Sweet Home Summer Page 14

  She needn’t have worried because Charlie (she’d managed to make his name out over the music) shook his head at anyone who tried to cut in telling them she was taken. This included Clara’s Tom who Bridget surmised must be waiting for Jim to deposit her back to the side of the dancefloor.

  ‘Do you mind?’ he shouted, leaning down to be heard.

  ‘No.’ This time her smile was genuinely shy and coy.

  It wasn’t until intermission when Bridget, having gratefully gulped down a glass of lemonade Charlie had fetched for her, joined the line of girls queuing for the Ladies’ that she caught up with Clara again.

  ‘I’m having the best night of my life.’ Clara bounced up and threw her arms around her friend, causing some of the girls in the line to smile at her enthusiasm. ‘Tom stepped in at the end of the second dance, and he hasn’t left my side since. He said it was only fair to let Jim have a turn or two around the dance floor with me first. And as for you, well I’ve seen you and your fellow making eyes at each other. You’d better watch out or Biddy Johnson will hobble over and tap you on the shoulder with her stick!’

  They both giggled.

  ‘His name’s Charlie, that’s all I know about him, and I think I might be in love,’ Bridget declared with the absolute certainty of a sixteen-year-old encountering her first breath of romance.

  Present day

  Isla realized her gran had stopped talking. She’d been so caught up in the story, feeling as though she too had been taking a turn on the dancefloor all those years ago. ‘What happened to you and Charlie, Gran?’

  ‘That’s a story for another night.’ Bridget’s tone was firm, and she tucked the newspaper cutting back in the sleeve of the album resting on her lap. She cocked her head to one side as the rose bush’s thorny branches tapped on the windowpane, like it was asking to come in. ‘Where on earth did that wind come from? It was as still as anything an hour ago. Go and get yourself something to eat, Isla. I’m off to bed; it’s been a long day.’

  Isla knew there was no point pushing it and besides her stomach had started to rumble at the thought of the simmering stew in the crockpot.

  Chapter 17

  Isla headed across the road to the Kea with her iPad tucked under her arm. It was a damp, sticky Tuesday morning, and she’d spent the last few days working on her concept for the tearoom’s makeover. She hoped Annie liked what she’d come up with. Not that Noeline would be open to making any changes by the sounds of things, and it was her business after all, but still it had kept her busy. It had felt good to be productive again, to put her creative cap back on. The thing that had become clear to her as she played around with different ideas was that the café, given a bit of TLC and with not too much money spent, really could be something special. Isla found her eyes straying to the garage, but there was no sign of Ben in the forecourt today.

  She pushed open the door of the tearoom and saw there was an older lady sitting in the corner. She was with a woman who, given the resemblance between them, had to be her daughter and they were sharing a pot of tea. The smell of roasted Blue Mountain coffee hung in the air and Annie’s head was bent over a book up at the counter. She looked up on hearing the door close.

  ‘Isla hi! Good timing, I’ve just made a fresh pot of coffee. Ooh you brought your iPad, does that mean what I hope it means?’

  ‘Yep, I’ve spent the last couple of days playing around with some ideas for this place.’

  ‘Great, can’t wait to see them. I love the top by the way. The colour’s you.’ Annie set about making their drinks.

  ‘Oh, thanks.’ Isla glanced down at the lemon top with its sparkly detailing. She’d bought it in a shop at Los Angeles Airport. It had been spur of the moment and very different to her usual un-frilly style, but it had felt right somehow to buy something out of her comfort zone. ‘I got it in the States on my way home. What’re you looking at?’ Isla turned the open recipe book around and peered at the glossy picture. ‘Yum, that looks good.’

  ‘I know, and it’s good for you – sort of. It’s a sugar-free brownie, and it uses dates for sweetness. Aunty Noeline’s not interested in anything that’s not good old plain fare, though. She says there’s no call for fancy tastes here. It frustrates me, especially when so many people have food intolerances these days. She really should have a couple of gluten-free options available at the very least.’

  ‘Mm, you’re right. Would you like to own a café?’

  ‘Nah, I don’t think so. The responsibility of running a business would scare me, and I couldn’t commit to it because at some point Kris and I will head back to Greece, but I’d like more of a managerial say in things here. The first thing I’d do is invest in a coffee machine.’ She laughed opening the fridge behind her to get the milk out.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, the Blue Mountain’s growing on me. Did Carl get off alright? He popped by on Sunday to pick up some scones Gran had baked for him to take home, but I missed him. I’d gone around to my parents’ for lunch.’

  ‘He sure did. He reckons he’ll come back soon but with David this time.’

  ‘That’d be great. I’d like to meet him.’

  ‘David’s a sweetie, you’ll love him too.’ Annie slid Isla’s coffee towards her. ‘Actually you just saying you had lunch with your parents made me realize I’m long overdue to go and catch up with mine. I’d like to buy some ingredients for that chocolate brownie recipe too, and I doubt I’ll find mesquite powder in Bibury. Do you fancy a trip to Christchurch one of these days? I’d have to fit in around Aunty Noeline, but we could catch up with the boys then?’

  ‘I think you’re probably right regarding the mesquite whatever it is and yes, I’d love to go with you, thanks. Just say the word, I’m pretty flexible with my time these days.’ She smiled ruefully.

  ‘I will. Why don’t you go and grab a seat and I’ll be with you in a sec.’

  Isla picked up her drink and went and sat down while Annie checked the mother and daughter duo were happy before joining her. She switched the iPad on and held the screen so they could both see and to her surprise, she felt nervous. She needn’t have been because Annie clapped her hands in delight as her ideas lit up the screen.

  ‘The countertop looks fab and, oh wow! I love the miner’s oil lamps; they look fantastic hanging from that exposed beam. The railway sleepers framing the fireplace look amazing too, and is that a gas fire?’

  Isla nodded. The theme she’d gone with tied in with the area’s mining history. She’d stripped the interior of the café back to its bare bones and worked with what was already here but also added more functional, modern items like the gas fire. Existing features, like the ceiling beam which had been painted in the same cream as the walls, would look incredible taken back to their original timber. The flooring too was currently a pale speckled lino, but Isla was sure, given the age of the building, beneath it, they’d find original floorboards. Polished up they would lend a truly rustic atmosphere to the interior that was more in keeping with the cottage exterior.

  There was more that she’d put into her visual presentation. Beside the fireplace was an oval antique miner’s lunch box pail filled with pinecones. One of the walls was decorated with framed photographic memorabilia which would, of course, all be of Bibury. Against this wall was an overstuffed couch with a hand-stitched quilt draped over it, inviting customers to sit down and relax. The tables and chairs she visualized were chunky, made of solid wood and iron. They’d be durable just like the hardworking miners whose backs upon which Bibury had been founded.

  ‘If Aunty Noeline doesn’t take this on board, she’s mad,’ Annie said as the tearoom’s door opened. Both women glanced up to see a tall, good-looking man dressed in a suit walk in followed by Saralee. As she dimpled up and waved over-enthusiastically at her and Annie, Isla felt her face heat up as though someone had just turned the gas element to high. It was the first time she’d seen her since the Friday night debacle with Ben.

  ‘Hey Callum, Saralee.
Morning tea time, is it? Excuse me a mo, Isla.’ Annie got up and went back around the counter. They placed their order, and while she busied herself putting it together for them, Saralee came over to say hi. The man in the suit followed her, and Isla found herself sitting a little straighter in her seat as she smoothed her hair back behind her ears.

  ‘Isla, this is Callum Packer. Callum started this term as the Deputy Head of Bibury Area School. Isla’s just got back from living in the UK.’

  Isla held her hand out. ‘Hi, Callum, nice to meet you.’ He took her hand in his with a smile, it felt warm and dry, and his grip was strong but not too much so.

  ‘Nice to meet you too.’

  He released her hand, and to her surprise, she found herself almost batting her lashes, ‘Well, Deputy Packer, you’ve got a tough act to follow. I went to Bibury and back in my day Miss Seastrand was an absolute terror.’

  Callum chuckled. ‘I met her when I applied for the position. But I can be quite tough too when I want to be.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Saralee chirped. ‘He can seem very scary if you’re five. This morning these two little boys were marched into the office by the new entrants teacher, Ms Brightman. Go on, Callum you do it so well.’

  Callum grinned and affected a high-pitched, prim voice. ‘Deputy Packer, I just caught George and Leo using some very bad words in the playground.’

  Saralee giggled. ‘He sounds just like her. Anyway, personally, I think George has got a bit of a weasel look about him, but that might be down to his shaved head. Leo, the other one, well he’s a sweet looking cherub with blonde curls. Both of them were busy dobbing the other one in, and I had already decided my money was on the weasel-faced George being the culprit when Leo looked at Callum with his big blue eyes and said, “It fucking well was him, Mr Packer.”’

  Isla’s eyes widened and then she burst out laughing. ‘Oh dear, you can’t judge a book by its cover.’ That could apply to you Isla; poor Saralee has no idea what a Judas you are.

  She was relieved when Annie presented them both with a brown paper bag.

  ‘Thanks, this will fill the gap. Right, I need to get back and check young Leo’s still hard at it picking up the playground litter.’ Callum lingered. ‘It was nice meeting you Isla. I hope I’ll see you around.’

  Once the door was closed behind them, Annie sat back down and raised her eyebrows. ‘I think he liked you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ Isla drained her coffee and grinned. ‘He was pretty cute though.’

  ‘And single.’ Annie tapped the side of her nose. ‘I have that on good authority because Kris told me all the women at school have been going silly over him.’

  ‘Well, I won’t be. I’ve sworn off the opposite sex,’ Isla stated with what she hoped was conviction. She remembered what she’d made a note of to talk to Annie about. ‘Hey, while I think of it, I noticed you seemed a little uptight at the mention of meeting Kris’ family when it came up the other night. You can tell me to mind my own business if you like.’

  Annie gave a little laugh. ‘It’s okay, and if I seemed uptight, then that’s because I am. Honestly, Isla, if his mama’s true to type she won’t approve of me.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because Greek women are tiger mamas when it comes to their sons. I know, I’ve seen it first-hand. Trust me, Kris’ mama will have a nice Greek Orthodox girl in mind for him, and I won’t fit the bill.’

  Isla frowned. ‘I find that hard to believe. You and Kris are perfect together; you make each other happy. I don’t think any mother could ask for more than that. Plus, you’re gorgeous, she couldn’t not love you.’

  ‘I’m not so sure, but thank you.’ Annie’s smile was shy. ‘I suppose it’s just that I love him so much. I don’t want anything to spoil what we have, and family is everything to the Greeks. Their opinion matters to each other. So yes, the thought of meeting his mama and even his sisters terrifies me.’

  ‘Well, I think you’re worrying about nothing. When they meet you, they’ll see exactly what Kris sees in you. You guys are a perfect match.’

  ‘Aw, you’re sweet.’

  She didn’t look convinced, though, and then she changed the subject. ‘My turn now. What’s the story with you and Ben from the garage? You promised to tell me when you knew me better.’

  Isla did feel like she was beginning to get to know Annie and she trusted her. ‘Oh, there’s not much to tell really. We dated each other for a while when we were teenagers, then I moved to Christchurch, and it got too hard. That’s all.’

  ‘Then why have you gone bright red?’ Annie raised a knowing eyebrow.

  Isla put her hands to her cheeks. They were hot, and she squirmed.

  ‘Something happened the other night, didn’t it?’ Annie looked at her face. ‘I knew it!’

  ‘Shush.’ Isla looked around as though the walls had ears. From what she remembered of growing up in Bibury, more often than not they did. Satisfied the mother and daughter, who were getting up from their seats and picking up their handbags, would not give a toss what she’d gotten up to on Friday night, she filled Annie in. ‘The thing is, it didn’t mean anything, it was just a nostalgic snog after we’d both had too much to drink. I feel awful about it though because I like Saralee. That’s not the type of woman I am either. I don’t do stuff like that, well not normally anyway.’

  ‘It takes two to tango Isla. It’s not all down to you,’ Annie reiterated Isla’s sentiment to Ben the other night. ‘He’s the one with a girlfriend remember.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So, what are you going to do?’

  Isla shrugged. ‘I don’t know, pretend nothing happened I guess.’

  ‘Can I make a suggestion? It might take that glum look off your face.’

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘Since its gone quiet why don’t you come out the back and help me with a recipe I’ve wanted to try?’

  ‘Here you go.’ Annie handed Isla an apron once she’d finished washing her hands. She put it on and saluted her, announcing she was reporting for duty.

  Annie laughed and pointed to a magazine folded over on the stainless steel bench. ‘Do you think we can do it?’

  Isla frowned as she gazed down at the complicated but deliciously rich sounding three-layer Black Forest cake. She took a deep breath. ‘Definitely. There are a couple of fancy ingredients in this though, Kirsch, Morello cherries. I don’t fancy your chances of finding them down at the Four Square.’

  ‘All bought on my last trip into Christchurch. Here, have a sniff of this.’ Annie opened a bottle, and Isla inhaled. It brought tears to her eyes.

  ‘Whoa, that’s got a kick to it.’

  Annie grinned. ‘I know, it’s good, isn’t it? Can’t make a Black Forest cake without Kirsch. Come on, let’s get baking.’

  Isla was the mixer, Annie was the measurer, and they worked away companionably in the small space until they heard the tearoom’s door open. Annie went to serve the customer while Isla carried on, her finger tracing the recipes steps. She was enjoying herself. It was time to open the jar of cherries and drain them. She moved on to thickening the juice and the cherries in sugared water over a low temperature, and by the time Annie returned she’d just gotten the sponge out of the oven and was testing it to see if it was springy to the touch.

  ‘That looks great. We need to let it cool before we slice it into three.’ Annie checked her phone. ‘It’s all quiet out there now, and it’s nearly two o’clock. I think we’ve earned ourselves some lunch.’

  They sat down to a ham sandwich each, with Annie apologizing that it was nothing more salubrious but at this time of the day if they were still sitting in the cabinet, they were not likely to sell. Isla didn’t mind in the least. She was quite partial to a ham sandwich; it reminded her of being a kid when she and Ryan would call into the Kea for a treat with their mum. A ham sandwich and an afghan biscuit. The menu hadn’t changed much in twenty-five years.

  They had just gotten up t
o clear their plates when the door opened. Their noses were assailed with a waft of an oppressive fragrance, that Isla recognized as Christian Dior. If she’d closed her eyes, she would’ve still known instantly who it was. Poison was Noeline’s signature perfume. Her eyes, however, were open, and she saw that the lady herself was as loud and large as Isla remembered, with her emerald coloured sleeveless pantsuit ensemble and her red hair piled high on her head.

  ‘Isla Brookes as I live and breathe! Come and give me a hug. Your grandmother told me you were back and that you and Annie were friendly.’

  Isla felt herself pulled into a suffocating hug and, once released, managed to answer Noeline’s twenty questions as to what she’d been doing and where she’d been and whom she’d been doing it all with. When she’d heard enough, she held up her hand blinding Isla with the sparkly flashes from her bejewelled fingers. ‘Well, it’s been lovely seeing you, dear.’ She turned her attention to Annie. ‘Busy day?’ The gushy tone had disappeared and been replaced by that of a woman who meant business.

  ‘Steady,’ Annie reported before filling her in on what they were up to out in the kitchen.

  ‘Black Forest cake?’ She raised her pencilled in eyebrows. ‘Annie, we’re not German.’

  Annie ignored her. ‘Aunty Noeline, you know how I’ve said a few times now that the Kea could do with a bit of a revamp?’

  The hand went up again. ‘Darling, stop right there.’ Isla couldn’t help but think she looked like a pensioner version of Geri Halliwell back in her Spice Girl Days as she swept Annie through the tearoom to the kitchen. ‘That’s why I’m here. I need to have a word. Isla, do you mind if I drag Annie off to the kitchen for a bit of a chat?’ She tossed over her shoulder.

  Isla felt deflated. She’d been looking forward to showing Noeline her design ideas. It wasn’t as though she’d expected her to give her an open cheque and say, ‘go for your life’, but she hadn’t expected to be completely dismissed either. Still, you didn’t cross a woman in an emerald green pantsuit. ‘Of course not, Noeline.’ She sat back down at the table and slid her iPad into her tote bag. ‘I can keep an eye on things out here for you both if you like?’