‘Sally…’ Cherry said but Sally merely waved her attempt at an apology away. Cherry hadn’t realised she’d been touching a nerve and wished she hadn’t poked so hard. She made a mental note to whip her up something special to say a proper sorry later on. Now, however, she had other things to worry about. It was 12:50 p.m. and George hadn’t shown up. He’d been in every day for over a week at exactly 12:45 on the dot. She’d thought they’d become good enough friends that he’d let her know if he wouldn’t be visiting. Maybe he’s on his way and just bumped into a friend or something, Cherry thought. Cherry hoped. She hoped until 1:15 when the bell above the door rang and Cherry looked up eagerly but the face in the doorway wasn’t George’s.
‘Hi,’ said the rosy-cheeked woman from the doorway.
‘Hello!’ Cherry waved her tea towel at the elegant lady. She was very tall and wore a long, plain, formal black dress with a duck-egg blue coat that swished at the hem, and she was carrying a cello case like a rucksack.
‘I’m Orla,’ she said, struggling to get her cello through the door, tendrils of her blonde hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. Cherry ran to help her but then hesitated when she realised she wasn’t sure how to help. ‘I hate my seven-year-old self for choosing such a big instrument. Why couldn’t I have picked the flute?’ Orla went back outside, took off her instrument rucksack and pushed it through the doorway on its side.
‘At least it’s not a double bass!’ Cherry said. She waited for Orla to get settled and then asked, ‘Orla. Yes, you’ve been in before. I just didn’t recognise you underneath that case! What can I get you?’
‘Well, I’ve know you’re good at picking for your customers so… I guess I should ask what you think I need?’
Cherry stole a quick glance out of the window and there on the pavement was a gallumphing bear of a creature that yawned as she caught its eye. Cherry could spot Exhaustion anywhere.
‘Here. Let me take that. I bet you’re rather tired dragging that around everywhere. Are you part of a band?’ Cherry took the cello and was surprised at the weight of it. She couldn’t imagine dragging it upstairs to her flat, let alone from shop to shop. She placed it behind the counter for safekeeping.
‘An orchestra, actually. I’m playing with the new show that’s on at the Theatre Royal. Only here for a week before we move on again.’
‘Impressive! Bet it’s a tiring business moving about so often.’
‘Like you wouldn’t believe,’ Orla said, trying her hardest to stifle a yawn.
While Orla took a moment to rest, Cherry went into the kitchen to fetch a Sleepy Sticky Toffee Pudding. She put it in a takeaway box and sealed it shut with a gold star-shaped sticker.
‘Here,’ Cherry said, handing the box to Orla, ‘but you can’t eat it now, this is a treat you have to eat before bed. I know that sounds weird but just… trust me.’
Orla took it and nodded without question, stifling yet another yawn.
‘Anything in particular you’d like to see while you’re here?’ Cherry asked. ‘Although I’m new myself so I may not be the right person to ask for directions.’
‘I really wanted to see Royal William Yard, The Barbican and the Gin Distillery and I’ve already seen them all! I went to the Gin Distillery last night and it was incredible. It was heaving, there were so many people but the cocktails were amazing. I’ve not had such a good night in a long, long time. I felt awful this morning though,’ Orla said, clutching her head with one hand.
‘I bet.’ Cherry rolled her eyes.
‘You don’t like it there?’ Orla asked, raising her eyebrows.
‘Um… not really. I just know one of the bartenders —’
‘Chase?’ Orla interrupted.
Cherry nodded. ‘Yes. Do you know him?’
‘I met him last night. He was flirting a lot. Should I be careful?’ Orla’s voice was tentative.
Yes, Cherry thought.
‘No,’ Cherry said. ‘Maybe. To be honest, I don’t really know.’
‘Oh,’ Orla said, fiddling with the side of the takeaway box.
‘He’s just a difficult person to get along with,’ Cherry said carefully.
‘He seems a good sight better than some of the people I work with. Well… one person in particular. Theatre’s a difficult job sometimes. People don’t always know where the, er… physical boundaries are.’
Cherry sensed she needed to tread carefully here. ‘Or they do know where those boundaries are and ignore them anyway?’ she asked kindly.
‘Bingo. For the most part it’s nice knowing you can go to work and get a hug when you need it but there are those select few who…’
‘… take it too far?’
Orla nodded and continued playing with the box absentmindedly.
‘You’re always welcome here if anything ever gets too much,’ Cherry said. ‘I know we’ve only just met but you’re safe here. You gotta talk about this stuff, let it out.’
‘I know, I know,’ Orla said but Cherry got the feeling she didn’t. ‘Well, I’m going back to the bar again tonight. Another cast birthday! So I’ll let you know if I find out anything more about that bartender.’
Cherry was about to decline when she realised just how interesting that might be. ‘Thanks. I really appre —’
The bell above the door rang out with a clang as someone burst in. ‘Cherry! You need to come quickly. It’s George. He’s asking for you.’
Without hesitation Cherry reached for her cardigan and then stopped. ‘Wait! I can’t leave the shop!’
‘I’ll watch the shop, Cherry,’ Sally called from the corner, her gaze fixated at something outside. ‘You won’t be long.’ She pointed with one of her cards to George, who had now come into view. He looked awful. There were vomit stains down his white T-shirt, his jacket was on inside out and he was only wearing one shoe. Cherry ran out into the chilly sea air.
‘George? What on earth are you doing?’ She took his arms in her hands to steady him as he lost his footing on a cobblestone. George’s eyes took a moment to focus on her. ‘Cherry! Oh, Cherry, you’re here! You’re you, and you’re here!’
‘Yes… I’m me and I’m here. Why aren’t you back at work?’
‘Back at work? I’ve not been to work at all.’
‘Why not, George?’ Cherry’s smile fell.
‘I hate work. Gin is much better.’ It was only then that Cherry realised George was drunk. She was a fool not to have seen it but Cherry hadn’t been exposed to many drunken people in her life and she certainly hadn’t expected it from George at one-thirty on a weekday afternoon. She noticed something else too: George’s Meddlum was nowhere to be seen.
‘You’ve been drinking,’ Cherry said.
‘Yup.’
‘At the distillery bar?’
He burped. ‘Yup.’
‘With Chase?’
‘You know what, Cherry, he’s actually all right.’
‘Is he now?’ Cherry took his hand and started guiding him towards the shop.
‘And his drinks! Wowzer!’
‘How have they made you feel?’ A car was slowly approaching and about to stop for them. She got him in through the door but he stumbled at the last moment and landed with a thump on the slate floor. He didn’t seem to feel it though as he just sat himself up and leaned on one of the benches.
‘I feel like I can do… anything!’ He waved his hands and wriggled his fingers. ‘And I can do anything now because I quit my job at the library.’
‘You did what?!’ Sally stood up, her voice booming across the shop. George fiddled with the dirt under his nails.
‘Why, George?’ Cherry asked.
‘Your mother is going to be devastated.’ Sally was packing her cards into her bag. ‘I’ve got some consoling to do. Mrs Partridge has been an old friend for years and you’ve never been grateful for what she’s given you. Even so, I’m going to beg her to give you your job back. FOOL!’ she shouted before marching out of the bakery. Cherry watched
Sally sweep through the door, shocked at how her usually soft face had changed so quickly into one that made her shudder.
‘George, I know being a librarian isn’t what you want to do and I fully support your decision to quit and do something else but why have you got yourself into such a state?’ Cherry asked.
‘Cherry,’ George said, wiping sweat off his forehead. ‘You’ve got your life all figured out. This shop is your dream, right?’ Cherry nodded: it was. ‘I just want to live my dream too. I want to be vet… a veter… a…’ Then George leaned his head between his knees and threw up on the slate floor. ‘I’ve been sick on your dream,’ he whimpered.
With a sigh, Cherry hauled George up onto a chair and brought over a bucket for him. She took a mop from the cleaning cupboard and started wiping up his mess. ‘What did Chase have to say about all this?’ she asked, trying not to breathe in the stench.
‘He encouraged me to leave the library. Said I should grow a pair,’ George hiccupped.
A figure appeared at the window. It was small with bowed legs and a hunched back, about the size of a cat which quickly grew to the size of a toddler. Guilt wailed like a toddler too, clawing at the skin on its own face.
‘I didn’t mean to make Mum cry. I don’t want to make her sad, but making her happy means making me sad, and that’s sad,’ George said, hanging his head over the bucket, a forlorn look on his face.
‘I’m sure she’ll forgive you. If you want to be a vet there are ways to go back to school and get the qualifications,’ Cherry reasoned.
‘I have the qualifications. I trained. Five long years it took, and I have a veterinary degree but I’m a librarian because I love my mum. I couldn’t disappoint her.’
‘George, she’s your mum. Surely all she wants is for you to be happy? Talk to her. Explain to her how you feel and I’m sure she’ll come around.’ He shrugged. He looked helpless and suddenly Cherry felt very small; just one person wading waist-deep in a lot of bad feeling. ‘Want a slice of cake?’ Cherry asked, wondering what types of regular cake she had left. George nodded, pushing at the last little bit of sick on the floor with the tip of his shoe.
Cherry moved into the kitchen and sank down onto the floor. Deep breaths, she thought, deep breaths.
‘Chase can’t do this,’ she said to herself. ‘He’s going to ruin lives.’
Loneliness appeared at the back door and although it couldn’t come in she could still hear its voice in her head.
You’re just one person, Cherry. How can you stop him when you’re all alone? He’s stronger than you are. Willing to do more and take things further than you are.
‘It’s all about moderation. Measurements. I’ve spent years figuring this out,’ she muttered. Her heart was pounding and she tried to steady her breathing but she no longer felt she was wading through bad feeling. She was drowning.
Yet he’s already making more of an impact. He’s already got rid of something you’ve been trying to fight for so long now.
‘It takes time!’ Her breathing wasn’t slowing down. If anything, it was getting faster.
It took him no time at all. Face it, Cherry. You can’t help them. You’re not good enough or strong enough to help them, not on your own.
Cherry felt like the walls were closing in on her. Her fingers tingled, her ears started to ring and her vision blurred. Oh no.
‘George,’ she managed to call out. ‘Help!’ she yelled as the panic attack consumed her.
Once George had left, Cherry closed the shop and took the afternoon off to recover. She felt exhausted from the rush of panic that had consumed her and now her head swam with this predicament she found herself in. She tried to come up with a plan to handle Chase but her moral compass was strong and she was so set in her ways that she couldn’t figure out what she should do differently to make the situation better.
The days that followed were difficult. George stopped coming to the bakery altogether, partly out of embarrassment but Cherry had seen him stumble past at least twice so she knew Chase had kept his custom, even if she hadn’t. Orla still popped in for her Sticky Toffee Pudding to go but she always had tales of the night before, all of them involving Chase and his ‘delicious’ drinks. Sally, Margie and Bruce were old faithfuls and continued to come by as expected but aside from them, the bakery was dead. The odd customer popped in for a cupcake from time to time but they were few and far between and there were certainly fewer familiar faces. Cherry knew that some people associated feeling better with drinking alcohol but she hadn’t expected things to change so drastically because of it. And yet she acknowledged that she never saw anyone eating their way through several slices of cake in the hope of finding enlightenment. Cherry’s way of helping people had always been a gradual process. She had been building up friendships and trust, talking to her customers while building their good feeling bit by bit so they’d never be entirely reliant on her, and they would eventually find a way to help themselves and figure out a way to supply themselves with all the good feeling they needed and Cherry was just giving them a gentle push in the right direction. Chase, on the other hand, with his careless injection of feelings in his drinks compared to Cherry’s careful measures, was giving them a quick fix and like anything that goes up, it must come down. Not only were Cherry’s friends suffering from horrendous hangovers, but such high and immediate doses of good feeling didn’t last for long. Their original Meddlums may have disappeared, but more often than not Cherry saw Guilt take their places the morning after the night before, a manifestation of the remorse they felt for their drunken actions. George had quit his job, and Orla had kissed the leading man of the show she was playing in. Cherry had counted twenty-four people with Guilt in tow in the last two days alone and she was sure that was the tip of the Chase iceberg.
‘Mrs O, I’m fine, I promise,’ Cherry said one evening as she was FaceTiming her old friend. ‘It’s just a minor setback.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing… bad,’ Cherry replied, looking away from the camera, not wanting Mrs O to worry.
‘Cherry…’ Mrs O peered at her through the screen.
‘It’s just a little… unfriendly here. That’s all.’
‘Are the people of Plymouth not playing nice?’
‘Most of them are. There’s just one in particular who’s being difficult.’
‘Is it a person of the male persuasion?’
‘It is, but his mother and aunt aren’t much of a picnic either.’ Cherry took a sip of water, still feeling shaky despite her panic attack happening days ago. ‘Mrs O, what would you do if someone was doing what you do but making more progress?’ Even though Mrs O was only on the screen she still couldn’t make herself look Mrs O in the eye as she asked the question.
‘What do you mean? I can’t imagine someone baking better cakes than yours!’ Mrs O’s image wobbled and her microphone peaked as she waved her arms dramatically and accidentally hit the screen.
Cherry smiled, amused at this small moment of light relief. ‘It’s not the baking,’ Cherry admitted. ‘But it’s something quite similar.’
‘I’m not quite sure I know exactly what you mean, dear, but if someone is taking your business then you know what you have to do, don’t you?’ Mrs O said and Cherry raised an eyebrow. ‘Bake yours even better.’
13
A Taste Of His Own Medicine
Over the next few days Cherry began to up the dosage in her baking. Only by a little, just to see what effect it might have, but nothing changed. Sally remained obsessive, Margie was still lonely and Orla was always exhausted. The only person it seemed to effect was Bruce, who was far more upbeat than Cherry had ever seen him after he’d eaten his first overly spiked Significance Sundae. Cherry wondered if this was because he was far shorter than her other customers and the increased amount of Significance she’d put in the sundae, even though it was only an incremental increase, made all the difference to Bruce. So Cherry kept his dosage the same the next time
but continued to add a little more to the rest but there was still no detectable difference in any of her friends.
‘What’s with the thousand-yard stare?’ Bruce said, pulling himself up onto his usual stool at the counter. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Oh. Yes. You know me,’ Cherry said with an unconvincing smile.
‘It’s that Chase, isn’t it? He’s the reason this place is so bloody empty. Right bloomin’ nuisance,’ Bruce said and Cherry sighed. ‘Hey, it’s not all bad! I’ll never leave!’ he gestured to himself and it made Cherry almost tearful to see how proud he looked of himself. That was a first.
Bruce Bunting was married but to a woman who had never been faithful to him. Bruce had caught her countless times sending various men inappropriate pictures and he had even found her in their own bed on two occasions with two different men. She was beautiful and intelligent, which was why Bruce stayed with her. He thought he’d never strike that lucky again. Had Cherry known why Bruce felt so worthless she would have tried to help in other ways, beyond her baking, but Bruce kept his cards very close to his chest. He thought that the only other person who knew was Margie, as she had once caught his wife red-handed too – but in truth, news within their community spread quickly and most of the townspeople knew about his marriage. This information in particular, however, hadn’t yet reached Cherry.
Cherry covered her face with her hands, not because she wanted to cry but because she wanted to shut out the world for a moment. She wanted everything to just stop. She had never thought meeting someone who shared her gift would be so difficult, but she knew she had to keep her bakery and its customers safe from Chase and his dangerous and mindless behaviour. Even if that meant playing him at his own game for a little while.
‘Right!’ she said, slamming her hands down on the counter and making Bruce jump so hard he slid off his stool. ‘Sorry, Bruce, but I have to do something about this. I can’t just sit here.’ Cherry pulled out her phone and opened up the Facebook app. She typed as fast as her unpractised fingers could go and in minutes she had a post ready to send.
All That She Can See: Every Little Thing She Bakes Is Magic Page 10
