‘I’m singing in the rain,’ Stevie chortled once more, but this time she was as sober as a nun. ‘Just singing in the rain. What a wonderful feeling to have my flat back again.’
Her visitors had left that morning, her mother fussing she’d forgotten something and her sister complaining constantly from the minute she’d woken up to the second she’d darted out of the door, but nothing could dampen Stevie’s spirits. Not even the incessant, persistent, never-ending, ceaseless rain. And her nieces had both given her a hug, without being told to.
She had her flat all to herself again. She could sleep in her own bed, watch whatever she liked on TV without being criticised for her taste in programmes, eat stuff out of a tin if she wanted (she was sick and tired of cooking), and she could slob around in her PJs all afternoon if she felt like it. Bliss.
But first, she fully intended to enjoy a Sunday roast which someone else had prepared. She wasn’t turning up empty-handed though – she’d rustled up a tiramisu, (which didn’t count as cooking) and had bought a bottle of wine. She really, really hoped Leanne wouldn’t drink it all by herself, she thought as she drove cautiously down the winding lanes to the farm, trying to avoid the bigger puddles and wishing her wipers had an additional, faster speed.
‘Come in, come in,’ Leanne gushed, shepherding Stevie into the farmhouse. ‘Meet my brothers and their wives, and my brothers who don’t have wives yet, and my niece and nephews, and my mum and dad.’
Gosh, but there were a lot of people crammed into a not very big space.
Stevie smiled nervously as she was introduced to Martin and his wife, Janine, Stuart and his wife, Lisa, three children (two boys and a girl, but Stevie couldn’t remember their names, or which child belonged to which set of parents), two more brothers, Murray and Saul (both wifeless) and Mr and Mrs Green (“call him Geoff and me Iris,” Leanne’s mum had said). By the time everyone had smiled and nodded, and made the odd quip or three, and Iris had dragged Geoff into the kitchen to help her dish up, Stevie’s head was spinning.
Room was made for her on the sofa and Stevie found herself squashed between Murray (about her age, nice eyes, a bit on the tubby side) and Saul (a little older maybe, even nicer eyes, and fit, very fit – and not just in the fitness sense of being fit either. He was actually rather scrummy).
‘Leanne has told us all about you,’ Saul said, with a twinkle in his eye.
‘Oh dear, nothing bad, I hope.’
‘No, more’s the pity.’ There was that twinkle again and a flash of a bright smile. Was he flirting with her? ‘She tells us you’ve opened up the old café down by the river.’
‘Yes, I bought it a couple of months ago.’ She couldn’t believe it – the time had gone by so quickly. It was weird though, because on the one hand she felt as though she’d been here forever and on the other, it seemed like only yesterday she was arguing with the sign writer.
‘Settled in OK?’ one of the wives, Lisa, asked.
‘I have.’ Stevie nodded. ‘It’s a lovely spot and I’ve got some regular customers.’
‘So I heard,’ Lisa said. ‘Allegra Johnson and her little gang, for one. I also heard you had a bit of a run in with her.’
‘Oh?’ News had a way of travelling fast in small communities, Stevie was discovering. The one thing she missed about London (apart from the shopping, the fab restaurants, and the social life, of course) was the anonymity. No one had a clue who you were, and no one wanted to know, either. It was both awful and wonderful at the same time.
She felt the same way about life in Tanglewood – Stevie loved that everyone knew everyone else, (it was actually quite comforting) but it was rather intrusive and a bit scary too.
‘She’s telling everyone not to go to your café because it’s unhealthy,’ Lisa was saying, and Stevie gasped.
‘She’s what!’
‘Don’t worry, no one listens to a word she says, except for those hangers-on she surrounds herself with, and I think they’re only friends with her because they’re too scared of her not to be.’
‘What exactly has she been saying?’ Stevie asked, horrified. The prick of tears stung the back of her eyes, and she blinked fiercely.
‘Now, Lisa, I told you not to say anything.’ Iris bustled in with a jug of steaming gravy in her hand. ‘Lunch is served,’ she announced, ‘unless your gossip has driven poor Stevie’s appetite away.’
It had rather, but Stevie didn’t say anything. It was lovely to be invited and she didn’t want to upset Leanne’s mum.
‘Mmm. Beef, my favourite,’ Saul said. ‘Ladies first.’
Stevie shuffled to the edge of the sofa and lurched out of her seat. For a second, she felt a swift push on her bottom, then she was free of the sucky squishiness of the sofa.
Saul was grinning at her. ‘Sorry, but you looked as though you were stuck there for the duration. Someone should have warned you about our ancient sofa. I’m sure if you squish too far into it, it’ll drag you into an alternative universe. Oh, and don’t listen to Lisa, she’s nothing but a gossip.’
Stevie smiled gratefully at him, as her hand was engulfed by his far larger one, the heat of his skin warming hers, then she gasped as he added, ‘Nice arse, by the way.’
‘Cheeky sod!’ she cried, but she couldn’t help smiling. Leanne’s brother was rather too forward for his own good.
‘It took your mind off Allegra Johnson for a minute though, didn’t it?’ he said with a laugh.
‘Ignore him,’ Leanne said, ‘the rest of us do. He loves shocking people, which is probably why he can’t keep a girlfriend.’ She stuck her tongue out at him and Stevie chuckled. Why was it, that no matter how old you were, when your family all got together everyone reverted to about twelve? And your parents treated you as such, too.
Saul whispered in Stevie’s ear as he played the gentleman and pulled out a chair for her, ‘She’s just jealous because she hasn’t had a date for months. No one can afford to take her out; have you seen the amount of wine she can pack away?’
‘I heard that,’ Leanne said, ‘and yes, she has. Our Stevie isn’t backward in coming forward when it comes to a glass or two either. She had to be taken home by our resident celebrity showjumper the other night.’
‘If I remember rightly, so did you!’ Saul replied, helping himself to a huge spoonful of mashed potatoes. ‘Poor Nick Saunders spent ages trying to explain to Dad that it wasn’t him who had got you into such a state, and he was simply picking up the pieces.’
Stevie was trying to take it all in, but there were at least five different conversations going on around her, plus the noise from the children, and everyone was busy lunging for the serving dishes or passing things around the table, so she just sat there, waiting for things to calm down.
She’d never seen such friendly chaos. Arms, spoons, plates, forks (‘You’ll have someone’s eye out with that, my boy,’ Iris said, on at least two separate occasions), all were waved around and passed up and down the table. Then there was a squabble over the gravy boat, until Iris, who had yet to put anything on her own plate, heaved her ample frame out of her seat and toddled off to the kitchen to fetch some more.
Finally, there was some semblance of order and Stevie picked up a serving spoon intending to fill her own plate, only to find Saul had sneakily swapped plates, and he had the empty one and she had one piled so high with food it almost reached her chin. She looked like a proper greedy-guts.
‘You’ve got to be quick in this family,’ he warned, ‘otherwise the rest of them will have stripped the table bare like a swarm of locusts.’
There was still plenty left in the tureens, but she didn’t say anything apart from “thank you”. If she was honest, she felt slightly overwhelmed. It was all so very different from her own small family. There were so many Greens, and to have them all squashed around one table, with elbows touching and hardly any room to wield a fork, rendered Stevie speechless.
She made up for her silence by tucking into her lunch. The beef was flavoursome and so tender it melted on her tongue; the roast potatoes were crispy and fluffy with just the right amount of seasoning, and each vegetable was superbly cooked. Iris certainly knew her way around a Sunday roast and before long Stevie found she’d nearly cleared her plate and was wishing she’d worn stretchy leggings instead of jeans.
The noise level had abated somewhat as everyone concentrated on their food, but as bellies gradually filled, the noise returned to its former pitch.
It also looked like Saul had taken it upon himself to be her protector, so with him on one side of her and Leanne on the other, Stevie didn’t feel quite as awkward as she might otherwise have done by being surrounded by so many people she didn’t know.
‘Your mother is a good cook,’ Stevie said, chasing the last few peas around her plate. ‘I’m glad she’s not in competition with me.’
‘She can’t bake for toffee,’ Leanne said. ‘But she’s a dab hand at traditional meals. She has to be, to feed this lot! Murray and Saul still live at home, and the other two are back and fore for their dinners so often I don’t think Lisa and Janine ever feed them.’
‘Shut up, Lea, you make it sound like we’re a couple of mummy’s boys,’ Murray interjected. Until now, he’d been fairly quiet, but clearly this was an insult too far.
‘If the cap fits, Murray-Man,’ one of the married brothers called.
‘Go boil your head, Marty,’ Murray retorted.
‘Boys! Behave yourselves, you’re embarrassing Stevie.’ Iris banged her hand on the table and the noise dropped to a more acceptable level as everyone stared at Stevie.
If she hadn’t been embarrassed before, she certainly was now.
‘Sorry,’ Murray and Martin muttered in unison. Leanne gave her a smirk, licked the tip of her forefinger and held it up, making a “one” gesture.
Saul said, ‘Murray and I converted one of the old barns into a proper house. We live there, not here.’
‘You might as well live here, because you’re never at your own place,’ Iris pointed out. She had an indulgent smile on her face and clearly loved having her family around her.
‘We are! It’s not our fault you keep feeding us,’ Saul replied.
Iris raised her arms in despair and gave Stevie a wink. ‘Ah, so that’s where I’m going wrong? I’ll stop making you dinner then, shall I?’
Murray looked worried, but Saul had an ace up his sleeve. ‘That’s OK, I’ll just pop into Peggy’s Tea Shoppe every lunchtime and the pub in the evening.’
‘I’ll refuse to serve you,’ Stevie warned, warming to the theme. ‘Be nicer to your mother.’
‘I’m always nice to you, aren’t I, Mum?’
Iris chuckled. ‘Sometimes. Right then, you can show me just how nice you are by offering to do the washing up. All you men can lend a hand, except your father. He helped with the cooking.’
There was a chorus of groans, and some murmuring about Leanne’s non-existent role in operation clean-up, but Iris’s four boys disappeared into the kitchen happily enough, and soon there were sounds of squealing and giggling from the children who had followed their fathers.
‘I expect I’ll have to go behind them to clean up the mess they’ll no doubt make while cleaning up.’ Iris sighed. ‘Now, Stevie, tell me all about your café.’
‘There’s not much to tell,’ she began, but Leanne interrupted her.
‘She’s a proper pastry chef, is Stevie. Worked in a Michelin star restaurant and everything,’ Leanne exclaimed.
Iris looked from one to the other. ‘Is that good?’
‘It’s bleedin’ marvellous,’ Leanne said, before Stevie had a chance to open her mouth. ‘Go on, Stevie, tell Mum about Corky Middleton.’
‘Who’s Corky Middleton?’ Iris wanted to know.
‘Just a chef,’ Stevie said, ‘no one, really.’ And she realised she meant it. After all the work, all the long hours, and all the striving to be the best of the best in the cut-throat world of London cuisine, Stevie found she didn’t actually care about that anymore. She was perfectly content being her own boss and running her own show, and even though it might not be up there with the likes of Corky Middleton, she was happy.
Actually, she realised, she really was happy. Mostly. If it would stop raining. And if Nick Saunders’s face didn’t keep popping into her head.
‘So, you see, Great-Aunt Peggy was behind it all, and that’s why I called it Peggy’s Tea Shoppe, because I owe everything to her,’ Stevie said, finishing up her story of how she came to move to Tanglewood. The wives had joined their husbands in the kitchen, ostensibly to check on the clearing up, but Stevie guessed her coming-to-Tanglewood story was boring them to tears.
How Stevie missed her great-aunt and, just for a second, grief reared its head. Stevie would have given anything to have her funny, oddball aunt back in her life. Her house had been nothing like this one (Peggy had no family, apart from Hazel, Fern and Stevie), but her home always felt really lived in, as though people had just popped out for a second or visitors were just about to arrive.
‘So,’ Iris said, breaking into Stevie’s thoughts. ‘You and Nick Saunders, eh? Go on then, spill the beans.’
Stevie did a double-take. Where had that question come from? ‘There aren’t any beans to spill,’ she replied, blushing. ‘I actually don’t think he likes me very much.’
‘But you like him?’ the older woman queried, and even as Stevie was shaking her head in denial, a part of her was whispering, “liar!”
‘Oh, I forgot to tell you, Tia’s going to live with her mother,’ Leanne said to Iris.
‘Leaving Nick to run the place all on his own?’ Iris gave Stevie a pat on the arm. ‘Well, I suppose it does mean when Nick finally settles down whoever he marries will have that lovely old farmhouse all to herself. It never works with two women in one kitchen.’
‘Which is why I never do any cooking,’ Leanne stated. ‘She won’t let me anywhere near her double oven.’
‘You don’t cook because you can’t,’ Saul said, appearing in the doorway and wiping his hands on a tea towel. ‘You do realise the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? It’s no wonder you can’t get a fella.’
Leanne snorted. ‘Sexist crap. With an attitude like that, no wonder women take one look at you and run a mile.’ Turning to Stevie, she said, ‘He doesn’t have any trouble getting a girl, but he can’t keep them. Once they get to know him, they’re off.’
‘Ow, that hurts.’ Saul placed a hand over his heart. ‘I just haven’t found the right one yet,’ he explained to Stevie. ‘Or maybe I have?’ He gave Stevie a big grin.
‘Give over, she’s got the hots for Nick Saunders,’ Leanne retorted.
‘Don’t they all?’ was Saul’s reply.
‘I haven’t!’ Stevie protested again.
‘So that means you’re free to come to dinner with me,’ Saul said.
‘Saul’s got a date, Saul’s got a date,’ Leanne sang, until her mother elbowed her in the ribs. ‘Oof!’
‘Leave your brother alone before you scare Stevie off. I like her,’ Iris announced.
‘I’d like that, thank you,’ Stevie said to Saul and she found herself looking forward to a date with him – he was good-looking, amusing, and his family clearly thought the world of him.
But why was the image of Nick’s face still seared on her inner eye?