I nod. ‘And I’m going to get people to RSVP so I can be fairly sure how many will be there on opening night.’
‘You’re having it in the evening?’
‘Yes, early evening. I thought that would make it a bit more special. Summer berry Pavlova and a glass of fizz at six, then we can cut the ribbon and have a proper ceremony. I might even make a speech.’
‘Invite the local press. I’m sure they’ll be interested in taking photographs.’
I nod, excitement making my heart beat faster. ‘I can’t believe this is happening. Do you want to see the work Jake’s done already on the treehouse?’
She grimaces. ‘I’ve – er – already seen it. I hope you don’t mind. I sneaked into the garden and took a look last night.’
‘No, of course I don’t mind,’ I say, laughing at her awkward blushes.
‘It’s going to be incredible.’
‘Praise indeed when you don’t even like Jake.’ I grin.
She frowns. ‘He’s an arrogant arse. But he can build a solid structure. I’ll give him that.’
We look at each other and burst out laughing.
Chapter 35
Over the following two weeks, the treehouse slowly takes shape. Every day, there seems to be something else to admire and I grow more and more confident that we’ve done the right thing – Betty, Doreen and I.
I go out running every morning in the lanes around the village, and every time, I’m half-expecting to see Theo out running, too. But I never do, and eventually, I come to the conclusion he’s avoiding me.
At least I have the new café to keep me occupied. I have a feeling that without all the buzz and frantic activity, I might just fall into a big black hole of despondency over Theo and never emerge again.
Paloma designs a beautiful invitation, which we send out to around fifty people – personal friends and family, business contacts, the local press and anyone who’s been involved in The Treehouse Café project.
Betty and Doreen turn out to be full of fabulous ideas for the interior design of the café. We eventually go for a minimalist feel, with beautifully simple tables and chairs of solid oak, designed and made by a local craftsman Doreen knows. The eight tables will be ranged around a central serving area, dominated by our brand-new coffee machine that Betty tracked down for a bargain price on-line and a beautiful polished oak counter, on which will sit the cake display glass domes and all the other café paraphernalia. I’ve decided on a pretty posy of silk flowers in a simple glass vase on each table.
It’s going to look gorgeous. I can’t wait for people to see it …
*****
I’m coming out of the village post office, a while before the grand opening, when the inevitable happens and I spot Lucy walking towards me. I immediately change my route and dive into a side street so I don’t have to talk to her, but to my dismay, she comes running after me, calling out my name. So then I have no option but to speak to her.
‘Twilight, I want to say sorry. For everything,’ she says, panting slightly after her exertion.
I stare at her in disbelief. Then I laugh in her face. ‘Everything?’
‘Yes. I should never have opened my café the same day as yours without telling you. I can see now that that was very sneaky.’
‘No! Really, Lucy? You do surprise me.’
She hesitates, frowning. ‘Well, I don’t know why you’re surprised. It must have been quite obvious I did it deliberately.’
‘I was being sarcastic, Lucy. But then, you never did have much of a sense of humour.’
She drops the sorry act and glares at me. ‘Well, there’s no need to take that attitude when I’m being good enough to apologise.’
I laugh. Is this girl for real? ‘Right, well, very nice of you to say sorry, Lucy, even though the apology is roughly twenty-four years too late.’ I smile cheerily. ‘Got to be going. Goodbye!’ And I walk off, leaving her staring after me.
And I have to admit, refusing to take her crap, after all those years of feeling intimidated by her, feels good. Very good indeed.
On my way home, a journalist from the local paper calls, wanting to run a story about The Treehouse Café in this week’s edition.
‘Will you be in around four o’clock?’ she asks. ‘I’m going to try and bring a photographer along. Take some photos of the work in progress? Would that be all right? If I can organise it?’
Would that be all right?
‘That would be absolutely perfect.’
‘We might not manage it this afternoon, but we’ll try. Because then we’d be able to get you in tomorrow’s edition of the paper.’
‘Fabulous!’
‘I’ll let you know if we’re not coming. Then we can schedule it for next week instead.’
I feel like dancing the rest of the way home. It’s really happening! People are becoming curious and every time I’m out, I have people asking me about the building work that’s going on behind the tarpaulin in my garden, because they’ve heard it’s going to be an amazing new café in the treetops! And now, with a story in the local paper, everyone will know about it!
I phone Betty’s number and she squeals with delight when I tell her the news and she promises to get straight on the phone to Doreen. Then I phone Paloma.
‘We might be in the paper tomorrow!’
‘Sorry?’
‘The Treehouse Café. I might have a reporter and a photographer coming round later.’
‘Oh. Good.’
I frown. ‘Did you hear what I just said?’
There’s a silence on the other end, then a rustling noise as if she’s shuffling through some papers.
‘Paloma? Are you all right?’
‘What? Oh, yes. Sorry, I was just – erm – looking out for the postman.’
‘Oh. Right. Are you expecting an important letter, then?’
‘A parcel, actually. Look, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later.’ And she rings off.
When the phone rings again a few seconds later, I pick up expecting it to be
