‘And now Gloria has left the cookery school to me and Gabe,’ I said in a wobbly voice. ‘Which is a wonderful, generous thing to do. And yet . . . if things had been different, it would have been him and Mimi. And even though the logical part of my brain is telling me that Mimi isn’t here, I feel as if I’m stepping into what would have been Mimi’s life instead of striking out on my own. And I am not sure if I can do it.’
Dave fumbled in his pocket and handed me a clean napkin.
‘Well, I absolutely know that you can do it. And more than that, I’m one hundred per cent sure that Mimi will be cheering you on every step of the way.’
I shook my head. ‘That’s just it. What if she’s not? How do you know?’
He exhaled a long, heartfelt breath. ‘Because I’ve been through the same thing and I know exactly how you feel.’
I dabbed at my tears. ‘Do you?’ I said doubtfully.
‘I was a twin, you know,’ he said with a faraway smile. ‘I had a brother, Michael. He was disabled, spent his life in a wheelchair. He died when we were twenty-two. The doctors had said he wouldn’t live that long, so every birthday that we celebrated together was a gift.’
‘Oh Dave, what a thing to live with.’
He nodded. ‘My twenty-third birthday felt very odd, I can tell you, with no one to share it with. So there’s not a lot you can teach me about guilt.’
‘Sorry.’ I winced, ironically feeling a teensy bit guiltier now. ‘I have been a bit self-absorbed.’
He chuckled. ‘No need for that. Anyway, when we were kids, there were none of these fancy wheelchairs with motors. My brother had arms like Popeye from pushing himself around. When it came to arm-wrestling, no one stood a chance against Michael.’
His eyes softened and he gazed out at the river, lost in his memories.
‘All the lads used to play football on the street in front of our house. “Coming out for a game, Dave?” they’d say. And my skin would crawl with guilt that Michael couldn’t join us. I’d be outside playing and Michael would be stuck inside watching from the window. Sometimes I felt so bad about it that I’d pretend I didn’t want to play.’
‘That must have been hard for you,’ I said softly.
He nodded. ‘Michael wasn’t having any of it. “Get out there and play. And play twice as well, have twice as much fun,” he’d say. “You’re playing for me too, remember.” I never forgot that.’
He scooted closer along the bench and took my hand.
‘Just because Michael couldn’t enjoy something, he had no wish for me to lose out. Do you see? It’s the same for you and Mimi.’
I swallowed. ‘Really?’
‘Yes! It is incredibly sad to lose someone so young; it’s sad to lose anyone we love. But I’m sure neither Gloria nor Mimi would want you to miss out on life just because they’re not here. Why waste your life feeling guilty? Live for Mimi too, remember, and have twice as much fun.’
I nodded slowly, letting his message sink in. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Mimi would have loved that idea. A glow of happiness began to build and build inside me until my face broke into a wide smile. She had always been like a ray of sunshine in my life; somehow I had let that light go out, too scared to let it shine. But Dave was right: Mimi’s life might have been cut short, just like Michael’s, but she would be cheering me on to see me achieve my dreams.
‘I never thought of it like that. You are so right. Thank you.’ Impulsively I threw my arms round his neck and kissed his cheek. ‘For the food and for the words of wisdom. And for making Mags so happy and for putting things in perspective so wonderfully.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he said with a gentle smile.
‘You know, your philosophy on life reminds me a little bit of Mags’s principle of pleasure. No wonder the two of you get on.’
He chuckled. ‘I’ve worshipped her from afar ever since I became Gloria’s accountant. I thought she was out of my league. Still do, if I’m honest.’
‘Well, I think you’re a match made in heaven.’
He went pink and I reached to hug him again before standing to leave.
‘Namaste.’ I bowed. ‘The spirit in me adores the spirit in you.’
Dave’s eyes twinkled. ‘Namaste, Verity.’
I hopped on the Plumberry bus feeling happier than I’d done in ages and with my thoughts in some semblance of order. Mimi would always be a part of who I was; she’d been there when I was growing up, she’d shared some of my best moments and I would never have another best friend like her as long as I lived. And Gloria . . . well, Gloria had told me, only a couple of weeks ago, that life was short. Gosh, how prophetic that had turned out to be.
Promise me you won’t waste a single chance to be happy, she had said.
As the bus bounced along the country lanes away from Thickleton, I sent up a silent promise to Gloria. I was very much still alive and I planned to make the most of every moment.
Chapter 33
The bus dropped me outside the Plumberry cheesemonger’s. I waved to Harriet, who was lifting a wheel of stilton out of the chiller in the window and she immediately plopped the cheese down and scampered outside.
‘Sorry,’ she said, wrinkling her nose as she released me from a cheesy hug. I was hugged a lot now, as Gloria’s friends and acquaintances seemed to do it to express their sorrow. She wiped her palms on her apron. ‘You’ll probably smell of stilton for the rest of the day now.’
‘That’s OK.’ I grinned. I liked Harriet; she’d been one of the few contenders at the Plumberry Bake Off to remain unruffled despite the fact that her twice-baked soufflé had sunk almost without trace. ‘Thanks for coming to the funeral, by the way.’
‘Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Such a shame; she was a feisty old bird,’ said Harriet with a lopsided smile. She looped her long fair hair behind her ears and studied me. ‘I’m glad I caught you. I’ve had a couple of customers ask about cheese-making courses and I think you should run one.’
‘Oh, right, well,’ I hesitated, ‘I’ll look into it.’
We had all the equipment to make cheese. Gloria had thought of everything. But I needed to get my head around the running of the business before we started anything new. I’d have to arrange a meeting with Dave straight away, I realized. And Gabe, of course. And sit Mags and Pixie down and let them know what was happening. Gosh, now that I thought about it, I had heaps to do . . .
A small sigh escaped from my mouth and Harriet’s face fell.
‘I hope you don’t think I’m tactless talking about work so soon after Gloria’s death,’ she said, ‘but . . . Well, I can’t help noticing that you’re still closed and the trouble is, people soon find somewhere else to spend their money. And Gloria wouldn’t have wanted that, I’m sure.’
‘You’re right, she wouldn’t.’ I smiled. ‘Actually, that’s just the sort of advice I need to hear.’
She squeezed my arm. ‘Phew. I’ve been running this shop for ten years; feel free to pick my brains any time you need to.’
My eyebrows lifted. Ten years? She didn’t look old enough.
‘Family business,’ she said, in answer to my expression. ‘Took over from my dad. Were you and Gloria related?’
I thought back to Gloria’s letter: You are as much like my own as Mimi ever was and I love you just the same.
‘Sort of.’ I laughed softly. ‘We’re family, anyway. Albeit an unconventional one.’
Harriet nodded and then we both stepped aside as a man came out of the shop clutching a paper bag.
‘Bye, thank you,’ Harriet called after him.
I had a sudden flashback to the moment I’d bumped into Tom in this exact spot when Comfrey and Sage had done a runner.
‘Hey, have you got any Yorkshire Blue?’ I asked impulsively.
I bought a hefty wedge of the local soft blue cheese from Harriet and some plump tomatoes from Pete, the greengrocer, who insisted on giving me his mother’s chutney recipe
and a jar of it to try. Then Jack the butcher flagged me down to suggest the idea of running a butchery course. Nobody knows how to even joint a chicken these days, he’d grumbled, tucking two large marrowbones for the dogs into a bag.
Gabe’s car – or rather, Gloria’s – was in the car park when I turned into the side street towards the cookery school. I was pretty weighed down with all my bags, but my heart was light; the people in Plumberry genuinely wanted the cookery school to succeed and with that sort of support behind me right now I felt I could conquer anything.
The cookery school was just ahead and to me it had never looked so beautiful. The sun bounced off its welcoming stone walls and glinted off its acres of sparkling glass. The waterwheel, which was my absolute favourite bit of the building, had ripples of light running across it from the sun’s reflection in the river and my spirits soared.
I lifted my eyes to the blue sky and the cottony clouds.
Thank you, Gloria, for trusting me with your business. I will make you proud.
There was so much I could do – we could do – with the cookery school. So far we’d barely scratched the surface. We could run joint courses with some of the other neighbouring businesses, I thought, raising a hand to Judy, who owned the candle shop at the far side of the car park. And then there was the brewery next door; perhaps we could run a beer and food matching event . . .
A sudden thought hit me. Would Gabe want all this? To leave his simple life on The Neptune behind, where he only worked as much as he needed to get by? It would be another massive change for him and Noah. But he must be considering it because . . . what had he said earlier . . .? Something about it depending on me? And if he didn’t move to Plumberry, what then? Would he want to sell his half? My stomach lurched. I didn’t want that, although I didn’t see how I could afford to buy him out . . .
Breathe, Verity.
I forced myself to calm down and stop second-guessing Gabe’s thoughts. I’d ask him, simple as that, and then I’d know. Right, panic over.
I pushed open the doors and went into the cookery school to find him.
There was an almighty racket coming from the Aga kitchen. The sort of noise that could only be generated by a three-year-old boy.
Sure enough, Noah and Pixie were marching across the room towards the deck; he was crashing two saucepan lids together whilst she was banging the bottom of a pan with a wooden spoon.
‘What’s cooking?’ I said, laughing as I set my bags down.
‘Not cooking,’ said Noah, bouncing up and down on the spot. ‘I’m starting a band.’
‘I see.’ My heart squeezed at his total gorgeousness. His green eyes danced with delight and his floppy hair, just like his dad’s, fell over one eye. He was practically edible.
In the very dim and distant past, Mimi and I had done the very same thing, raiding kitchen cupboards for things that made the most noise. The cheese grater and a metal spoon had been a particular favourite, I remembered. Although we’d quickly grown tired of hitting the pans (as had our mothers) and had started cooking with them instead. Hopefully, Noah would go the same way.
‘We’re setting up outside on the deck, where we won’t disturb anyone quite so much.’ Pixie ruffled Noah’s hair and smiled at me. ‘I said I’d keep an eye on him, while Mags gives Gabe the proper tour. He’s told us the news. About you and him being the new owners. I’m happy for you, if that doesn’t seem too weird in the circumstances?’
‘I know what you mean.’ I nodded. ‘It hasn’t quite sunk in yet.’
Gabe and I needed to have a proper talk, I had no idea how he felt about co-owning a business in Yorkshire. But asking for a tour sounded promising. Unless he was checking out the assets for a quick sale, of course . . .
I brushed the thought away and held my arms out to Noah instead. ‘Do I get a hug?’
‘OK.’ Noah sighed dramatically and lolloped over to me, not overly enthusiastically, I had to say.
I caught Pixie’s eye and we shared a smile but inside I felt a tiny stab of disappointment. How long until he outright refused? Surely I’d have a few more years of burying my face in the soft hollow between neck and shoulder, inhaling his toasty smell, before he held himself at arm’s length?
‘Do shout if you want help, Pixie, won’t you?’ I said, releasing Noah, who instantly ran outside and commenced banging again.
Although we had cancelled all the cookery courses for this week, the blogger day for Fresh from the Sea was still going ahead as planned tomorrow. It didn’t require much input from us, Tom had reasoned, all we had to do was get the workstations ready for the bloggers and have refreshments laid out for them in the morning when they arrived. They were providing everything else themselves: from the food to the staff to the goody bags. But because we’d had Gloria’s wake here on Friday, this room needed some reorganizing.
‘I can manage.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m going to give all the surfaces an extra polish, I think. I want everything to shine.’
‘Is this still to impress Tom? Because I’m not sure he’ll be able to organize an internship for you at Salinger’s if he’s sold his share.’
The thought of Tom made my insides quiver. He was due in later this afternoon and I was hoping to have a private word with him, set a few things straight. Even if I had totally blown my chances with him, I wanted him to know the truth about Gabe and me.
Pixie scuffed her toe against the wooden floor and shook her head.
‘Not really. This blogger day could be good for us. I want the bloggers to go away and write about how amazing we are.’ She paused to look at me. ‘And then you won’t shut the cookery school down.’
‘Oh, Pixie.’ I opened my arms and she stepped forward for a hug far more readily than Noah. ‘We won’t be closing the cookery school if I’ve got anything to do with it. But I appreciate your efforts.’
‘Good. Because I love this job,’ she said tremulously. ‘I love it here. And as my granddad always says, if you want something badly enough you have to fight for it.’
‘Well said, Granddad,’ I chuckled.
‘Didn’t do him any good when he got caught taking snuff at the day care centre, mind you,’ she said philosophically. ‘Got banned for a month for punching the staff.’
We snorted with laughter until Noah started waving his arms.
‘Kingfisher!’ he yelled from the deck. ‘Look!’
Pixie and I exchanged amused looks and I left her to investigate the appearance of the kingfisher. My mind full of images of a snuff-pinching, staff-punching geriatric, I popped my food purchases in the fridge and went off in search of Gabe and Mags.
Upstairs in the office, Gabe was sitting in Gloria’s chair and Mags was standing behind him, boobs almost resting on his shoulder. They were engrossed in the computer and didn’t hear me come in.
‘So if we want to add a quick note, like “course fully booked” or something, we can just type it in here and the website is instantly updated,’ Mags explained, pointing at the screen.
Gabe pushed his chair back and looked up at Mags. ‘The last time I worked in an office, I was a solicitor and my desk was covered with stacks of files and more paperwork than I could read in a year. I’m impressed; you seem to be almost paper-free.’
‘Hello, you two,’ I said, coming forward. ‘But not quite paper-free. This is Gloria we’re talking about, remember? She had scraps of paper coming out of her ears. Try the drawers.’
Gabe tugged at the top one. It was so crammed full of paper that he struggled to open it.
‘I see what you mean,’ he grunted.
‘Ooh, Gloria’s recipe bible,’ Mags exclaimed, lifting the large folder from the top of the heap. ‘These are all the recipes she collected throughout her career.’
Several pages fluttered out of the folder and I stooped to pick them up.
‘This was the starting point for the cookery school, you know.’ Her eyes glittered with tears as she looked down at the pages. ‘She wanted to share
her passion with people. And she never got to do that.’
Gabe and I exchanged glances and I slipped my arm round Mags’s shoulder.
‘The Plumberry School of Comfort Food is here, though, Mags,’ I comforted her. ‘She poured her heart and soul into it, even if she never got to teach a course.’
‘And hopefully it’ll be here for a long time to come,’ Gabe added.
I looked at him and my heart jolted; I hoped so too.
‘She was a wonderful woman. And friend. I miss her so much,’ said Mags, adding with a wan smile, ‘and her lovely food. But I’m so glad she had you two to pass the school on to. We’re in safe hands, I’m sure.’
I nodded and squeezed her tightly. But a lot still depended on Gabe and the sooner he and I could get our heads together, the better.
After a moment of silence, she slipped the folder back into the drawer.
‘All this paperwork will have to be sorted out, I suppose,’ she said, sighing heavily. Her chin began to wobble.
‘Plenty of time for all that,’ I said softly. ‘We’ll do it between us when we’re ready.’
Mags pressed her lips together and nodded bravely. ‘If you’ve seen everything you need to see, Gabe, I’ll go and put the kettle on and see if I can find Tom’s secret stash of biscuits.’
Gabe confirmed that he’d seen enough for now and Mags set off downstairs.
‘By the way, Noah’s starting a band,’ I called after her. ‘You might need ear plugs down there.’
She laughed and shook her head.
‘Great.’ Gabe grinned.
‘Noah is great,’ I agreed, perching on the edge of Gloria’s desk. I was going to have to stop calling it that . . . ‘It’s impossible to feel low when he’s around. I could munch him up. He’s—’
‘Verity . . .’ Gabe’s urgent tone stopped me in my tracks and sent a shiver down my spine. ‘That note that the physio handed me in the hospital . . .’
I stared at him. ‘From Gloria? Yes?’
I’d asked to see it when Tom had done his disappearing act, but Gabe had glanced at Noah and Rosie meaningfully and shoved it in his pocket, muttering that it could wait.
The Plumberry School of Comfort Food Page 32
