Page 46 of The Custard Tart Cafe by the Sea
“Granted, he didn’t come into your life with the most conventional of chat-up lines, but if there’s one thing I have learned, Willow, it’s this. We have to grab our opportunities for happiness with both hands and savour every moment of them because we never truly know how long they will last. I know my first encounter with Millie on this very same pier was slightly more idyllic, forgetting that ugly laughing sailor dummy tittering away behind us… but you can’t say that Tiago hasn’t tried to make amends. Yes, that damned petition was as tasteless as Ryvita. He’s fiercely loyal to his family, that’s all. Moving forward, if you do decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, is that really such a bad trait?”
Hearing these Oscars-style speeches from my sister and Frank, two human beings at the opposite ends of their life journeys, I have no choice but to digest and accept the truth. I don my own woolly hat, put on my snug bomber jacket, sling my bag over my shoulder, check that Pattie and Ava are happy to lock up tonight, and make the short pilgrimage to the beach.
As soon as I step out onto the pier though I realise what a klutz I am to think that I can visit the spot of Tiago’s sandy spiel. The tide has more than covered it. The video is all that I have now. So I change tack and head to Tesco to buy popcorn, a bag of donuts that I know will taste more like bread than cake (but one lives in perpetual hope) and a new tin of Ovaltine because I’m running out. At the till, I spot Tiago’s message emblazoned across the front page of theWeston-super-Mare Mercury. I pull my hat further over my eyes and quickly pay, bagging up my treasures to take them home, where I plan to change into my Winnie the Pooh onesie and watch the footage on re-run until I have made my decision as to what to do next.
But before I can do that, when I get home I pick up the giant pink envelope that is lying in wait for me on the doormat. Surely I haven’t sleepwalked my way into Valentine’s day too? Nothing would surprise me anymore. I dump my bag and gingerly tear open the envelope to find a confirmation print-out for a luxury spa inside. It details a rather luscious-sounding list of treatments… all paid for by Kelly and Radhika. What on earth? I call Kelly for clarification, knowing that this time she will pick up, since she is one of the many people who has been leaving me messages all day– although in true Kelly avoidant style, her voicemail this afternoon was a mini podcast pleading with me:
Please forgive me, Willow. And please forgive Radhika, too. We know that what we did to help Tiago on the beach last night can only be classed as meddling, but our hearts were in the right place. Once Reggie and Frank contacted us after getting their heads together with Tiago to come up with a master plan, well, we could hardly refuse. Frank was such a trooper. It was amazing to meet him at last after everything you’d told me about him. He’s so generous, too. He parked himself under the pier in his deckchair and blanket and plied us with custard tarts all night. He must have spent a fortune in your café to help us keep our strength up. Oops… I’ve totally dropped the boys in it. Bye for now!
Forgiveness. It definitely seems to be the theme of the day.
Kelly picks up after the first ring.
“It’s nothing. Just a token gesture. There’s no need to thank us. You didn’t exactly get much space in Portugal and you haven’t had much time to think since you’ve been back, so Radhika and I clubbed together. We thought a spa day would do you good.” I look all around me to check for a hidden camera. How can Kelly tell I have even seen the envelope, let alone opened it? “I checked with Tim before we arranged it and he said he’d work you harder today so there would be plenty of tarts ready tomorrow, so you’re all covered to take the day off.”
“But Tim has no way of knowing how busy we’ll get… the extra trade is building like you can’t imagine, thanks to all today’s publicity. We’ll have to turn customers away at this rate! I can’t just leave Tim to it, not so soon after my holiday. That’s not fair.”
“All right,” says Kelly with a deep sigh. “I wasn’t going to say anything but my Matt is going over to help Tim for the day. You know how amazing he is with pastry. The ice cream parlour is quiet now the weather has turned so it’s no biggie.”
“Right. Thanks,” I reply, feeling a little relieved. Matt is more than capable when it comes to patisserie. “That’s very thoughtful of you but really, Kelly, there was no need for you and Radhika to do this. I can reach a decision about my love life without being caked in mud and smothered in rosehip oil. Lovely though I am sure it will be.”
“Just go and don’t even think about trying to get out of it,” my friend screams. She sounds exasperated.
“Kelly?”
“I know exactly what you are about to say and I can hand on heart promise you that Tiago willnotbe waiting to pounce on you in the Jacuzzi.”
“Or anywhere else?”
“Or anywhere else.”
Oh. My mouth turns down at the corners. Which is ridiculous given the guy has made it crystal clear that heisready to pounce on me anywhere and anytime, all I have to do is give him the nod.
“And on the subject of Tiago, despite the fact that this is your decision to make, I do think you’d benefit from a few words from me, your older, wiser, and most spiritually in-tune friend, so I am going to give you them.”
Great. I could really do with being in my onesie already with that popcorn by my side. I feign a cough so I can open the bag of sweet and salty Tyrells kernels without Kelly realising, and greedily pop several pieces in my mouth. This could take as long as a full-length movie. “Okay, that message on the beach was a bit corny,” Kelly informs me. “But your heart already knows it was the biggest, most passionate and credible apology you have ever received in your life. Would Callum have gone to such lengths?” I almost choke on my popcorn trying to conjure up that image. “Tiago’s gesture was so vivid, Willow. Like the Great Wall of China, you could probably see it from space. It’s given me some awesome PR ideas for our ice cream parlour… I’m thinking of festive floating environmentally-friendly wooden letters topped with waterproof LED strip lights, shimmering down the River Avon in the run up to Christmas. The business is by the water’s edge, after all… and I’m sure I could pay somebody to dress as a snowman and stand on one of the barges to point a sign at our building on Pulteney Bridge. Tiago’s a bit of a genius.”
Once Kelly’s speech is over, I finally climb into my onesie, make my Ovaltine, bite into a donut (it’s surprisingly cake-like, hurrah!), switch on the TV to reassure myself that my love life is no longer the talk of the town (oh, heck, they might have moved swiftly on at the local ITV studios but now they’re debating it on BBC’s The One Show), toss the James Martin cookbook I am re-reading onto the carpet, so I can curl up on the sofa without the pointy corners of a hardback poking my toes, and watch the video again, trying to gauge the amount of time and effort that went into Tiago’s message; sensing every ounce of that man’s love for me. I flick my gaze back to James, whose top shirt button is undone, and who is looking at me as if he’d like to undress me, too. His expression has the same intensity as Tiago’s actions. And that’s when I finally realise it probably doesn’t get better than this.
The ball is in my court. I have Tiago’s phone number, after all. But speaking of clichés, there’s one slight fly in the ointment when it comes to conducting any kind of relationship with him on English shores.
Lauren.
How on earth do you solve a problem called My Big (Entitled) Sister? And given Caitlyn’s mysterious hints that night at the folk music gig, how can I be sure that nothing has ever gone on between Lauren and Tiago? I’m going to sabotage my entire relationship with her, if I claim my stake. She’ll die a thousand deaths, of anger and embarrassment.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
After succumbing tothe soothing effects of Ayurvedic massage and reflexology, I take myself to the beautiful turquoise pool of one of Somerset’s top spas to flex my muscles and swim a few lengths. The Jacuzzi and steam rooms overlook the stunning kidney-shaped lagoon, where I am now doing a few leisurely laps. Mental note for the future when the business is making serious money: Tuesdays are a great day to visit this place. I count just four other people in the pool. All are minding their own business, allowing everybody to relax in their own space, taking in the jawbreakingly beautiful chandelier suspended dramatically above us, the stunningly patterned tiles, and the magnificence of the giant arched windows with views onto the lush green West Country fields. The two messy buns of the people languishing in the Jacuzzi rest on the edge of its squishy-looking tiles. I think I might just have to drag myself there next, once they have vacated.
Another figure emerges from a treatment room fringing the far side of the pool, with an uncharacteristically messy bun of her own. I say ‘uncharacteristically,’ because I know this woman and usually her hair is perfect. I stop swimming mid-length and hold onto the pool’s edge. There’s something else that’s different. My older sister is in a swimsuit (what happened to the tiny bikinis?) and, if I’m not mistaken, she’s sporting a tiny pot belly where formerly there was a washboard stomach.
I guess all of that wine consumption, and the inevitable hangover munchies, could only be kept at bay for so long. Not that I am knocking the pot belly look. I definitely have one of my own, and would always prefer it that way. A life without my daily intake of custard tarts is unthinkable.
Lauren turns and waves at me, completely unperturbed. She makes a knife and fork gesture and then jabs a manicured finger at the floor. Okay then. I guess I am going to give it twenty minutes to ensure we don’t bump into one another in the changing rooms, and head downstairs for lunch, where it sounds very probable that I will meet her.
***
“Hey,” I greether and dive in for a kiss on each cheek. “You’re looking… great. Erm, what are you doing here?”
