The rain had finally stopped and Stevie woke to blissful silence. No pattering against the window pane, no wind, no distant roar of the river.
She slipped out of bed, padded over to the window and lifted the sash. Leaning out, she craned her neck, trying to see the end of the street and the bridge. Yesterday, she could see the brown-grey churning water quite clearly, flooding the fields and the road alike.
Today, the water was still there, but it was no longer churning, and there were some bare patches which, although covered in mud and debris, were clearly above the waterline. The river was gradually receding.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps business could finally get back to normal.
Remembering her guest, Stevie crept to the bathroom, had the quickest shower in history, and quietly got ready to face the day.
As she waited for the ovens to reach the correct temperature, she had a cup of coffee and pondered the problem of her house guest. Eventually, after finishing her coffee and popping the trays in the ovens, she decided she had to take her cue from Betty. Stevie had meant it when she said the old woman could stay here as long as she wanted, although she was well aware it could be for some considerable time. She just prayed Betty hadn’t lost everything and would be able to move back into her little cottage at some point.
Stevie shoved another tray of the pre-prepared pastries in the oven and thought about breakfast. She ought to feed Peggy, too, but Stevie hadn’t seen the cat since…? When? She couldn’t rightly remember. Yesterday? The day before?
‘Here kitty, kitty,’ she called, opening a cupboard door and reaching for the box of treats which she kept in the café’s kitchen for the sole purpose of enticing the cat out from wherever it was hiding in order to shoo it upstairs. She rattled the box with enthusiasm, several times.
No sign of the cat.
Stevie was pretty certain it wasn’t upstairs because the pesky feline liked to sleep on Stevie’s bed, and it didn’t matter how firmly she shut the door, the cat always seemed to manage to get in. And more often than not, the horrid little beast would sprawl across her face, making Stevie think she was suffocating.
No, she definitely wasn’t upstairs.
Stevie wondered if Peggy was waiting by the front door, cross and bedraggled from being left outside all night, but there had been so many people in the café yesterday evening she hadn’t given the cat a thought, so it was entirely possible the feline had slipped outside, to do whatever it was cats did at night.
She opened the door.
No cat.
She peered up and down the street, calling, ‘Peggy, puss, puss, puss,’ but still no cat.
Oh well, no doubt she’d come back home when she was hungry enough, Stevie decided, and went to rescue her pastries before they burned.
A tinkle alerted her to someone in the shop, and she rolled her eyes. She’d forgotten to lock the door after herself and even though the sign said “Closed”, someone had decided to try their luck. Quite a lot of someones, as it turned out.
Rolling her metaphorical sleeves up, Stevie coaxed Bert into life and began to serve.
‘Am I glad to see you,’ she hissed, when Cassandra arrived half an hour later. ‘What’s with all these people?’
Cassandra shrugged. ‘There’s a group of them down by the bridge. I think they’re waiting for the council to arrive and inspect it.’
‘I didn’t realise it would draw the crowds,’ Stevie said. ‘The usual?’ she asked one of her regulars. He liked a double espresso to go. Stevie always assumed he’d be wired for at least an hour afterwards.
‘Ah, Leanne, what can I get you? We don’t normally see you in here,’ Cassandra said, as Stevie gave the gentleman his change.
Leanne was a one-man band running the flower shop all by herself and she generally didn’t leave it.
‘Cappuccino, please, and a promise that you’ll come to the ball with me.’ This last bit was directed at Stevie.
‘What ball? Do you think you’re Cinderella?’ Stevie smiled.
‘The ball up at The Manor, silly. Remember? I told you they hold one every year and all the villagers have an open invitation?’ Leanne was practically bursting with excitement. ‘I can’t wait! New dress, here I come! You can meet Saul there, so if he asks you to go with him, please say no, otherwise I’ll have to go on my own.’
‘Saul?’
‘You can’t have forgotten you have a date with him on Friday and if I know my brother he won’t stop at the one. He really likes you.’
‘He does?’
‘He kept giving you puppy-dog eyes.’
‘Oh.’ Stevie hadn’t really noticed. ‘He did stay behind yesterday evening to help clear up the café,’ she said. Nick had stayed after everyone else had left too, but she had no idea why. And she also had no idea why he’d left as abruptly as he had, either. He was one strange man.
‘So, are we on?’ Leanne asked. She took her coffee and tapped her foot, her face alight with excitement.
‘On?’
‘For the ball?’
‘I suppose.’
‘Don’t sound too enthusiastic, will you? Maybe a new dress will fire you up. Wanna go shopping?’
Stevie said, ‘Now? I can’t. I’ve got customers and a rack of chocolate and broccoli cupcakes in the oven.’
‘Not now, silly, I’ve got a business to open too. How about Sunday? We can go to Hereford – most of the shops are open on a Sunday. Or how about Bristol? I’ll drive. I haven’t been to Bristol for ages.’
It was quite a trek, but Bristol was probably their best bet if they wanted to get something decent. It had more department stores for a start and Stevie had a sudden pang for the hustle and bustle of London. If only she was still living there, she could pop to Covent Garden, or really push the boat out and visit Regent Street.
With a wry smile, she said, ‘Bristol, it is,’ and her smile broadened into a grin when Leanne let out a loud squeal and did a little jig on the spot.
‘We can make a day of it, go to lunch, have a couple of cocktails,’ the florist cried.
‘You said you’d drive,’ Stevie pointed out.
‘Darn it, so I did. See you on Sunday.’ She turned to leave. ‘Do you mind if I ask Tia if she’d like to come. I get the feeling she could do with cheering up.’
‘Not at all.’
‘What are you planning?’ a voice behind her said, making Stevie jump. She’d forgotten about Betty.
‘The ball at The Manor,’ Leanne said, before Stevie could catch her breath enough to respond. ‘We’re going to Bristol on Sunday, dress hunting.’
‘The ball, eh? It’s years since I’ve been to one of those,’ Betty said.
‘You should come with us,’ Stevie suggested.
Betty shuddered. ‘No thanks, I don’t like cities. They’re too full of people.’
Stevie hadn’t actually meant Betty joining them on the shopping trip (she had a feeling Betty would have wanted to visit an entirely different sort of shop to the younger women), but she said, ‘That’s a shame, but come to the ball anyway.’
‘I might just do that.’
Leanne added, ’Do come! The whole village will be there.’ She gave Stevie a significant look. ‘Including Saul.’
‘Saul?’ Betty asked.
‘My brother. Stevie has got a date with him on Friday.’
Betty gave Stevie a sharp look. ‘Have you?’ She was frowning as she slipped a teabag into a mug and she waited just long enough for Leanne to leave, watching her hold the door open for a clutch of teenagers, before saying, ‘Saul Green isn’t the man for you.’
Stevie blinked. ‘Excuse me?’
‘He’s a bit of a lad, if you know what I mean. He’ll have your knickers off before you can say boo to a goose.’
Stevie’s mouth dropped open, but before she could think of a suitable reply, a buzzer sounded from the kitchen and Stevie went to take her cupcakes out of the oven. She left them on a rack to cool, then plated up the beetroot ones she’d made earlier. Deep pink sponge, topped with a swirl of vanilla and beetroot buttercream, with a tiny mint leaf on top, Stevie had to admit they looked delectable. The colour alone should appeal to children, and when their mums discovered the treats they bought for their offspring actually contained a healthy portion of beetroot, Stevie hoped she was on to a winner.
As she worked she let Betty’s words run through her head. Have my knickers off, indeed. As if she’d let him anywhere near her knickers!
Stevie paused, cupcake in hand, as the thought hit home.
Why had she agreed to go out with Saul if she couldn’t imagine him getting into her knickers? Not that she intended to do that on a first date anyway, but when she thought about it, she was pretty sure she didn’t intend to do anything like that with Saul, ever.
She put the final cupcake on the three-tier cake stand and carried it into the café.
‘Ooh, they look scrummy. Can I have one?’ One of the teenage girls, who was all make-up, long swishy hair, and incredibly tight jeans, pulled a couple of coins out of her pocket. ‘How much are they?’
‘Eat in or take away?’ Cassandra asked.
‘Better make it to take away, and the coffee too. My mum will kill me if she catches me in here. I’m supposed to be on my way to ballet.’
‘Yeah, Izzie, she’ll have a fit,’ one of the others said, and the rest of them burst into giggles. ‘Got any carrot sticks in your bag?’ she asked her, then said to Cassandra, ‘I’ll have a slice of whatever that is please, and a tea.’ She pointed at a cake, then turned to the others. ‘I’m not eating this on the bus, I want to eat it here.’
Izzie shot a nervous glance out of the window, hesitated, then nodded. ‘OK, but can we be quick? My mum only dropped me off a couple of minutes ago.’
‘Find a table,’ Cassandra said, ‘and I’ll bring it over.’
‘Wait.’ Stevie lifted one of the cupcakes off the stand and put it on a plate. ‘You can have this on the house if you’ll give me your honest opinion.’
Izzie frowned. ‘Why? What’s wrong with it?’
Stevie laughed. ‘Nothing, I hope. I’m trying out some new recipes and I’d like some feedback.’
‘If I don’t like it, I don’t have to pay for it?’
‘You don’t have to pay even if you love it. Sit down and Cassandra will fetch your drinks.’
The girls wandered off to the nearest table with muttered comments of how lucky Izzie was, and how they wished they could be tasters too. Stevie smiled, retrieved the next batch from the oven, left it to cool, and tested the temperature of the cakes she’d taken out earlier.
Perfect. They were ready for icing, so she picked up the piping bag she’d prepared and gave each cupcake a swirl of dark salted chocolate and a sprinkle of chopped walnuts. There! Chocolate broccoli cupcakes all ready to go.
She took them with her to the café and walked straight over to the table the girls were occupying. ‘Try one of these, too,’ she offered, ‘on the house.’ She popped a cake in front of each teenager, then stood back to watch their reaction.
‘Mmm, this is gorgeous, but I think the pink one is nicer. It’s so pretty,’ Izzie said.
‘What about the flavour?’
Izzie bit into hers, the rest of the girls following suit, and the air was soon filled with “mmm” and “yummy” and “delish”.
‘You like them, then?’ Stevie asked, smiling. She was hoping they would, but you never can tell. Now let’s see if they still like them once they know what’s in them, she thought. ‘The chocolate one is actually broccoli and chocolate, and the red one with the pink buttercream is made from beetroot.’
‘No! It never is?’ Izzie picked up her chocolate cupcake, held it up and studied it. ‘Where?’
‘It’s definitely there,’ Stevie said. ‘Does that make you like it less?’
The girls thought for a moment, and one of them shook her head. ‘I like carrot cake, so it’s a bit like that, isn’t it? And if it’s got some vegetables in it, it’s got to be better than not having any at all.’
‘Does it count towards my five a day?’ another asked, and the rest of them laughed.
Stevie joined in. ‘No, sorry. You still need to eat your vegetables. I’ve got an idea though; if you pop in at the same time next week, I’ll have some more hidden-vegetable cupcakes for you to try, as a favour to me. What do you say?’
‘Not on your life,’ a voice said, and Stevie looked up from the table to see Allegra Johnson’s red and annoyed face glaring at her from near the door. ‘How dare you bribe my daughter with cake!’
‘Mum?’ Izzie’s expression tore at Stevie’s heart. The child looked positively terrified.
‘She’s supposed to be at ballet, and yet I find her in here being seduced by that.’ She flung her arm at the empty plates on the table, nearly slapping an old gent in the head. He ducked just in time. ‘She’s only thirteen!’ Allegra cried, as if thirteen was too young to eat cake. ‘What are you up to? That’s what I want to know!’
Stevie opened and closed her mouth, not knowing where to begin.
‘Izzie, get your kit and come with me,’ her furious mother demanded. ‘As for the rest of you, I’m going to tell your mothers what I caught you doing. Jonelle Jones – you should know better. And as for you, Saffron Dean, I expected better from you too. Your mother’s a nutritionist, for goodness’ sake. I expect they’ll be as disappointed in you as I am. Come, Izzie.’ And when Izzie hesitated, her mother yelled, ‘Now!’
The poor girl jumped to her feet, her cheeks as red as the beetroot cupcake she’d just eaten, and followed Allegra to the door.
‘I’m going to get you shut down for this,’ Allegra cried. ‘Leading young girls astray, it’s disgusting.’ And with that, she yanked the door open, the little bell tinkling furiously and stormed out, a mortified Izzie trailing behind her.
‘We should have had it to take away.’ The girl who’d spoken was the same one who’d insisted on eating in.
‘Take no notice of Mrs Johnson. She’s always like that. Totally batty. It’s Izzy and the other two I feel sorry for. My mum says if she keeps on telling them they can’t have this and they can’t have that, they’ll rebel one day and it’ll be carnage in McDonald’s.’
Stevie hadn’t said a word. Her head was still reeling from the unwarranted outburst. What had she done that was so wrong? It wasn’t as though she was forcing alcohol on unsuspecting teenagers. Admittedly, she was guilty of deception on the vegetable front, but that was a good thing, wasn’t it?
‘Yeah, don’t worry about her, she’s off her head.’ The girl turned to the others. ‘Did you hear her say she was going to tell my mother? “Saffron Dean, I expected better from you”,’ she mimicked in a high-pitched voice. ‘My mum will tell her where to go. In fact,’ Saffron looked up at the stunned Stevie. ‘I’ll get her to call in, if you like. I’m sure she’ll approve of your veggie cakes. She’s always trying to get me to eat more fruit and veg. And she’ll tell everyone else they’re good for you, too.’
Stevie eventually spoke. ‘Thanks, that’s a really kind offer, Saffron but the cakes aren’t exactly good for you.’ She didn’t want people thinking she was making such an outrageous claim. ‘Besides,’ she added, ‘everything will be fine. Mrs Johnson will probably have forgotten all about it by the time she gets home and even if she hasn’t, what harm can she do?’
It was only when the girls exchanged anxious looks, that Stevie recalled something Leanne had said yesterday about Allegra Johnson telling people not to visit the tea shop. Stevie began to think she might have a problem.
And she was right.