The Cherry Tree Cafe (30 page)

I heard the chain slide back and watched the handle turn. Slowly the door opened.

‘Hello, Natasha,’ I swallowed, looking up at the sleek-heeled goddess before me.

‘You’d better come in,’ she said, taking in my own ruffled appearance with a look of disdain.

Little had changed inside the flat. It was still bare, hollow and unwelcoming, hardly a newlyweds’ love nest. I can honestly say I felt no connection to the place at all, no hankering to
pick up the threads of the life I had once lived there. Perhaps if I’d taken a peek at the wet room I might have felt differently . . .

‘What do you want, Lizzie?’ Natasha scowled, narrowing her feline eyes. ‘What has Ben told you?’

‘Everything,’ I said simply, ‘but he isn’t the real reason I’m here.’

I explained my plans to buy the City Crafting Café and the fact that it was little further than a stone’s throw from the flat. ‘I know it,’ Natasha said casually.
‘My mother and sister attend some of the classes there. They’re very fond of it. But what has any of this got to do with me? You aren’t here touting for business, are you?
I’m not really the crafting kind,’ she added scathingly.

‘No,’ I said, ‘I can see that. I just didn’t want you to think that I was trying to muscle in on your patch or that I was still in any way interested in Giles, because
I’m not. I’m really not.’

Natasha threw me a withering look and began to laugh, her glossy curtain of hair neatly swept aside with a deft flick.

‘I don’t think we’d really need worry about that even if
you were, do you?’

Comparing her to me, I guessed not. We were in different leagues, different stratospheres in fact, but she didn’t need to make me feel like such a bargain-basement bit of rough. But then
again, why shouldn’t she? This was her one chance to be as mean and scathing as she liked. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to make me feel like I belonged in a jumble sale so
consequently her next words were something of a shock.

‘Actually,’ she said, her voice taking on a softer edge as she placed two glasses on the marble worktop and took a bottle of wine out of the walk-in fridge, ‘I’ve been
meaning to get in touch with you to say thank you.’

‘What on earth for?’

‘Well, ever since Giles came crawling back he’s been practically falling over himself to keep me happy,’ she divulged. ‘There’s nothing he won’t give me,
nothing he won’t do for me. It’s been heaven.’

‘But what about the phone calls before the wedding?’ I asked agog.

‘Oh yes, I forgot about those,’ she smiled, her eyebrows raised as she deftly poured and passed me a glass. ‘I take it you know they were from me, then?’

I nodded and took a sip of the crisp, chilled wine.

‘I admit I was suspicious,’ she explained, ‘but I shouldn’t have been. You won’t believe where he was!’

‘Where?’ I asked, my head spinning. This wasn’t how I envisaged our meeting turning out at all.

‘He was having counselling!’ she laughed. ‘He booked himself into some rehab place he’d heard about from a friend. Spent the week getting his head cleared and his baggage
sorted and came back with his tail between his legs, good as gold, ready for the big day!’

I couldn’t help but laugh along with her. The thought of Giles even admitting that
he
had a problem was inconceivable but the fact that he was prepared to have counselling to sort
it was most telling. We raised our glasses and toasted Giles, the man who loved Natasha so much it turned out that he was prepared to do anything to make sure their marriage, albeit second time
around, actually happened.

‘Well, I’m glad it’s all worked out,’ I said, feeling some of the guilt lifting from my shoulders, ‘but I’m still sorry about everything that happened with
Ben. Neither of you deserved to go through any of that.’

For a split second Natasha’s veneer crinkled.

‘You won’t ever say anything about it to Giles, will you?’ she begged.

‘No of course not,’ I said earnestly, ‘it’s none of my business.’

The flat door opened and in an instant Natasha was back to her polished confident self.

‘That’ll be Giles,’ she smiled. ‘Watch his expression. This will be priceless.’

‘Fucking, shitty traffic!’ We heard him sling his keys on the table in the hallway. ‘Do we have to go out to this dinner, I . . .’

He stopped dead when he spotted me, his ex-lover, perched next to his wife in the kitchen, sharing a bottle of wine. Natasha was right, his expression was priceless. I only wish I’d had my
phone out ready to take a photo. It certainly would have been one for the album!

‘What the hell?’ he gaped.

‘It’s all right,’ I said, putting down my glass and picking up my bag, ‘I was just leaving.’

Ever since I’d decided that I would track the pair of them down, I’d wondered how I would feel seeing him again. How was I going to react when I gazed upon the gorgeous face of the
man who had broken my heart and dashed my naive notions of romance? Could I trust myself not to jump into his arms and beg him to come back to Wynbridge with me?

Apparently I could. Yes, he was still handsome and polished, oozing wealth, status and urban sophistication, but he definitely wasn’t the man for me. It was easy to see how I, a young
woman bored witless and working shifts in the local pub had been swept off my feet and carried away by him, but I wasn’t that woman any more. I felt nothing. My heart behaved itself; my
stomach didn’t fall through the floor, my palms remained dry and my loins unstirred. I was over him, completely and utterly over him.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

He looked absolutely panic-stricken as did Natasha. She obviously still thought I was going to say something about Ben. Just a couple of months ago I might have done but now, having experienced
for myself the trauma and heartache that descends when someone meddles in business they know nothing about, I wouldn’t have dreamt of doing it. The complications that had arisen as a result
of Jay’s interfering in my life ensured my lips were sealed. What happened between Ben and Natasha was their business, nothing to do with me or anyone else for that matter.

‘I just came to congratulate you both on making it down the aisle,’ I said graciously.

The expression on Giles’s face ranged from shock to suspicion to disbelief and back again and all in a split second. He turned to Natasha, who simply shrugged her designer-clad shoulders
and took another long sip of wine.

‘And I’m moving back to London,’ I elaborated to help him out a bit. ‘I’m thinking of buying the City Crafting Café up the road. I’ve been going
through the books and so on and saw Natasha’s mother and sister attend some of the classes there. I didn’t want there to be any confusion about what I was doing here if word got back to
her that I was running the place.’

‘Oh right,’ Giles frowned, running a hand through his hair, ‘I see.’

But I could see he didn’t. He had no reason to associate me with sewing and crafts, let alone buying myself a business in the city, but there was no need to explain. The purpose of my
visit had been to talk to Natasha and I’d done that now.

‘Well, I’ll be off,’ I smiled. ‘I have a train to catch.’

‘OK.’

‘Bye, Natasha, and thanks for the wine. If you fancy taking up crocheting or making a patchwork quilt, then you know where I am.’

We both laughed as Giles turned from one of us to the other again, shock and bewilderment still etched across his face.

‘I might take you up on that,’ she laughed, ‘oh and, Lizzie?’

‘Yes?’

‘Thank you.’

I’d never enjoyed the upheaval of packing and this particular move was proving to be the worst I’d lived through so far. I’d only been living in the flat
above the Cherry Tree for a few months but the place felt more like home than anywhere else I’d ever lived and it certainly seemed fuller.

Now I’d set my heart on the Crafting Café and was planning to move back to London and a much larger flat, I knew I was going to need all the ‘stuff ’ I could lay my
hands on to make it feel welcoming but I was still torn about what to take. I couldn’t somehow picture any of Granny’s treasured belongings in the London flat. It just didn’t sit
right with me at all.

‘You can put some things back in your old room until you make up your mind if you like,’ Mum reassured me.

‘Are you sure? I don’t want to clutter up the place.’

‘It’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘Your father and I are going to be away for a few weeks, remember, so we won’t even notice it’s here.’

‘Thanks, Mum,’ I smiled, giving her a hug.

I’d had to get out of the flat for the afternoon. I could hear the Café was buzzing and I hated sitting upstairs all on my own. Jemma and Tom hadn’t made any attempt to make
amends for keeping me in the dark about Ben’s gargantuan secret and I was doing my utmost to stay out of their way as much as possible.

The evening I arrived back from London, I had sneaked downstairs and sat on my own in the crafting area. The perfection of the place was overwhelming. It was the perfect size and set-up; it was
what I’d always dreamt of and I knew that supersizing my goals by taking on the City Crafting Café so soon was going to take some getting used to.

‘So,’ said Mum, ‘run me through it all again. Exactly how long are you going to be away for?’

‘Just a month to begin with, that’s why I’m not taking everything all at once. The bigger furniture belongs in the flat anyway. I’ll just clear out the personal bits, but
thanks for the storage offer. It would be such a waste to take everything if it all goes wrong.’

‘Don’t be such a pessimist, Lizzie!’ Mum scolded. ‘Nothing’s going to go wrong!’

I wished I could share her optimism. Deborah had agreed to let me run the City Crafting Café for a month on a trial basis, just so I could be sure that it was what I wanted. It was a huge
sacrifice on her part. The other interested buyer had disappeared when Deborah explained the set-up and I knew that she and Heather were itching to move permanently to the little flint cottage they
had fallen in love with on the North Norfolk coast. It felt selfish asking them to put their lives on hold for me, but as Heather kindly reminded me: ‘Deborah will never settle if she thinks
things aren’t right at the Café, and think about what she’ll put me through with all her agonising!’

‘So tell me about this cruise again,’ I said, reaching for the brochure and itinerary Mum had set out on the kitchen table. ‘It’ll take my mind off packing.’

Dad was looking forward to the trip just as much as Mum. He had had the go-ahead from his consultant that it was safe for him to travel and had already employed the services of a local gardener
to keep the lawns in trim and the borders weed-free until he got back.

‘It’ll certainly make a change from a wet week in Morecambe!’ he chuckled as mum trotted upstairs to change into the outfit she had bought for the night they would be dining at
the Captain’s table. ‘But it’s bad timing for you, Lizzie. I’m sorry, love.’

‘I’ve told you it’s fine,’ I said for the hundredth time. ‘It’ll be easier to leave with you not here to wave me off, to be honest.’

Dad took my hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

‘It isn’t too late to change your mind, you know?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘To make it all right between you and Jemma. I know I don’t know the ins and outs of everything that’s gone on, but you’ve been friends forever, Lizzie. I hope the pair
of you aren’t throwing your friendship away over something silly like those damn boots she borrowed all those years ago.’

‘No,’ I shook my head sadly, ‘believe me, Dad, this is nothing as trivial as that.’

‘I really appreciate you doing this, Jay,’ I said, as we unloaded the last of the boxes from the back of the van.

‘It’s the least I could do,’ he insisted, ‘I really am sorry that I’ve caused so much trouble, Lizzie. It breaks my heart to think that you’ve left the Cherry
Tree because of my stupidity.’

‘No,’ I told him again, ‘what you told Jemma was just the tip of the iceberg. Please don’t worry about it. If anything, I should be thanking you for helping me find my
courage!’

‘Oh well in that case, just call me Dorothy!’ he laughed, batting his eyelashes.

I hadn’t told him how Jemma and Tom had kept me in the dark about Ben’s big secret. It wasn’t my secret after all and there was no way I was going to lower myself to their
standards and involve Jay in their web of deceit.

‘So,’ I said arms outstretched, ‘what do you think?’

‘Very impressive,’ Jay smiled as he looked down into the street. ‘You’ve really fallen on your feet with this one, Lizzie!’

‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘I have rather, haven’t I?’

‘I wish you the very best of luck.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘I’m going to need it. Do you want to have a look around downstairs?’

‘Well,’ Jay laughed, as we made our way back up to the flat after the grand tour, ‘no one could ever accuse you of not taking a risk, Lizzie! No wonder you didn’t have
the funds to help me out when you had this place in the pipeline!’

I didn’t say anything, but my expression must have been enough to show him what I thought of his sly comment.

‘I’m sorry,’ he teased, ‘I’m only kidding, besides my interview with the bank went really well. Fingers crossed, the loan will be approved and even if it
isn’t, I’ll find a way. Now you’ve moved out of the Cherry Tree I might even ask Jemma about displaying in the crafting space again, as long as you don’t mind.’

‘Of course I don’t,’ I said flippantly. ‘It’s nothing to do with me.’

I left Jay arranging the few smaller pieces of furniture I had decided to bring and went to the kitchen in search of the kettle. I was doing my utmost to keep busy and focused. I wouldn’t
allow myself to picture either the flat or the crafting area at the Cherry Tree as I had left them; barren and forlorn with my keys in an envelope on the counter. I had considered writing Jemma a
letter to accompany them, but I couldn’t think of a single nice thing I wanted to say.

‘So you’re going for good, then?’ she asked when I told her that I was moving out of the flat.