Chapter 15
Following Shelly's instructions to the letter, Tilly walked away from Darling Street, through a narrow alleyway that smelled of damp stone, down a cobbled road with mews houses on either side, surrounded everywhere she looked by lush hanging baskets full of pretty flowers.
At the end of the road, she took the bend and smiled as she saw the little café, Darlings, set back from the road.
Stopping walking for a second, she nodded as she took everything in.
A small white bow-fronted shopfront drowning in climbing flowers winding up over the window and round the door frame.
Window boxes danced with plants, and a blue sign, Darlings, gave a hint of what was going on inside.
Coach lights hung on either side of a bow-fronted door, and tucked on the cobbles, an old Pashley bike, its basket filled with flowers, was propped to the side.
Vintage lace café curtains hid most of the inside from view, to the left, a tiny timber menu box nestled beside the door, and a row of potted herbs in a little cage on the wall rustled in the breeze.
Pushing the door open, a bell tinkled overhead as Tilly blinked and did a double-take.
The place was packed to the rafters and absolutely incredible.
Every surface held a little something, plants were dotted all over the place, little ceramic dishes and bowls were everywhere, and greenery trailed wherever it could.
Tiny bistro tables were squashed into every spare inch, and on floor-to-ceiling shelving, little fluted bowls, copper fluted cake moulds and an assortment of teapots were packed in as if their life depended on it.
At the far end, suspended shelving over an old-fashioned counter groaned with bottles and kitchen paraphernalia.
A coffee machine hissed and whirred, spoons clinked against saucers and a warm hum of chatter wrapped around the lot of it.
Squinting at the shelves, Tilly wondered what the hundreds of small china bowls in all sorts of shapes, patterns and sizes were for. She was about to find out.
Turning to her right and looking towards the back of the café, it appeared as if there wasn't a single free table.
Just about to open the door to walk back out, a woman appeared as if from nowhere, long glossy hair in a ponytail, a beautiful butcher's apron, white tennis shoes.
She moved between the tables as if she had wheels under her feet.
'Hello. How are you? Welcome to Darlings. Would you like me to fit you in? Just you, is it?'
'Oh, I thought you were full. Yes, please. If you've got a free table, that would be lovely.'
The woman was already moving and gestured for Tilly to follow her to the far corner. 'Right over here in the corner by the window. It's a bit tight down this side, if that’s okay. We're really busy today because of the weather. Everyone's out and about before the storm rolls in.'
Tilly followed the woman to a small table squeezed against the right-hand wall. The woman wasn't wrong, it was a tight squeeze with barely room to swing a cat, but it was better than nothing. Waiting for a second as a blue gingham cushion on the chair was plumped, Tilly smiled. 'Thanks.'
'Rightio, I'm Evie. What do you fancy? First time in Darlings, is it?'
Tilly laughed. 'Is it that obvious?'
'Only a small bit.' Evie smiled. 'Who sent you, then? Not many find us over this side of Darling unless you live here…'
'I was on my way here anyway, but then when I was on the tram, I spoke to Shelly. I’ve moved here sort of via Fiji. I was told to ask for a basket. Is that right?'
'Ahh, right, got you. Okie-dokie, makes sense now. Coffee?'
'A strong one, I think, is what I need.' Tilly chuckled.
'Been one of those days? Strong, I can do. Back in a tick.'
With a whoosh of apron and tennis shoes through the tables, Evie was gone in a flash.
Putting the menu down, Tilly looked around at the buzzing little café.
On the table beside her, a mum with a tiny baby in a car seat had a small bowl of what looked like hot chocolate or very milky coffee in front of her.
Every now and then, she dipped a small fluted doughnut into the bowl.
Wondering what was in the bowl, Tilly flicked her eyes around to other tables.
Not a mug, cup and saucer to be seen. Every customer appeared to have a version of the small bowl in front of them.
A few minutes later, the same thing arrived via Evie on Tilly's table.
'We do coffee in bowls on Darling. Is that okay for you? We have our weird and wonderful ways here. I thought you’d be au fait with it. '
Tilly smiled and pointed to the floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with bowls. 'Ahh, it makes sense now. They’re everywhere. A bowl is fine, thanks.'
'Good. Okay, so you'd like a basket? Yep?'
Tilly had no idea what a basket involved, but like the bowls, she could see white wicker baskets on nearly every single table. 'Umm, silly question, but what is a basket?'
'Ahh, another Darling thing. We do lunch baskets, breakfast baskets or morning tea baskets, which actually have nothing to do with morning tea, oh and dinner too.
You get a selection of whatever we've made.
' Evie flicked her hand around. 'Earlier we had homemade doughnuts, and we've just taken out a batch of scones. '
Tilly wasn't too keen on scones; there was no way she was going to say that, though. She got the feeling that you got what you were given. 'Perfect.'
'I've just worked it out, you must be in Bill and Margery's shed on the jetty there by the oysters. Am I right? You said Fiji and I put two and two together.'
Tilly nodded. 'Yup, does my reputation go before me?'
'For sure. You can't move to Darling without people knowing everything. You’ll get used to it. We make baskets for the ferry crew, so I think we knew you were here before you’d set foot in the place.' Evie winked and laughed. 'You'll get used to it. Welcome to Darling. The basket's on us.'
Before Tilly could say anything, Evie was gone, threading back through the tables at speed.
Tilly picked up the bowl of coffee with both hands, the way the woman beside her had done, and took a sip, not expecting to be razzle-dazzled by a cup of coffee.
Oh, that was good. Rich, dark, slightly nutty, served at exactly the right temperature, like nothing she’d ever really tasted, and she’d had coffee all over the world.
The basket, wicker, lined with a blue and white gingham napkin knotted at the top, arrived as quick as a flash.
Inside held a little glass jar of jam, a folded napkin, two fluted mini scones and a small dish of clotted cream.
Tucking in, Tilly suddenly got what all the fuss was about.
The contents of the basket were simple, clearly handmade and absolutely delicious.
Just as she was cutting into the scone and slathering it with cream and then jam, the door a few tables in front of her opened.
Three men walked in, one in a wetsuit with the top rolled down, a towel around his shoulders, goggles on top of his head and one in a hoodie, towelling shorts and wet hair.
Squinting, Tilly recognised the third man, who in a wetsuit top with a towel around his waist and sunglasses tucked into his hair appeared to be a lot more jovial than the last time she’d seen him. Well, hello there.
The first man called out in the direction of Evie. With a distinct Australian twang, whoever had made him had done a very good job of it. Perfection sprang to mind. Tilly blinked and earwigged to high heaven.
'How are ya?'
Evie was at the door in a flash. 'Good. You?'
'She'll be right.'
'How was the water?'
The Australian made a face. 'Yeah, nah, pretty cold out there.'
'You would go and put yourselves through it.' Evie turned to the other man. 'How was it, Otto?'
Otto. Tilly put two and two together and remembered Otto on her deck with his dog. He looked a darn sight happier than when she’d first set eyes on him. 'Freezing. We wanted to get one in before the storm hits.'
'Mad, the lot of you.' Evie chuckled and rolled her eyes. 'Two secs.'
From her squashed-in spot in the corner, Tilly continued to watch as the three men stood at the door and chatted to an old man who was sitting with a bowl of coffee.
In a flash, Evie was back with three white wicker baskets with blue and white gingham fabric knotted at the top and cups of coffee in branded keep cups.
The Australian took the baskets. 'Cheers. Did you do us doubles? We’re starving. '
Sitting and listening to every word, Tilly couldn’t tear her eyes away from the man she’d now learnt was called Otto. All she could think about was that she would very much need to be bumping into him again.