CHAPTER ELEVEN
In the end, it was an easy decision to make.
I loved working in the café, but I’d still be doing that for four days a week, and I’d be out on the road every Wednesday. I quite enjoyed driving and the idea of pootling around the local villages and selling from Ellie’s fabulously decorated and really eye-catching van was a very appealing one. Especially now that spring was on the way.
Once summer was in full bloom, it would be good to be outdoors in the fresh air on sunny days, chatting to customers about one of my all-time favourite subjects – cake!
But the main reason I knew I was going to say yes was Richard.
I couldn’t stop thoughts of him going round and round in my head. I was annoyed at myself for spending too much time dwelling on my New York disaster and especially for constantly comparing myself to young and pretty Emily – and always coming off worse. I reckoned the person who managed to invent a way of blocking out such self-critical thoughts would become a millionaire overnight.
I hated Richard for what he’d done. But my mind would keep tapping me on the shoulder and reminding me about all the good times we’d shared. And then a great cloud of loneliness and regret would settle over me, rendering me temporarily incapable of doing anything other than sulking on the sofa in front of the TV, making it all better with fast food takeaways, and dreaming up satisfying acts of revenge which I knew I would never carry out, but which made me feel better just for that moment...
Taking the Travelling Cake Van on the road could be the fresh start I needed. Hopefully, I’d be so involved in this fun new adventure, there would be no headspace left at all for scumbag Richard.
It was a nice theory, anyway . . .
*****
To my relief, Ellie announced that she would be coming with me on the first few cake runs.
‘Just until you’re happy doing it on your own,’ she explained.
I nodded gratefully. I’d been slightly nervous, not really knowing what to expect, so I was very glad to hear this. It would be fun doing it with Ellie.
We’d chatted to Fen and she’d thought it was a great idea, with the result that the Travelling Cake Van was to be a joint venture with the Brambleberry Manor Café. Any profit after deductions for petrol and the upkeep of the van would be spent on tins and toiletries for the local food bank.
Over the following few weeks, we leafleted all five villages we were planning to visit to let people know we’d be there at a certain time each week. We figured that after that first announcement through villagers’ letterboxes, word of mouth would probably be enough to sustain interest in the cake van, week after week.
With everything organised, I couldn’t wait for the following Wednesday.
Our first cake run . . .
*****
That morning, Fen drove over early with her mouth-watering contribution: a large baker’s tray full of Danish pastries, shortbread biscuits and a few gingerbread men, plus a couple of jam-filled doughnuts, some raspberry and white chocolate muffins, and two lemon drizzle loaf cakes.
We transferred the tray straight from Fen’s boot to the van, ready to get on the road. Ellie had already produced a list of goodies which she’d stuck on the inside of one of the back doors so that when they were open, customers could see the prices at a glance.
‘I did these for you as well,’ Fen said, collecting a box from the passenger seat of her car. And Ellie and I chuckled with delight when she lifted the lid to reveal a dozen cupcakes with two words in pink icing on top, clearly baked specially for our first day on the road.
She shrugged. ‘I couldn’t fit “travelling” on there as well, so I had to make do with “cake van”.’
‘Fen, they’re fabulous!’ Beaming, Ellie placed them carefully next to the tray in the van.
I nodded in agreement. ‘My stomach’s rumbling just looking at all these gorgeous bakes but I guess we’d better save them for our customers.’
Maddy was going to be in charge while we were away and we were due at our first stop, the village of Henley Green, by ten o’clock. So, after loading the van with our own selection of cakes and pastries – which included chocolate chip brownies, iced ginger cake, half a dozen pains au chocolat and some individual slices of Victoria sandwich cake at the bargain price of 30p each – we were finally ready to set off.
We’d plotted our route the night before, and the drive would take in all five villages in a rough circle, eventually ending back at Sunnybrook, the starting point.
The village of Henley Green – the first ever stop for the Travelling Cake Van – was six miles away, and I lapsed into silence as I drove along.
Would anyone actually turn up at the van when we arrived?
‘You okay?’ Ellie smiled across at me. ‘You’re not nervous, are you?’
I shook my head. ‘Not really. I was... well, I was just trying to think what my reaction would be to getting a leaflet through the door advertising cakes at knock-down prices sold from an old, but beautifully decorated, van.’
‘And how would you react?’
I chuckled. ‘To be honest, I’d probably be first in the queue. Especially knowing that the cakes were from the Little Duck Pond Café and the Brambleberry Manor Café.’
‘Well, there you are, then. It’s going to be a great success.’ She grinned at me. But then her face changed to an anxious grimace and she crossed the fingers on both hands. ‘We can but try, Katja. And if it doesn’t work, we haven’t lost anything.’
‘Except the cost of the leafleting. And the rust work on the van.’
‘True. But it will work. I’ll recoup the outlay eventually. I’m sure of it. Well, I’m almost sure.’
We exchanged a rueful grin.
‘I suppose it’s the same with every business,’ I remarked. ‘You had no idea the café would be a success when you started it. Or the bakery. Or the baking school. Or the glamping site.’
Ellie smiled. ‘True. It’s always a gamble. But you have to take a risk in business – a calculated risk, at any rate – otherwise you’d never get anywhere. But so far, it seems to have paid off for me. Thank goodness.’
I glanced at Ellie, suddenly aware that she was looking quite business-like in her black maternity trousers, sombre loafers, dark green top and black gilet. By contrast, I probably looked as if I was off for a day by the sea in my jeans and white trainers, little pink top and my best winter white puffa jacket.
‘Do you think I’m dressed appropriately?’ I asked her, doubtfully. ‘To meet customers, I mean.’
She looked over and frowned. ‘You’re fine. You look lovely.’
‘Are you sure? I just wish I’d worn something a bit less revealing.’ I pinged the lowish scooped neckline of my top. I’d worn my best clothes to give me a bit of confidence. But now I wished I’d given my outfit more thought. We’d be visiting a farmers’ market in Lockley Meadow and a smart white puffa jacket was hardly appropriate for tramping around a potentially muddy village green! ‘I’ll choose something buttoned up to the neck next time.’
Ellie chuckled. ‘We’re not Victorians. You can dress how you like.’
When we drew into the village, I let out a gasp. ‘Oh, heavens, look!’ Five women were clustered in a group at the edge of the village green. ‘Are those people waiting for a bus? Or are they actually waiting for us ?’
‘Well... I don’t see a bus stop. But they’re standing exactly where our leaflet said we’d be at ten o’clock every Wednesday. So I guess they must be our customers.’
‘It’s a miracle,’ I breathed, relief rushing through me.
Ellie chuckled. ‘Well, I wouldn’t go that far. But it is quite exciting.’
‘ This is new,’ remarked a smiley woman at the front of the queue when we hopped out of the van and opened the doors at the back. ‘I have to say, I was very excited when your leaflet came through the door.’
The woman she was standing with laughed. ‘I actually did a little happy dance in the hallway when I saw it was the Little Duck Pond Café coming to our village. My husband now thinks I’m a cupcake short of a full pack.’
‘Well, that’s nothing new, is it, Sadie?’ joked the first woman, nudging her friend. She turned to us. ‘But seriously, since we don’t have a bakery in the village, we have to buy our cakes and pastries when we do our weekly shop at the supermarket, which is miles away. So this mid-week cake van pitching up practically at our door is the best thing since sliced bread.’
‘Or chocolate croissants?’ Sadie grinned, peering into the van and running her eye over the selection of bakery goodies. ‘I’ll take four of those, please.’
‘Well, it’s really lovely to see you all,’ smiled Ellie as I swung open the van doors. ‘Let’s hope the cakes and pastries meet with your expectations.’ She took the container Sadie was holding out and placed four pains au chocolat inside it.
It was definitely a good start, I thought to myself cheerfully, as I slipped the cash into the money belt around my waist.
Everyone was clustering around now and there were lots of oohs and exclamations of delight at the price list. Ellie got back in the van to make a phone call, while I served the other customers. Then I turned to find that another three people had joined the queue: a couple with their dog, who were pleased to snap up one of the lemon drizzle loaf cakes, and a youngish woman with spiky pink hair, who bought half a dozen of the brownies.
‘Nice brooch,’ she remarked. She was wearing pink-framed glasses to match her hair and a necklace bearing the name ‘Mo’ around her neck.
I thanked her – and then she grabbed the lapel of her voluminous green coat and flashed her own brooch, which to my amusement was the gravestone one I’d seen in the jeweller’s shop, declaring ‘RIP the Patriarchy’.
‘We obviously shop at the same place,’ she pointed out, tapping the side of her nose in a confidential manner as she took her bag of brownies.
I grinned. ‘Clearly great minds think alike. Enjoy the brownies, Mo!’
‘Oh, I will. See you next week.’
‘Great!’ Smiling, I watched her walk away and join a man who was obviously waiting for her. As she reached him, he stood up from the bench he’d been sitting on, revealing himself to be a good deal taller and thinner than Mo. Then they walked off together.
I glanced around to check for latecomers before joining Ellie in the van.
Then we set off for our next stop, which was the village of Risley Common.
But when we arrived, to our disappointment, there was no one waiting for us at the designated parking spot.
‘What do we do? Just hang around for a bit?’ I looked at Ellie.
She nodded. ‘It’s not quite eleven yet so we’ll give it a bit of time, shall we?’
‘If we don’t sell anything here, I reckon we’ll do well at the next stop in Lockley Meadow.’
‘We’re bound to, I reckon, considering it’s their weekly farmers’ market on the village green today.’
I swallowed, remembering the last time we were in Lockley Meadow, the day before I flew to New York. ‘I just hope we don’t bump into Bulldozer Man again.’ I gave a shiver of revulsion.
Ellie laughed. ‘Oh, yes. I’d forgotten about him. You’d better promise me you won’t get into any fisticuffs fights if we do bump into him! Because it came pretty close to that the last time.’
I reddened at the memory. ‘I’m not usually so... vocal . It’s just I was so scared I wouldn’t get home in time to sign for my passport.’
She chuckled. ‘He’s probably terrified of you now, so I wouldn’t worry about bumping into him again. He’ll give you a wide berth, I’d imagine.’
‘I wasn’t that fierce, was I?’
‘Well, I was a bit worried you were going to climb up and drag him out of the cab and move the bulldozer out of the way yourself.’
I laughed. ‘I might well have done, if that other guy hadn’t come out and stuck his oar in.’
‘The foreman? Hmm. He was quite attractive, wasn’t he?’
I shrugged. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it.’ It was true. That day, I’d been so looking forward to seeing Richard again, I probably wouldn’t even have noticed if the foreman had been Ryan Gosling’s twin brother.
How times had changed . . .