Chapter 2 #2
‘Yes, please,’ I find myself saying, unable to tear myself away.
She tells me to sit tight for a minute, and disappears off into the kitchens at the back.
I look around, and realise that the interior of the café is as interesting as its owner.
Apart from the usual and entirely expected stuff like tables, chairs and a serving counter, there is a complete feast for the eyes.
Mobiles made from old seven-inch vinyl singles dangle from the ceiling, nets are filled with shells, and a vintage gold and black Singer sewing machine battles with a huge fossil for pride of place.
I literally don’t know where to look next, there is so much to take in– bookshelves, board games, squishy leather sofas, photos, posters, lobster pots.
I wander the room, touching the random items, feeling like I’ve just discovered Tutankhamun’s tomb and all its treasures.
My personal tastes lean more towards the ‘less is more’ approach, but this is amazing.
It’s all spotlessly clean, but also incredibly cluttered, and somehow it works perfectly.
The windows are huge, and the views are stunning.
Maybe sitting outside on the little balcony and smoking a ‘herbal cigarette’ is Cherie’s happy place– it could definitely be mine. Without the cigarette.
Only half the lights are on so it’s quite dim, adding to the air of wonder as I explore.
I come across a framed picture of a middle-aged lady leading a yoga class, and laugh at the assortment of people she is guiding in downward dog.
Yoga classes are often filled with a certain type of person, but this one bucks the trend.
I’m still smiling when Cherie appears at my side and hands me a glass.
One sip tells me there is as much G as there is T.
‘That’s Lynnie,’ she says, ‘we lost her a few years ago. She was quite the force of nature. She had a few issues with memory in her later years, and she used to turn up here and do impromptu yoga sessions. We all went along with it.’
‘Ah. That explains a lot. You don’t often see a crowd like this getting their Namaste on.’
Cherie smiles and points out a silver-haired man wearing a plaid shirt and green cords. He’s looking up at the camera with impossibly blue eyes. ‘That’s my hubby, Frank. We lost him as well. We’ve really been very careless recently… Anyway, cake!’
I see the glaze of tears in her eyes, and give her the space to retreat into the kitchen.
She emerges with two big slabs of chocolate fudge cake, and sets them on a table along with a jug of pouring cream.
Clearly I am going to end up the size of the Michelin man if I stay here for long.
I sit down, and the little dog immediately jumps onto my lap.
‘That’s Luna,’ she says, smiling indulgently. ‘I adopted her a few months ago. Be careful or she’ll snaffle your chocolate cake, and it’s not good for her.’
I nod as she passes me a spoon, the dog’s eyes following it. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, ‘about Frank. He looks like a lot of fun.’
‘Oh yes, he was! We got together later in life– in our eighties, which is kind of the new sixties isn’t it?
What we lost out on in time we made up for in memories.
I suppose it was quality, not quantity. I…
I miss him every single day. I mean, I have great friends and I love this place, and I stay active.
It’s hard to be lonely in Budbury, but there are moments when I still manage it.
Moments when everyone has left, and I’m upstairs in my little flat, surrounded by remnants of my life and the people I’ve lost. That, my dear, is when I start kidnapping poor innocent women who are minding their own business and having a nice quiet walk on the beach! ’
I take the first bite of my fudge cake and almost have a When Harry Met Sally moment. I shudder with pleasure– this is heaven in a spoon– and Luna gazes at me with disgust.
‘I don’t mind being kidnapped if this is how you’re going to feed me. Did you live here with Frank?’
This is one of the big contradictions about my personality. I am by nature solitary and introverted, but I am also extremely nosy and curious about other people’s lives. It’s confusing for me and anyone I meet.
‘Long story, but no. I moved here after my first husband, Wally, passed away. It was a fresh start for me– Budbury is the perfect place for a fresh start, you’ll see that for yourself.
Frank and I were a slow burn, but when we finally did get hitched, I moved in with him at his farmhouse.
He died suddenly, still working out in the fields, which is exactly what he would have wanted, the old goat.
He’d have hated some long lingering illness that kept him indoors.
He was one of those fellas who could have lost an arm in the combine harvester and called it “just a scratch”, you know?
I was happy enough there with him, but after he went, well…
it felt wrong. It was too hard. So I came back here, to my happy place. And my sad place.’
‘Just your place place?’
‘Exactly! Anyway. Enough of me moaning. I won’t need to dress up for Halloween; I can just haunt the café with my whinging! I think perhaps you’ve sparked it off in me, Sarah.’
‘Yes,’ I reply, licking cream off my spoon, ‘I have that effect on people. They can be perfectly happy beforehand, then after a few minutes in my company, they’re crying and wondering what the point of life is. It’s a skill.’
She shoves my shoulder playfully, but she’s a big lady and I almost fall off my chair. ‘Get away with you!’ she says, grinning. ‘It’s nice to have a new face around. Though actually, you’re the second this month.’
‘Oh. Now I don’t feel special.’
She laughs, and stares off into the distance for a moment. ‘We don’t know much about the other new one though. He’s very mysterious. Keeps himself to himself.’
She says this as though she cannot possibly understand such a ridiculous urge. ‘Is that so bad?’ I ask. ‘Some people are more private than others. It doesn’t make them evil.’
‘I know that, darling. And don’t think for a minute that I haven’t noticed the way I’ve spilled my guts to you, and you’ve told me not one single thing about yourself! But… well, maybe it’s the time of year. I get a Halloween-y vibe from him.’
‘What does that mean?’ I ask, frowning. ‘How does a person have a Halloween-y vibe?’
Even as I ask, my imagination is filling in the blanks. Is he accompanied everywhere he goes by a black cat? Does he only come out at night? Does he have no shadow? Is he a time-slip soldier from the First World War? Does he do a horror-movie laugh like Vincent Price every time he leaves the room?
‘I can’t quite explain it. Why don’t you come in tomorrow and meet everyone else? We can fill you in on our theories!’
Everyone else? How many more people am I expected to meet?
This village is tiny! Already today I’ve met Sam, Matt and Cal, Katie and Laura, and now Cherie…
Frankly, that’s my ‘meeting new people’ quota for a whole year under normal circumstances.
It’s ironic that I moved here to get away from the crush of humanity and I seem to be more surrounded than ever.
‘Um, I’ll see how I get on,’ I reply, finishing up my G&T with an icy clink. ‘I’ve got all my unpacking to do, and a lot of work to catch up, and?—’
‘And you’re freaking out?’
‘I can neither confirm nor deny. But for now, I do need to get back. I genuinely have stuff to get on with. Thank you for the cake. And the whole bottle of gin. And… take care of yourself, okay?’
I put little Luna back down, but she sneakily licks my face first. Either she’s a very affectionate dog, or I had a stray smear of chocolate on my skin.
I scrape the chair legs back and stand up.
Before I can protest or make my escape, Cherie wraps me in her arms and gives me a world-class hug.
It is impossible to resist, and I melt a little bit, my head clasped to her substantial shoulder.
Her hair smells of joss sticks and sugar and a wisp of herbal cigarette.
Like a doughnut stand at a music festival.
‘See you tomorrow, Sarah!’ she says, as I finally break free.
Not if I see you first , I think. The old ones are the best.