The Cherry Tree Cafe (20 page)

I had no choice but to let her go. Maureen had looked less than thrilled at the prospect of taking her granddaughter home with her and I couldn’t blame her.

‘All right,’ I sighed, ‘but we do need to talk, Jemma. This won’t keep.’

After she’d gone I dimmed the Café lights and stood for a moment staring at the wonderful cupcake picture Jay had framed so beautifully.

Handsome, creative, good with kids and a cracking sense of humour.

That would be how his lonely hearts ad would read. All the single girls I knew would have snapped him up in a heartbeat and a few of the married ones as well! He was the perfect guy to get over
Giles with and if it weren’t for this strange twist in the Ben Fletcher saga I probably would have flung myself at him without a second thought. However, there was no denying there was a
twist in that particular tale and I was determined to iron it out once and for all.

I could, of course, have ignored my desire to get to the bottom of things and just gone for it with Jay. I mean, his incessant requests for my mobile number, the wonderful picture presentation
and his willingness to join the crafting session suggested he was genuinely keen, but if I had made a play for him it would have only been because I was trying to make myself feel better about what
had happened with Ben.

His willingness to get to grips with the sewing machine amongst a group full of teasing women was proof enough that he genuinely liked me, so it would have been totally wrong
to lead him on in an attempt to bolster my self-confidence which was now reeling from what I interpreted as rejection from two men rather than one.

I grabbed a handful of flyers, flicked off the Café lights and headed out of the door. I didn’t really feel like going out but Evelyn’s bunting unveiling was too good a PR
opportunity to miss and I was sure she and Jim wouldn’t mind me drumming up some potential future trade for the Café crafting sessions.

The pub was already packed and it took me a couple of minutes to squeeze my way through the crowd to the bar. It felt like everyone in the town had got wind of the fact that Evelyn had tuned
into her feminine side and were all cat-calling to see what she had made.

‘You should have come round the back, Lizzie!’ Jim shouted over to me.

‘I wasn’t sure I was allowed to use the tradesman’s entrance now I’m not on the staff!’ I called back.

‘What can I get you, love?’

‘Half a bitter please,’ I requested, fumbling for some change.

‘On the house!’ Jim winked then added conspiratorially, ‘Evelyn’s been talking about joining you on a regular basis down at the Café. Can you imagine the
peace?’

‘I’m right here, Jim!’ Evelyn shouted, giving her husband a playful cuff. ‘I’m doing it for my benefit, not yours. There’ll be plenty you can get on with
while I’m gone!’

‘That’s what you think!’ Jim shouted back.

Listening to their banter made everyone laugh but I couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. The sparky duo sparred continuously, their snapping and snarling was part of the pub
entertainment but they loved each other dearly. Any fool could see that. Their comfortable and practised companionship wasn’t something I could never imagine having in my own life.

‘Lizzie! Come and have a seat!’

‘Dad,’ I smiled, ‘I didn’t see you. What have you done to deserve a trip to the pub?’

Dad was sitting on his own at the far end of the bar nursing a pint, and judging by his complexion it wasn’t his first.

‘Your mother’s organising some coffee morning thing and apparently I was getting in the way.’

‘So she told you to come to the pub?’

‘Not exactly,’ he grinned. ‘She said I should get out from under her feet. She didn’t specify a destination so I thought I’d make the most of it!’

‘You know you’ll be in trouble, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ he said, ‘that’s why I’m taking the chance and downing a few of these quick. With any luck she’ll be so appalled she won’t be able to
speak.’

I shook my head, not convinced his tactic would work.

‘She’ll never lose the ability to scold,’ I told him, ‘you know that!’

‘I do,’ he said resignedly, ‘but I live in hope. What have you got there?’ he asked, pointing at the pile of flyers.

I held one up for him to read.

‘Cupcakes and Crafting at The Cherry Tree Café,’ he said quietly, in an instant his expression had changed to one of paternal pride. ‘Evelyn told me she was with you
this afternoon. She had a wonderful time. Apparently,’ he added, standing to peer over the top of the crowd, ‘she’s supposed to be showing off what she made tonight.’

Right on cue Jim began to ring the bell he kept above the bar.

‘As many of you know,’ he bellowed, ‘it’s been quite a long time since the Mermaid was last decorated!’

‘Too bloody long!’ someone shouted and everyone cheered.

Jim raised his hands to quieten his audience.

‘But what you don’t know,’ he said, shaking his head in despair, ‘is that I had a little wager with the wife.’

‘You bloody fool!’

‘I know, I know. Anyway, Evelyn’s never been much of a one for making things herself. She prefers to go down the shops and spend my hard-earned cash so I thought I was on to a good
thing when I told her the pub could have a makeover when she’d mastered a needle and thread.’

He threw a glance in my direction and suddenly the puzzle pieces regarding Evelyn’s out of character appearance at a sewing circle fell into place.

‘You must be more of a fool than I am, Jim!’ someone jeered and the crowd began cheering again.

Everyone welcomed the Mermaid’s pirate-themed bunting and enthusiastically toasted Evelyn’s ingenuity in ensuring the pub received the makeover she had spent the last half a decade
nagging Jim for. My pile of flyers quickly disappeared amidst a flurry of enquiries and I realised that Deborah had been right. Word of mouth, especially in a local watering hole, was the best
advertising a new business could get.

‘Do you want another?’ Dad asked, holding aloft his empty glass.

I was just about to say yes when out of the corner of my eye I spotted Jay sitting in the nook next to the fireplace. He was alone, checking his phone and looking like he could do with a bit of
company.

‘Thanks, but not right now,’ I told Dad. ‘Maybe later.’

‘Well, don’t leave it too long!’ he laughed. ‘I’m off home in a bit, walking back with Alan from next door. We’re taking the path of the condemned men
together! Wish us luck!’

I patted him on the back and levered myself away from the bar. Having seen Jay sitting all alone it would have been rude not to thank him for the picture and congratulate him on his sewing
prowess.

I had almost reached him when he was joined by a young woman, a very beautiful young woman with shining blonde hair and ridiculously long slender legs. Jay shuffled along the seat and she sat
next to him, smiling broadly as he passed her a glass. I took her timely appearance as my cue to call it a day and turned back towards Dad and bumped straight into Tom.

‘Aha,’ I said. ‘Just the man. I didn’t know you were here.’

‘Jemma and I were in the restaurant,’ he said sheepishly. His guilty expression left me in no doubt that I was the last person he wanted to bump into. ‘We thought we’d
celebrate the end of the week with a meal. Do you want to walk back with us? Jemma’s already outside.’

‘Yes, great,’ I said. ‘As you probably already know, I was hoping to have a quick word.’

Unfortunately Jemma was in much the same state as my dad and the walk back to the Café quickly turned into a nightmare. Every few paces she giddily reached for her husband and kissed him
drunkenly with much slurring about how she ‘couldn’t wait to get him home’. Asking them to spill the beans about Ali Fletcher’s inexplicable comments was impossible with the
pair of them falling over each other, so in the end I said my goodbyes and went home alone. I don’t think Jemma even realised I’d gone.

The next morning neither Jemma nor Tom were answering their mobiles or the house phone and I knew I wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of either of them before the new week
dawned.

‘Come and have some lunch with us, Lizzie,’ my mother commanded when I stupidly snatched up the phone before checking the caller display.

I was desperate to say no. I’d been planning to cocoon myself away from the world for the day, watch rubbish on TV and eat things out of tins, but Mum’s tone had a ‘defy me if
you dare’ edge to it that well, basically, I didn’t dare defy.

‘Your dad’s feeling a bit under the weather,’ she carried on, ‘and I’ve got a huge pork joint for us to get through.’

So much for wanting to spend some quality bonding time together; Mum was clearly more concerned that she’d over-ordered at the butcher’s. This was all Dad’s fault. Had he
stayed sober he would have been able to talk her out of ringing me by requesting cold cuts and one of her famous meat pies.

‘OK,’ I gave in, knowing resistance was futile, ‘but I can’t stay late. I’ve fallen a bit behind with this online business course I’m taking and want to catch
up.’

‘That’s fine,’ she said airily, ‘I know how busy you are these days. You can just eat and run. I won’t even ask for any help with the dishes.’

And the guilt sealed the call!

‘Go and call your father would you?’ Mum asked the second I closed the front door. ‘I’m rushing around here like I don’t know what whilst he’s still lazing in
the bath!’

Poor old Dad. I bet he was already regretting his night of drunken self-indulgence, if you could call a few pints with a mate in the pub a night of drunken self-indulgence. My mum clearly could,
and that would explain his unusual desire to linger over his ablutions.

I couldn’t help wondering at exactly what age Mum had stopped enjoying being married. When exactly was it that she decided married life had become a chore, something to be worked around,
the elephant in the room that threatened her precious clubs, meetings and coffee mornings?

‘Dad!’ I bellowed up the stairs just as she walked through from the kitchen with the gravy boat.

‘Elizabeth!’ she snapped sharply. ‘I asked you to go and call him not cat-call from the bottom of the stairs like some common navvy!’

‘Sorry,’ I muttered.

‘On my way!’ Dad shouted back down somewhat feebly, but given the circumstances that was hardly surprising.

By the time he joined us at the table Mum had finished carving and was hurriedly piling roast potatoes on to my plate and offering me the bowl of apple sauce. I bit my tongue knowing that she
had purposefully rushed just to make Dad feel bad about the food getting cold. As much as I resented her childish behaviour, I was determined not to say anything and give her further ammunition to
use against him and his one night of heady freedom.

I took a hasty sideward glance to see how he was holding up but didn’t like the look of him at all.

‘You needn’t look like that,’ Mum swooped in, having spotted my crafty glance, ‘it’s all his own doing. I hope the state he’s got himself in shows you just
what a waste of time and money these trips to that damn pub are?’

‘Are you OK, Dad?’ I asked, laying down my cutlery.

‘Of course he’s not all right! Look at the state of him! He’s been complaining of a headache. Hardly any wonder, is it? Out until all hours drinking and with a neighbour as
well!’

‘Shut up, Mum!’ I snapped.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘What is it, Dad?’ I asked again, the little remaining colour visibly draining from his face as I watched. ‘Do you feel sick?’

‘I can’t feel my arm,’ he whispered, ‘everything’s spinning.’

‘Well, it will be!’ Mum laughed knowingly. ‘What do you expect? You can’t even speak properly! Listen to you slurring your words, your system’s still
saturated!’

‘Mum,’ I said, rushing to Dad’s side, ‘go and phone an ambulance.’

‘What?’

‘Go and phone an ambulance. I think Dad’s having a stroke.’

‘You go in the ambulance and I’ll follow on in the car,’ I told Mum as I locked the front door and steered her down the path.

‘No,’ she said shakily, ‘I’ll drive in with you.’

‘Are you sure?’ I asked quickly, mindful that every second was vital.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘yes, I’ll come in with you.’

‘Is that OK,’ I asked the paramedic, ‘if mum stays with me?’

The paramedic nodded.

‘Probably best,’ he said, ‘she looks like she’s had a quite a shock. Don’t worry, my love; we’ll get him there in no time.’

His last words were clearly directed at Mum, but she appeared not to have heard. He gave me a sympathetic smile and swung the ambulance door shut.

‘Come on, then,’ I said, holding open the passenger door of my car, ‘get in.’

Within seconds we’d lost sight of the ambulance which seemed to cut through the traffic like a hot knife through butter.

‘I thought it was just a hangover,’ Mum said for the
hundredth time, ‘I thought he’d be all right by this afternoon.’

I focused my attention on the road ahead and the throng of Sunday drivers heading out of town to the retail park.

‘He’ll be fine,’ I told her, braking sharply as the traffic lights changed just as I reached them.

‘But what if you hadn’t come round for dinner?’ she said, an edge of desperation creeping into her voice. ‘What if you’d been too busy and said no?’

She reached up her sleeve and pulled out her handkerchief.

‘He could have collapsed in front of me and I would have still been blaming his bingeing session!’

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to say that yes, Dad would probably have fallen at her feet and she would have moaned about him cluttering up the floor space but I could see
she was in shock. He had finally achieved the impossible and made her question her attitude.

The hospital car park was heaving with visitors and it took seemingly endless trips round to find a parking space.

‘Why don’t you hop out and I’ll catch you up as soon as I’ve parked,’ I encouraged.

Mum sat tight and vehemently shook her head.

‘Look, the A and E department is right there,’ I said, pointing. ‘That’s where they’ll take him first, I’m sure of it.’