Chapter Seven #2
Jill and I have been busy over the last few days and we soon have plates of cookies, brownies, two different flavours of cheesecake, a Victoria sponge and a chocolate gateau all laid out.
Jill has also made some individually packed sandwiches this morning and I get them out of the cool box.
Reeni completes our stall by setting up a sign she’s had printed to advertise my café and its competition.
With six minutes to spare, we’re all set to go.
Jackson is sauntering this way, and if I had a way to escape without looking like I’m running scared, I’d take it in an instant. I can feel Reeni still watching me. I’m going to have to front it out.
I’m standing a couple of metres back from the table and I stay there. ‘What do you want?’
He’s wearing denim shorts and a faded pink T-shirt that’s fitted enough to accentuate how broad he is.
He’s filled out since I knew him. He was always tall, but he used to be a bit of a beanpole.
There’s nothing beanpole like about him now.
His shoulders and arms are solid and toned, and I’d bet actual money on the existence of abs under his tee.
There’s a confident ease about him which I couldn’t possess even if I tried.
He grins. ‘Charming. Is that how you greet all your customers?’
‘No.’ I spit the word out, then pause, giving me the chance to recalibrate. ‘We’re not open. It’s not ten.’ My insides twist like they’re trying to vanish. How bloody pedantic.
Reeni gives me a sharp shove in the ribs, pushing me forwards. ‘She’s joking. What can she get you?’
‘I’ll take a coffee, thanks.’ He picks up our competition sign and studies it.
‘You’ve got coffee over there.’ I nod towards the camper van. ‘Why should I get you one?’
He replaces the sign, leaning it against the water bottles. ‘Have you had a customer service bypass?’ he says, amused, and the eyebrow with the sexy gold hoop twitches.
‘I don’t see why you’d need a coffee from here, that’s all,’ I growl. ‘You’ve plenty of caffeine over there.’
‘Here you go.’ Reeni hands him a steaming drink in a Beach House cup. ‘On the house to make up for the rude assistant.’
‘Thanks. Looks lovely.’ He winks at her then flashes me a grin. ‘Have a good day. Hope she’s not rude to everyone.’
‘Only you,’ I mutter as I watch him walk his broad shoulders and slim waist back across to his pitch.
‘Get a grip will you,’ says Reeni, glowering at me.
I’m saved from answering as people are beginning to filter into the food alley.
Our stall has a slow drip of people. In contrast, the VW opposite us is always busy.
The little trailer with the dedicated ice cream bar and the fabulous weather means it constantly has people waiting.
Milo is behind the counter serving their now famous jaffles and Jackson mans the sundae cart as well as drawing attention to their stall.
He finds easy, what I find difficult and has no problem drumming up business and bigging up their food.
Every so often he catches my eye and my heart rate jumps.
‘Afternoon, ladies.’ Greg is standing at the front of our little queue, beaming at us. He’s holding a jar of honey with a raffle ticket stuck to it. ‘I won it on the WI stall and thought of you straight away. I know you love it on toast.’ He hands me the golden jar.
‘Aw brilliant,’ I say, smiling. I’ve been surviving on plain toast recently, and the thought of being able to put honey on it instead is magical.
He doesn’t smile back, but he’s not frowning either. ‘I texted you. You didn’t reply?’
‘Oh. Sorry.’ I grab my phone and see four messages from him. Four.
GREG: Hope your morning’s going OK.
GREG: Do you need help setting up?
GREG: Is everything alright?
GREG: Call me when you see this.
My stomach dips.
‘I thought something was wrong when I didn’t hear from you,’ he says, hurt stinging his eyes as if I’ve let him down.
‘I’ve just been busy that’s all,’ I say, frustrated at him. I didn’t ignore him on purpose.
He nods, his smile back. ‘No worries. Can I grab a coffee?’
‘Coming up. I didn’t know you were coming.’ I’m surprised as I wouldn’t have thought a fun day was quite his thing and he never said a thing about being here.
‘It’s a great cause. My nan spent her last few days in a hospice …’
I turn back to him. Piping-hot coffee in my hand. ‘Do you want sugar?’
‘… they were amazing.’
Crap, he’s been talking, and I wasn’t listening. ‘Who were?’
‘Ah, don’t worry.’ He picks up one of the prepackaged cheese-and-ham sandwiches.
‘I’ll take one of these and a cookie. And if you could box up a bit of cheesecake, a slice of Victoria sponge and one of the chocolate, and I’ll have a couple of brownies.
That’d be great. I’ll keep them for breaks later in the week.
Oh, and I’ll have a bottle of water too. ’
I smile at him gratefully. I think out of everyone, Greg is the one person who knows how difficult things are right now and this is his way of trying to help without making it obvious.
I make up a little cake box and begin to fill it. ‘There are some great stalls here. Where are you heading next?’
‘I’m going to try my hand at the Play Your Cards Right stall. How difficult can that be?’ He chuckles, then pays for his things. ‘I can stay around and give you a lift home later, if you like?’
I catch Jackson watching us and force myself to look straight at Greg. ‘Thanks, but I’ll need to help pack up.’
Reeni hands Greg his coffee. ‘I can manage on my own. Aaron’s around. You go with Greg.’
‘Great. I’ll see you later then,’ he says without waiting for me to answer and he collects up his goodies giving me a sparkling smile.
For the next hour we’re a little busier and once the lunchtime period is over, I look at our table. Most of our plates are over three quarters empty, but we still have nearly all our sandwiches. I need to sell everything to get the maximum funds possible. What’s wrong with the sarnies?
‘Why aren’t our sandwiches selling?’ I ask Reeni.
She nods at the VW. ‘I think their famous jaffles are stealing our customers,’ she says, light-heartedly.
‘Surely they must have done enough trade by now. You think they’d give us a break.’ Not satisfied with taking my Beach House customers at the café, they’re doing it here too. I want to stamp my feet like a toddler having a tantrum.
Milo is chatting to a tall slim woman who is flicking her auburn hair suggestively as she flirts with him and Jackson is laughing away with a couple he’s pulled over with a mouthwatering description of a cheese jaffle with sweet onion jam and pulled pork.
I put down the cloth I’m holding. ‘I’m going over there.’
‘Where?’
‘There. We need to sell all this stuff. They’ve been busy all day. Can’t they go low key for a bit?’
Reeni frowns. ‘We haven’t had queues like them, but look at our table, will you? It’s far from the disaster you’re making it out to be.’
‘I’ll only have a quick word. It’ll be fine.’ And before she can stop me, I slip out from behind the table and march across to the lads.
‘Hey,’ says Milo from inside the van. He’s on his own now the woman has left. ‘Busy day. I’m whacked and it’s like a sauna in here with both the jaffle irons on. I’ll be a waste of space at football later. Dillon’ll kill me.’
‘Then maybe slow things down a bit.’ My voice is too sharp, even to my own ears.
Jackson comes to stand beside me, closer than I’m comfortable with, and my whole body tenses up.
‘You in a better mood now?’
‘I was in a great mood earlier, thanks,’ I say, shaking my hair back from my face.
‘Could’ve fooled me.’ His eyes sweep across my face and the very pit of my stomach fizzes.
Tippi is off her lead now and wandering around at our feet, her nose snuffling in the grass.
‘You’ve been really busy all day.’
‘You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing? Isn’t that the point?’ He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. ‘Or is that not allowed unless it’s your café?’
That jibe hurts more than it should. ‘No, it’s not that.
’ I can hear my voice pitch upwards. He’s right.
We should all be celebrating how popular the fete has been.
Aaron is going to be thrilled, but the pile of unpaid bills sitting on my table at home and the fact I can’t even afford to heat my own hot water is eating at me.
‘You’re too loud,’ I blurt out. ‘You talk and joke and charm everyone over here. And then they buy from you. You’re not giving anyone else a chance.’
He takes a step away from me. ‘So, I’m guilty of being … friendly?’ His voice has an edge to it now. ‘Nice guys never were enough for you, were they?’ He swings a look at Milo, who’s staring at the pair of us.
His last statement stings, but I ignore it.
‘This isn’t about you,’ I snap, my arms flailing around as I talk, a sure sign I’m losing my cool. ‘I’m just saying, maybe give the rest of us a shot.’
‘By … not selling?’ He scowls. ‘Ellie, we’re a jaffle café. Not a confession booth.’
‘You’ve got ice cream,’ I snap, jumping towards the little trailer. ‘Sell that.’
‘You think I should stop doing well so you don’t feel bad?’ Now he’s properly annoyed with me. I bite at my bottom lip.
Milo flips open the van counter and comes down to join us. ‘Ellie, everyone’s looking. What’s going on?’
‘Nothing’s going on. Do you know what? Forget it. I’ll be fine,’ I almost shout. I spin around to march back to Reeni. Greg is back and the two seem to be giggling about something. I’m so distracted I trip over Tippi. I hadn’t even noticed she was loitering behind me.
The little dog yelps, startled, and I pitch forwards, my arms flailing like windmill sails.
‘Oh, Tippi, sorry!’
In the split second it takes me to regain my balance, she’s already bolted across the field, shooting in between the van and the trailer.
Jackson swears. ‘Tippi, Tips. Come back.’
There’s the sound of tyres skidding on the grass and a large yelp, followed by a high-pitched whine, and we all stand and stare at each other, stunned.