ceiling has been repaired, and the beautiful bay windows have been fixed, not replaced. The fireplace has been restored to what I have to imagine was its former glory, as have the chandeliers.

  The floor has been stripped back to bare wood and polished, and the whole room looks magnificent. The walls are still covered in hideous green wallpaper, but I’m guessing that’s next for the chop.

  ‘Wow again,’ I say, standing in the centre of the room and spinning around to create a panoramic camera effect through my own eyes. ‘This is gorgeous. I swear it still smelled of boiled cabbage last time I was here. What will you use it for?’

  ‘This,’ he says, strolling around and stroking the dado rails, ‘will be where the magic happens. It’ll be an open-plan workshop, where people can focus on their projects, and hang out and chat, and where we can hold meetings and events. Because I’m adding in the kitchens and lounges on the floors above, it will never need to smell of boiled cabbage again.’

  ‘That’s a blessing. I can just picture it. All your mini-geniuses, hard at it, music coming from the speakers, cans of Red Bull everywhere – it’ll be amazing.’

  He seems delighted at my response, and it makes him look about twelve.

  I grin at him, and say: ‘There’s just one problem with all of this …’

  ‘Oh? Go on, then, what is it?’

  I walk up to him, wrap my arms around his waist, and nuzzle into his chest. Because I’m a big fan of the Goonies.

  ‘The problem is, I did all that bloody cleaning for nothing, didn’t I? Why did you let me clean all those windows and sinks and carpets when you knew you were going to replace them?’

  He kisses the top of my head – I still can’t used to the fact that he’s tall enough to do that – and spins me around the room in a loose version of the waltz hold.

  ‘That’s not a problem,’ he says, as we whirl around. ‘That was me being sneaky. I just wanted to keep you around a bit longer.’

  ‘But I got paid for work that didn’t really need doing!’

  ‘Money well spent,’ he answers, twirling me all the way towards the bay window, where we sit in a slightly crumpled heap on the love seat. ‘I got me a hot chick, didn’t I?’

  I laugh, and look around the room once more. It really is lovely, and now it doesn’t feel like a prison mess-hall, I can at least partly picture it the way Edie remembered it back in its hey-day.

  ‘What are you imagining? I can see your eyes doing that dream-sequence thing they do when you’re lost in thought.’

  I make wavy lines with my hands, which is my physical interpretation of a dream sequence, and reply: ‘I was just picturing Edie here, when she was a young gal about town. It must have been quite something, don’t you think?’

  ‘Definitely. I found quite a few boxes of stuff in the cellar actually, that she might be interested in. Loads of documents that would have seemed boring at the time, but are fascinating now – details of the servants’ pay, what food they produced in the gardens, how many pheasants they shot that season, that kind of thing. Lots of photos, too – I might ask her to help me go through them, see what we come up with. It all needs archiving, really.’

  ‘Then Edie’s your woman. She was the village librarian for years. There might even be some of her, who knows?’

  ‘That would be a treat … and, now the work here is progressing all right, I did have another idea.’

  ‘You are just one big lightbulb moment, aren’t you?’ I say, nudging him.

  ‘Yep. Practically my own strip light. I was thinking we could possibly hold Edie’s party here. There’s almost two weeks to go, and by that time, I could have the decorating done. The rest of the building would still be a disaster zone, but I could at least make it safe. The café is lovely, and I get it if you think this is a dumb suggestion, but it will be crowded with everyone there. And Edie’s face … well, she had her own lightbulb moment when we talked about this place, didn’t she? What do you think?’

  I glance around the room – at its grand, high ceiling, the ornate plaster coving, the magnificent fireplace and glittering chandeliers. I imagine it, back in Edie’s youth, filled with the light and music and laughter of the pre-war generation. I imagine it now, filled with the light and music and laughter of 2018 – and it feels perfect. Just perfect.

  ‘I think,’ I say, kissing him gently on the lips, ‘that it’s a brilliant idea. I’ll speak to Cherie about it, see what she thinks. We’ll have to sort some logistics, but Cherie and Laura live for that kind of thing. We could give Edie an actual ball in a ballroom. I think she’d love it.’

  ‘You do? You don’t think it might mess with her head? With the whole … fiancé thing?’

  I ponder that, and shrug.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. Edie’s head is a mystery to all of us, to be honest. She didn’t seem at all sad when she was talking about it in the pub – she seemed keen to visit. But again, leave it with me. I’ll consult the village elders and see what their opinion is. Either way, it’s really kind of you. For a socially awkward geek boy who claims to dislike people, you’re surprisingly thoughtful.’

  He makes an ‘aw-shucks’ gesture, and stands up. He holds out one hand to me, and I take it. We practise our tango, banging heads with a thud at one point, and then our quickstep. It’s much easier not to fall over things or crash into tables in an empty ballroom than in a café, I have to admit.

  By the time we’ve danced, we’re both hot and sweaty, and I have the perfect suggestion for how we can cool off.

  It’s time to live the dream – and finally go skinny-dipping with him, rather than stalking him from the bushes.

  Chapter 26

  The water in the pond is clear and fresh and absolutely bloody freezing. It might be a warm day, but it’s still only spring, and the temperatures are skin-puckeringly low.

  I cling onto Tom, shivering and laughing, holding onto his shoulders as we both kick our legs to warm up.


  ‘This,’ I say, grinning up at him, ‘was a lot more romantic in my head.’

  ‘I know,’ he replies, pulling me in closer so our bodies are crushed against each other’s. ‘And in my defence, I’d like to point out that it’s freezing cold. That never has a flattering effect on manhood.’

  I kiss him, long and slow and luscious, wrapping my legs around his waist. There’s an immediate and pretty flattering response in the manhood department. ‘I don’t think you have anything to worry about …’

  His hands are wandering across my back, and I’m getting goosebumps for all kinds of reasons now. We kiss again, and finally pull apart when we’re both desperate for air.

  I reach up, and stroke his hair. It’s shining with droplets of water, and now he looks more like a seal than a mole.

  ‘Did you know I’ve been stalking you here?’ I ask, leaning my head back while he kisses the sensitive skin of my neck.

  ‘I didn’t, no. I’m guessing you must have liked what you saw, as you’re now naked in here with me …’

  I am naked. So is he. It’s all very racy. I don’t have a lot of problems with my body – something in the way my mother raised us taught us to see ourselves as complete, however we looked, which is a lesson I really should thank her for. I’m tall and lean and strong, and even though I don’t have much in the boob department and will never be considered curvy and cute, like Laura for example, I don’t feel unhappy with what I’ve got. My body does its job well – it gets me through its busy days, and lets me stay active, and right now, is allowing me some pretty amazing sensations on the pleasure front.

  As for his … well, I’ve seen it before. But up close and personal, it’s even better. Awesome, in fact – pale but perfectly formed, like a Roman statue in an art gallery.

  He’s also weirdly okay with all this communal nakidity, to use a made up word – I’d expected him to be more self-conscious, a bit bashful maybe, but in fact he was the first to whip off his clobber and do a running jump into the water. Something I think he regretted two seconds later, but such is life.