The Lemon Tree Café

by Cathy Bramley

  ‘Really?’ I perked up.

  In that case maybe there was hope for me and Gabe yet; we did nothing but row …

  The sound of Dad’s car returning dragged us both back from our reverie.

  ‘I’ll go and help him,’ I said, hanging the damp tea towel over the kitchen door handle to dry. ‘See if I can get a smile out of him.’

  Outside Dad was lifting a rusty old exercise bike out of the back of his car.

  ‘God knows what she wants to bring this for,’ he grumbled, setting it down.

  I perched on the edge of the open boot and waited until I had his attention.

  ‘Dad, what on earth is wrong with you?’

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked out at a few loose stones on Stanley’s drive.

  ‘I know I shouldn’t say this, but when your mother gave up all those committee nights, I felt happier than I’d done for years. It was just her and me. We booked a holiday, we planned some work in the garden and we looked after Arlo together when I wasn’t at work in the Easter holidays. I felt I’d got my wife back. I thought she’d enjoyed it too. But now she’s as bad as ever. And I know she wants to help this charity, but I honestly think she’s exhausted.’

  I nodded thoughtfully. ‘I agree. Can’t you persuade her to take a break, even for a long weekend somewhere?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘I’ve decided. I’m going to insist she gives up this hospice job,’ he said defiantly. ‘It’ll be the death of her.’

  I sucked in air. ‘She won’t thank you for interfering, Dad.’

  His brow furrowed and he dived into the car to pull out a box marked ‘winter boots’.

  ‘I’m not interfering. I’m looking after her. I’m loving her. Doesn’t that count for anything?’

  ‘Of course it does.’ I rubbed his arm. ‘But sometimes people just have to make their own mistakes. All we can do is be there when they fall. That’s how they know we love them.’

  Dad appeared to accept that and after I’d kissed Nonna and Stanley goodbye I went for a long walk down to the river where I sat outside the Riverside Hotel at the table furthest from the water’s edge, huddled low behind a tall glass. As the sun sank lower in the sky and the moon, full and round, began to cast its silvery shadows on the water, I watched Gabe and Noah playing and laughing together on the deck of The Neptune. And I wished with all my heart that I was playing too.

  No sooner had I opened up on Monday morning than Doreen called in a flap. Her daughter was in labour six weeks early and she was very sorry but she wouldn’t be coming into work. I knew Lia wouldn’t be in either: she was taking Arlo to the doctor for his jabs first thing. I called Juliet to see if she could help out but her phone had gone to voicemail.

  I was flying solo for breakfast duty.

  I didn’t mind; I was in a good mood and felt like I could conquer anything. Sunday had been very productive: I’d got a brilliant plan sorted to help Mum out with her designer clothing and I’d had a second chat with both Lucinda Miller and Candy O’Connor.

  The rain we’d had the night before had cleared, making everywhere sparkle, and the grass on the village green was steaming in the warmth. This time next week, the school children would be on their May half-term holiday and we’d have a run on milkshakes and cookies. I made a mental note to refill the sweetie jar on the counter. I wondered what Noah would be doing; Gabe wouldn’t be able to have time off already. He could perhaps come here for a day or two; we could entertain him between us, like Nonna had done when Lia and I were small. Assuming Gabe and I could be civil to each other for long enough to sort out arrangements, that was.

  I was setting up the outside chairs and tables, when Nina flew round the corner and began fumbling with the keys for her flower shop.

  ‘Morning, Nina!’ I called. ‘You’re early.’

  ‘Busy, busy, busy. Big, massive, HUGE bouquet order from Fone-A-Flower. That big boss from Garden Warehouse. Oh balls, I can’t get the key in the door, I’m all flustered.’

  ‘Mark Cooper?’ I strode over, took the keys from her and opened the door smoothly.

  ‘That’s him.’ Nina could barely stand still with excitement. ‘He’s gone for the Couture Collection. Fone-A-Flower wanted Garden Warehouse to do it, but apparently he insisted on us. Eighty pounds! Eighty!’

  ‘That was good of him,’ I said, meaning it. Presumably he’d have got a staff discount if he’d bought from Garden Warehouse.

  She chewed her lip. ‘I just hope I’ve got enough eryngium.’

  ‘Me too,’ I said with a smile. ‘Whatever that is.’

  I walked back into the café, flipped the closed sign to open and turned the hot water on for the coffee machine.

  The café landline and my mobile both rang at the same time. I dashed for the landline but I was too slow, the answerphone picked it up. I was just answering my mobile when Stella came into the café carrying some leaflets.

  ‘Juliet, thank goodness,’ I said into the phone, giving Stella a wave.

  WI jumble sale, Stella mouthed, leaving a pile next to the bookcase.

  I gave her a thumbs up and she carried on her way, calling over her shoulder, ‘See you later for afternoon tea.’

  ‘Hello, hen, sorry I missed your call,’ said Juliet in a whisper. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I’m short staffed, any chance you can help?’

  Juliet groaned. ‘No can do, I’m at a funeral. In Glasgow.’

  ‘Oh my condolences, I didn’t know.’

  ‘My mum’s old next-door neighbour. Only found out about it yesterday. Thank heavens for cheap flights.’

  Just then Mark Cooper’s car swooped into a space outside and both he and Gabe got out. Mark jogged into the florist and Gabe headed directly for the café.

  ‘Hope it goes well. Got to go,’ I hissed down the phone. ‘Customer.’

  I smoothed down my hair and took a few deep breaths.

  Do not argue with him, repeat, do not argue …

  ‘My first customer of the day,’ I said as he approached the counter. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘Rosie,’ said Gabe in a serious voice, ‘have you got a minute?’

  ‘Yes.’ I spread my arms, indicating the empty café. ‘I’m all yours. Is anything the matter?’

  No sooner had I said that than two separate groups of people trooped in: a party of cheerful women, wearing walking boots, sunhats and matching ‘LISA IS 50 TODAY!’ T-shirts and an assorted group of all ages each with a dog, or in some cases two. For the next ten minutes I ran backwards and forwards with pots of tea, frothy lattes and dog bowls. I mashed avocado, grilled bacon and toasted bread, refusing all offers of help from Gabe who sat fidgeting at the counter, watching me get warmer and warmer.

  Eventually all I had left to do was grill a portobello mushroom and gruyère panini. I laid the filling on the bread, sandwiched it together and put it in the sandwich press.

  ‘Right,’ I turned back to Gabe. ‘You wanted me?’

  ‘Rosie,’ Gabe spread his hands on the counter, ‘all I wanted to say was that—’

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any wholegrain mustard?’ said a man with bushy eyebrows and a droopy moustache. He had a grey Miniature Schnauzer under his arm and they looked uncannily like brothers.

  ‘We do.’ I retrieved it from the cupboard and passed it to him.

  ‘Sorry, Gabe, you were saying?’

  He swept a hand through his hair.

  ‘This is probably not the time or place,’ he murmured.

  ‘When is it ever?’ I said wryly.

  I hope I sounded cool; my body was about as cool as a basking hyena on the Serengeti plains. My pulse rate was in competition with the coffee machine for high-pressure whooshing and I had a sneaking suspicion that my face was glowing like a radioactive tomato.

  ‘I don’t know why I keep saying and doing the wrong thing,’ he began. ‘I don’t know why I keep messing it up. It should be so easy, to tell you that …’
He cleared his throat portentously. ‘What I’m trying to say is that no matter how hard I try to impress you and get your attention, it always seems to backfire. But the truth is that you are the best thing that has happened to me – to me and Noah – in a long, long time.’

  ‘Am I?’ I said innocently. ‘Have I happened to you?’

  He nodded. ‘I think you have. We’re both suffering from Rosie withdrawal symptoms.’

  ‘Oh.’

  I quite liked that idea. We both grinned.

  ‘And there’s more,’ he began.

  The landline rang again and I realized that the previous caller hadn’t left a message.

  ‘I hate to interrupt you,’ I said, still beaming, ‘but I should get this.’

  I dragged my eyes away from him to pick up the phone just as Mark came in, staggering under the weight of Nina’s bouquet.

  He slapped Gabe on the back in a manly fashion. ‘Have you told her yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Gabe hurriedly. ‘Hold on, Mark … wait, I was just … working up to it.’

  My eyes narrowed. ‘Told me what?’

  ‘You should get the phone,’ said Gabe.

  Mark set the flowers down gently on a table. ‘About the pizza oven.’

  ‘No, he hasn’t,’ I said coolly, staring at Gabe. He looked away, his jaw clenched.

  I darted for the phone before I missed another call. ‘The Lemon Tree Café; can I help you?’

  ‘Hello, this is Helena from The Chestnuts Cancer Hospice, who am I speaking to?’

  My heart began to pound.

  ‘Rosie, Rosie Featherstone, Luisa’s daughter.’

  ‘Oh good. Well, not good, I’m afraid your Mum’s collapsed; nothing to worry about. Well, not much.’

  ‘WHAT?’ I gasped.

  Chapter 39

  I blew out a sharp breath, willing myself not to panic as Helena told me how Mum had looked pale as soon as she’d arrived but denied feeling poorly only to pass out minutes later, catching her head on the corner of a desk as she fell.

  ‘She’s come round again now, but she’s very woozy,’ said Helena. ‘I don’t think she needs to go to hospital, but she does need to go home. I tried your father’s number but it went to voicemail. Can you fetch her?’

  ‘On my way.’

  I put the phone down and glanced down at my shaking hands.

  ‘Rosie?’ Gabe took hold of my arms, very gently, I noticed. ‘Rosie, what is it?’

  ‘I need to get to The Chestnuts Cancer Hospice,’ I said, frowning, ‘right away. It’s my mum. Dad said she was doing too much; I should have listened.’

  I looked around me frantically. For my keys and my phone and oh … the panini.

  I ran to the sandwich press, burned my finger and swore as I slid the panini on to a plate. I hadn’t got a clue who’d ordered it; my mind had gone blank.

  ‘One panini?’ I yelled indiscriminately.

  One of the fiftieth-birthday lot came to fetch it.

  ‘My car,’ I said, my heart sinking. ‘It isn’t here.’

  I’d have to run all the way home and collect it. I regretted not driving here now, but there was such limited parking and I liked to leave space for customers.

  ‘We’ll drive you to collect her,’ said Mark, picking up his flowers.

  ‘But I can’t just leave the café with customers in it.’ I swallowed. ‘I’m on my own this morning.’

  ‘You’re the only member of staff?’ Mark’s eyes widened as they roamed the café.

  I could almost hear his thoughts: This would never happen at Garden Warehouse.

  ‘Look, Lia’s at the doctor’s with the baby,’ I said irritably. ‘Juliet is at a funeral and Doreen’s in the labour suite.’

  ‘Doreen?’ Gabe’s eyes popped open wide.

  ‘We’re just people,’ I said, feeling myself getting tearful. ‘It’s a family business about people, not just about profit and footfall and square metres, and sometimes life comes before work.’

  ‘Bloody unlucky people, by the sound of it.’ Mark put his flowers back down and rolled his sleeves up. ‘Luckily for you I used to be a barista. Gabe can drive you, I’ll stay here.’

  ‘You’ll stay at the café?’ I eyed him beadily. He was still the competition after all. ‘Alone?’

  He cast an eye over the serving area. ‘Nothing here I can’t handle.’

  ‘Are you sure you won’t redirect all our customers to the Cabin Café?’ I tilted my chin.

  Mark laughed and looked at Gabe for support. ‘You were right; she is a tough one.’

  ‘Rosie, he won’t do that,’ Gabe said, holding my gaze.

  I looked away and frowned at Mark. ‘Haven’t you got an empire to build or something?’

  Gabe raised an eyebrow and I flushed.

  The door opened and two women with expensive pushchairs headed over to the toy corner.

  ‘The words “gift horse” and “mouth” come to mind,’ Gabe said sternly.

  ‘Actually, it’s my wedding anniversary,’ said Mark with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I’m supposed to be having the day off; Gabe here is having the afternoon off. Because sometimes life comes before work.’

  ‘Oh. Happy anniversary,’ I said meekly.

  ‘Mark and I just had one quick job to do; well, two if you count visiting you, and then he was going home,’ Gabe explained and then winced. ‘Are you sure you trust me with your car?’

  Mark reached into his pocket for the keys. ‘Yes, but no opening doors into oncoming traffic. OK?’

  ‘Very funny,’ said Gabe sheepishly.

  I allowed myself to study Gabe while Mark explained which key did what.

  He was in a suit again, not that he wasn’t equally gorgeous in his scruffy shorts and ripped T-shirt, but there was something about him looking so smart that gave me a frisson of excitement. And also made me want to undress him immediately.

  I looked away quickly before anyone noticed my face heating up.

  Mark stepped closer to him and the two of them began a mumbled conversation sneaking completely indiscreet glances in my direction.

  Gabe turned and caught my eye, mouthing that he’d just be a minute. I smiled back and walked slowly to the door, waving to the mums, one of whom was still unpacking bags of baby paraphernalia, the other had hoiked up her T-shirt and had a baby attached to her boob.

  From my position in the doorway, I watched Gabe pass an envelope to Mark who clapped him on the back and laughed.

  Gabe had always seemed happy in his own skin, content with his life choices, but now he exuded something else, an aura of contentment so complete that it was impossible not to feel joy for him. I eyed him again casually and counted the reasons for putting all this nonsense behind us and stopping fighting.

  Firstly, God knows he’d been through a crappy enough time over the past few years, he deserved every scrap of happiness.

  Secondly, what would I have thought of him if he had said, ‘Oh OK then, I won’t take this job if you don’t want me to’? Not a lot, probably. I much preferred people who stood up for themselves.

  Also, thirdly … I swallowed a big knot of guilt. If I could forgive Candy-formerly-known-as-Callum for what she had done, surely I could get over Gabe’s working for Garden Warehouse, pizza oven or no pizza oven? And wouldn’t it be worth it, to call a truce? It was all right Nonna saying that arguing with a man was a sign of passion, but presumably arguing all the time wasn’t?

  But right now, Mum was my main concern and time was ticking on.

  ‘Gabe, can we please leave?’

  Mark and Gabe exchanged looks.

  ‘Yes, boss,’ said Gabe, pretending to tug his forelock.

  Five minutes later we were cocooned in Mark’s big posh car and I was sliding about on the leather seats while texting Dad and Lia to let them know about Mum and asking Lia to come in to work as soon as possible to get the pizza oven on.

  ‘Mum doesn’t listen,’ I said to Gabe, torn between being cross and worr
ied. ‘She thinks she’s invincible, won’t accept help from anyone. She has to take charge, be in control, and she can’t see that life would be so much smoother if she let others in.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Gabe non-committally. ‘I know someone like that.’

  ‘I’m talking about the right sort of help.’ I sniffed, folding my arms tighter. Then I remembered my promise not to fall out with him today. ‘I’m accepting help now, aren’t I?’

  It dawned on me that this was the third time since he’d arrived in Barnaby that Gabe had had to drive me somewhere for some drama or other: first when he drove me home sobbing and soaking after I found out about Nonna’s secret past, then when Stanley was in hospital and now to fetch Mum. He always seemed to be around when I needed him and I really ought to show a bit more gratitude.

  ‘And I’m very grateful,’ I added quickly.

  ‘Reluctantly grateful,’ he said with a smirk. ‘But it’s a start. About what Mark said, about the pizza oven—’

  Gabe’s phone began to ring and I answered it for him.

  It was Mark telling us to turn the radio on, which we did.

  ‘… And now over to the London news room for our national headlines.

  ‘Troubled retailer Home Stores has been thrown a lifeline this weekend by the outdoor discount chain Garden Warehouse. An offer has been made not only to keep all the existing branches open, but also to retain the majority of staff, thus protecting over three hundred jobs in the Midlands.

  ‘A spokesperson for the buyers, Gabriel Green, Head of Legal Services, says he’s looking forward to implementing changes that will see the retailer nudge out of the red and into profit within the next twelve months. Our reporter spoke to Mr Green earlier from our Midlands studio:

  ‘“We recognize that the strength of any business is in its people. Behind every member of staff is a story: a family, maybe children and mortgages and responsibilities. We respect that and will do whatever we can to ensure both Home Stores employees and customers benefit from the company being incorporated into the Garden Warehouse family. Of course we’ll be looking at the bottom line, at ways we can improve the business, but not at the expense of our people.”’

  The more I heard, the hotter my face became. Gabe had basically just repeated what I’d said in the café a few minutes ago. I couldn’t believe that our two businesses had the same philosophy, it was heart-warming, not to mention mortifying.