Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
N oah is behind the counter making two Luscious Lattes for table four. We’ve been open an hour and, in that time, we have served two newlyweds, two recently engaged couples and a couple expecting their first child. They all looked loved-up and happy.
Yesterday we only had one couple who argued in The Little Love Café and that felt like an achievement. My social media campaign about giving acts of love has proved popular. We’ve had people sharing surprise plane tickets, plates of delicious food, perfume and aftershave purchases and surprise flower deliveries at work. Our favourites are the guy who treated his girlfriend’s dog to a luxury grooming session and the woman who placed a love note inside her boyfriend’s football boots. Throughout the day I regularly check our socials and share as many customer stories about love as I can.
I am leaning on the counter waiting for Noah to finish the drinks. ‘I had to take up boxing to get over my anger of us splitting up all those years ago,’ Noah says, casting me a cheeky grin.
‘Boxing?’ With a smile I say, ‘You never had much upper body strength because I always beat you at arm wrestling.’
Noah laughs. ‘I let you win because I wanted to kiss you, Alice.’
I let out a sigh. ‘Well, once I had accepted we were over, and you were not going to write back, I found your favourite T-shirt stuffed down the side of my bed. I set fire to it in the garden to get over my anger at you.’
He grins. ‘I also volunteered to do a sponsored kiss-a-thon at the sixth form and kissed away my anger at you.’
Noah and I were always competitive when we were younger. I could feel the old rivalry between us coming back. A memory popped up at the back of my mind. ‘I also made a man doll which looked like you and inserted pins into it.’
His eyebrows rocket up his forehead. We both laugh. ‘I can’t believe you made a voodoo doll version of me,’ says Noah, shaking his head in bewilderment. ‘That beats my sixth form charity kiss-a-thon.’
He places the lattes on my tray, and I go deliver them. When I return, he asks, ‘When did you and Pete get together?’
‘It had been about six months. Pete had been walking me to and from school every day. He’d been my shoulder to cry on and he’d spent hours listening to me talk about you. On weekends he would take me out and get me smiling again.’
‘You and Pete never struck me as having couple potential. The first time I ever met Pete, you and he were arguing over him fixing your bike.’ He laughs. ‘You told Pete a bike chain was not supposed to dangle on the ground after someone had allegedly fixed it. Poor Pete looked embarrassed.’
‘Pete and I mostly argued all the time we were together. It was a long six years.’
‘Did you see anyone after Pete?’
I think back to when Pete broke up with me the first time. We were both in our early twenties and we’d grown tired of the arguments. ‘I moved out of Dad’s and went to live in a flat with two girls I used to be lifeguards with. I dated a few people and had several drunken one-night stands with lads on holiday at the local caravan park but I think Pete had put me off long-term relationships.’
‘Didn’t you get back together after Lucas was born?’
I cast my mind back to Pete still living his bachelor life once Lucas was born. The hours I spent waiting for him to come home, the arguments over his penchant for casinos on a night out, the rows over money and the time when I broke my ankle, and he couldn’t be bothered to come and give me a lift home from A&E. ‘Yeah, we did. Pete had been my comfort blanket for years. The second time around wasn’t great. I don’t think he wanted to be a father. Lucas was a surprise for both of us.’
Not wanting to think too hard about that painful time, I turned the conversation back to Noah. ‘Did you see anyone other than Becky?’
‘I dated a few girls before Becky. No one special.’
The subject of Becky makes me feel uncomfortable. To my relief, a couple come into the café, and I seat them near the window and take their order.
As I walk back to the counter, I remember the time after Noah left and Pete had told me how Noah had gone silent on him as well. While Noah makes their drinks, I say, ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Sure. Anything?’
‘Why did you never contact Pete after we broke up?’
Noah’s eyebrows arch with surprise. ‘I did contact him.’
My heart grinds to a halt. ‘Really?’
He nods. ‘Pete and I exchanged emails for a while.’
‘He told me you and he stopped speaking when you left.’
Noah shook his head. ‘I asked about you once and Pete said you were enjoying your freedom. That made me sad, so I never asked again.’
An uncomfortable feeling passes over me. ‘Why did Pete lie to me? I will be having a word with him when he drops Lucas off tomorrow evening.’
Dad is at work until 4pm so I’ve had to leave the café, collect Lucas from school and bring him back to the café. On the way to school this morning, Lucas and I talked a lot about how Mummy needs him to be a good boy. I reminded him of how brilliant he was the night he gave the lost wallet back to the couple on the beach. ‘We give purses and wallets we find back to people, don’t we, Lucas?’ He nodded. ‘We don’t take them out of handbags either.’ He gave me a thoughtful look while shoving his finger up his nostril. I can’t believe I am saying this to my six-year-old. ‘This is Frankie’s café, so no running across seats and no drawing on teacakes.’
Settling Lucas down at the booth nearest the counter I get out his pens, scrap paper and his Batman figures. ‘You are going to be a good boy for Mummy.’
Lucas nods and points to the heart-shaped menu. ‘Can I have a milkshake?’
‘I’m going to make Lucas a milkshake,’ I tell Noah. He nods and heads off to take table three’s order.
Lucas is quiet for about twenty minutes which is unusual. I’ve been able to clean down some of the tables, check social media and think about what I am going to say to Pete. But then I glance up at the pink booth Lucas was in. I gasp. It’s empty. ‘LUCAS.’ My heart stops. Oh God, where is my son? Frantically I scan The Little Love Café for a little boy running around clutching a variety of handbags and wallets.
Voices at the far end of the café catch my attention. Noah is crouched down beside Lucas, and they are both inspecting a plastic Batman figure. Throwing down my dish cloth I race across the café. ‘Lucas, I told you not to leave your seat.’
Noah rises to his feet. ‘Batman has hurt his arm. I was seeing whether I could mend it for him.’
‘Oh…’
Lucas holds aloft his plastic figure who now has what looks like a pink napkin sling. ‘Noah made Batman better.’
‘I made Batman a little sling.’ Noah smiles and sends a train of tingles shooting across my chest.
To my horror I catch sight of something sticking out of Lucas’s pocket. I can feel the blood drain from my face, It looks like a man’s brown leather wallet. Oh God, while Noah has been doing something lovely, my son has stolen his wallet. For goodness’ sake, I am raising a professional pick pocket. ‘Lucas,’ I hiss and gesture to the wallet.
Noah chuckles. ‘He’s keeping it safe for me. At one point he was more interested in my wallet than Batman.’
‘Lucas, give Noah his wallet back please,’ I say, before wiping a layer of sweat from my forehead and wishing Lucas liked other things, other than wallets and purses.
Noah and I lock up the café. Once we get outside, Lucas is tugging on my arm. ‘Can we go play on the beach, Mummy?’
I turn to Noah. ‘You’re not working tomorrow so I’ll see you Friday for the wedding party.’
‘Can I come to the beach with you both?’
Lucas cheers and I hold out my hand to Noah. ‘Come on then.’
We walk along the shore together and watch Lucas paddling in the sea. I untie and remove my trainers. My bare toes wiggle with joy as I liberate them. Golden rays of sunlight dance on the water before us.
Noah drapes his arm over my shoulders. ‘Do you remember the names we were going to call our kids?’
The memory of Noah and me cuddling on top of our rock after school discussing the names of our future children comes rushing back. As we both adored listening to his dad’s vinyl Elvis albums, it was a given that our children would carry on our love of the King of Rock and Roll. ‘Elvis and Priscilla.’
A wide smile spreads across Noah’s tanned face. ‘I didn’t think you would remember.’
‘Noah, I remember everything about us,’ I say in a quiet voice.
We cast our gaze out across the dark blue sea. He bends down to pick up a smooth pebble. ‘You are the only one I’ve met who appreciates Elvis and vinyl.’
I smile. ‘Everyone at school used to think we were weird listening to Elvis on your dad’s old record player.’
‘This is nice,’ he says, pulling me to a stop. We stand and face each other. He’s grinning at me.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘I was jealous the day you were in the Snug with Rocco.’
I cast him a mischievous grin. ‘Were you?’
‘The next day when we had that argument in the café, the one where I asked whether you fancied him, I realised how much I still fancy you.’
‘Really?’
‘You had this sexy wild look on your face, and I wanted to shut you up with a kiss.’
I smile and he plants a kiss on the top of my head. ‘No one has ever come close to you, Alice.’
‘Really? I don’t believe you.’
‘No one has ever kissed me the way you do,’ he whispers, turning my face to his by placing a finger on my chin and placing his mouth over mine. This time he doesn’t break away abruptly. When we pull away, he smiles, and we carry on walking.