‘Where’s Alec?’ Mum asked, frowning.
Ed shrugged. ‘No sign of him at the bar. But I didn’t check the Gents.’
Mum sighed. ‘He’s probably found a newspaper and locked himself in a cubicle.’
The music for the next act started up and we all looked at each other and grinned; nobody who lived with Alec Featherstone could not recognize this one. It was the opening bars to Dolly Parton’s ‘9 to 5’: his favourite song.
We were all on our feet in seconds, even Nonna, Stanley and Ed. Lia was clapping her hands above her head in time to the music. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a tall stocky blonde dance her way on to the stage.
‘Shall I go and check the loo, Luisa?’ Ed asked. ‘He wouldn’t want to miss this.’
But Mum didn’t answer; she couldn’t drag her eyes off the singer.
‘He’s right, Mum,’ I said, shaking her arm. ‘Dad would love to see this.’
Still no response from her; it was as if she’d gone into a trance. I didn’t know why; it was Dad who was the big Dolly Parton fan in the family, not her.
‘If you wouldn’t mind, Ed,’ I said, answering for her.
But before Ed could move, the singer launched into the first line of the song and the crowd erupted in applause and whistles, eager to continue their dancing.
‘He’s brilliant,’ Mum breathed, pressing her hands to her cheeks.
‘He? Is it a man? Ooh yay!’ Lia shielded her eyes, pointing at the stage. ‘It’s a man in drag.’
‘I think the legs were a giveaway.’ Ed laughed. ‘And the eighties wig.’
‘That’s not a man,’ said Mum in a wavering voice. ‘That’s—’
‘Mamma mia!’ yelled Nonna. ‘It’s not Dolly Parton, it’s Alec!’
Chapter 10
We danced and clapped as my dad, in a strappy white dress, blonde wig and high heels, strutted his stuff through three Dolly Parton songs. As soon as he left the stage we rushed out and found him in a lively communal dressing room backstage.
Dad was sitting on a stool, wincing as he eased his feet out of a pair of silver stilettos.
I threw my arms around his neck. ‘That was amazing! You nailed it. Absolutely nailed it!’
‘Did I?’ he said, returning my hug. His face was alight with excitement and adrenalin and there were beads of sweat along the edge of his long blonde wig. ‘I thought it went a bit wobbly on the second number.’
The rest of the family were right behind me, including Nonna and a bewildered Stanley. Dad found himself being squeezed and hugged and kissed. Mum and Lia cried and even Ed looked emotional. Stanley clapped him on the back and couldn’t take his eyes off his hairy cleavage.
The Russian Cossack dancers had discarded their hats and were throwing back vodka shots like they were going out of fashion, and the Abba tribute lot were still doing their dance routines. Others were milling around, mostly half dressed and chatting animatedly about their own performances. Six samurai swords in leather sheaths leaned up against the wall and the dancing dog was spark out in a large basket in the corner.
And there, in the thick of it, was my dad, a university lecturer from Derby, peeling his tights off. I’d never been prouder of him.
‘You were ace, Dad,’ Lia cried. ‘Totally ace.’
‘I saw this blonde diva shaking her hips and I had a weird sensation as if she were someone I’d met before.’ Mum laughed and threaded her arms round his waist. ‘And I was right. I can’t believe you kept this a secret. Congratulations, darling, you’re a star.’
‘Really?’ He puffed out his chest. ‘I’ve been taking singing lessons. I’m sorry. I know I’ve been behaving secretively but I wanted it to be a surprise.’
‘My son-in-law, in a dress,’ said Nonna, sitting down on the chair Stanley had found her. She shook her head incredulously. ‘Whatever float your goat, I suppose.’
‘Boat not goat,’ said Stanley with a chuckle.
Nonna shrugged.
‘It’s been my lifelong ambition to sing in front of an audience,’ said Dad bashfully. ‘But you were right, Luisa, my voice wasn’t up to it. So I thought I’d do something about it.’
‘You certainly did that, Alec.’ Mum giggled, twanging his bra strap. ‘And I’m sorry for criticizing your singing. Just goes to show how little I know; you’re brilliant.’
Ed stared at him with a mixture of uneasiness and possibly a bit of envy. ‘What does it feel like wearing women’s clothes?’
Dad tugged at the neckline. ‘Tight. Like an oven-ready turkey.’
‘Well,’ Ed gave a whistle, ‘anyone can see you’ve got balls wearing that get-up.’
Dad grimaced and looked down. ‘Can they?’
Lia giggled. ‘I think he means you’re very brave.’
‘You very sexy, I think,’ Nonna chuckled. ‘You look like a woman from where I was sitting.’
‘Yes, you had me fooled too.’ Stanley placed a hand proprietorially on Nonna’s shoulder. I half expected her to shrug it off, but she patted it gently. It was such a tender gesture that my heart gave a little squeeze of hope for them both.
‘It hasn’t been easy. Any of it.’ Dad took mine and Lia’s hands. ‘And I nearly caved in and told you the truth when you spotted me last week with my singing teacher.’
‘So that’s who she was. Sorry, Dad,’ Lia cringed, ‘for jumping to conclusions.’
Mum cocked an eyebrow and I explained how we’d confronted him at the hotel and immediately thought the worst.
‘We’d only come to check out the stage,’ said Dad, shaking his head at the memory. ‘I came out of the loo and walked into the Spanish Inquisition.’
‘I’m sorry we doubted you,’ I said, kissing my dad’s cheek. ‘But next time I’ll do your make-up.’
Lia creased up with laughter as I wiped the thick orange foundation from my lips.
‘And the outfit?’ He looked down at his white and silver dress. ‘Do you like it? I picked it up from a charity shop, and I managed to get the bra online.’
‘We know!’ Lia giggled. ‘Mum thought you were up to something kinky.’
He clapped a hand to his forehead. ‘That was a bit awkward.’
‘If anyone had told me a month ago that finding my husband in drag singing “9 to 5” by Dolly Parton would be a relief, I wouldn’t have believed them.’ Mum laughed softly and her eyes shone with pride.
‘I chose that song for you,’ he said, pulling her close. ‘Because it’s about letting go of a busy life and doing what makes you happy instead of serving on all these committees.’
‘Oh Alec.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘That’s exactly how I feel.’
‘But you be bored, Luisa,’ said Nonna, shaking her head. ‘What you do all day, eh?’
Mum looped her arm through Dad’s and met Nonna’s gaze.
‘That’s what I thought ten years ago when I lost my job. The girls had both left home and I felt adrift, no use to anyone, I’d lost my place at home and at work. I thought perhaps I could be useful to you at the café. But of course you didn’t want my help. You made that perfectly clear.’
Nonna looked sheepish. ‘I like things my way,’ she muttered.
‘So I filled my days with voluntary work instead,’ Mum continued. ‘And all of a sudden I was busy again. But now looking after Arlo has helped me to get the balance right. I love my family and that’s who I want to spend time with, not to always be rushing from one meeting to another.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Dad, beaming.
‘Oh.’ Nonna blinked at her daughter. ‘I didn’t know this is how you feel, Luisa. I didn’t know you feel not useful.’
Mum blew out an exasperated breath. ‘You wouldn’t, would you? Because you were too quick to throw me out of the café, like you’ve done with Rosie. You spurn help as if it somehow makes you look weak.’
‘I just … well, I just …’ Nonna blinked her dark chestnut eyes at Mum and then me and shrugged helplessly. ‘I used to
doing everything alone. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. Both of you.’
I gave her a weak smile; this was as much of an apology as I was likely to get.
Mum placed a hand on Nonna’s arm. ‘Can we try again? To talk to you about the future?’
Nonna swallowed and we all hung on her answer but one of the Cossacks, impervious to the tension, swaggered into our little circle waving a bottle of vodka.
‘You lot want to join us for a drink?’ he asked in a broad Liverpudlian accent.
‘Yes,’ Mum replied with some relief. ‘Anyone else?’
‘Oh rather,’ said Stanley, rubbing his hands together.
‘Okey cokey,’ said Nonna, still looking at Mum.
Glasses were found, shots were poured and the performers took it in turns to toast each other. I downed a vodka in one just as my phone started to vibrate. I looked at the screen to see a message from an unknown number:
This is Finnegan O’Reilly, sorry it’s late but we’ve had a chaotic day. I’d like to offer you the job as New Business Director. Congratulations! Call me back to discuss when you’re free.
My heart pounded. I looked at my crazy lovely family swigging vodka shots and felt a rush of warmth for them. Everyone was occupied and it was an opportune moment to slip away.
From the dressing room, I went out into the corridor and pushed through a heavy door marked ‘Fire Exit’ and followed a path to the garden overlooking the river at the back.
There was a damp coolness to the air but the sky was clear and dark and no moon was to be seen in amongst a million stars. After the bright lights, thumping music and excitement of the cabaret it was the perfect retreat, the ideal place to gather my thoughts.
I wandered across the dewy grass down to the waterfront and the picnic tables. Ahead of me was a row of houseboats, pretty permanent judging by the plant pots on the deck of one and the plume of smoke rising from the chimney of another.
I sat down, watching the lights from the hotel reflected in the ripples in the river and took a deep breath. I took out my phone and read the message again.
The job was mine, so why wasn’t I punching the air with joy?
Something in me had changed.
Despite all my bluster about needing a challenge and being wedded to deadlines and thriving on the cut and thrust of commerce, I’d loved being at the Lemon Tree Café more than I could ever have foreseen. If I took the job in Manchester, I’d miss seeing my family every day and watching Arlo grow up. I’d miss the blossoming love between Nonna and Stanley, and the banter between Juliet and our regular customers. I’d miss watching the seasons alter with each different variety of wild flower on the village green and I wouldn’t get to hear the news from the other shops.
I hardly recognized myself. I’d always been the workaholic, ambitious member of the family, the one eager to climb the corporate ladder, to do my very best. My family had always cast me as the brave one, the one to take risks and ‘go for it’. But what if bravery had got nothing to do with it? What if building my career had simply been a way for me to run away from what had happened in my personal life?
But actually, what choice did I have? I needed a job and Nonna might have apologized, but I couldn’t see her having me back. I had no choice at all.
I took a deep breath and began to type.
A cool breeze off the river made me shiver as I sent a text back to Finnegan telling him that I would be delighted to accept the position at HitSquad and would be available to start immediately.
Decision made.
‘Here you are!’ Lia threw herself on to the bench beside me and handed me a glass of wine. She plonked an almost full bottle on the table. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’
‘Perfect timing.’ I clinked my glass against hers. ‘You can celebrate my new job with me.’
‘Yay! You got it?’
I took a deep sip. ‘Yep. Time to get my career back on track. Retreat into my comfort zone.’
‘And she’s off again, leaving me behind.’ Lia heaved a sigh, staring into her glass.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I want to work again. And I want to cook.’ She blinked her brown eyes at me. ‘Don’t laugh, but I had this fantasy that you and I would be able to work together at the café. Now you’re going and Nonna won’t have me anyway. Oh well,’ she took a big slug of wine, ‘back to the drawing board.’
‘I think you should tell Nonna all this,’ I suggested. ‘Or I will, if you like?’
‘There won’t be a job for me. Nonna’s adamant about that.’ She shrugged. ‘If she won’t have you, I don’t stand a chance; you’ve always been her favourite.’
‘I don’t think that’s true,’ I said, uncomfortably, acknowledging to myself that it probably was. I nudged Lia with my shoulder. ‘And if it’s any consolation, I’d have enjoyed working with you too. Although I don’t think there’d be enough money to employ both of us.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Lia with a shrug. Her words were beginning to sound a tiny bit slurred; I wondered whether to mention it.
‘Perhaps I’m being unrealistic thinking I could do something different anyway,’ she said. ‘You’ve always been fearless: leaving home, going to uni. I was too scared to even leave the village. I’ve settled for the easy life, stayed near my parents, married a nice boy, had a baby.’
‘You are kidding me!’ I cried, leaning away to give her the full force of my amazement. ‘When I saw you on Dad’s arm entering the church on your wedding day I was in awe. How does she do that, I thought, look so calm and serene on what must be the scariest day of her life?’
Lia looked at me, baffled. ‘I wasn’t scared; I was in love. I was starting a new life with a man who – cheesy as it sounds – completes me.’
Out on the river the distant pffut-pffut of a diesel engine approaching made me glance up. A narrowboat, all lit up, was gliding silkily towards us. The sound of voices echoed across the water. Right now it seemed such a simple existence: just a small boat on a gentle river, none of the twists and turns of normal everyday life.
‘But it’s for ever,’ I said, twisting the stem of my glass in my fingers. ‘For ever.’
‘I know,’ she said simply. ‘But you and I are the lucky ones: we’ve grown up watching the equivalent of a “How to Stay Married” tutorial.’
‘Despite the two of us almost throwing a spanner in the works.’ I grinned and then my smile slipped again. ‘But that just piles on the pressure for me. I see Mum and Dad and I think, I’ll never be like that. How do you get the balance right, letting someone in but not too much?’
‘What do you mean?’ Lia’s nose wrinkled. ‘There’s no such thing as too much. Just let someone into your heart and let love do the rest.’
Let love do the rest … She made it sound so easy.
‘Who exactly?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘All the men round here are either married or widowers.’
‘What’s wrong with widowers?’
‘Nothing if they’re under forty. Which in Barnaby, they’re not.’
Lia regarded me quizzically over the top of her glass. ‘Hmm. I’ve often wondered about you. Why someone so beautiful is still single.’
‘Beautiful? Cheers, I’ll drink to that.’
I raised my glass to hide my face; she didn’t know the half of it. But maybe it was time she did. I loved Lia, we’d got closer as we’d got older and I’d always been able to tell her things. Most things.
My heart ricocheted around in my ribcage. It would be a relief to share what happened with Callum. I didn’t at the time, couldn’t, I was so ashamed of what had happened, what I didn’t do and how it ended. And now I saw that sharing it with Lia could be good for both of us. For her to see that I wasn’t the perfect sister with the perfect life that she thought I had and for me … for me to get some perspective on an event that had shaped my personal life for the last ten years.
‘Lia,’ I began.
‘Oh here you both
are!’
We turned to see Mum and Nonna, arm in arm, weaving their way through the tables to reach us.
‘Nonna has something to say.’ Mum paused and looked at Nonna, both of them looking like they were about to pop with excitement. ‘Go on, Mamma.’
‘OK, cara.’ Nonna patted my hand. ‘I have been very silly old woman. The café is too much for me, I bury my head in cement for too long, not wanting to let go of my business.’
‘No one was trying to take it from you, Nonna,’ I said patiently. ‘All I was ever trying to do was make your life easier. My mistake was doing that behind your back, but at the time I thought I was doing the right thing.’
‘You good girl, Rosanna. I see that now.’ She stroked my face with her thumb, her skin rough from a lifetime of scrubbing tables. ‘And I see that maybe not working every day is good. If I not working so much I spend time with Stanley instead.’
‘I’m pleased,’ I said with a smile. ‘And I’m sure Stanley will be too.’
Mum nudged her in the ribs. ‘Remember what you need to say.’
‘And I very sorry for throwing you out of the café. I was angry when I see you …’ She hesitated.
I willed her to finish her sentence, to mention the envelope marked privato, so that I could ask her about it while I had the chance, but she held out her arms.
‘You forgive old Nonna?’
I hugged her. ‘Of course.’
‘So are you selling up, Nonna?’ Lia asked.
The thought of the Lemon Tree Café leaving the family made my stomach churn. Who would buy it? What would they do with it? I shuddered. It didn’t bear thinking about.
The pregnant pause made me look up at Nonna again. She was looking at me with a fixed grin on her face.
‘Sell? No, no, why I do that?’ She flapped a hand at me. ‘I just make Rosanna the manager of the café.’
I stared at her, completely speechless, vaguely aware of Lia making little gnashing noises with her teeth.
‘Congratulations, darling,’ cried Mum. ‘You deserve it. You’ve done such a good job over the last month. The place is unrecognizable.’
The Lemon Tree Café Page 10
