It’s 5.15 p.m. We’ve got fifty people arriving in less than an hour. Betty and Doreen have gone AWOL, and I need to have a shower, get changed and prepare to welcome our guests with a glass of fizz.
Sighing, I trudge upstairs. After all the excitement and happy anticipation, this night is turning into a disaster.
I’m just about to turn on the shower when I hear a car pull up outside. Rushing to the window, I see Doreen getting out of Betty’s little Fiesta and going to open the boot. Then Betty appears, before ducking into the back seat and emerging with a stack of about five Tupperware boxes, one on top of each other. I pull on my jeans again and run downstairs.
‘Where have you been? I was worried,’ I pant. ‘What’s all this?’
Doreen peers round the stack of cake tins she’s carrying and beams at me. ‘Baking from the WI ladies. I put in an emergency call to Molly Keene, the chairperson, and as soon as she heard it was you, she flew into action straight away, asking members if they could come to your aid by raiding their home-baking tins for donations.’
They plonk the tins and boxes on the bench in the kitchen and start taking off the lids to show me the spoils. There’s a whole lemon cake, a large Bakewell tart and two big fruitcakes, plus an assortment of cupcakes with a range of colourful toppings. More than enough to please our guests.
‘Betty and I went round and collected it all,’ adds Doreen.
I shake my head in amazement. ‘I think you’re both amazing! And how kind are these women, coming to our aid like this? It all looks incredible.’
Betty smiles. ‘I think the fact you stepped in and did their cake judging at such short notice probably helped a lot.’
I laugh out loud. ‘I still can’t believe it. Right, I need a shower then we’re in business!’ I bound up the stairs, full of renewed enthusiasm.
*****
It turns out to be a really successful night. Quite the opposite to the last time I opened a café!
The guests pour in soon after six, laughing and chattering, all eager to see for themselves the mysterious project in the garden of Honey Cottage finally unveiled. It helps that it’s a beautiful, balmy evening, and that The Treehouse Café – the star of the night – looks like something from a magical Disney movie, exactly as it’s meant to.
I’m so busy welcoming guests and making sure they have refreshments – and taking small groups up to look around the treehouse I barely have a chance to chat to Paloma or Jake. Or Theo. Apart from a quick hello.
But I’m aware of Theo all the time. He looks gorgeous tonight in a blue shirt the exact same shade as his eyes, and every time I catch him looking over at me, my heart skips a beat. As the night wears on and the Prosecco goes down, our glances become more frequent and lingering, until finally, Theo’s face breaks into a big smile, which of course makes me smile, too. A huge smile of joy that he seems to feel the same. But it’s achingly bittersweet because I know we can’t be together.
A highlight of the night is when Rowena arrives, with a teenage girl who she introduces as Melanie. Her daughter!
I manage to grab Rowena alone, while Melanie is chatting to Paloma about becoming a graphic designer.
‘I took your advice and plucked up the courage to phone her,’ Rowena tells me, happiness shining from her eyes. ‘And she was so happy to hear from me.’
‘I knew she would be.’ I give her arm a little squeeze.
Rowena laughs. ‘Well, I didn’t. And that was the problem. I thought she’d tell me to bugger off. But actually, I think she was relieved that I made the first move.’
‘Of course she was. She couldn’t stay angry forever with a mum like you!’
She smiles. ‘Well, thank you, Twilight, for making me see sense. Melanie is thinking of coming to stay with me while she studies graphic design at the local college.’
‘God, that’s brilliant. A happy ending!’
When she goes off to find Melanie, I stare after her wistfully.
I’m so pleased for Rowena and her daughter, but the selfish part of me can’t help wishing it could be my happy ending. I glance for the millionth time in Theo’s direction, but he’s chatting to someone and has his back to me.
My heart physically aches for him.
But I take a deep breath and prepare to speak to more guests just arriving.
The best chance of a happy ending for me is The Treehouse Café being a rip-roaring success. That would definitely be something to be glad about …
After a while, I escape up into the treehouse on my own.
I pull up a chair and sit by a window, leaning on the sill and looking out over the party, at the people mingling and chatting and laughing. It seems amazing that I created this. With Paloma’s help. And Jake’s, of course, and Betty’s and Doreen’s.
I smile to myself, thinking I could do a speech from up here, Oscars-style, thanking the world and his dog for all their help and support.
I look around for Paloma, but I can’t see her. Funnily enough, I can’t see Theo either. Or Jake. They can’t have gone home, surely? Not without saying goodbye?
Suddenly, from my vantage point, I catch sight of Paloma hurrying up the garden from the direction of the house. As I watch, she very deliberately stops and adjusts the top of her strappy dress and shakes out her hair, before re-joining the throng.
I’m about to go down and join her when I suddenly clap eyes on Jake walking up from the house.
Aha! Caught you!
I’m now convinced there’s something going on between Paloma and Jake. But why does she keep claiming she can’t stand him?
He’s scrubbed up extremely well tonight. The dark suit and white shirt show off his out-in-all-weathers tan and his longish
