The Cherry Tree Cafe (16 page)

‘Like I said,’ I told him with a shrug, ‘Natasha got her man. They suit one another and they were meant to be together. Giles is part of my past and right now I’m more
interested in the future but just keep those drinks coming, OK?’

‘Do you want all the tables pushed together or would they be better in pairs?’

Ridiculously early the following Friday morning, I stood in the area designated for the trial bunting-making session, hands on my hips, head on one side, riddled with doubt and on the brink of
ripping down the poster and scrawling ‘cancelled’ across the middle of it in thick black marker pen. Where had the week gone? I asked myself. How was it possible that today was
the
day and I still, despite all my preparations, didn’t feel ready?

‘Here,’ Jemma nudged, thrusting a steaming mug into my hand, ‘drink this – you look like you’re about to pass out.’

‘I think I am,’ I said, my hands grasping the mug tightly but shaking so badly that the contents were in danger of ending up all over the floor. ‘I can’t believe you
talked me into doing this,’ I scowled.

‘Right, come on,’ she shouted to Tom and Ben who had been helping. ‘We’ve got to get Ella from Mum’s and I think Lizzie could do with a few minutes to gather her
thoughts.’

‘I thought Tom’s mum took her to school on a Friday.’

Jemma gently released the mug from my unsteady grip and put it on a nearby table.

‘She does normally but we’ve had a phone call from the school. Miss Grey, Ella’s teacher, has asked us to pop in before registration this morning.’

I bit my lip.

‘It isn’t funny, Lizzie!’ Jemma scolded.

‘Sorry,’ I smiled, trying not to. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll see you later.’

She and Tom quickly disappeared through the Café door, but Ben was still rooted to the spot.

‘What are you planning to do with this?’ he asked, holding up the string of bunting that I had made at the City Crafting Café.

‘I thought I might use it as an example this afternoon,’ I told him. ‘Just to make sure everyone is totally clear about what we’re making.’

‘Good idea,’ he smiled. ‘There’s certainly plenty of it.’

I had been adding to it in the evenings and now it was probably long enough to go around the entire crafting area.

‘You know, I think it would look even better if you hang it,’ Ben suggested, climbing up the ladder and holding it up so I could see the effect. ‘Let it really define what this
area of the Café’s going to be.’

I wasn’t sure.

‘How about I hang it whilst you get going with everything else?’ he smiled kindly. ‘If you don’t like it, I’ll take it down. I promise I won’t make a
sound,’ he added, noting my hesitation.

‘Go on then,’ I said reluctantly. ‘I’m popping back upstairs to get the other boxes, so don’t fall off the ladder, will you?’

A little later we stood back and surveyed our handiwork. Despite my reservations, the bunting looked perfect and was easily long enough to fill the walls around the top of the crafting area. The
sewing equipment including scissors, tape measures, pins and so on were arranged along the top of the cupboards that ran the length of the back wall and displayed in upcycled tin cans all painted
in pastel shades to match the rest of the Café décor. The fabrics, ribbons and cottons each had their own similarly painted wicker baskets and the two sewing machines were housed in a
little recess, which helped muffle some of their noise. The tables, for the purpose of this particular session had been pushed together as there were only six students and there was room for me
their tutor, behind a table of my own.

‘It’s perfect,’ I whispered, willing myself not to cry. ‘Exactly as I imagined it.’

Ben put a friendly arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze.

‘Having seen how beautifully you transformed the rest of the Café,’ he said with a smile, ‘this is pretty much how I imagined it too.’

Without thinking, I leant into the comforting warmth of his body. Ben had been on hand all week to help me with the preparations, not in an intrusive or overbearing way; he was more subtle than
that. He had discreetly come up with endless clever solutions to the hundreds of little problems that, left unsolved, I would have obsessed over and blown up out of all proportion.

I was grateful that our initially fraught friendship had turned a corner and I couldn’t help wondering what would have happened after our little tumble in the snow if Ella hadn’t
interrupted. Even though I was still feeling raw and bruised from my aborted attempt to lure Giles back to Wynbridge, I couldn’t deny that I missed the intimacy and physical closeness of
having a man in my life.

Ben and I might have got off to a shaky start but I was beginning to appreciate that, on the evidence of the last few days at least, he really seemed to ‘get me’; he understood what
I was dreaming of achieving.

‘Thank you for all your help this week,’ I said, ‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’

Ben shook his head dismissively.

‘Oh yes you could.’

‘Well all right then, let’s just say, I wouldn’t have wanted to muddle my way through it all without you on my side.’

‘It means a lot to you doesn’t it, all this?’ Ben smiled. Yes, I realised, he really did ‘get me’.

‘It’s what I’ve always wanted,’ I replied honestly, ‘I was dreaming of this even when we were at school.’

‘I remember.’

‘Do you?’ I frowned.

‘Oh yes, I remember a lot of things, Lizzie. Sometimes it’s a curse, to be honest; my memories remind me of my regrets.’

‘What do you regret then?’

‘Oh I dunno.’

‘No, come on, tell me. I want examples!’

‘Well, for a start, all the things my shyness stopped me doing when I was younger, I guess.’

‘You? Shy?’ I exclaimed, taking a step back and losing myself in his deep, ponderous gaze. ‘I was the shy one. I was the one hidden away in my room whenever Jemma went off with
Tom and you and your merry band. You played in the bloody band, remember?’

‘Yes,’ Ben laughed, ‘but I never sang.’

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that and was about to ask, but he cut me off before I had a chance.

‘So how come you’ve never done all this before?’ Ben asked, pointing at the crafting area. ‘There’s more than a decade between leaving school and now.’

‘I know,’ I sighed resignedly, ‘I don’t generally go in for regrets myself, but now I do wish I’d got on with things sooner. After college I just drifted. Mum had
convinced me I was wasting my time with my sewing and I just fell into the routine of working shifts in the pub, then Jemma and Tom got engaged and oh, I don’t know, it just never
happened.’

‘Did you not think about setting up something like this when you were living in London?’

‘God no!’ I laughed. ‘I never gave any of this a second thought. As you’re well aware, I was too busy trying to pretend to be someone I wasn’t.’

I stopped abruptly and moved a little further away. I was somewhat taken aback by the edge of bitterness that had crept into my response.

‘But what about you?’ I asked. ‘Can you honestly say that you’re living the dream?’

Today was supposed to represent a fresh start for me and I had no desire to dredge up the past and start thinking about why I’d blown back to Wynbridge. I knew that any talk of Ben’s
private life usually stopped him in his tracks and so that was the path I took. It was a cheap shot but I didn’t want anything other than a few wobbly stitches taking the edge off my day.

‘I’m not like you,’ he said, ‘I don’t think I ever had one big dream as a kid, just lots of smaller ones that would take me all over the world on lots of different
adventures.’

‘And have you lived them all?’ I asked. ‘Have you ticked them all off?’

Ben began to laugh. He leant back against the edge of a table and thrust his hands in his jeans pockets. He looked infuriatingly relaxed.

‘I’ve ticked some off,’ he smiled, ‘but nowhere near all of them. Why are you so angry and defensive all of a sudden?’

‘I’m not!’ I half shouted, stubbornly thrusting out my chin.

‘Yes you are!’

‘Well if I am, it’s because you always do this!’

‘Do what?’

‘You just have this way of making me say things; making me feel things and then when I ask for something in return you clam up or make a joke of it. You know every detail of my
excruciating homecoming, yet I don’t know why you’ve come back! You never actually give me a straight answer . . . to anything!’

‘But you’ve never asked me?’

There was no denying that. It was Jemma and Tom who had wrapped him up in cottonwool, not Ben himself. I had never asked him because
they
had warned me off.

‘So, why have you come back then?’

‘Come on! Come on! Action stations! There’s only twenty minutes until we’re open!’ Jemma charged through the Café and into the kitchens. ‘Why haven’t
you put the water on?’ she shouted.

‘Damn it,’ I muttered.

Ben shrugged his shoulders and pushed himself upright.

‘It’ll keep,’ he smiled, ‘I’m not planning on going anywhere, are you?’

The morning passed all too quickly and before I knew it, Sarah and Rachel were hovering in the doorway ten minutes before the taster session was due to start.

‘Come in, come in,’ Jemma smiled, ‘Lizzie’s just putting the finishing touches on everything.’

What I was actually trying to do was not throw up all over the prettily prepared tables as I checked and rechecked that every person had access to everything they were going to need in order to
complete their string of bunting within the allotted time. I smoothed my unruly curls behind my ears one last time and stepped out to meet my first two attendees.

‘What about this one with the little boats and beach huts on?’ I suggested, holding up a long strip of fabric for Rachel’s scrutiny. ‘If we’re careful, we can line
the template up to make sure you don’t lose any of the designs?’

‘Perfect!’ she laughed, clapping her hands together. ‘Lizzie, you’ve got such an eye for these things!’

Feeling much more settled, I handed over the fabric and continued my rounds of the tables offering words of encouragement and advice as necessary. What I had assumed would be a quick, simple
make was turning out to be quite a challenge for some but they all looked as if they were enjoying themselves.

‘We’ll stagger the refreshments,’ I told Jemma, ‘that way there won’t be a queue for the sewing machines.’

Five of the six people who booked had turned up. Helen, the third musketeer in Sarah and Rachel’s clan, had had to cancel courtesy of her young son who was unwell and needed collecting
from school.

‘Try this,’ I said, passing Rachel a transparent template, ‘you can see the pattern through this one so you can see exactly what you’re outlining.’

I’d made everyone a triangle and rectangle template and they were now enthusiastically cutting out the shapes they had chosen and drawn around ready to sew them together.

‘If you weren’t bothered about the bunting being double-sided,’ I explained, ‘you could cut the fabric with pinking shears to stop it fraying. That way you wouldn’t
have to worry about edging it.’

‘So if it was going to be hung flat against a wall or something you could use that technique, couldn’t you?’

‘Exactly,’ I smiled.

Jackie and Sandra were both making bunting for their grandchildren and sat companionably comparing notes on their toddlers’ development and prowess in the playground. Rachel’s string
was destined for the bathroom, whilst Sarah’s floral masterpiece was earmarked for the summerhouse.

‘Have you got anywhere in mind for yours, Angela?’ I asked as I gathered offcuts to see if there were any scraps worth salvaging.

‘I thought it might look nice above the sink in the kitchen,’ she smiled shyly. ‘But I’m not sure.’

I sat next to her in the seat that should have been occupied by Helen and looked about me. Everyone was chatting away across the table, sharing news and gossip, but still absorbed in their own
project.

‘How’s it going?’ Ruby whispered, as she set about clearing the Café tables.

‘Great!’ I beamed. ‘Brilliant. Exactly how I hoped it would.’

I turned back to the group to monitor their progress.

‘Now,’ I called, ‘who knows how to thread a sewing machine?’

Two hours later it was all over and the group were getting ready to leave. Each had a brown paper bag, stamped with the Cherry Tree Café logo and a tiny silver bell threaded through the
handles, clutched to their chests.

‘I still can’t believe I’ve made this!’ Sarah giggled, peeping inside the bag. ‘Mark will never believe that I haven’t been down the shops and bought
it!’

‘What’s next?’ Rachel asked. ‘I can’t wait to have a go at something else!’

‘I don’t know!’ I laughed. ‘I wanted to see how today went before I decided whether it was worth planning anything else.’

‘Its crafts and cakes, Lizzie,’ Jackie laughed, ‘nowhere else around here offers such a tempting combination. What on earth did you think would go wrong?’

I held open the door and watched them disappear down the path, their chatter and laughter still reaching me long after they were out of sight. The Café was almost empty and I went back to
the crafting area to finish tidying away.

‘I just wanted to say thank you again, Lizzie,’ Angela said quietly.

‘I’m sorry, Angela. I thought you’d gone out with the rest. I’m so pleased you enjoyed yourself.’

‘This afternoon has really meant a lot to me,’ she said, her voice so quiet I could barely hear her. ‘This is the first time I’ve done anything like this since my Roger
died.’

I didn’t know what to say.

‘I haven’t been out much at all, really. We’d only moved here a few weeks before he passed and I haven’t had the chance to get to know anyone beyond the
neighbours.’

‘Why don’t you sit down?’ I said, pulling out a chair.

‘No, I won’t stop,’ she smiled. ‘I just wanted to say thank you. It’s been lovely doing something to take my mind off things for a while. Promise you’ll let
me know if you decide to do something else, won’t you?’