Chapter Seventeen Who’s That Man?
‘Do you think you have a chance of being selected?’ Patty asks as we stroll arm in arm along the canal on the way to Sarah’s tea shop, come Sunday morning. It’s my birthday and I’ve insisted on a very low-key affair, but Patty is equally insistent that we have cake.
It’s lovely and brisk out and the setting is serene; the water is still, cyclists, joggers and dog walkers seem filled with the morning promise, and they all nod their heads or say good morning as we pass. Even the ducks bobbing gently look as if they’re out for a pleasant perambulation. In the verges beside the path, small shoots are starting to appear alongside the snowdrops. With the blue sky and small white clouds it would be easy to assume that we’re past the worst of winter, but from experience, it always seems that as soon as the crocuses start to flower, they’re flattened by a blanket of snow. I always want to tell them to hide away for a little longer to be safe. I realise as I’m thinking this it’s a little like my own life so wave the thought away.
‘I guess we have as much chance as anyone else,’ I reply, forgetting about the crocuses and taking Patty’s arm. ‘Mum was very funny even when she was inadvertently insulting me.’
Patty snorts and replies that somehow my mother always manages to pull off that combination.
‘Anyway,’ I continue, ‘do you have the set finalised?’
‘We do and you’ll see it soon,’ she says. ‘We have a warm-up gig coming up on the fourteenth.’
‘I’ll rally the troops,’ I tell her.
* * *
We reach a small metal bridge where three children wrapped up in big coats and scarves are playing Pooh sticks, so we stop and watch for a moment. The older ones seem to be indulging their younger sister but soon get competitive when her stick catches a current or slipstream or whatever canals have and wins the race. We all cheer and then laugh. It’s amazing how the very simple things in life can bring the most pleasure. Patty reaches into her pocket and, after checking with their parents, offers the children a packet of fruit pastilles as their prize. They’re delighted and we walk away happy with the world.
‘I take it back,’ says Patty as we approach the tea shop.
‘Take what back?’ I ask.
‘My Mr Darcy comment. This is a lovely place to come for a date. I might even bring Jack for the stroll we’ve just had and then bring him here — if the cake is any good.’
‘Great love stories can’t all start on a cruise liner,’ I tell her, feeling vindicated.
* * *
I remember last time I visited the tea shop, thinking how it was warm and cosy without being twee. That’s still the sense I get now. The walls are a pale sage colour, which works well to complement the landscape outside. The furniture is light Scandinavian brushed wood, which makes the whole place say ‘come in and relax’. So we do. Sarah is serving a customer when we arrive but she smiles at us. While we’re waiting for her I peruse the small selection of gifts she has on sale — cards, candles, little dog biscuits and potpourri sachets, all of which look beautifully handmade. I pick up one card. The design is a little gnome couple hand in hand. For a moment, it makes me pine for the time last year when my own gnomes — Gnorman and Gnora — were mysteriously left on the doorstep. They’re in storage at the moment waiting for me to find my own home. Their appearance made me think that someone was looking out for me and it turned out they were. Or Michael was, at least; how could he have gone to so much effort then and suddenly stop now? Oh well, I sigh to myself, onwards and upwards.
Sarah finishes serving her customer, tells her assistant that she’s taking a short break, shows us to a table marked Reserved then disappears into the back kitchen.
‘I’ve made something special as I heard it was someone’s birthday,’ she says when she emerges with a tray bearing the weight of a cafetière and an enormous sponge.
‘Red velvet?’ I ask in hope on seeing the frosting. She nods.
‘I adore red velvet,’ I say with added emphasis to ensure a large slice. There was probably no need for it as Sarah is cutting builder-size portions for both of us. I can feel the glare of her other customers on the back of my neck.
Having served us and a tiny piece for herself, her assistant comes over to take the cake back to the counter. Almost instantly, chairs start scraping back while customers are drawn towards it.
Sarah pours us coffees and tells us she’s delighted that we could come.
‘You’ve made me so welcome in the book club, it’s good to be able to return the favour,’ she says.
‘Well, I don’t think you’ll be welcomed by Caroline again when I tell her what she’s missed out on,’ I mumble while nibbling a little bit of frosting stuck on the fork.
‘Oh, she’s the one who advised me what to bake and I’ve invited her here too,’ says Sarah. ‘Her and Ed are coming on Thursday to see if it’s big enough to host the club one night.’
I look around and know it is but think we’ll probably have to wait until summer so we’re not walking along the canal path in the dark. I say this and Sarah nods in agreement.
‘It’s lovely here in the summer,’ she adds. ‘You should come when the swans and their cygnets are out. Their graceful movement adds serenity to anywhere, I always think.’
‘That’s often said about me,’ says Patty, wolfing down her final crumb of cake.
‘I think the word you’re looking for is rarely — it’s rarely said about you,’ I say, getting a prod with the fork.
We all laugh and I look at Sarah, wondering whether she’ll become a close friend when Patty leaves for the cruise. There’s always a vacuum when my best friend vacates any space, and although I could never replace her, it would be nice to think I’ll have someone to go out with.
‘Morning, everyone,’ says a voice behind me.
‘Oh, David, hello,’ exclaims Sarah, getting up and giving the man a hug — so much for having someone to go out with. ‘Please join us.’
The man pulls up a chair and we make space for him. Sarah jumps up to grab him a cup and a slice of cake then sits back down.
‘This is David,’ she says as we all shake hands. ‘He’s my cousin and wine connoisseur extraordinaire — what he doesn’t know about wine isn’t worth knowing.’
He shakes his head and replies that he simply enjoys a glass but the real expert in food or drink is Sarah — he can’t hold a torch to her cakes.
‘Although I can make toast,’ he adds as a joke.
‘That’s impressive in my books. If you can make toast without burning it then you’re already streets ahead of me.’ I get a smile from everyone except Patty, who’s nodding in agreement.
David isn’t one of those men who dominates conversations; he says he’s heard about the book club and the lovely weekend we’ve had and asks us what we’re reading next. Then he politely joins in when Patty talks about the Granny-Okies and their forthcoming gig. He seems like a very nice guy. He looks slightly older than me, has dark hair with greying temples and hazel eyes beneath metal-framed glasses. He’s not amazingly handsome but, as Patty might say, is smart enough to take home to your mother. I wonder if anyone has ever said that about me.
After ten minutes or so, Sarah gets up and asks Patty if she wouldn’t mind tasting a new recipe she’s experimenting with. I offer to give an opinion too but am told that it’s okay — Patty will be enough. The two of them disappear into the kitchen and for a moment I’m offended that the woman I thought might be my new best friend is actually going off with my old best friend. I’m staring after them when a new pot of coffee is delivered by the assistant and David tops up my cup.
‘I’m sorry about Sarah,’ he says. ‘She’s always trying to set me up.’
The penny drops and my first reaction is relief that Patty isn’t running off with a woman who makes outstandingly good cakes. She once said she’d marry Mr Kipling, so that is a real concern.
‘Ah, I see,’ I reply. ‘My apologies too — I didn’t realise we were both being trapped in her lair.’
‘Although a cake shop isn’t a bad place to be held hostage,’ says David, raising his cup to me. ‘Here’s to the ransom not being paid until we’ve worked our way through the scones at the very least.’
We clink cups and I try to think of something to say as we’ve been thrust into this situation. There’s no need as David is an easy conversationalist.
‘Tell me about the Mercury Travel Club,’ he says. ‘I’ve heard you started it.’
I could talk for hours about my beloved club and tell him the philosophy of bringing local people and businesses together to have fun and build loyalty.
‘That sounds fabulous,’ he says when I’ve finished talking. ‘Though I’m not sure how you’d involve a small accountancy firm — which is where I worked until recently.’
‘Taking you to the Czech Republic,’ I say.
He laughs politely even though it’s an awfully weak joke.
‘So how do you fill your time now?’ I ask.
‘Well, I enjoy golf,’ he says, ‘and actually I can sort of cook. Even though it’s just me most of the time, I do pretty well and every now and then friends will drop round and I’ll rustle up a spag bol or something similar. It’s nice sharing food with people — I guess that’s where the love of wine comes from.’
‘Hospitality must be in the genes.’ I nod at the cake counter. ‘I’m afraid to say that I truly can’t cook for toffee and my ex-husband actually ran off with a chef.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ David looks genuinely concerned. ‘You’ll have to get your revenge on him by letting me cook dinner for you one night.’
Having lived through a month where getting a date with the man I thought was interested in me has seemed nigh on impossible, this invitation takes me completely by surprise and I simply sit there stunned.
‘Don’t worry if you can’t,’ adds David hurriedly. ‘I know this is sudden and quite awkward. Neither of us knew we were coming here today to be set up and that’s not the reason I’m asking; I would appreciate having someone to eat with — bring your friend if you’d like.’
My throat has gone dry so I take a sip of cold coffee and look up at him, smiling.
‘My apologies,’ I say confidently. ‘You’re right, I wasn’t expecting this, but it would be lovely — so thank you, I’d love to come to supper.’
I hand David my number and he puts it into his phone then immediately messages me so that I have his. There will be no months of silence — we have each other’s contact details so if I don’t hear from him, it’ll be because he’s not interested.
‘Is there any day of the week that you can’t do?’ he asks. ‘I imagine you work a six-day week so can’t do a Friday night.’
‘As long as I don’t drink I can do any night, but Saturdays are better and I can’t do the fourteenth as I have Patty’s warm-up gig that night,’ I say.
‘Would it be too much if I came to see her?’ He seems quite keen.
I tell him he’s welcome but in the event of my mother or daughter also turning up, he must under no circumstance say he has come with me. I suggest he bring Sarah as his cover story and he agrees.
‘Well, I’m due at the golf course in a couple of hours so I’ll call you next week and hopefully we can get together before the fourteenth,’ he says, standing to leave. ‘It really was lovely meeting you. I’m going to have a smile on my face all day.’
He gives me a peck on the cheek, and as he turns to say goodbye to Sarah, I spot her and Patty peeking out from the kitchen, watching the two of us. I shake my head at Patty as she gives me a tiny round of applause with her fingertips.
‘Cake and a date,’ she exclaims, hugging me after David has left and she’s emerged from her hiding place. ‘A birthday can’t get better than that.’