The Lemon Tree Café

by Cathy Bramley

  The bell rang and Mr Beecher appeared from behind the wheelie bins and unlocked the gates and adults slowly overtook the playground, chattering in their little clusters. I looked around for Gina but couldn’t spot her so I stood awkwardly on my own where hopscotch had been painted on to the concrete, clutching the piece of cake I’d brought with me, and trying to work out where Noah might appear from. Then two school doors were flung wide and neat lines of children appeared behind their teachers. I scanned from one line to the other trying to spot Noah as each child was made to wait and dismissed individually when their expected adult was identified.

  My confidence wavered for a moment; I hadn’t realized there would be such tight security. Never mind, Noah would vouch for me, it would be fine; it wasn’t as if I was an axe-murderer or anything. I stepped a bit closer to find him in the line-up.

  ‘Noah?’

  I whirled round to see who’d called his name and recognized Fiona, Robbie’s mum, waving at the two boys as they stood next to their teacher at the top of the steps.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, joining her.

  Fiona blinked at me in surprise. ‘Hi?’

  ‘Is that Noah’s teacher?’ I asked, pointing towards a young woman in a denim shift dress with big patch pockets and a whistle round her neck.

  ‘Miss Cresswell, yes.’ Fiona nodded and waved.

  Robbie waved back and both boys were released by the teacher. Noah saw me and waved with both hands in the air.

  ‘I’ll go and explain to her that I can take Noah,’ I said as we walked up to meet the boys.

  ‘You can’t.’ Fiona looked at me. ‘Gabe asked me.’

  ‘Did he?’ I said, feeling a tiny stab of jealousy. ‘Right.’

  It was my own fault. Of course Gabe would have asked Fiona. How idiotic of me to think he wouldn’t have made some arrangements for his boy.

  ‘Although I was a bit surprised,’ Fiona added sniffily, ‘after the last time.’

  ‘Oh?’ I looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

  ‘Anyway.’ She gave her head a little shake. ‘I hope Gabe’s not going to make a habit of it, it’s really not convenient.’

  That did it. Noah wasn’t going where he wasn’t wanted, not when there was someone who really cared about him.

  ‘Excuse me, Miss Cresswell!’ I skirted a group of mums in front of me and waved my hand in the air to attract her attention, just as Noah’s firm little body barrelled into me.

  ‘ROSIE!’

  ‘Hey, dude.’ I bent down, laughing, and gave him a one-armed hug, while trying not to squash the cake in the other hand. I risked pressing a swift kiss into his unruly sandy hair before he pulled away.

  Fiona and Miss Cresswell both arrived together.

  ‘Hello?’ said the teacher, smiling helpfully.

  ‘Hi, I’m Rosie,’ I began, wondering the best way to word this without offending Fiona who struck me as the sort to get easily miffed.

  ‘Is that cake?’ said Noah, wide-eyed, looking at the contents of the napkin.

  Robbie, who was taller than his friend with pale blue eyes and spiky red hair, licked his lips. I’d only got one piece, but it was big enough to share.

  ‘It is.’ I beamed. ‘Would you like some too, Robbie?’

  ‘Do you know this lady, Noah?’ Miss Cresswell frowned as if I was some sort of child-catcher trying to lure him away with my buttercream icing.

  ‘Of course he does.’ I desperately tried not to frown; Miss Cresswell had been into the café, and although we hadn’t spoken, technically she knew me too.

  Fiona produced two peeled carrots from a Tupperware box and pursed her lips. ‘I don’t condone sugary snacks after school.’

  Robbie sighed and crunched into a carrot. I stifled a tut. Who begrudges a hungry boy a slice of home-made cake?

  ‘Yes, miss,’ Noah nodded, slipping his hand into mine, ‘Rosie is daddy’s friend.’

  Hooray! I smiled triumphantly.

  ‘Rosie helped me cut up Mummy’s wedding dress with scissors.’

  Fiona and Miss Cresswell recoiled as if they were in the presence of a she-devil.

  ‘It wasn’t quite like that,’ I stammered.

  ‘And she told me to make a slide out of my bedroom window.’ He nodded proudly.

  Miss Cresswell stared at me. ‘Doesn’t he live on a boat?’

  Fiona leaned into the teacher. ‘That’s why I won’t let Robbie go round to play. Floating death trap.’

  This was not going well. At all.

  ‘I was joking,’ I said weakly, ‘because Noah wanted a bed with a slide.’

  Miss Cresswell pressed her lips into a thin line and folded her arms; Fiona gave a humourless laugh.

  Noah turned to Robbie. ‘You know Katy Perry?’

  Robbie shook his head glumly, still sad about the carrot.

  ‘She’s a girl singer,’ Noah carried on blithely. ‘Daddy says Rosie looks like her. He says he wants to hear her roar.’

  Miss Cresswell and Fiona exchanged appalled looks as Robbie and Noah began to roar like lions and run round the playground. At which point I realized I’d got as much chance of leaving school with Noah as Cruella de Vil would have adopting a puppy from Battersea Dogs Home.

  ‘You’ve clearly got this covered, Fiona,’ I said stoutly, and risking a public stoning, kissed Noah and thrust the cake into his hands. ‘I’ll leave Noah with you.’

  ‘I think that’s best,’ said Miss Cresswell, shooting a look of relief at Fiona. ‘Under the circumstances.’

  Chapter 34

  The good weather had continued for the next couple of days. And when the other shop owners all converged on the café at the same time as each other quite by chance on Wednesday afternoon, Lucas suggested we sit outside for a coffee and a catch-up. We were all there except Adrian who’d gone on a lads’ golfing week to the Algarve, and Clementine, who though not technically a village retailer any more I still thought of as part of our little business network. She was in a meeting with an editor about the possibility of a regular monthly magazine column and Tyson was spending the afternoon helping Lucas in the gift shop.

  It was only two thirty; too early for the school crowd to start arriving, but that didn’t stop me keeping one eye on the green as everyone sorted themselves out with drinks and cake at the tables I’d hastily pushed together.

  I thought I might hear from Gabe after my playground humiliation, but I hadn’t so far. I wasn’t sure if this was a good or a bad thing. I’d thought he might appreciate my attempt to help him out. On the other hand, he might be furious with me for trying to abduct his child. Lia pointed out that I was overthinking it; starting a new job was exhausting and he was probably falling into bed as soon as Noah went to sleep. But that didn’t help because then I couldn’t stop thinking about him lying tangled in the sheets, those long lashes resting on his cheeks, broad chest rising and falling and possibly a muscular buttock, just visible under …

  ‘Cheeky,’ said Lucas, smacking Ken’s hand away from the crumbs on his plate. ‘Get your own French fancy.’

  ‘Not allowed. The missis has put me on a diet,’ said Ken, patting his belly. ‘Told me I should get “lean in fifteen”, whatever that means.’

  ‘It’s the Instagram hashtag for a hot sports guy in shorts,’ said Lucas who blushed and popped the rest of his cake in his mouth. ‘Allegedly.’

  Nina and Lia giggled; Biddy and Ken looked none the wiser.

  ‘Come and work with me, Ken,’ said Lia. ‘Making pizzas for a living is the best way to lose weight ever. I’m sick of the sight of them; I’ve gone right off my food.’

  ‘Ahem,’ I said, dragging my eyes away from the road and giving my sister a pointed look. ‘Although our pizzas are delicious, is what she meant to say.’

  Lia clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Whoops. Are you sure you want to be in business with me, Rosie? I’m hardly known for my business skills.’

  ‘Nor me for my cooking skills,’ I reminded her. ‘Yet here w
e both are.’

  ‘Teamwork,’ said Biddy, slipping a piece of frankfurter under the table to Churchill, whose tail gave a happy thump against the table leg. She passed the rest to Ken who wolfed it down equally appreciatively. ‘We all benefit from that.’

  ‘And on that note, I’ll leave you business bods to discuss world domination, while I prepare some pizza samples for the cardboard box man,’ Lia said.

  I smiled, watching her go back inside singing away to herself, stopping at the potted lemon trees either side of the door to pick off dead leaves just like Nonna used to do.

  The ‘cardboard box man’ was actually a major supplier of pizza cartons. Lia had had the bright idea of offering a takeaway service – just a couple of times a week to start with, she thought. If any of us was planning world domination it was her. She was far more savvy than she gave herself credit for. I’d been too busy mooning over my disastrous love life to do anything more than take people’s orders accurately this week.

  ‘It must be nice having a partner,’ said Lucas wistfully, gazing over at his shop window where Tyson was inside, swishing cobwebs away with a feather duster. ‘Someone to lean on after a tough day.’

  Nina rearranged the vase of greenery in the centre of the table, putting the larger stems in the centre and fanning out the more feathery sprigs. Fresh flowers were my little indulgence. We should really invest in some plastic posies but there was something lovely and authentic about having real ones. And I knew from a bit of secret snooping that the Cabin Café had plastic carnations, which already looked dusty. Besides, it was worth it to see Nina’s face light up when I went into the flower shop and placed my fortnightly order.

  ‘How about another charity event?’ said Nina. ‘Like the Barnaby Spring Fair. That was brilliant teamwork.’

  ‘That was a lovely day,’ agreed Biddy, removing her chunky crocheted cardigan and hanging it on the back of her chair. ‘We could call it the Barnaby Summer Fair.’

  ‘Anybody got any charity links?’ said Ken. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He picked up a napkin, wiped his head, refolded it perfectly and set it on the stack with the others.

  ‘Mum has,’ I said, making a mental note to collect every napkin from the table when we left, even the ones that looked unused. ‘The Chestnuts Cancer Hospice. Maybe any money raised could go to them. I’d like that, actually; it would give her some brownie points with her new boss.’

  ‘Perhaps we should sell veggies and stuff again?’ said Ken. ‘Keep with the gardening theme?’

  ‘Shame we can’t grow chestnuts,’ said Biddy. ‘Ooh, what about chestnut mushrooms?’

  Everyone agreed that was a good idea, Ken said he’d talk to Clementine about growing mushrooms and I opened up my iPad to look at the calendar. A debate followed about suitable dates, trying to fit in around a dog show in Derby, various weddings that Nina was doing the flowers for, Lucas and Tyson’s weekend trip to Brighton and Ken’s annual pilgrimage to Blackpool. I didn’t have any events to plan around so I opened the café’s Twitter account to send a couple of promo tweets while they chatted, and found we’d had a lot of new notifications since I’d last been on this morning.

  A hundred to be precise. One hundred new notifications. That was a record. I scrolled back through the activity to see if I could spot what might have triggered it. New followers, apparently: we’d had over fifty new followers in the last twenty-four hours. How odd. I was so engrossed in the task that Lucas had to nudge me twice.

  ‘First Saturday in July,’ he said. ‘OK with you?’

  ‘I expect so,’ I said distractedly as one particular new follower stood out from the rest. ‘Wow. Lucinda Miller has just followed us on Twitter! I’ve worked with her, or her agent at least.’

  ‘Who?’ Biddy and Ken said together.

  Nina sat up tall. ‘The actress? Quick. Ask her if she wants to do a celebrity opening at our event.’

  ‘She’s followed us on Twitter, not asked to be friends in real life.’ I laughed, secretly hoping that she might ask exactly that.

  ‘I like her in Raw Recruits,’ said Lucas. ‘A proper woman with curves.’

  I looked at him in surprise. He shrugged and rubbed his neck sheepishly.

  ‘And totally kick-ass,’ Nina added.

  I clicked on Lucinda’s profile to check it was the Lucinda Miller: Actress currently in Raw Recruits, love my French bulldog Purdie, polka dots and tea. Yep, definitely her. That couldn’t be a coincidence, could it, that she’d followed us? It had to be because of our mutual connection? I followed her back. Seconds later a direct message popped up:

  Is this Rosie from the social media agency?

  I typed one straight back.

  Yes! Thanks for the follow! How are things?

  God knows what I expected her to say to that. Anyway, before she had a chance to reply Ken dropped a bombshell.

  ‘We could ask Garden Warehouse if they want to sponsor our event,’ said Ken, offering a packet of sugar-free mints round the table. ‘Raise a few more quid.’

  I glared at him. ‘Ken!’

  He shrugged. ‘Why not? They’ll attract lots of people.’

  ‘Because, because,’ I stammered crossly, ‘they’ll take over, that’s why and they’re a threat to our village identity. This is a village event. Village businesses only. Agreed?’

  I looked at the others for support.

  Biddy was stroking Churchill’s head so vigorously that his fur was coming off in her hand. Nina was plucking fronds from a sprig of fern and Lucas was concentrating on collecting all the crumbs from his French fancy and putting them in its paper cake case.

  ‘Agreed?’ I said again.

  Biddy raised her hand.

  ‘I know you’re very angry about them opening up, but I must be honest,’ she said timidly. ‘Since I converted a quarter of the shop into a grooming salon, business is doing better than before. I’m also doing a roaring trade in pamper products for dogs.’

  ‘I’m not angry,’ I said crossly. ‘I’m just—’

  ‘Pamper products?’ Nina pulled a face. ‘What like shampoo and conditioner?’

  Biddy nodded. ‘And much more besides. We’ve got paw balm, detangle serum, breath spray, even doggie perfume. And,’ she looped her hair behind her ears self-consciously, ‘shoes and clothes.’

  Nina giggled and said she thought Barnaby’s dogs weren’t looking so ‘ruff ruff’ these days and Lucas said he might like a dog, especially if he could dress it smartly.

  ‘As I said …’ I tapped the table with a spoon to get their attention.

  They looked at me, startled, and I set the spoon down gently.

  ‘Sorry. We were all agreed; that company has invaded our territory, our small rural territory. I thought we were going to stand against them. Put up a united front.’

  Ken chuckled. ‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist, love. This is Derbyshire, not Dunkirk.’

  Biddy clasped her hands together meekly. ‘I’m sorry. But they’ve done me some good. Having them on my doorstep has forced me to rethink my range. I’m going upmarket and I rather like it.’

  Having said her piece, Biddy went pink and buried her head in her mug.

  ‘I’m really happy for you, honestly,’ I said with a sigh. ‘Would anyone else like to include Garden Warehouse in our event?’

  Lucas shrugged. ‘I’m easy. I have lost some sales of greetings cards, admittedly. They have a range of “five for a pound” cards; and that sort of product doesn’t belong in The Heavenly Gift Shop. But on the flip side, I’m selling more big items. One lovely lady came in this morning with an envelope full of money from the café—’

  I eyed him beadily and folded my arms.

  ‘That awful Cabin Café,’ he clarified, realizing his mistake. ‘Someone is leaving and they had a whip-round. Spent fifty quid on a giant giraffe and a hip flask. That’s a lot for my shop and I’ve been dying to get rid of that giraffe; its neck was going limp.’

  So s
omeone was leaving the café already and it had only just opened. Odd.

  ‘What about you?’ I said, turning my attention to Nina, who was stripping the leaves off a eucalyptus twig.

  ‘Oh balls,’ she said heavily. ‘I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m doing better as well. And as usual, I have no idea why. Honestly, it’s a miracle I’m even in business at all.’

  ‘And I was never against it,’ Ken reminded me gruffly, patting my shoulder. ‘Remember? We all have to adapt, I said. And I have to say, girl,’ he gestured towards the pizza menu tucked between the vase and the pot of sugar sachets, ‘you’ve done that with knobs on.’

  Adrian had had more customers in the pub too, especially for Sunday lunch. I seemed to be the only one still with an axe to grind.

  ‘Right. First Saturday in July. That’s agreed. Thanks very much, meeting adjourned.’ I snapped my iPad closed and stood up.

  ‘So are we going to approach Garden Warehouse for sponsorship?’ Lucas asked, turning to take a photograph of his own shop where Tyson was building a leaning tower of gift boxes in the window.

  ‘Not yet,’ I said vaguely. ‘Let’s, well, let’s just see, shall we?’

  ‘Back to work, then,’ said Nina, standing up and leaving some money on the table.

  ‘Me too,’ said Biddy, dropping half a frankfurter as she got to her feet.

  Ken swooped down and picked it up before Churchill and popped it in his mouth with a gleeful, ‘Ha!’

  The dog gave a disgruntled woof and they all walked off to their respective shops leaving me with the uncomfortable feeling that instead of a village-wide crusade against Garden Warehouse, there may just be a one-woman campaign.

  Later that evening I was walking home from work, as I was about to turn into the path beside the churchyard a car pulled up alongside me. It was Gabe in his new car. Noah was in the back on a booster seat with a football and his dinosaur on his lap.

  A frisson of heat rippled up through me, settling annoyingly on my cheeks; this was the first time I’d seen him since we’d argued. Over two weeks ago. Not that I was counting. Oh God, I’d missed his lovely smile.