Allie looked around the table at her friends then gave Dawn another hug.
“Ah… I think I know.”
“You do?”
“Well I don’t think you’re crying because you’ve got a water infection and are on antibiotics and can’t drink alcohol. So are you—”
“Yes.” Dawn sniffed. “Somehow, in spite of using bloody condoms and being on the pill, we’ve managed to get pregnant again. Just when I was starting to feel normal. When I’ve finally got James sleeping through at night.” She blew her nose loudly.
Camilla took a gulp of wine then raised her glass.
“I guess here’s where we say congratulations.”
“You just said you couldn’t imagine anything worse than having children.” Dawn scrunched the tissue up as she stared at her sister.
“Yes but you’re a great mum and one more won’t make a massive difference will it?”
“I guess not. I hope not.”
“And we’ll all be here for you,” Allie added.
“Sorry am I intruding?”
Allie turned to see Chris standing in the doorway. She hadn’t even heard him come in. Her heart skipped as she took in his faded jeans, navy hoodie and scuffed brown boots. The shadow of stubble on his chin matched his hair colour and somehow his eyes seemed darker than yesterday.
“No!” She released Dawn then smoothed her hair. “Not at all.”
“Hi.” Chris waved at the other women then came closer. “I need to pay for the wake. I meant to do it yesterday but the day got away from me, then I had a few things to deal with this morning and before I knew it…” He held out his hands.
“Better late than never,” Allie said, offering what she hoped was a warm smile.
They crossed to the counter and she went behind it to locate the bill.
“Here you are.” She waited as he perused it. “Is it okay? No nasty surprises?” Behind him, Camilla was grinning at her and Honey was making heart signs with her thumbs and forefingers. None of them had attended the funeral, as they hadn’t known Mrs Monroe very well, and as far as Allie knew, they hadn’t met Chris before.
“No problem at all. It’s very reasonable.” He glanced behind him and Honey and Camilla quickly stopped what they were doing and feigned interest in their food. “I just… uh… I wondered if you might like to catch up sometime.” He raised his eyebrows then pulled a credit card from his wallet and handed it to her.
“Oh!” She held the card for a minute then realised she was supposed to put it through the card machine. “If you’ll just input your pin, please.”
Chris typed in four numbers and the machine beeped. “You can take your card back now.” Allie handed him a receipt then put the transaction through the till.
“So what do you think?”
“About catching up?” Her chest had tightened and her neck felt stiff and twitchy. This was ridiculous. He was an old friend asking her if she wanted to catch up, not if she wanted to jump into bed with him. But he was so handsome and Allie didn’t have much interaction with the opposite sex, except to serve them food and drink in the café and even then a lot of them were over sixty and accompanied by their wives.
“Yes. We could go for a drink. Perhaps Friday? I would’ve suggested tomorrow but you’re probably busy.”
Allie wasn’t busy but rational thought seemed to have deserted her. Besides, she realised that she needed some time to mentally prepare herself before ‘catching up’ with Chris.
“Friday would be lovely. We could go to The Red Fox, if you like? They serve great bar meals.”
“Brilliant. Shall I pick you up or meet you there?”
Allie imagined Jordan’s reaction if she was collected by a man from their home. Her son might be twenty-three but he was still so young in some ways and she didn’t want to worry him. Better if he didn’t know too much about this. She was just going for a meal with an old friend, after all.
“Meet me there? I’ll have to tidy up after closing anyway and sort out Jordan’s tea.” Jordan was capable of making his own meals but she didn’t want to have to rush to get ready.
“Okay, no problem. See you there about seven-thirty then?”
“Great.”
Chris paused for moment as if wanting to say more, but he glanced at the three women again, then gave a small shake of his head. “Bye then, Allie.”
“Bye.”
“Bye ladies.”
“Byeeee!” they cooed.
Allie watched as the door closed behind him then returned to her seat.
“Who was that?” Camilla demanded.
“Just an old friend.” Allie took a sip of her wine.
“He seems familiar.”
“He’s an author. You’ve probably seen his picture on the back of a book cover or something. He’s in Heatherlea because his mother passed away and I catered the wake yesterday.”
“Ahhhh.” Camilla nodded.
“Anyway, how’re you feeling now, Dawn?”
Dawn shook her head. “Never mind me, Allie Jones. Did I hear you agree to go out on a date?”
“She did!” Camilla said. “In all the time we’ve been friends, no men around. Not one. Then out of the blue, George Clooney’s double appears.”
Allie laughed. “Hardly. He’s at least ten years younger.”
“Even better!” Dawn said, rubbing her hands together. “Now then, how about you tell us all about Mr Clooney-come-author?” She picked up her wine glass and raised it to her lips then slammed it back down on the table again. “Dammit!”
“I’ll get you some orange juice.” Allie got up and went to the fridge behind the counter.
“And when you sit back down you’re telling us everything.” Camilla thumped the table.
Allie knew she had no choice but to give her friends some background information. She’d never spoken about Chris because it was… complicated, and not the type of thing you randomly threw into conversation. It was almost as if she’d separated her life into two sections: before and after the café.
Camilla topped up her glass. “I think you’re going to need this.”
“I think you’re right,” Allie said. She took a big swig of wine then swallowed it. “So, to begin at the beginning…”
CHAPTER 3
The following three days passed in a blur of opening the café, baking, exchanging pleasantries with customers and cleaning up after closing. But when Friday morning arrived, Allie was a bag of nerves. Which was ridiculous really, seeing as how she wasn’t even going on a date, just meeting an old friend for a drink.
At four-thirty, she was browsing cake recipes on her tablet, trying not to think about how she would feel being alone with Chris again, when the door to the café opened and Camilla sashayed in.
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be working?”
Camilla smiled. “It’s a beautifully sunny Friday afternoon, so I finished a bit early. I had a lunchtime appointment with a client in London then I deliberately kept the rest of the day free.”
“Why? Are you going somewhere?” Allie asked the question though she already had her suspicions about why Camilla might have come to see her.
“Yes. I’m going to ensure that you’re ready for your date.”
“Oh Camilla, it’s not a date! How many times?” Allie sighed with exasperation. Her three friends had bombarded her with texts and social media messages about her so called ‘date’ since Tuesday. At first, it had amused her and she’d glanced at them then got on with what she was doing, but by this morning, it had started to add to her anxiety about the evening.
Camilla placed her bag on the counter and shrugged out of her olive-green linen jacket. “Allie, we only want to see you happy.”
“I am happy.”
“You are… I guess… but we want to see you happier.”
“Why do I need a man to be happier?” Allie realised she’d raised her voice when the two women sat at the window table turned to look at her. She s
miled at them. “You’re single, Camilla and I don’t see you looking for love.”
Camilla shook her head. “I’m not looking for anything, darling. But I do have male friends.”
“Your one night stands that Dawn’s always fretting about?”
“Look, none of the men I see are unvetted and they’re all in the same boat as me; they don’t want a committed relationship and neither do I. So we, you know… enjoy each other’s company. And just because Dawnie is happily married, doesn’t mean I have to be.”
Allie bit back her reply. Camilla had never been in a relationship that she knew of but she seemed at peace with that. And Allie could understand why she was happy with life being that way: Camilla was a freelance accountant, she had plenty of clients – including Allie – and when she wanted some male company, she had no shortage of admirers. It was just that the way Camilla hopped from one man to another seemed to be a rather lonely way of life. Didn’t she ever want to spend more than one night at a time with one of her friends? Allie didn’t think she could have lived quite so carefree. If that’s what it was, because she sometimes wondered if Camilla’s carefree attitude towards sex and men was hiding something deeper, some fear of being hurt, perhaps.
“And neither do I.” Allie closed the cover of her tablet and tucked it under the counter.
“But you can have some fun, can’t you? And what’s-his-name—”
“Chris.”
“Yes, Chris, is rather gorgeous!”
Allie nodded. She had a feeling that the more she protested, the harder Camilla would dig her heels in.
The café door opened and Jenny Talbot, the local beautician, strutted in.
“Hi Jenny, thanks for coming.” Camilla waved her over to the counter.
“No problem at all. What’re we looking for today, ladies?”
Allie straightened up and pushed the strands of hair that had fallen out of her bun behind her ears. Something about glamorous women made her feel a bit inadequate. Possibly because Roger had always pointed out that they looked much better than she did. Allie had felt that way around the delicate-featured Camilla during the early days of their friendship but Camilla had proved to be so down to earth and so funny, that Allie had soon been able to relax around her. But here was the very gorgeous and surgically enhanced Jenny, and Allie couldn’t help feeling a bit…
Plain. Underdressed. And awkward.
“Nothing for me, Jenny, thanks, but I want you to give Allie the works!”
“What?” Allie went cold all over. The only time she had any form of beauty treatment was when she’d received one of those gift vouchers for a day spa – which hadn’t happened since Mother’s Day 2013 – or when she was really desperate for a haircut. And come to think of it, she hadn’t had her hair done properly for well over a year. She made do with trimming it herself, usually with a nail scissors, over the bathroom sink. As for any other self-care, well, she might run a razor over the bottom half of her legs if it was hot out and she was wearing a skirt. Although the last time she’d done that in a hurry, she’d used a blunt razor and ended up with red-raw shins. Sometimes personal maintenance was more trouble than it was worth.
Had she let herself go then? In another rebellion against Roger? A man who was no longer here to pass judgement on her looks.
“The works, eh? Be my pleasure. Shall I go up and get everything ready?” Jenny raised her rather large carpetbag in the air and Allie swallowed hard, imagining it contained a range of torture devices.
“Yes, you carry on. I’ll help Allie close the café then make sure she finds her way up to you.”
Jenny went past the counter and through the short corridor that led off the kitchen. Allie heard her clomping up the stairs in her shiny black platform boots.
“Camilla, this is very kind of you but I don’t need any treatments.”
Camilla came round the counter and released Allie’s hair from its bun, then lifted some strands to the light. “You have lovely hair, Allie, but it’s gone a bit brassy. You’ve been using those home dye kits from the pound shop again haven’t you?”
Allie’s cheeks warmed. “Well they’re a bargain.”
“They’re okay… but why not have your hair done properly? If anyone can sort out your colour, it’s Jenny. She’ll be able to have your tresses back to best in no time, I’m sure.”
It would be nice to have her hair lightened a bit. She had noticed that the blonde had turned more yellow after the last home colour and the old washing-up liquid trick hadn’t managed to strip the brassy tones away. Sitting in the sunshine with lemon juice on her hair hadn’t worked either. It had just led to a burnt scalp followed by weeks of peeling, as what looked like thick flakes of dandruff got stuck in her locks. It was not a good look for anyone, especially not for someone who served food for a living. So she kept her hair clipped back most of the time, hoping the dye would fade.
“Okay. I’ll agree to my hair being done. But nothing else.”
Camilla lowered into a crouch.
“What’re you doing?”
“Checking your legs.” Camilla grabbed the hem of one leg of Allie’s jeans and pulled it up then ran a finger over her shin. “Yikes!”
“What is it?”
“Yeti.”
“No I’m not! It’s not that bad.” Allie bent over and rolled down the leg of her jeans.
“It really is, you know. When did you last shave? 2002?”
Allie frowned at Camilla. “It doesn’t matter because no one is going to see my legs anyway. Besides, it’s acceptable now to be hairy.”
“One flash of those babies and Chris will run a mile. Nope, sorry, you’re being waxed too.”
“Oh, Camilla, Chris won’t be seeing my legs.”
Camilla pouted and Allie sensed she was going to lose this battle. “Right. I’ll have my legs waxed and my hair done and that is it!”
Camilla gave her a cheeky wink.
“You know I love you.”
Allie couldn’t help smiling, but as she took the money from her final customers of the day, then loaded the dishwasher, she had to admit to feeling uneasy. Because Camilla’s idea of Allie’s best, would probably differ significantly from her own.
***
“Ouch!” Allie reached out to rub her top lip but Camilla grabbed her hand and stopped her.
“Let it cool down.”
“But it stings.”
“Don’t be such a baby. You’ve had two kids so doesn’t that mean you can handle pain?”
Camilla tutted but Jenny smiled.
“It does hurt like hell but it’ll be worth it.”
“Will it?” Allie blinked hard to clear the tears. She couldn’t believe what Jenny and Camilla had done to her. And although Camilla hadn’t actually done anything physically to hurt her, she’d been there every step of the way, encouraging Jenny to do whatever it takes and to ignore Allie’s pleas, she’ll be grateful afterwards.
Allie allowed Jenny to direct her from the bed where she’d lain as Jenny stripped her body of hair – except for her bikini line, she’d drawn the line at that. Now she was pushed down the stairs and onto a kitchen chair in the extension, as Jenny wrapped her in a black cape. Allie took a deep breath as Jenny raised her scissors; this was a good thing, but it made her nervous handing over so much power.
Over the next fifteen minutes, she watched as brassy locks fell away to the regular snip snip of Jenny’s sharp scissors, then gratefully accepted a coffee from Camilla while Jenny mixed up a foul smelling paste in a small black bowl.
“This will get rid of that brassy tone. It will be a bit lighter at first but I can always add in some foils in a week or two if you want some warmer tones.”
Allie nodded then Jenny spread the paste onto her hair and scalp, impressed at how efficiently she worked. Jenny’s hair fell to her waist in several different shades of grey. The colour would have made Allie look ten years older but on the twenty-seven-year-old Jenny, it was trendy and chic.
Allie wondered if it was real and if so, how much belonged to another woman, or man, who’d had it cut away to make some money. She’d recently read a magazine article about how there was money to be made in growing your hair then selling it. Allie wouldn’t fancy having someone else’s hair woven into her own; she didn’t even like touching her own hair once it had been cut, but she could understand how others wouldn’t mind. Especially if it made them look as glamorous as Jenny.
“Okay. We need to leave that for a bit, so you can relax. Oooh!” Jenny stepped back and frowned.
Allie watched her carefully; panic flooding her belly like a freezing cold drink.
“Oh dear.” Camilla grimaced.
“Some ice will help. Probably just a bit of a reaction to the wax. Don’t worry!” Jenny went to the freezer, located the ice cube tray then pressed a few cubes onto a piece of kitchen roll. “Here, hold this above your top lip.”
“What’s happened?” Allie asked, trying not to breathe too deeply as the smell of the bleach on her hair was making her throat ache.
“Just a bit of swelling.” Camilla waved a hand. “It’ll go down.”
“How much swelling?” Allie asked, pushing to her feet.
Camilla stared at her feet, so Allie went into the downstairs cloakroom that led off the kitchen.
“Argh!” She stared at her reflection. Her hair was pasted to her head making her look like she was wearing a bald cap and the area above her top lip – which used to be quite flat – was now bulging like a magenta moustache. “I can’t go anywhere like this!”
“Don’t worry. You have an hour or so yet,” Jenny called from the kitchen. “It’s perfectly normal.”
“Normal?” Allie asked. “I look like I’ve done that stupid lip-enhancing challenge that Jordan got involved in a few years ago.”
Camilla appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, yeah. I remember that. His lip was swollen for about two weeks, wasn’t it?”
Allie nodded.
“He was in agony. I worried he’d end up with permanent nerve damage. And all to show off to his mates from college when one of them dared him to try for a trout pout.”
Summer at The Cosy Cottage Cafe: A feel good second-chance romance Page 3
