The Cherry Tree Cafe (31 page)

‘Just for a month to begin with,’ I explained, ‘but I won’t be moving back here even if it doesn’t work out.’

She didn’t look at me, just carried on buttering bread.

‘I’ll tell Tom to put an ad in the paper for a new tenant then,’ she said. ‘Don’t forget to leave both
sets of keys will you?’

So that was it. According to Jemma, my lifelong friend, I was just one tenant who could be replaced with another. My absence from the Cherry Tree made no apparent difference to her whatsoever. A
lump the size of a golf ball lodged itself in my throat as I thought back to our sour exchange. I hastily swallowed it away and carried on filling the kettle.

‘Where did you magic that little lot from?’ Jay laughed as I rejoined him with a tray full of sandwiches, tea and slices of delectable looking cake.

‘Deborah and Heather have stocked the fridge,’ I said, ‘and they left all this with a welcome note and a promise that they’ll call in later.’

‘Something tells me you won’t be going hungry during the next few weeks!’ Jay laughed, reaching for the largest slice of coffee and walnut he could lay his hands on.

‘You will ring me if you need anything, won’t you?’ he asked as he was getting ready to go later that day, ‘anything at all.’

‘I will,’ I said, ‘of course.’

‘I don’t like to think of you all alone in the big city!’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I laughed. ‘I lived in London before, remember? There are plenty of people I can call up and go partying with!’

Henry was hardly the partying kind and I didn’t think Giles’s heart could cope with the thought of me having a night on the tiles with his new bride, but come to that,
Natasha’s probably couldn’t either. The look of disdain she had given me when she took in my hair and creased shirt suggested that our paths were highly unlikely to cross in the
future.

‘I’ll be off then,’ Jay shouted as he turned over the engine. ‘You are sure you’ll be OK, aren’t you?’

‘Honestly,’ I shouted back, ‘I’ll be fine. I can’t wait to get started!’

Deborah and Heather didn’t make it to the flat that evening but Deborah did ring.

‘We’ve only just arrived back,’ she seethed. ‘The traffic was awful.’

She and Heather had been to the cottage in Norfolk to oversee some building work they were having done.

‘Don’t worry,’ I told her, ‘I’ll see you in the morning. Everything’s fine here. Thanks for the food parcel by the way; it was much appreciated.’

‘Oh, don’t mention it. And you really don’t mind if we don’t come tonight?’

‘Not at all,’ I said again, ‘it’s been one hell of a day. Shower and an early night before the big day I think.’

‘Good plan!’ she boomed. ‘Fair enough. We’ll see you in the morning. Six thirty sound OK?’

‘Six thirty will be fine.’

It had taken me so long to get to sleep that night, what with wailing sirens, barking dogs and someone shouting, that the realisation that at five in the morning I was being pulled out of
oblivion again was not welcome. I lay in bed watching the shadows of passing cars dance across the ceiling in the sitting room and listened intently.

I could hear muffled voices and distant clattering, definite movement coming from downstairs. I was certain it wasn’t burglars because they were making far too much noise but nonetheless I
was still nervous about having to investigate.

I crept down and tentatively opened the door behind the shop counter. There were lights on in the kitchen; I could see them under the door. I was just about to retreat to the safety of the flat
and telephone Deborah when I heard someone behind me.

‘I knew we’d wake you. I said we’d wake you but oh no, she said if we were quiet which she never is, then we’d be fine!’

I stood open-mouthed and too shocked to scream, rooted to the spot staring down at the face of a tiny woman who was beaming up at me.

‘I’m Sophia,’ she informed me, ‘I work in the kitchen with my sister, Maria. We’re waiting for the bread guy,’ she explained. ‘He should have been here
by now but he’s always late on a Monday. Come and meet Maria.’

I followed dumbly on behind, feeling a complete idiot. Heather had told me there would be staff turning up early to begin work in the kitchen, but in my drowsy state I’d completely
forgotten. I tried to smooth my curls behind my ears and wrap my dressing gown a little more securely. This was not how I wanted to introduce myself to the staff on my first morning, or any morning
for that matter!

There hadn’t been time for introductions to the team the last time I came and I had set my sights on making the right impression when I came back in my official capacity, however it
clearly wasn’t meant to be and I was going to have to make the best of the situation.

‘Hey, Maria!’ Sophia called across the sparkling kitchen. ‘Look who I found!’

Maria appeared from behind one of the fridges, her face an exact replica of her sister’s. They were twins, I realised, and seemingly identical in every way.

‘We woke you!’ she said aghast. ‘I told Sophia we would but she said if we were quiet which she never is, that it’d be fine. I knew it wouldn’t be. I did try and
tell her!’

‘It’s fine,’ I told her, an overwhelming sense of déjà vu descending, ‘I needed to get up anyway.’

‘Bread guy’s here!’ Sophia bawled from the shop floor. ‘Finally! He’s gonna get a piece of my mind.’

‘Help yourself to coffee,’ Maria nodded, ‘we’ll be back in a minute. This guy’s gonna get a piece of my mind.’

‘I’ll grab one in a minute!’ I called after them, my head spinning as I wondered if they always repeated what the other said and if so, how did they decide who got to say it
first. ‘I’m just going to get dressed, but thanks!’

‘OK, good morning, everyone,’ Deborah beamed at her assembled team. ‘As you know, today is going to be something of a red letter day for the City Crafting
Café.’

I took a deep breath and offered what I hoped was a confident and reassuring smile. This was it; this was my first day working at the Crafting Café and in spite of my earlier faux pas I
was determined to regain some ground and secure myself that all important good first impression.

‘Firstly let me begin by introducing you to Lizzie Dixon.’

I widened my smile a little and gave a nod.

‘As you know, Lizzie will hopefully be taking over the Café in a few weeks but is joining us now so she can see how things operate.’

‘We’ve met her already,’ chirped up Maria and Sophia in unison.

‘And we have cakes in the oven,’ continued Maria.

‘And buns to be iced,’ backed up Sophia.

‘So if you don’t mind?’

‘No, ladies, that’s fine,’ Deborah said, somewhat nonplussed, ‘we’ll catch up with you in a minute.’

Maria and Sophia disappeared back into the kitchen and we were left with just three other members of staff.

‘OK, this is Janice,’ Deborah said, introducing me to a smart middle-aged woman who did not look at all pleased to see me.

‘Hello, Janice,’ I smiled.

‘Hi,’ she replied frostily.

‘Janice is my right-hand woman,’ Deborah elaborated. ‘She runs the counter on the crafting side, as well as lending a hand in the Café when we’re really busy.
Sometimes I wonder how she manages with just one pair of hands!’

Janice was still smiling, but no hand-shake was forthcoming.

‘And then we have Sasha and Rob who wait on the tables and help Sophia and Maria in the kitchens.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ Rob smiled shyly.

‘Love your hair,’ Sasha beamed, her own a riot of colour.

‘Thanks,’ I smiled; at least there were two people here who might listen to what I had to say.

Janice was clearly not impressed by my presence and the terrible twins I could tell already would stand for no interference in their kitchen.

‘So!’ Deborah boomed. ‘Felting this morning, knit and natter over lunch and quilting this afternoon. Any problems?’

‘If I could just have a quick word about the felting workshop, Deborah?’

‘Of course but you better talk to Lizzie. She’s the one in charge!’

Oh god, oh god! Please don’t let there be a problem already!

‘We have no tutor,’ Janice said bluntly. ‘Annabel phoned me at home last night. Her daughter isn’t well so she can’t make it.’

Deborah groaned.

‘You should have called last night,’ she moaned.

Janice looked as if she was well aware of that but, knowing it was my first day, had no intention of making life easy for me.

‘I could take the session,’ I offered. ‘Admittedly I haven’t felted anything for a while but if you show me where everything is, Janice, then I’m sure it’ll
all come back to me. What time does the session begin?’

‘Nine thirty,’ said Janice, clearly disappointed that I hadn’t crumbled.

‘Plenty of time,’ I smiled, ‘let’s get on then.’

Ideally I could have done with a few extra hours to get my felting technique back up to speed but I stumbled through the session and thanked my lucky stars that it was a beginners’ slot.
The knit and natter pretty much ran itself and I had the chance to introduce myself to some of the customers and quiz them about what they loved about the Café and whether there was anything
they would change.

The only thing they suggested was that the menu was a little lacking in variety. Needless to say, the thought of tackling Maria and Sophia filled my heart with dread but such problems could be
dealt with further down the line.

The afternoon quilting session was an intermediary skill slot so the ladies attending only needed minor input and it soon became clear that they could teach me as much as I could teach them.

‘So,’ said Sasha, at the end of the day as she sat on one of the tables swinging her legs, ‘how was your first day? Did you like it?’

‘It was different and very busy,’ I told her seriously.

‘Good different or bad different?’ she quizzed.

‘I’ll let you know when my head stops spinning!’

‘Cool. Right I’m off. I’m gigging tonight.’

‘What?’ I snorted. ‘After a day like this you still have the energy to gig?’

‘Oh, this has been nothing!’ she laughed. ‘You wait until Saturday! You won’t know what’s hit you!’

Sasha wasn’t wrong. By the end of Saturday afternoon when I finally flipped the shop sign from Open to Closed I was almost dead on my feet. During the previous five days
I had partaken in every conceivable craft Granny had taught me, waited on dozens of tables, dealt with a handful of queries, checked what seemed like a thousand orders and had at least half a dozen
run-ins with Janice whose dislike of me seemed to be growing daily.

‘So,’ smiled Heather as we sat together in the Café eating the lasagne and salad Maria and Sophia had kindly plated up, ‘any thoughts? How are you finding it?’

‘Absolutely exhausting,’ I admitted, ‘and exhilarating and absolutely nothing like I expected!’

‘How do you mean?’ Deborah asked.

‘It’s just so busy,’ I said, ‘all the time!’

Deborah and Heather laughed and exchanged glances.

‘And this is a quiet time,’ Deborah told me. ‘You wait until the winter. We’re inundated from October until, well, March really. Aren’t we, Heather?’

Heather nodded in agreement and not for the first time I felt a little knot in my stomach and a question forming in my mind. I hastily brushed both aside, thinking I just needed to up my game,
get back up to London-speed rather than the casual laid-back small town pace I’d slipped into at the Cherry Tree.

‘How are you finding the staff?’ Heather asked tentatively.

‘Sasha’s a blast and Rob is lovely,’ I began, ‘Maria and Sophia are fantastic. I didn’t know
what to make of them to begin with, always arguing with each other and sniping but they seem to run like a well-oiled machine as does the kitchen. However,’ I winced, ‘I think I might
like to make some changes to the menu. Mix things up a bit. What do you think?’

Deborah and Heather exchanged further glances but this time didn’t comment.

‘How about Janice?’ Deborah asked. ‘Has she been giving you any trouble?’

‘Well, you’ve been here, Deborah,’ I said, deciding not to hold back, ‘sometimes she’s been downright rude and in front of the customers. I don’t know what
I’ve done to upset her but if she’s the same next week I’m going to have to say something. Is that OK?’

This time it was Heather who spoke up.

‘We perhaps should have mentioned it before,’ she began but Deborah cut her off.

‘What Heather wants to say and I should have let her say it before you came really.’

‘Yes?’

‘Is that Janice was the other interested party.’

‘You mean she wanted to buy this place?’ I gasped. ‘She was the other buyer who was hanging on?’

Deborah and Heather nodded.

‘God, I wish I’d known. Why didn’t you say anything?’

‘We didn’t want to make it awkward for you,’ Heather said.

‘And we thought she’d be OK,’ Deborah chimed in.

‘But she isn’t OK, is she?’ I frowned. ‘How long has she worked for you, Deborah?’

‘About fifteen years.’

‘And did she have any reason to think that you might sell to her?’

‘We had touched on it in the past, but not in any detail.’

‘So she thinks I’ve just elbowed my way in and taken the opportunity that should’ve been hers! The poor woman, no wonder she can’t stand the sight of me.’

This was clearly a problem that needed addressing. If I was going to buy the Crafting Café, any issues between us were going to have to be resolved. Janice was fantastic at her job and
the customers clearly loved her. I couldn’t afford to lose her. I decided to wait another week to see if the dust settled and then, if it didn’t, I’d have to say something.

The following week passed in much the same vein as the first. Thankfully Janice did relent a little in her assault, but to be honest, every day was so packed I probably wouldn’t have
noticed if she hadn’t. With courses running both mornings and afternoons and then a more sociable, less structured event over lunch, there was hardly time during the day to draw breath.

As I ticked the days off on my calendar, it became increasingly obvious that I was never going to have any time to do any crafting myself. I had been planning to make things to sell in the shop
but at the end of every day I was just too tired and had to accept that that was never going to happen.