by Agatha Frost
“I’m just being silly,” Roxy said, trying to force a laugh. “Ignore me.”
“Silly is okay,” Julia said reassuringly. “A problem shared is a problem halved.”
Roxy smiled genuinely this time and pushed the handkerchief back to Julia, but Julia didn’t pocket it straight away, just in case it was needed again. A car sped past the café and Roxy almost jumped out of her skin.
“Oh, Julia,” Roxy whispered, leaning in low across the table. “I’ve ruined everything.”
Before Julia could ask what she had ruined, a loud clatter, followed by Sue’s loud cursing, came from the kitchen.
“Stay here,” Julia said. “I’ll be back in two seconds.”
Roxy nodded and looked down at her coffee, her eyes glazing over. Julia hated to leave her, but Sue sounded like she was in trouble, and Julia’s mind went straight to her mystery cake burglar.
“What’s wrong?” Julia asked, dashing through the beaded curtains to the brightly lit kitchen. “I bet they heard that halfway across the village.”
Sue used the counter to help herself up from the floor, where two metal trays of cookies and fresh dough surrounded her.
“I saw a spider,” Sue moaned, pushing her thick brown curls from her eyes. “It ran right across the counter!”
“Is that all?”
“I could have died!”
Julia chuckled and sighed. She leaned over and picked up the mess as her sister straightened herself out.
“If only Mowgli was here,” Julia said as she scraped the dough into the bin. “He loves chasing spiders.”
“You know I’m allergic to cats.”
“You’re not allergic, you just don’t like them,” Julia teased. “If you see it again, call me to catch it, instead of throwing my cookies on the floor.”
Julia patted her little sister on the shoulder and walked back into the café. Roxy was still there, but she wasn’t in her seat. She was standing by the door with Gertrude Smith, the elderly organist from St. Peter’s Church. Roxy was clutching Gertrude’s arms and her face was screwed up as though she was about to say something unsavoury. They both looked over to Julia, and Roxy immediately let go of Gertrude and stormed out of the café, leaving behind her latte.
“Quite rude!” Gertrude exclaimed as she straightened out the sleeves of her coat. “What a horrible girl!”
“Is everything okay?” Julia frowned, looking from Gertrude to the latte.
“That girl is unhinged!” Gertrude cried, loud enough so that the whole village could hear. “Unstable!”
Gertrude came into the café every morning at ten for her usual pancakes and tea, even if Julia had to pretend she didn’t notice the regularity of the organist’s visits. The one time Julia had attempted to surprise Gertrude by having her order ready for her at ten, Gertrude had made sure to give Julia quite the dressing down, telling Julia she shouldn’t be so presumptive. That had been over a year ago, and even though Gertrude claimed she might have wanted to order something else on the day Julia had pre-empted her order, she still hadn’t ordered anything other than her usual since.
“Four pancakes drizzled with honey, with fresh raspberries and blueberries, and a cup of tea,” Gertrude called across the café as she took her usual seat at the table next to the window. “And when I say fresh, I mean fresh!”
Julia smiled and nodded, biting her tongue. She had just enough blueberries and raspberries delivered to her café every morning, just for Gertrude’s order. Sue didn’t understand why Julia bent over backwards to please such an intolerable woman, but Julia knew her livelihood balanced on the knife-edge of her reputation, and a negative comment from Gertrude would spread like wildfire around the tiny village in a matter of hours.
After making the pancakes and tea, Julia carefully set them in front of Gertrude. She usually turned her nose up at the food, as though she didn’t return everyday, but today, she stared out of the window, completely distracted. Julia cleared her throat and Gertrude jumped, looking down at her food. Julia usually hurried away, but she hovered.
“Yes?” Gertrude said through pursed lips. “Can I help you?”
Julia’s cheeks burned and her mouth turned dry. She looked out of the window at the village green, which had filled up with young children enjoying the first day of the weekend.
“Is there something happening between you and Roxy Carter?” Julia asked, as bravely as she could.
“I don’t see what business that is of yours, girl!”
And with that, Julia scurried back to the kitchen, to vent to Sue.
“Somebody is going to kill that woman one day,” Sue whispered, peeking through the beads as Gertrude tucked into her pancakes. “Mark my words.”
The rest of Julia’s day went by a lot smoother than her morning had. Her lemon sponge cake was a hit with everybody who tasted it and she sold out of all of her cookies.
During the week, Julia had to invent little jobs to kill the time between customers, which was why she loved Saturdays so much. Along with her usual daily customers, she also got to see her weekend customers and converse with the tourists and groups of ramblers enjoying the Cotswolds.
An hour before closing, her Gran, Dot, hurried into the full café, wearing her usual stiff white shirt, buttoned up to her chin that was secured in place with an ornate antique brooch. She looked around at the faces, smiling at the villagers she knew and narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the ones she didn’t.
“Have you heard about the new man?” Dot asked the second she reached the counter. “It’s causing quite the scandal!”
“Hello, Gran,” Julia said. “Cup of tea?”
“No thanks,” Dot said, glancing over her shoulder at the full café. “You know how I hate big crowds, love. Did you hear about the new man?”
“Do you mean Barker Brown who moved into the cottage on my lane?”
“So you have heard,” Dot sighed, clearly disappointed that she hadn’t been the first to break the news. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“That I’d met my new neighbour?”
“You’ve spoken to him?” Dot’s eyes widened. “What did he have to say for himself?”
“Not a lot. His van was blocking the road so I asked him to move it. We introduced ourselves and spoke briefly.”
“Spoke about what?” Dot urged.
“The weather,” Julia lied, not wanting to admit he had ignored her weather based conversation starter. “What was I supposed to talk to him about?”
“About why he bought Todrick Hamilton’s cottage at auction for half of the asking price!” Dot cried, loud enough to catch the attention of the people in the café. “Todrick’s daughter, Samantha, is said to be furious. She wasn’t getting any offers, so she put it up for auction, expecting to get a decent amount. No! That slime from the city came in and scooped it up for nothing.”
“So he is from the city?”
“That’s what Emily Burns says.”
“Emily got that information from me,” Julia said with a soft laugh. “I was only speculating.”
“Well, it’s all the village has been talking about all morning. I heard he was a business tycoon who had come in to buy up all of the companies and turn us into some kind of tourist hot spot! Can you imagine?”
The tourists in the shop frowned at Dot, who was now directing all of her statements loudly into her listening crowd.
“Where did you hear that?” Julia asked.
“Well, it’s what I suspect!” Dot cried, snapping her fingers together. “I better go. I’ve got topside of beef in the oven. You and your sister are having supper at mine tonight.”
Julia didn’t argue. Even if she had plans, she would have to cancel them. It didn’t matter how old she or Sue got, they couldn’t ignore a supper summons from their Gran.
Without another word, Dot turned on her heels and teetered back out of the café, her navy blue pleated skirt floating behind her. Julia hoped she would have just half of her Gran’s z
est for life when she reached her eighties.
“We’re having supper at Gran’s tonight,” Julia said, poking her head through the beads. “Oh, hello, Johnny. What are you doing here?”
Julia left the full café and walked through to the kitchen, where Johnny Watson was talking in low whispers with Sue. Johnny was a reporter for the local newspaper, The Peridale Post. Julia had been on an unsuccessful date with him when she first moved back to the village. They had gone for coffee outside the village where she had decided they would be better suited as friends. Sue was insistent that Johnny still held a candle for Julia, but she brushed off her sister’s unfounded gossip.
“Julia,” Johnny said nervously, his cheeks reddening. “It’s you I came to see.”
Sue looked awkwardly at her, as though she knew something Julia didn’t. When Sue looked down at the piece of paper in Johnny’s hands, Julia followed her, and her heart sank.
“Is everything okay?” Julia asked, trying to keep her smile.
“I tried to stop them from printing it,” Johnny said. “I really did try, but they wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Print what?”
“Maybe it’s better she doesn’t read it,” Sue said.
“Read what?”
Johnny looked down at the paper in his hands. He seemed to be toying with his conscience for a moment before handing the paper over to Julia. She looked at Johnny, who looked apologetically at her as he shifted his glasses, before looking down at what was causing her sister to look so uncomfortable.
“’Local Café Is A Constant Disappointment’,” Julia said, reading the headline of what appeared to be a review. “’Two stars’. This is about my café?”
“Oh, Julia,” Sue said, placing her hand on Julia’s shoulder. “It’s just somebody’s opinion.”
“Who wrote this?” Julia asked as she scanned through the review. “’Awful atmosphere,’ ‘bland food’, ‘amateur baking’!”
Julia’s heart sunk to the pit of her stomach, and she cast the paper onto the counter.
“I have no idea,” Johnny said, looking as upset as Julia felt. “Our old reviewer, Mark Tanner, retired last month and we put out an ad for somebody to take his place. We only had one reply, and it came with the condition they would have full anonymity, even from us. We didn’t have much choice. This is only their third review, but they haven’t given one above a two-star. They gave Rachel Carter’s art gallery a one-star review, saying ‘the only art the gallery could offer you was something to toss on the fire on a cold night’, and they gave Bob and Shelby Hopkins a two-star for The Plough, saying it was ‘the worst pub in the Cotswolds’ and that their home brewed beer tasted like something ‘left over in the sink after washing up’. I’ve been fighting this all week, but my editor thinks it adds spice to the paper. When I found out it was going to print tomorrow, I came straight here to warn you.”
Julia stared down at the paper, numb and shaken. She had always been confident with her café and what she served in it. When working in London, she had worked in a factory, bulk baking bland cakes for retail for most of her marriage, which was why she had tried so hard to create something that was the opposite of that.
“It’s tomorrow’s fish and chip’s paper,” Sue said encouragingly. “Don’t let it get to you.”
Julia tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth wouldn’t turn upwards. She racked her brain for whom she could have upset for them to write such a bitter review.
“Thank you for warning me,” Julia said to Johnny. “Can I keep this?”
“Only if you’re sure. Like Sue said, it’s tomorrow’s chip paper.”
Julia wanted to agree but she knew how long a single topic could circulate the village when there was nothing more interesting to talk about. If the weather held up and didn’t rain, it would be the only thing to gossip about, aside from the new arrival. She doubted anything could eclipse such a juicy review of the village’s only café.
“Do you know anything about who it could be?” Julia asked as she scanned the review, not really taking the words in.
“They only correspond by letter, but it’s always hand delivered in the dead of night,” Johnny said as he put his hands into his coat pocket. “It’s always signed ‘Miss Piston’, but we think it’s an alias, because there’s nobody in this village with that name.”
Julia thanked Johnny again, and he left through the backdoor. Sue attempted to take the review away from Julia but she read it over and over, absorbing every word. She was only pulled from the writing when the bell on the counter rang.
For the rest of her work day, Julia attempted to smile through her hurt, but it wasn’t enough. Every customer who knew Julia could tell something was wrong, but just like Roxy had with her, she lied and said she was fine. None of them believed her, which was why she was glad when half-past five rolled around and she could lock the door and flip the sign.
As Julia cleared away the plates, she could feel the sympathetic eyes of her sister watching her.
“People in this village will know it is all lies,” said Sue. “You’re the best baker in Peridale! Whoever wrote this was just jealous.”
“Maybe.”
“Don’t let it get to you.”
“I’m not.”
“Liar,” Sue said as Julia walked past her with a stack of plates and cups. “Whoever Miss Piston is, they’re probably really unhappy and that’s why they have to bring other people down.”
Julia dumped the dishes in the sink and filled it with hot, soapy water. As she cleaned the plates and cups, Sue wiped down the tables, leaving her to her own thoughts. She imagined opening up on Monday morning after being closed tomorrow. She knew people wouldn’t avoid the café, in fact, she’d probably be busier than ever, but she knew every customer would be clutching a copy of the newspaper, all with their own thoughts and opinions about the review. They would all be waiting for her reaction from the moment they read it.
“At least we’ve got Gran’s topside of beef to take your mind off of it,” Sue said as they pulled on their coats. “I just need to call Neil and let him know not to expect me home until late.”
Sue hurried over to the phone behind the counter, leaving Julia to flick off the lights. She buttoned up her pale pink pea coat in the dark as her sister called her husband. If she didn’t feel obligated, she would have cancelled supper at Gran’s to go home to Mowgli and curl up with a good murder mystery to take her mind off the review, even if she did have her divorce papers taunting her.
As she waited for Sue, she reflected on what a strange day it had been. She thought back to Roxy, and her peculiar interaction with Gertrude. She made a mental note to call Roxy when she got to her Gran’s, just to make sure she was okay.
“I asked Neil if he knew any Pistons,” Sue said as she weaved back through the tables. “No luck, but he said he’ll check the records at the library tomorrow.”
Julia’s brows pinched together, but not at her sister, at something she had said.
“Pistons,” Julia murmured.
“Huh?”
“Organ pistons!” Julia cried, pushing her keys into Sue’s hands. “Lock up and tell Gran I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I think I know who wrote that review.”
Before Sue could ask any questions, Julia hurried across the village to confront the local organist.
Gertrude Smith’s cottage had always been a topic of discussion. Julia remembered the terror it inflicted on her when she had to walk past it on her way home from St. Peter’s Primary School as a small girl. It was a small cottage, not dissimilar from her own, but it had been swallowed up by so much creeping ivy, only the door and two windows were visible under the low hanging thatched roof. The small walled-in front garden was equally overgrown, and despite many villagers confronting Gertrude about it over the years, she refused to change a thing, insisting it was ‘God’s will’ to let the plants grow as naturally as possible.
As a thirty-seven-year-old woman, Julia a
greed that the cottage was an eyesore in the otherwise spotless and orderly village, but it still inflicted the same childhood fear in the pit of her stomach.
Gertrude’s cottage was in the middle of a row of six other small cottages. It didn’t just stand out for the lack of a well-kept garden, it was also the only cottage on the street without a single light on in the house.
Julia stayed in the safety of the streetlight, staring at Gertrude’s cottage. It didn’t look like she was home, so Julia decided she was going to leave her conversation with Gertrude until Monday morning, when Gertrude would no doubt be in for her raspberry and blueberry pancakes to see the aftermath of her review. In the glow of the streetlight, she pulled out the review and read over it again, noticing how she was getting increasingly more wound up with each re-read. She looked up angrily at the cottage and noticed a shadow dart past the window.
Inhaling deeply, Julia unhooked the gate and waited for Gertrude to flick on a lamp, but the cottage remained in darkness. Julia glanced up and down the dark street, but it was completely empty. She could hear the six o’clock news playing on the television of one of the neighbours, but aside from that, there was an eerie silence she hadn’t experienced before in the village she loved so much.
Julia walked down the short garden path, stepping over the plants that had snaked across the stone slabs. She reached the front door and rapped her knuckles against the old wood. The door opened upon impact.
Startled by the movement, Julia took a step back and peered into the cottage, wondering why Gertrude would leave her front door open.
“Gertrude?” Julia called into the dark. “It’s Julia, from the café.”
Julia heard sudden movement and the smash of glass, followed by more of the eerie silence that was making her feel so uncomfortable.
“Gertrude?” she called out again, pushing on the door and opening it fully. “Do you need some help?”
There wasn’t a response, so Julia hesitantly stepped over the threshold and into Gertrude’s living room. The inside matched the outside, with dark floral prints lining the walls, equally dark colours for the flooring, and an array of photographs and ornaments among the bulky cluttered furniture.
