Page 12 of The Gingerbread Cafe
‘But more aboutyou.’ She pointed an ice-blue polished nail at Gretel. ‘If we bought this place from you, imagine taking the money and flitting off to live yourhashtag best life. I’d make sure things stayed exactly the same here, of course. We’d give you an awesome price for the place and we have tenants lining up. I know they’d just love to take over and honour this festive shrine.’
Oh. Well, that sounded nice. Didn’t it? Gretel eyeballed the card, which was nearly blinding her under the counter’s spotlights. ‘I … erm …’
Miss Whimple’s eyes flitted around the mess of the café before landing back on Gretel. ‘Girl, I’m not going to lie – it looks like you’ve had a hellish day. Devoting your life to serving biscuits and being a social butterfly?’ She gave her a pitying look as though she justknew. ‘It’s not for everyone, huh?’
Gretel heard herself let out a little whimper. She wasn’t proud of it, but she couldn’t help being human.
‘And I’m guessing you feel a sense of duty to that sweet old lady, but can I tell you something? True friends only ever want you to be happy. I haven’t yet seen you smile since I walked into this place.’ The swingy bobbed woman gave Gretel’s hand an awkward squeeze. ‘I’m sure Nell didn’t lumber you with the café to make your face all droopy. She loved you, right? She wouldn’t have wanted you to suffer like this.’
As tears stung Gretel’s eyes for the umpteenth time that day, she had to admit the woman had a point. Even the broken coffee beast seemed to be spluttering its agreement.
‘And like I said, the Christmas theme. Love it. Fierce jumper, by the way.’ Swingy Bob pointed at Gretel’s knitwear. ‘Pandas are totally my favourite.’
‘They’re polar bears …’ Gretel began to explain, but Miss Whimple was checking her phone.
‘So sorry, important message.’ Swingy Bob woman was already off towards the exit, her eyebrows knitting an apology. ‘But call me, yeah?’ she yelled to Gretel across her shoulder, doing the hand-to-ear signal thing as though Gretel might not know what that meant. And then she was gone.
It was silly to dwell on the fact the woman couldn’t tell a polar bear from a panda, so Gretel told herself not to. It was an easy mistake. Instead, she pondered Miss Whimple’s suggestion whilst she sloped around the café gathering dirty plates, feeling sad at the half-chewed leftovers and barely touched questionable coffees. There hadn’t been so much wastage in Nell’s day. Maybe it would be easier to say goodbye to the faff and go off in search of herhashtag best life. Surely her only true friend Nell would have wanted that for her?
In fact, deep down Gretel knew the harder she worked at trying to make this place a success, the more Lukas Grinch Face would be rubbing his hands, ready to sell it to the highest bidder. She’d be running herself into the ground for nothing. And Miss Whimple hadn’t been wrong about the blisters.
Gretel plonked the plates down and slumped against the counter. Was there some sense in speaking to this Whimple woman properly? She shook her head. It was just tiredness speaking and she’d had a lousy day.You’ll feel better in the morning.That’s what Nell used to say and that was surely the spirit. She couldn’t give up on Nell’s wishes just yet. She grabbed a broken biscuit from under a cloche, its gingery fragrance sweeping up to meet her like an old friend. Miss Whimple’swords had been food for thought, nothing more. Everyone needed a back-up plan.
Chapter 11
Why was it so aggravating when people were right about things? Especially whenpeoplemeant LukasI’m such a grown-upKnight.
As Gretel sat on the slow, chugging bus to Lower Paddleton in her woolly dress and penguin cardi, a sleeping ferret in her pocket, her thoughts tripped over her first week in charge of The Gingerbread Café. She’d been desperate to cling on to her memories of the place – all that peace, joy and the smell of sweet ginger. When Nell had been in charge, visiting the café had been like walking into a big warm hug. Those cosy corners where she could settle in and heat her chilly hands with a warm mug, forgetting the outside world and feeling a little less alone. Nell’s love and care had simply radiated, through her kind words, gentle shoulder touches and lovingly crafted bakes. It had been Gretel’s haven.
But in just one week, she was starting to see that Lukas was right. Running the café just as Nell hadwashard work. Especially for someone as shy and inexperienced as her. Far from a cosy refuge, being at the café was now like waltzing into her own worst nightmare. It was hot and hectic and she felt like a bumbling nitwit. Customers invariably seemed cross with her, she was always breaking or burning things, and she’d never felt more alone. Worse still was that for all her efforts, the caféwas barely breaking even, and she certainly wasn’t spreading or receiving any festive cheer. Her favourite time of the year was being ruined.
Well, it just couldn’t go on, so she’d gritted her teeth, made a phone call and forced herself to take the sluggish ride to Lower Paddleton, home of the offices of Whimple & Sons. When the woman with the swingy bob had handed over her flashy business card a week ago, the idea of selling the precious café to the Whimples had felt like an unlikely fallback. But now …
Gretel took a deep breath and tried to ignore the squirm of guilt in the pit of her stomach. It was surprising just how quickly a back-up plan could become a girl’s A game. It was time to see for herself whether Lower Paddleton’s high street was thriving now that the Whimples had bought and rented out most of its shops. She’d made an appointment with Miss Whimple, to get to the heart of what she would offer for The Gingerbread Café. She knew Lukas was still keen to sell, and whilst Gretel may not have the power or inclination to keep the café after her atrocious week, she could at least try to ensure Nell’s legacy wasn’t trampled on and the café was kept as Nell wanted it. And the Whimple woman had seemed keen on that too – far more so than Grinchy old Lukas. Who knew what kind of Christmas-hating Scrooge Lukas would sell to, if he was left in charge? No, she was taking some control. For Nell, and for Green Tree Lane.
Gretel watched as the stark, wintery landscape swished past her rain-splattered window. Just one more trip out of her comfort zone, and her café pains may be on their way to a swift patching up. Maybe the Whimples could even move their tenants in before this silly six-month probate waiting period, or whatever that legal word was.
‘Next stop, Lower Paddleton!’ the driver announced, like he was introducing Disneyland Paris.
As the bus came to a noisy, huffing stop a couple of roads away from Lower Paddleton’s little shopping street, Gretel felt a wriggle inside her red duffle coat pocket. Angel Gabriel was waking up. She pulled him out and kissed his snowy white fur before popping his harness and lead on.
‘There, don’t you look dapper in your matching penguin jumper?’
Gretel stood and walked to the front of the bus, letting Angel Gabriel bounce in front of her on his lead.
‘Watch the step, madam. It’s a long way down,’ the bus driver said as the doors hissed open.
Gretel and Angel Gabriel squeaked their thank yous and made their way to Penny Road – Lower Paddleton’s main shopping street. It had probably been ten years since she’d visited, but she remembered it as being much like Green Tree Lane – quaint and picture postcard perfect – but with a honey-coloured stone fountain in the centre, instead of a Christmas tree.
‘There, isn’t this lovely?’ Gretel felt her body relax as they walked past the Cotswold stone cottages with their perfectly manicured hedges and cosy thatched roofs. Chimneys puffed happily and even the rain had stopped its drizzling. Perhaps the Whimple people had worked wonders on the village, after all.
‘Ooh, there it is!’ She pointed out the end of Penny Road to Angel Gabriel, as though ferrets were partial to a bit of shopping. ‘Let’s take a look.’
As Gretel reached the top of Penny Road, she stopped. ‘Oh.’ She scratched her head, double-checked the road sign, and then blinked. This couldn’t be right? It didn’t seem familiar at all. The beautiful stone shop buildings were still there, but instead of their prettily painted wooden signs in complementing heritage shades, there were a whole lot of clashing colours and plastic. ‘But …’
She stepped into the street and began a slow pace, hoping the initial shock would subside. The street still seemed busy enough. Much busier than Green Tree Lane. She wasn’t keen on having so many bodies close to her, but busy was good, wasn’t it? A healthy buzz was surely …
‘Shhhhhhhhttttttt.’
