CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Our second cake run the following day proved less successful than the first week.
Fen’s twins were in bed with a tummy bug, so she was late arriving with the cake donation from the Brambleberry Manor Café, and when we eventually set off, we’d gone no further than three miles towards our first stop, Henley Green, when the van started to judder alarmingly.
Panicking, I pulled into a lay-by and switched off the engine. Then when I tried to start the van again, it resisted all attempts to get it going again.
I turned to Ellie and we exchanged a look of despair. ‘What do we do now?’
‘No idea.’ She dug her hands into her hair. ‘The amount I know about engines could be written on a... well, something very tiny indeed.’
I turned the key again but it was no use.
‘Let’s leave it for a while and see,’ suggested Ellie. ‘It might need time to get going in the mornings.’
I grinned. ‘Sounds familiar.’
Sure enough, when I turned the key five minutes later, to our relief the van started again and we were off. But it was clear there was something wrong which would need to be fixed.
Late for our first stop – Henley Green – we arrived to find no one there this time.
‘They must have given up waiting for us,’ murmured Ellie.
‘Such a shame. Shall we get out of the van, just in case?’ I glanced at my watch. ‘We’ve got ten minutes before we’re due at Risley Common.’
She nodded. ‘Good idea. If we look as if we mean business, people might notice us. I’ll talk to Sam later about what might be wrong with the van.’
As we got out, I glanced along the road and spotted what I thought was a familiar face. ‘Didn’t we see that woman last week?’ I pointed for Ellie’s benefit. ‘I think she was our first customer. I remember thinking she really suited her pink hair.’
‘Oh, yes. I recognise the bright green coat. She bought...’ Ellie frowned, trying to remember.
‘Half a dozen chocolate brownies.’
She appeared to be arguing with the tall, thin man we’d seen her with the week before. And as we watched from the cover of our van, she suddenly threw her hands in the air in a furious gesture and stormed away from him, her eyes trained on her feet.
‘I don’t think she’s even noticed us,’ I murmured. ‘She looks really upset.’
She was heading in our direction, still with her head down, and we quickly stepped out of the way to let her past. But as she drew level with us, she stumbled over a wonky paving stone and would have lost her balance if Ellie hadn’t reacted quickly, reaching out with a ‘whoops!’ and steadying her.
‘Oh. Sorry.’ She looked up in surprised bewilderment, as if she’d only just realised we were there. ‘My head’s all scrambled and I didn’t even see you.’
‘Are you okay?’ I asked.
She nodded, pressing her lips together – but her flushed, angry face told a different story. She took a furious glance back at the man she was arguing with. ‘Bloody men!’ she muttered. ‘The world would be a much better place without them. I bought this ’ – she pulled crossly at her ‘RIP the Patriarchy’ brooch – ‘because I got so sick of men trying to control women and keeping them down, but I never thought Gaz would end up joining the ranks of the worse-than-useless excuses for a member of the male sex.’ She took a big breath and blew it out sharply. ‘He got it on with my sister when we were first going out a year ago.’
‘Your sister ?’ Ellie gazed at her in horror. ‘And you didn’t know?’
She shook her head. ‘I found out from a “friend” who said she thought I ought to know. And when I challenged him, he said he didn’t tell me about it because it happened before we were going out – so he didn’t think it mattered ! But the thing is, I think he was lying about that because the “friend” who mentioned it was adamant it was after Gaz and I got together.’
‘Ooh, that’s not great, is it?’ I gazed at her in sympathy.
‘No, it’s bloody not. My sister says she doesn’t even remember snogging him. But apparently, they did, and my “friend” caught them at it.’
‘Are you sure your “friend” was telling you the truth?’ I asked.
She nodded gloomily. ‘I did wonder if she might be lying out of spite.’ She looked up at us briefly, revealing the full extent of her ruined make-up misery. ‘But Gaz didn’t bother to deny it when I challenged him about it. He keeps asking me why it matters and wanting to forget about it and move on.’ She shook her head angrily. ‘He’s got no bloody idea!’
‘Maybe...’ Ellie hesitated as Mo scowled, clearly still thinking murderous thoughts about Gaz. ‘He might be genuinely sorry. Maybe you should talk a bit more?’
She snorted. ‘No bloody way! That’s it, as far as I’m concerned. I’ve attracted scumbags disguised as decent men all my life but I really thought Gaz might be different. Well, stupid me for imagining there might be some nice men out there somewhere. I’m obviously going to grow old surrounded by cats and actually, that’s perfectly fine by me.’
I grimaced as I listened to her rant. ‘You have my sympathy, Mo. I’ve just broken up with my boyfriend as well.’
‘Don’t tell me. He cheated on you.’ Not waiting for an answer, she rushed on, ‘Men are such tossers !’ Her eyes flashed in disgust.
I cringed inwardly, thinking that might be a little too strong.
‘But you’re moving on from Richard, aren’t you?’ murmured Ellie encouragingly. She smiled at Mo. ‘I’m Ellie, by the way, and this is Katja.’
‘Hi,’ said Mo, a hint of a watery smile breaking through. ‘It’s shit, isn’t it?’ she said bluntly, looking at me.
I sighed. ‘It is.’
‘It’s good you’ve got your little support group, though,’ said Ellie, turning to me. ‘People to do things with... giving you a new zest for life.’
Mo looked at me with interest. ‘Support group?’
I smiled. ‘Just a few of us licking our wounds after break-ups and helping each other through.’
‘Sounds like a good idea,’ said Mo mournfully. ‘Have you got room for another member?’
I laughed, thinking it was just a throw-away remark. ‘Of course! The more the merrier.’
‘Really?’ Mo looked at me intently.
‘Um . . . well . . .’ Oh, crikey, she was being serious.
‘Can I phone you if I want to come along to one of your meetings?’
‘Erm.’ I smiled awkwardly. ‘I mean, it’s not an official group. It’s just three of us. We all live in Sunnybrook and we meet up sometimes. We went ten-pin bowling last week and we’ve decided we’re going to train for a charity fun run.’ I shrugged to convey that it was all really very casual.
‘That sounds great,’ she said immediately. ‘I’ll borrow my sister’s running gear until I can get some new stuff.’
‘Oh. Right.’ I looked at her in surprise. She was obviously still speaking to her sister, then. The one who’d apparently snogged Gaz back in the day.
‘Can I bring my friend Dot along?’ Mo said suddenly. ‘She’s had a terrible experience recently and she could really do with being cheered up.’
‘Dot?’
She nodded. ‘She was in an abusive relationship. I kept telling her he was too controlling and she ought to get out. I even phoned the local women’s refuge on her behalf, just in case it got really bad at home.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘It took Dot a whole year to break free of him.’
‘Gosh, that’s awful.’ I gazed at Mo in horror. My own troubles paled into insignificance compared with her friend Dot’s experience. ‘I mean, you’re very welcome to join us when we’re training for the fun run?’
I could hardly say no.
But what would Cheryl and Ray think of me inviting two new ‘members’ to join us?
‘Great! Let me know the time and place and Dot and I will be there.’ She glanced back up the street, eyes narrowing angrily at the sight of Gaz walking slowly away. Then she jabbed at the brooch on my jacket.
‘Females are the Future! Yes, indeed. Power to the matriarchy! ’
*****
‘Phew!’ I glanced across at Ellie as we drove away from Mo.
She replied with an expressive raise of her eyebrows.
‘That’s one angry woman,’ I murmured. ‘What have I got myself into?’
‘You did the right thing, inviting them along.’
I grimaced. ‘Do you think so? I just hope Cheryl and Ray won’t mind. I don’t think they will. Next stop, Risley Common?’
Luckily, we had no further problems with the van as we drove on, arriving after a few miles at the next village on our round.
‘Damn! No one here, either,’ muttered Ellie, slowing to a standstill at the designated spot. ‘We’re not exactly off to a great start if people can’t rely on us to turn up when we say we will.’
I murmured my agreement. Then I spotted a woman with a child in a pushchair on the pavement a little way ahead, walking away from us. ‘Look. There’s two of our customers from last week. Rosie with her little girl, Amelie. Maybe she was waiting for us.’
‘Oh, yes. It was Amelie’s birthday.’
‘She was over the moon with that figure of Elsa you gave her.’
Ellie smiled. ‘Let’s catch them up. See if they want anything.’
We managed to pull into the side of the road and Rosie looked delighted when she saw us.
‘Lovely!’ she exclaimed when we got out of the van. ‘I thought I must have missed you and I’d already promised Amelie she could choose a cake as a special treat.’
I explained about the problems with the van and thankfully, she was sympathetic about our late arrival.
‘I hate cars,’ she said with a smile. ‘I used to have one but they’re just far too expensive to run now that it’s just me and my daughter. So we walk everywhere, don’t we, Amelie?’
I nodded. ‘Great exercise.’
‘How do you manage with food shopping,’ asked Ellie. ‘You’re such a long way from a shop.’
‘Oh, I get a delivery from the supermarket when I get my benefits and I try to make it last a whole month.’ She smiled. ‘I’ve had to become very inventive at mealtimes, which is no bad thing. It’s amazing what you can do with a bag of lentils, a tin of tomatoes, some dried herbs and a couple of sausages.’
I smiled. ‘Sounds delicious.’
‘I love cooking... dreaming up different dishes on a budget.’ Rosie’s hazel eyes sparkled. ‘I buy the cheapest cuts of meat and then slow-cook them with seasonal vegetables or spices to make stews and pies and curries, then I freeze individual portions. It’s so much cheaper doing it that way. And thankfully Amelie seems to like my food. I’d be in trouble if she didn’t. Kids tend to be breathtakingly honest.’
‘Can I have my cake now, Mummy?’ Amelie was getting restless in the pushchair.
‘You can, my love. But what do you say?’ Rosie dropped down with a smile and unclipped her to let her out.
‘Please.’ Amelie gave us her gap-toothed smile and my heart melted. They were such a lovely pair... mum and daughter. Not having a father on the scene must have left Rosie a single parent, struggling to make ends meets. What had happened to the dad? Had he done a Richard and gone off with someone else?
Holding her daughter’s hand firmly, Rosie led her over to the van, then she lifted her up so she could see the cakes on display.
Amelie chose a cupcake decorated with pink icing and hundreds and thousands, and Rosie let her have a bite of it straight away before putting it back ‘for later’ in the plastic box she’d brought with her. ‘After your lunch, okay, sweetie?’
Ellie took payment for a single cupcake then popped another one into the box just before Rosie closed it.
‘Oh.’ Rosie looked alarmed. ‘Here.’ She closed the box and scrabbled in her bag for her purse.
‘No, no. We’re doing two for the price of one today,’ Ellie told her with a smile.
‘Really?’
I nodded. ‘Enjoy!’
We said goodbye and got back in the van, and they were both smiling and waving as we drove off.
I glanced at Ellie as I drove along. ‘That was really nice of you.’
She smiled. ‘They deserve it. I hope I can be as good a mum as Rosie is when this little one arrives.’ She patted her bump wistfully. ‘It must be hard being a single mum.’
‘She’s making the best of it, by the sounds of things.’
‘I guess she won’t be able to go back to work until Amelie is at school full-time.’
I nodded. ‘Even then, it’ll be difficult because her job will have to fit around school hours.’
We lapsed into silence, absorbed in our own thoughts as we drove along, until finally we arrived – almost an hour later than the previous week – at the farmers’ market in Lockley Meadow.
As we pulled into our allotted space and got out of the van, I glanced around warily, hoping that a certain pair of building site workers hadn’t noticed us arriving. With a bit of luck, they might already have been round the market.
I had a vision of them back at the site with their lunch: man-mountain Ivan tucking into a couple of his favourite meat and potato pies, while the slightly more discerning planet-saving Caleb opted for a vegetarian bap with hummus and salad.
‘I wonder if we’ll see Ivan and Caleb this week,’ said Ellie, looking around her with a grin. ‘I think you’ve got a fan there.’
My heart gave a jolt of surprise. ‘ Who? ’
‘Well, the lovely Ivan, of course.’
‘Oh, right.’ I felt my heart tumble a little.
‘Stall holders get more attractive all the time?’ she reminded me with a grin. ‘He was looking at you when he said it.’
‘Ivan probably says that to all the stall-holders. Even the women in their eighties. Even the men in their eighties.’
She laughed. ‘He’s funny, though. And quite attractive in a big friendly giant sort of a way.’
‘You think so?’ I stared at her in disbelief. ‘He wasn’t exactly friendly that day he almost obliterated us with his bulldozer.’
‘No. But losing out on the lottery and having a beef with your ex about it are surely extenuating circumstances? He’s obviously not that grumpy as a rule. If he was, he’d have been locked up for his own safety long ago!’
‘Maybe.’ I shrugged, not as willing to forgive him quite as easily as Ellie apparently was.
I took another look across at the building site, just in case danger should appear. Then I turned back and smiled at an older couple who’d wandered up to the van and were asking about our individual Bakewell tarts.
‘Are they fresh?’ asked the woman, peering at them suspiciously. ‘We got your leaflet and it says you’re doing your bit to save food being wasted. But does that mean it’s all past its sell-by date?’
‘Well, no. They were actually all baked in the last two days, and bakes like these are more likely to have a ‘best before’ date than a ‘sell-by’ date.’
‘As long as they’re stored correctly,’ added Ellie, ‘cakes can stay fresh for quite a while.’
‘Really?’ The woman didn’t look at all convinced.
‘Yes. Some cakes actually improve with age. Like ginger cake, for instance, or golden syrup cake,’ explained Ellie with a smile. ‘We happen to have one of each today, if you’re interested?’ She held up the ginger loaf cake, wrapped in its cellophane and priced at one pound.
The man grinned. ‘You’re so fussy, Carol. You do realise you can probably make two Christmas cakes and store one away for the following year and it would still taste good when you came to eat it?’
The woman called Carol made a face at him. ‘Yes, but you’re weird. Yuk, I’d never dream of serving something that old!’
He shrugged. ‘As long as you put plenty of booze in your Christmas cake, it would be absolutely fine.’ He looked at her questioningly. ‘So are we buying the Bakewell tarts or not? I’ve got this rugby match I want to watch.’
The woman wrinkled her nose rudely and shook her head.
‘Well, if you’re not going to buy those, they’re mine,’ said a booming voice, and we all turned to find Ivan standing there, wearing something very peculiar on his head. It looked like an upturned cake tin with an aerial protruding from the top of it.
‘Welcome back, ladies. I’ve missed your smiles. And your doughnuts.’ He grinned at me when he said this last bit, and I knew Caleb must have told him about my doughnut confusion last time. The sneak! I could just imagine them having a proper old guffaw at my expense.
Ignoring his unique headgear, I gave him a withering look. ‘So how many tarts would you like?’
‘Well, now, there’s a question.’
I sighed inwardly at his childish double entendre . ‘Very funny, Ivan. How many Bakewell tarts would you like?’
‘It wasn’t meant to be funny, actually. I was just trying to work out how many of the lads are on site today.’
‘Eight, including me,’ called a familiar voice, and I looked over and saw Caleb at the neighbouring stall.
‘Okay, boss.’ Ivan grinned at me. ‘It’s my turn to buy the cakes.’
Heat rushed into my cheeks. I’d done it again. Jumped to an embarrassingly wrong conclusion. And apparently the irritating Caleb had heard every word!
I glanced at Ellie and I could see from the set of her mouth that she was finding all this highly entertaining, but was trying not to show it.
When I made eye contact with her, she pointed at Ivan and then at her head and mimed, What on earth’s that?
I shrugged, just as I spied the woman who’d been worried about sell-by dates staring transfixed at Ivan’s head and being dragged away by her partner, who was presumably intent on getting home in time for the rugby.
I glanced over at Caleb, just in time to see him being handed a big bunch of yellow roses. Who was he buying them for? Not that I was terribly interested...
‘So what do you think? Cool, eh?’ Ivan struck a pose for me, turning this way and that. ‘I thought I might wear it for my date tonight.’
I nodded. ‘Hm, very sexy. Who’s the lucky woman?’
‘Erm.’ He looked bemused for a moment. ‘Good question. Caroline? I think it’s Caroline. Although it could be Katie. No, Katie was definitely last week... the Chinese restaurant.’
I laughed. ‘So you’re making up for lost time after your break-up by dating every woman you meet?’
‘Trying hard.’ He grinned. ‘Fancy joining the list?’
‘Er, no, thanks. I’ll pass for now. Although how any woman could resist you when you’re wearing that weird thing on your head...’
‘It’s called a radio hat. I love finding ancient gadgets like this on antique stalls.’
‘A radio hat ?’ I laughed. ‘What on earth’s that?’
‘Well, it’s one of these. Obviously,’ smirked Ivan, being deliberately obtuse.
‘Well, I’ve never seen anything like it.’ Glancing around, neither had anyone else by the looks of things. People were walking by, grinning and pointing. ‘It looks like something knocked up by a twelve-year-old in metalwork class.’
Ivan pretended to be offended. ‘Hey, this is a real antique . I had a chat with the nice old fella who runs the stall and he told me the radio hat was invented by an American in the 1940s and they were “all the rage” at the time. People must have thought they were really cool, walking around with such an up-to-the- minute gadget on their head and being able to listen to the radio on their way to work or on the subway.’
‘Yeah. Really cool, Ivan.’ I started to laugh, he looked so ridiculous, and Caleb – paying for his roses – flashed us a disapproving look. Ivan was going to get into trouble from the boss for time-wasting if he wasn’t careful.
I turned away from Caleb and smiled at Ivan. ‘You do realise you look like a complete plonker with that ridiculous aerial sticking out of your head. In fact, I’m not sure there ever was such a thing as a radio hat. I think your “nice old fella” is laughing all the way to the bank.’
‘No, it was a thing. I promise you. Google “radio hat photos” and you’ll see for yourself.’
So I did – and sure enough, there was a black and white photo of a very smartly-dressed middle-aged woman in a fur-trimmed coat, wearing bizarre headgear almost identical to the contraption that Ivan was currently sporting.
I chuckled in amazement. ‘So does it actually work?’
‘Not sure. I’m going to change the batteries and find out. But even if it’s no longer functional, it’s still a piece of history.’
‘Well, I’m very happy for you, Ivan. But you are going to take it off at some point, aren’t you? You’re actually scaring people.’
Caleb appeared, glancing pointedly at his watch.
‘Yes, boss.’ Ivan whipped off the headgear. ‘I’m heading back now.’
‘Good. Funnily enough, I don’t pay you to spend time roaming the market and chatting up the vendors.’ Caleb’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was clear he wasn’t at all amused by Ivan’s antics.
I flicked my eyes to the sky. And I’d thought it was Ivan who was the grumpy one!
Later, as we were driving away from the market, past the building site, I looked over at the half-constructed eco houses, and I spotted a familiar figure strolling onto the site.
Caleb.
He was chatting to a tall, slender woman in pale jeans and tennis shoes. She turned to him and laughed, flicking at her long strawberry blonde hair so that it fell across the back of her cute pink sweatshirt. She was carrying a bunch of yellow roses.
As we drove away, I couldn’t resist a look back at the pair of them.
Although why I should be interested, I had no idea...