Chapter 17
The area around the café was unexpectedly busy when Beryl arrived, and she remembered that today had been scheduled for the farmers’ market.
She checked her watch and found that she was early.
Knowing that Winnie probably wouldn’t be on time because she’d said she was going to get a bus from the retirement complex where she now lived, and they were notoriously unreliable from outside the crescent of bungalows, Beryl decided to have a quick look at the market stalls.
The main point of interest for most of the older residents of Willowbrook was always the stall selling jams and pickles.
Winnie and Beryl had for years made their own preserves, each priding themselves on being the best at creating their signature recipes.
Beryl loved to make traditional jams such as strawberry or raspberry, plus lemon curd and the odd wildcard of her own invention such as greengage and rhubarb, and Winnie preferred to cook up spicier relishes that would complement her Caribbean dishes, so they never clashed when they entered local competitions and shows with their wares.
Even so, many of the senior villagers liked to check that the market stall wasn’t selling anything better than the creations they could produce themselves, and to stand and comment loudly on the standard of goods on sale.
The stallholder in charge of preserves today saw Beryl coming and nudged her partner, rolling her eyes and muttering, ‘Here we go. Brace yourself.’ However, Beryl, preoccupied with her own affairs, didn’t stay long at the glowing display of jams, jellies and pickles on show.
She merely picked up one or two jars, sniffed at the prices and made her way to the café.
‘We got away lightly this time,’ said the other woman behind the stall. ‘I was expecting a lecture on basic food hygiene and the use of pectin, but she seems a bit distracted. I hope she’s okay.’
‘Don’t worry about Beryl,’ said her friend. ‘She’s got that look on her face. I know it well.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She’s got a bee in her bonnet. Look over there. It’s already nearly lunchtime and she’s heading for the café. I can see her buddies going in too. She has bigger fish to fry, I reckon. I’d love to be a fly on the wall.’
Beryl greeted Anthea and Winnie with a nod – they’d never gone in for this modern habit of exchanging hugs and kisses every five minutes when they’d only seen each other the day before and anyway, it was a surefire way of spreading germs. The three sat down at their usual table which Winnie had phoned ahead to reserve, just in case some pretentious newcomer decided to muscle in on their spot.
Beryl looked around with approval. It was the first time they’d been in since Kate’s latest upgrade of the decorative features.
The new tablecloths were patterned with autumn leaves and blackberries and each table had its own small pot of crimson chrysanthemums in the centre.
A much bigger terracotta pot of the same flowers but in a vibrant rusty red stood on a wooden stool in one corner of the café. The whole effect was warm and friendly.
‘Do you like the seasonal look, ladies?’ called the woman standing behind the counter. She beamed at them when they chorused their approval.
‘You’ve really got a flair for design, Kate,’ said Winnie. ‘I feel as if I’ve accidentally dressed to blend in.’ She gestured to her own flowing robe and head wrap which were decorated with burnt orange and chocolate-brown ferns.
‘You’ll never do that,’ said Kate, laughing.
‘Look at you all. None of you are wallflowers. Beryl’s colours are always stunning and you’re so elegant, Anthea.
The linen look is very Judi Dench, and you’ve gone for more subtle shades of green and mushroom this morning.
It was as if you all knew you were going to be asked to do me a huge favour.
Can I get Milo to take some photos of the three of you for my next publicity leaflet? Would you mind?’
The Saga Louts looked immensely gratified as Kate called her partner and he came in holding a very fancy digital camera. Milo was tall and broad shouldered. His short, dark hair was peppered with grey which in Beryl’s opinion added a lot to his charm and his kind eyes twinkled when he saw them.
‘Good heavens, I didn’t realise this was a proper photoshoot,’ he said. ‘Kate asked me earlier if I’d take some shots of the café’s new autumn look, but I didn’t know we had glamorous models on tap. No, don’t move, I’ll take the pictures just where you are.’
He clicked away merrily while Kate made coffee. ‘It’s on the house this time,’ she said. ‘These photos are going to look great in my leaflet and on the posters. I’m guessing you wouldn’t say no to a slice of Milo’s lemon drizzle cake, if it’s not too near lunchtime?’
Soon, the excitement was over, and the three ladies settled down with their coffee and cake. ‘Well now, Anthea,’ said Winnie. ‘Last night was a bit of an eye-opener, wasn’t it? Did you have any idea that was going to happen, you dark horse?’
‘Not a clue, darling, and if I had known in advance I’d have probably decided to say no.
Maurice has seemed a bit lacklustre lately, as I told you, but when I looked into those twinkling eyes and saw the longing look on his face, I couldn’t turn the poor chap down.
One more marriage can’t hurt, I thought.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. And when I took him home with me later, I found out there was nothing lacklustre or poor chap about him in that department, after all. ’
She fanned her face with a menu and chuckled at the expressions on her friends’ faces, which were a mixture of surprise and envy.
‘Too much information,’ they chorused, but Kate, overhearing, began to applaud.
‘You’re not telling me you and Maurice have finally got it together?’ she said.
Anthea said they had indeed, and Kate called Milo back in to tell him the news.
Soon Beryl’s mission to talk to her cronies about future plans had been derailed as a couple more regular customers came in and were told Anthea’s news and then Maurice himself turned up, to be greeted by a rousing round of applause.
‘I wasn’t expecting a reception committee,’ he said, coming over to kiss his intended on both cheeks. ‘But this is very gratifying. Can I join you? How about I treat us all to lunch as a celebration of this wonderful lady agreeing to make me the happiest man alive?’
This idea went down very well, and it wasn’t long before Maurice had pulled up a chair. Four soups of the day were chosen because Kate’s chicken and leek broth was everyone’s favourite and also the scent of freshly baked bread rolls was too tantalising to resist.
‘Now then,’ said Beryl at last. ‘There’s something I want to talk to you all about. Let me outline my latest holiday scheme before we all get distracted by food.’
The others leaned forward slightly. Beryl was well known for her imaginative suggestions, and they were all in the mood for something new. It was as if Anthea and Maurice’s news had energised them all. Even Anthea’s usual cool demeanour had been exchanged for one of barely suppressed glee.
‘Go on then,’ she said. ‘Don’t keep us in suspense.’
‘It’s a bit more ambitious than our usual trips and it’s going to include more people than just us three,’ said Beryl.
‘Oh, hurrah,’ said Maurice. ‘Does that mean I can come too? I’ve always wanted to join a Saga Louts jolly.’
‘Certainly, you can come,’ said Beryl. ‘That’s all part of my plan. Also, we’ll ask Sid and Frank. The younger element, if they agree to it, will be my new neighbour, Venetia, and of course, the lovely Rick. That will make a total of eight, a perfect number for a road trip, in my opinion.’
Silence followed this astonishing announcement. Beryl could see by the looks on their faces that she’d shocked them into speechlessness, something that rarely happened.
‘I think you’d better carry on,’ said Winnie. ‘We’re going to need a lot more details. A heck of a lot.’