Authors: Trisha Ashley
‘OK, I’ll stop now,’ I said laughing.
He hadn’t mentioned his fiancée again, so I’d no idea what was going on with that … but now we were friends I really hoped they
wouldn’t
get back together, even if that was selfish of me, because I was certain she’d whip him straight back to London again.
When I got home with a tired but cheerful Stella, she awarded Ma the chewed remains of the gingerbread pig as usual, and told her she’d met three ladies much older even than Ma was.
‘Nearly three hundred years old!’ she elaborated. ‘And they’re all called Grace.’
‘I think they meant their combined ages, and they were exaggerating slightly,’ I explained.
‘That’s a relief and I’m glad I don’t look three hundred years old,’ Ma said. ‘What do you mean, they’re all called Grace, Stella?’
‘They’re the three Graces, they said so.’
Stella went off for a nap as usual after lunch and the vicar arrived soon afterwards. Luckily there was a freshly baked fruit loaf, so I buttered that and made a pot of tea, and while we had it I told him about Jago and the gingerbread stars and how it had given me hope that the rest of the money could be raised in time.
‘I mean, we’ve barely met and he’s done so much for Stella already.’
‘He makes me ashamed I’ve only just got started on helping,’ Raffy said ruefully.
‘Not at all, I understand you must have other calls on your time.’
‘I do, but Stella’s fundraising is urgent and I’ve popped in today because I’ve had some ideas – and first of all, I’ve called a meeting in the village hall on Saturday to get things rolling, with a fundraising committee in charge. The posters are going up all over the village today; Hebe Winter is organising all that. I hope you’ll come?’
‘What,
this
Saturday – the day after tomorrow? Is that possible at such short notice?’
‘Oh, yes, the Sticklepond grapevine works almost instantly. I suspect some of my parishioners of telepathy,’ he said gravely.
‘Of course I’ll come, but I won’t have to speak, will I?’ I asked, alarmed by the idea.
‘Not if you don’t want to. I’ll outline why we need to fundraise and introduce you to everyone, but you’ll know most of them by sight at least by now, I should think and they’ll already know all about you and Stella.’
‘I suppose that’s living in a village for you. But since we don’t really belong in Sticklepond, I still don’t think we count as a local cause.’ Ma did, of course, but she could hardly be said to be a part of village life.
‘That doesn’t matter, you’re all part of the fabric of this village now, and in any case, they’d unite to support a sick child wherever it came from. I’m a father myself, so I can imagine what you’re going through and I’ll do everything in my power to help you. God will provide – so get on and finalise the arrangements to take Stella to America and leave the rest to us.’
‘You’re very kind,’ I told him gratefully, and then we discussed all the arrangements I’d have to make.
‘Will, my friend Celia’s husband, is very good at sorting out details and he’ll make all the bookings for me. The costs keep going up all the time, though, so I think twenty thousand is the minimum extra I need,’ I said ruefully. ‘I mean, I’d really like to take a nurse with me on the plane, but that would be an extra expense, so it’s out of the question.’
‘Let’s see what we come up with at the meeting, and go from there,’ Raffy suggested. ‘Chloe said you went to the Mother and Toddler group meeting and you took some wonderful Eccles cakes – though actually, they couldn’t have been nicer than this tea loaf,’ he added, taking about the tenth slice. ‘She’s expecting again, though she wants to keep it quiet until she’s past the three-month stage.’
‘Congratulations!’ I said, though I felt a pang of jealousy, because I’d have loved a big family … though of course, not a big single-parent one. But I knew I was lucky to have Stella, and getting her fit and well, then resuming my career so that we could have our own place again and leave my poor mother in peace as soon as possible, had to be my current priorities in life.
When he got up to go, Raffy said again, ‘So, you will come to the meeting on Saturday?’
‘Yes, if Ma will baby-sit … and I really don’t have to make a speech?’
‘Absolutely not, if you don’t want to.’
‘I could manage to thank everyone for coming and say I would be grateful for any help, because I don’t want to seem churlish or ungrateful.’
‘Great, that’s really all it needs.’
‘Can I invite my friends Celia and Will? You’ll remember I told you they’re already fundraising.’
‘They really should be there, then, and the more the merrier,’ he said.
I rang Celia up later and told her that Jago’s friend David had said Jago’s ex was trying to get him back. I don’t know why that nugget of information slipped out first, but it just did. Celia had never met him, so she wasn’t likely to be that riveted by the news.
‘And I think he’s still carrying a torch for her, because he didn’t mention her while we had coffee in the café next to the shop, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he ends up getting back with her and then going to London to start his business up.’
‘That would be a pity,’ she said. ‘You’d think he’d be once bitten, twice shy.’
‘Yes … but actually that’s not why I phoned you up. The vicar came and he’s already called a meeting in the village hall for Saturday.’
‘What, this Saturday?’
‘Yes, that’s just what I said! When he gets the bit between his teeth, he certainly doesn’t hang about. When I took Stella up to feed the ducks after he’d gone, there were already posters up everywhere and two people stopped and said they were going to be there. You know, everyone’s suddenly much friendlier now I’m doing lots of shopping in the village, and I already know the dog walking crowd and some of the local mums.’
‘That’s the good side of living in a small place,’ she agreed. ‘Of course, the downside is that sometimes you don’t actually want everyone to know your entire business.’
‘I suppose there is that,’ I said. ‘I’m sure they know everything there is to know about me and Ma – and maybe even more about how Esau Almond blotted his copybook than either of us!’
‘You really ought to investigate the family mystery sometime. It’s intriguing,’ she said.
‘I suppose so, but I don’t suppose it’s really anything that terrible – or nothing that we would consider terrible these days. So, will you both come to the meeting?’
‘I’ll certainly come and I’ll see what Will’s doing,’ she assured me.
When Jago emailed me later I was tempted to tell him about the meeting, too. But then I thought he was already doing more than enough and he might feel obliged to come, when he would rather be doing something else. He’d have been busy in the shop anyway, it being a Saturday, so he’d probably also be tired. Bakers have such long days! He told me he starts work at four or five if he has a croquembouche to make, because he creates the whole thing on the day it is required.
If he’d let me, one day I’d like to go and watch the whole process … and then get a stupendous ‘Cake Diaries’ piece out of it!
On Friday, when trade was going quiet just before lunch, a very tall, dark-haired man wearing a black T-shirt with a white clerical collar walked into the Happy Macaroon.
‘Aren’t you Raffy Sinclair, the front man of Mortal Ruin?’ David said, staring at him hard.
‘I was, but now I’m the vicar of Sticklepond,’ he said, and Jago recalled reading about Sticklepond’s vicar’s ex-rock star past somewhere, though he didn’t remember Cally mentioning it, or how good-looking he was …
‘I came in to see Jago.’
David indicated his friend. ‘There’s your man.’
Raffy shook Jago’s hand and smiled warmly. ‘I’m really pleased to meet you. Cally told me how much money you’d already raised by selling gingerbread stars and I wanted to invite you – both of you – to come to a fundraising meeting at the village hall in Sticklepond tomorrow night.’
‘Not me,’ David said hastily, ‘it’s all Jago’s idea, and though I’m more than happy to help, my fiancée’s coming up for the weekend and we don’t get much time together.’
‘I understand. Then I’d really like it if
you
could come, Jago? I’m hoping for a good turnout and lots of ideas, and your good start will inspire everyone.’
‘I’ll be glad to come,’ Jago said, though he still felt strangely jealous of the tall and charismatic vicar, until he bought a gingerbread star for his little girl, Grace.
‘My wife would probably love some macaroons, because she’s got quite a sweet tooth. Those pale pink ones look wonderful,’ he added, and Jago warmed to him.
‘I’ll give you some for her to try, a free sample.’
‘That’s very kind of you!’
‘It’s how we lure new customers in,’ Jago said, putting some into a silver box, then asked, ‘Do you really think we can raise the money in time?’
‘Oh, yes, I’m quite sure the whole village will unite to help us,’ Raffy assured him. ‘Now they know it’s the life of a child hanging in the balance, there’ll be no stopping them.’
When he put it like that, Jago couldn’t see how they could fail, either.
Aimee walked into the Happy Macaroon, then did a double take and stared after the tall, dark and stunningly handsome man who’d just passed her on the way out.
Then she got a grip on herself and, refocusing on the mission in hand, looked round for Jago, but only David was to be seen.
She waited until he’d served two students, and then said, ‘Hi, David. Where’s Jago?’
‘
This
is a surprise, Aimee,’ he said, though not as if it was a good one. ‘He didn’t tell me you were coming.’
‘He didn’t know, but since I was on my way up to the Lake District to organise a weekend party, I thought I’d pop in and take him to lunch.’
‘You just missed him. You’re looking …
tanned
,’ he added.
‘Why, thank you.’ She batted her mascara-lagged eyelashes at him.
‘Like leather. The last dewy bloom of youth must have got burned off in the desert.’ David thought that was pretty poetic: he must have watched too many of his friend’s rom com films!
A look of fury crossed Aimee’s face, swiftly transformed to one of melting delight when Jago suddenly appeared from the back room, pulling on his jacket. He stopped dead at the sight of her, feeling his heart leap and then start to thump.
‘There you are, darling! David just told me you’d gone out.’ She gave his friend a dirty look.
‘I
was
on my way out …’ he stammered, still thrown off balance by her sudden appearance.
‘Come on – I’ll take you to lunch, that’s why I’m here. You
have
to come,’ she wheedled, ‘to show you forgive me.’
‘Oh, right,’ David put in helpfully, ‘if you buy him a sandwich and pout a few times, he’s bound to completely forget you jilted him just before the wedding.’
‘Butt out, David!’ Aimee snapped with a face like a Fury, then did another quick change to her sweetest expression and said to Jago, ‘Do come!’
But by now Jago had recovered from his initial shock at seeing her and he wasn’t sure quite how he felt about it
or
her assumption that he’d forgive her for what she clearly considered some trifling little misjudgement.
‘I’m only going next door to the café for a quick bite to eat. Half an hour at most.’
She pouted. ‘I’m sure David could manage without you for a bit longer than that. We’ve got so much to catch up on.’
‘Fridays are busy; I’ll need to get back quickly so he can have his break, too.’
‘I suppose half an hour is better than nothing, I’ll come with you,’ she said, and, with another dirty look at David, followed Jago out and up the stairs of the café next door. It was not exactly the ambience she’d had in mind for making it up with Jago.
Sitting opposite, Jago looked broodingly at her. In the shop he’d seen her in exactly the way he had when he was still blinded by love: tall, very slender, with long blond hair, green eyes and endless legs shown off by a short, tight skirt.
But now, suddenly, the scales seemed to fall from his eyes and it was like looking at a stranger. Her time in the hot sun of Dubai had hastened the slightly shrivelled and leathery look that comes to all sun worshippers in the end, and her hair seemed as dead and artificial as a doll’s. Apart from the ability to pout and bat her eyelashes, her face seemed remarkably immobile, so she’d probably been at the Botox, too … and Sarah had been right about the baggy knees.
His mind conjured up another and much more natural beauty: Cally, with her white-gold hair springing from a central parting in crazy curls to frame a broad forehead, lovely deep blue eyes and the entrancing dusting of freckles across her nose. She was sufficiently plump to hug without being pierced by sharp bones and looked wholesome enough to eat, though he’d got the message that she’d kill him if he said so.
He smiled, which unfortunately encouraged Aimee.
She smiled back beguilingly, confidently, with those lovely green eyes sparkling as she tried to cast her spell of enchantment over him once again. ‘I’ve missed you so much, Jago – and you
are
pleased to see me, aren’t you?’
His smile vanished and he muttered, ‘Just take a bite from this lovely poisoned apple.’
‘
What?
’
‘Sorry, I was just thinking about dessert.’
‘Then I wish you’d think about me instead! I was just saying how much I’d missed you and … well, really, I wanted to say sorry.’
‘I think it’s a little late for apologies, Aimee. By the way, what happened to all the wedding presents and the arrangements? I mean, I cancelled everything my end, but when I left a message for your father, he never replied.’
‘Oh, Daddy cancelled everything else. He was a
teeny
bit cross with me, because once he’d met you he said you were a good, honest, hard-working man, and I couldn’t do any better.’
‘Did he? I thought he’d have told you that you were throwing yourself away by marrying a bakery assistant, even one who could make his own five-tier fairy-tale wedding cake,’ Jago said, surprised. ‘Mind you,’ he added, ‘running off with a car salesman probably wasn’t what he wanted for you, either.’