Then suddenly, he breaks away and pulls me into an embrace, so that my face is against his chest, his fingers in my hair. ‘I can’t,’ he murmurs.
‘Why not?’ My plea is muffled by his jumper.
‘It wouldn’t be fair. On you.’ He holds me for a moment and I can feel the strong, quick beating of his heart.
‘I don’t understand.’
He gives a deep sigh and I long to see his face, to try and understand him. But the way he’s cradling my head so tenderly against his chest makes it impossible for me to even think about moving away.
‘I’m bad news,’ he says at last. ‘Just being friends is better. For both our sakes.’
I look up at him and he bends and kisses me chastely on the forehead.
‘Sure you’ll be all right?’ he asks.
I nod and follow him to the door.
‘Think about the café in the treehouse,’ he says again.
The storm has passed over. All that’s left of it is a stiff breeze rustling the trees. Theo walks out into the scented, rain-soaked night, gets into his car and drives off at speed.
I retreat indoors, feeling oddly empty, as if my insides have been hollowed out. It’s been an emotional night, what with Jason turning up and so clearly resenting Theo’s presence.
And then Theo …
Sighing, I switch off the lights and head upstairs to bed.
Theo might be thinking about a café in the treehouse. But to be honest, that’s the very last thing on my mind …
Chapter 24
When I finally fall asleep, after tossing and turning most of the night, I have a horrible dream that bailiffs are kicking the front door down and marching through the house, taking an inventory of everything.
I wake in a sweat with a raging headache, all the events of the day before tumbling chaotically around in my mind.
Theo coming into the café and offering me a training session. Diane and the other mums nudging each other and winking, saying what a waste that Theo was a ‘lone wolf’ due to his tragic past. Chatting to him about the café after the session, up in the treehouse, followed by his swift departure. And then being caught outdoors in the thunderstorm, Jason coming to my rescue and being so obviously disgruntled because Theo was already there.
And then the really embarrassing encounter on the sofa. Heat washes into my face just thinking of it.
Not that the kiss was embarrassing. If I’m honest with myself, I didn’t want it to end. It was the way Theo deliberately extracted himself from my clutches. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to face him again.
I glance at the clock. It’s already eight-thirty on a Monday morning, and in an hour or so, I should be heading over to the café to get ready to open up. But for the first time, I’m actually wondering if it’s really worth it. At a guess, I’ll have maybe a dozen customers through the door today. And that’s if I’m lucky. I hate to think of Betty and Doreen feeling obliged to call in and order something most days, so they can help me shore up the business. That’s not how it’s supposed to be!
Trailing downstairs, I put the kettle on and fetch the post from the doormat in the hall. My heart stalls. There’s one from Mum and Dad’s building society. I stare at it, my mouth bone dry. I should open the letter, I know – Mum and Dad would want me to – but somehow I can’t summon up the strength.
It’s probably time to admit that I’ve failed in my bid to save Honey Cottage. I had such a marvellous vision of how it could be – a café serving wonderful cakes and the best coffee, a meeting place at the heart of a thriving community. What an idiot I was to think it could be so easy.
It might have worked – if Lucy hadn’t gone out of her way to ruin everything as she always did. I can’t believe I was starting to give her the benefit of the doubt … thinking that Paloma was probably right and that Lucy was no longer the vindictive schoolgirl bully she once was; she was sure to have matured and left those days behind her. How wrong could we have been! And, of course, the people who will suffer because of her nastiness are Mum and Dad, who never did Lucy any harm in their lives! How am I going to break it to them that my café idea has failed? That they will lose Honey Cottage after all?
I go back into the kitchen and throw the letter from the bank onto the table. It slides along the surface and falls onto the floor, but I turn my back on it, resolutely making my tea. But even before I start drinking it, good sense gets the better of me and I reach down and rip open the letter, reading the inevitably bad news with a sinking heart.
It is, as I knew it would be, a reminder that the mortgage arrears requested have not been paid. I have fourteen days to settle the account, otherwise ‘further action’ will be taken. Somehow seeing it written in black and white makes it suddenly very real.
Who was I kidding thinking I could succeed? Me, a successful café owner? What a joke!
I sink down at the table as the tears begin to slide down my face. My throat hurts, thinking of Mum and Dad so far away. It’s probably just as well they’re in London right now, so they can remain in ignorance (for a little while longer) of what’s really going on here, with the cottage and the café. But all the same, I’d give anything to be able to see them. Dropping my head on
