Chapter 27
ALYSSA
‘Ginny, can you give the thirty-second warning for the birthday cake? Georgie asked me to bring it out at nine o’clock and it’s almost time.’
Alyssa was firing the candles into the hairdryer-shaped cake, unsure whether sixty-five of them were going to fit, and, worse, if the heat would set off the smoke alarms. She’d seen that happen in a video on social media and it had been a pathological fear ever since.
What did it say about her life that her sprinkler system being activated, soaking a room full of revellers and the interior of her gorgeous winter wonderland café wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to her today?
No, the most recent contender for the worst thing to happen to her today had kicked off just a short while ago, when Kayleigh had come into the kitchen with a tall, red-haired, striking woman in a stunning black velvet trouser suit.
‘Alyssa, this is my Aunt Helena. She’s Aunt Cathy’s daughter.’
Alyssa had to dig deep for a smile and a cheery greeting. It was nice that Kayleigh wanted to introduce her family, but right then, she had a whole lot of other things taking up her time and her mind.
Alyssa had halted the candle insertion and held out her hand. ‘Lovely to meet you, Helena.’
Okay, time to get back to work. Things to do. People to serve. Candles to light.
‘Aunt Helena is a lawyer. A pretty brilliant one, actually.’
Alyssa had frozen, suddenly unaware of a single other thing she had to do.
Had she heard that right? ‘A lawyer?’
Helena had answered that, her voice modulated and posh.
‘Yes. Actually, I’m a criminal solicitor.
Kayleigh explained that you’re having a problem with your lease, and I’m afraid I’m not well-versed in property law, but I can certainly give you my thoughts.
Kayleigh said you received a letter? Can I see it? ’
Alyssa had known Cathy since the café opened, and she’d come in every Monday with Jessie on her day off from the salon. She was the loveliest lady, but she sure didn’t have these cut-glass vowels and the assertive presence of her daughter.
‘Yes, I’ll just get it and thank you – I can’t tell you how grateful I’d be. I’ve been totally blindsided by this to be perfectly honest, and I don’t have a clue what to do.’
Alyssa had said all that while going to the drawer and pulling out the letter and the lease yet again. Even looking at it had made her stomach churn, but at least this time there was a flicker of hope that this lady could help. She’d handed it over and then held her breath.
Helena’s first reaction had been to the company name at the top of the letter.
‘Huntington Farrell. They’re a good company.
Expensive.’ She’d then lowered her gaze to the bottom of the letter.
‘Jeremy Sprite. Okay, I know him too. Bit of an arrogant git, and a reputation for being a rottweiler for his clients. Not the best start,’ she’d observed, before her gaze went back to the top of the page and she’d fallen silent as she read the contents.
Alyssa had felt her hands shake as she’d shot a silent but grateful glance at Kayleigh, who’d responded by holding up crossed fingers.
After a few seconds, Helena had paused, lifted her head again. ‘Your landlord was Martyn Morden.’ It wasn’t phrased as a question – more of a notable observation.
‘Yes, do you know him too? Sorry, did you know him. I believe he died a couple of months ago. Which was sad. Obviously. For his family. And his friends. And… people.’
Aaagh, she wasn’t sure if she was more intimidated by Helena’s steely gaze and authoritative manner, or terrified about what Helena was going to tell her, but her brain had turned to mush and she’d lost the power of articulation.
‘Yes, I knew him. Met him many times over the years. A good businessman – a property developer, and a bit of a pillar of the community. Although he raised a few eyebrows among the stuffed shirts when his wife died, and he married a thirty-year-old and went off to live out his twilight years in Monaco.’
Alyssa had thought back to Lachlan Morden’s visit earlier in the day.
‘Do you know his son?’
‘Not personally. Bit of a twat, by all accounts.’ Her lips had pursed as if she were trying to recall something, before saying, ‘Jason Morden, that’s it. He’s a property developer too, but a separate entity from his father.’
By this time, tension had raised Alyssa’s shoulders to the level of her ears.
‘Oh. No, that’s not the one I met today. The one who was here was called Lachlan. ’
Helena had an immediate response to that. ‘Wait, he came here? Was it some kind of intimidation tactic? Some of these alpha male fuckers think they can railroad anyone into doing what they want.’
‘No, no! Actually, he’d come because… I’m not even sure.
Something to do with his mum working here when she was younger.
He didn’t even say who he was until my daft sister tried to…
’ She hadn’t been able to say it. How pathetic would Helena think she was if she told her about Ginny’s plans for a romcom moment?
Instead, she’d finished with, ‘…to engage him in conversation and pried it out of him.’
Helena was clearly not impressed by this development at all. ‘And what happened?’
Cue Alyssa’s second opportunity to sound pathetic. ‘I basically begged him to help me keep the café and he said there was nothing he could do. He wouldn’t even try.’
‘Mmm.’ That was all Helena had said, before resuming her study of the documents.
When she’d read the letter, she’d gone on to the lease.
After what felt like a week and a half, but was probably only a couple of minutes, she’d raised her head again.
‘Alyssa, I’d love to give you good news, but as far as I can see, this all seems to be in order.
The difficulty is that you signed this lease – in effect a contract – and one of the clear terms was that in the event of the death of either party, there would be a sixty-day termination period. ’
‘I didn’t even register that when I signed it.’
Helena had nodded thoughtfully. ‘That’s understandable.
It’s more usual that the owner of a commercial property would be a limited company, but for some reason this building was owned personally by Mr Morden.
Probably why his lawyer inserted this clause.
As I said, I don’t know enough about property law to advise you.
What I would say is that you need a good lawyer… ’
The air had seeped out of Alyssa’s body. ‘I can’t afford a lawyer. Not one that could challenge something like this.’
Helena must have taken pity on her. ‘I understand. Look, send me copies of all this tomorrow and I’ll ask a colleague that specialises in this field to take a look at it as a favour.
No promises, but I’ll see what I can do.
My mother would be horrified if I didn’t try to help – she says your prawn toasties are the best things she’s ever tasted. ’
‘Thank you. Thank you so, so much.’ Alyssa could have cried. She almost did, but Helena’s generosity had been dampened by her next statement.
‘You’re welcome. But, Alyssa, I do want to manage your expectations, so I have to say that I’m not optimistic that there’s a way out of this. In a fair world, there would be, but…’
She hadn’t had to finish the sentence. Instead, she’d handed the documents back to Alyssa and given her a sympathetic smile. If Alyssa were ever to be convicted of a crime, she’d already decided that this woman would be her first call.
When they’d left, she’d finished the candle placement, then slumped down on the chair, grateful for a quick minute of solitude, replaying the conversation in one of the few moments of peace she’d had all day.
Maybe it would be pointless after all. Perhaps it was time to accept that this was her new reality and come up with an alternative plan.
If the catering company idea didn’t work, maybe she should just sell everything off, take a year out, go travelling.
She’d grafted solidly since she was a teenager and hadn’t done the gap year thing, or the university summer holiday trips.
She’d been too focused on saving up to open her own place, and then too busy running it to take a holiday.
And yet… the thought of sunny beaches and carefree days di dn’t even come close to the happiness that she had here, day in and day out.
The tip-tap of heels had burst through her thoughts a few moments later, when Dorinda had come in, clutching a half-full glass of champagne and wobbling, decidedly unsteadily, on the six-inch stiletto sandals she’d paired with a scarlet, off-the-shoulder, calf-length pencil dress.
Alyssa’s first thought had been that if it were her, she’d have had to diet for a month to get into that dress.
Her second was that she would break her neck in those heels.
Her third was that her mum was clearly tipsy.
‘Darling, I was just thinking I should take the cake out. I mean, it would be a waste of this outfit if I didn’t.’ At that, she’d twirled around, slopping champagne over the side of the glass.
Her next thought had been that ‘tipsy’ didn’t even come close. Her mum was actually pissed as a fart. And Alyssa sooooo didn’t need to be dealing with this.
‘Why would you want to take the cake out, Mum?’
Alyssa didn’t get it. Her mum and Jessie weren’t pals.
In fact, she’d always sensed that they didn’t particularly like each other.
Then a realisation had dawned on her and suddenly, Alyssa knew exactly why her mother wanted to deliver the cake – she couldn’t help her insatiable need to be the centre of attention.
‘Mum, you’re not taking the cake out.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because there are about to be sixty-five lit candles on here, and if you fall flat on your face, we’ll all go up in flames and I’m too young to die.’
That had sent her packing, muttering something about ‘ungrateful daughters’ and Alyssa had to stand perfectly still for a second and push all the air out of her lungs, then take a new breath and carry on.
Now, five minutes later, she’d just finished lighting the last candle when Ginny reappeared at the door.
‘Okay. The singers are about to take a break, and Grandad is over at the microphone ready to kick off “Happy Birthday”. Kayleigh has tracked down Jessie and made sure she’s there, and I’ve just given a thumbs up to Georgie and Grant. Are you good to go?’
Slowly, carefully, Alyssa lifted the blazing sponge. ‘Good to go.’
‘Okay, hang on.’
Alyssa watched as Ginny peeked her head out of the kitchen, gave Grandad the okay signal, then stretched around to the control panel and switched off the café lights, leaving just the candles on the walls, the twinkle of the Christmas tree and the garlands of fairy lights in the windows to illuminate the room.
‘Happy birthday to you…’
Despite feeling like her heart had been ripped from her chest today, the sound of Grandad’s voice belting out ‘Happy Birthday’ made her smile.
Holding the cake in front of her, she walked slowly out of the kitchen door.
‘Happy birthday to you…’ The rest of the guests had spotted her now and started singing along.
‘Happy birthday, dear Jessie…’
She crossed the space behind the counter, veered carefully around the serving area.
‘Happy birthday to yoooooo…’
In the dim light, she saw Jessie and stopped right beside her.
‘Hip hip hurray! ’
That was the cue to put the lights back on, and Ginny, always great with a production, was bang on time.
‘Hip hip hurray!’
As the lights flashed back on, Alyssa turned her head to scan the room and take in everything, devastatingly aware that this would probably be the last big party she’d ever throw in this room.
She saw her grandad, beaming as he roused the crowd. She saw a packed house of guests, all wide-eyed and happy. She saw Jessie, clearly overcome with emotion, tears in her eyes. And Alyssa felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude…
‘Hip, hip, hurray!’
…until she spotted Lachlan Morden standing right in front of her.