Page 39 of The Gingerbread Cafe
‘Although word has it you’re the psychic one?’ Phoebe looked at Eve, who still hadn’t given much away about the rumours that she received messages from the deceased about which funeral flowers they fancied.
‘Like flowers, we often grow in new directions,’ Eve said, putting down her pots and standing to rearrange her purple bob. ‘And letting our roots grow into the soil whilst our shoots branch out and explore new climbs should be encouraged. Change is a wonderous thing.’ She pushed her glasses back up her nose andswished off towards her shop to collect more pots, her flowery tea dress billowing out behind her.
Gretel put a hand to her throat and tried to swallow a lump that was rising. Whatever Eve had meant, her words had been beautiful. Yet the thought of new things blossoming always reminded her of the people in her life who’d never had the chance. Was she ready to move on from them?
As though sensing her thoughts, Phoebe squeezed her arm. ‘It’s OK if change feels scary. Even a snake gets anxious when it sheds its old skin. But when the shiny new version emerges it’s worth all of the discomfort, because finally everything fits.’
Gretel nodded, letting a few silent tears fall before wiping her face with her sleeve.
‘Better out than in,’ Phoebe reassured her. ‘Talking of positive change, look. The front of Eve’s shop seems to be changing for the better. Shh, don’t tell her, but I found it a bit dark and eerie before. She’s pulled out that fake foliage that was crammed inside the window. It looks more inviting already, don’t you think? She’s inspired me to take down the drapes in my shop window for a more welcoming vibe. I’ll never heal the world’s chakras if I can’t get people through the door.’ She nodded over to the blankets where some of the artwork was taking place. ‘And guess what? Jane and Jayne said they had heaps of spare paint, so Lukas offered to help repaint some of the shopfront window frames to brighten things up. He’s making superfans already.’
They looked over to where Lukas was crouched down by Jane and Jayne in their paint-splattered shirts, appraising their A-boards and dishing out more muffins. They giggled like a pair of schoolgirls at something he said and Gretel got another sense of just how magnetic he could be. Jane and Jayne usually reserved their lovely dark eyes only for each other.
Kingsley came around pouring out more rum, this time with a honey flavour. Gretel noticed Lukas only ever had one, whichwas probably a sound plan with the strength of it. Bea loved the idea of using honey in almost anything and suggested she and Kingsley should try her lavender honey too. Gordon wanted Kingsley to make a ginger and pear spiced rum for the February Fair, which everyone heartily agreed with. Gretel wrote it down on Amber’s pad, hoping by then her friend would be beyond doing a runner every time Lukas turned up or the day would quickly become comical. But despite the strange little mysteries, it was magical to see creative ideas flowing.
The rest of the afternoon continued in the same vein, and the street was filled with inspiration, laughter and even more cake. Gretel watched Lukas as he continued to support and delight her new group of friends. He mucked in with everything from cleaning shopfronts to hanging up bunting. He even winked at Gretel when Bea tried to teach him how to knit a bee, letting her reign as the expert when Gretel secretly knew he was a whizz with hisknit one, purl one. But though Lukas kept trying to swing Gretel’s way with a variety of excuses to be near her, she tried her best to stay out of his magnetic field. She knew that once she got too close it would be near impossible to encourage herself away.
‘Got you.’ Lukas grabbed Gretel lightly by the waist as he finally managed to catch up with her. They were by the Christmas tree as she was putting up the stained-glass lilac flowers she’d spent the afternoon working on.
‘Be careful! They’re made of glass, you wally.’
‘I’m learning to tread more carefully. Look, I haven’t even got my clumpy chef’s clogs on today.’ He waved a trainer-clad foot. ‘And you’ve broken free of your festive snow boots. What’s the world coming to?’
‘I know – flowery pumps in January. I’m feeling pretty adventurous!’ She waved a foot back at him, conscious that it probably looked to the others like she was showing off her legin her short denim pinafore dress, even if she did have woolly tights on. She was sure she heard Gordon give a low wolf whistle somewhere behind them. She put her foot back to the floor and coughed, wriggling away from Lukas’s waist hold, as much as she wanted to sink into it.
‘Great … pumps,’ Lukas replied.
The sun was setting now, throwing shades of deep orange across the sky and silhouetting the shop owners as they packed away for the day. Gretel watched as her stained-glass lilacs spun gently in the evening breeze, their petals chinking lightly against the fragrant needles of the tree. Lilac for renewal, Eve had said.
It always smelled so good standing right there, but that evening, instead of worrying about things slipping away, she would try to focus on the extra sprinkle of spice that had joined the mix. She inhaled deeply, hoping Lukas didn’t guess quite how intoxicating his presence was becoming.
‘There’s still something missing, don’t you think? On the tree, I mean.’ It wasn’t the time to get too deep. Gretel looked upwards, trying to work it out.
‘I do think. And soon enough we might just have the answer, so don’t stray too far.’ He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and disappeared to help the rest of the group take their final bits of equipment back to their shops before they locked things away for the evening.
She wasn’t sure how much time passed as she stood peacefully by the tree, but before she knew it Lukas was patting Bea on the arm and thanking her for something, and she was waving goodbye to her friends as they walked off towards their nearby cottages. Soon she would see smoke from their log fires puffing through chimney pots into the night air, making the village smell like a wonderful bonfire. She wondered absent-mindedly what Lukas was up to. Did the others know? She was sure she’d sensed excited whispers earlier, but she was tooengrossed in her quiet moment at the foot of her favourite tree to worry about it. She sighed, her warm breath on the chilly air fogging up the petals of a lilac decoration. Wiping it off, she realised her glass creations were beginning to glint in the light of the moon which had just peeped its silvery crown over the tops of the distant roofs.
‘You would have loved this.’ She reached out and gently spun one of the stained-glass lambs. ‘Especially you, Rosa. You had so many smiles for everything, as though your joy was endless.’ She pulled her hand away. ‘But it wasn’t, was it?’ She felt a quiet tear tickle her cheek, followed by another, but she allowed them to fall. Sometimes you had to let things go. It wasn’t moping, simply shedding. Releasing emotions that needed to be felt so they could pass. Clinging on wasn’t fair, to herself or to the poor souls she was clinging to. She didn’t know anything about what happened after you were gone, or if she believed in things like hearing deceased people’s voices. But she knew it wasn’t healthy to carry on living in the festive shadow of a life that was never to be. It was surely OK to say goodbye to Christmas and wave hello to each new occasion with a grateful heart. To celebrate the passing of time rather than trying to freeze it in a snow globe of snatched memories. She didn’t have to feel guilty.
Tears are how the heart speaks; that’s what her mum would have said. She gave a small laugh as she yet again wiped her face with her sleeve, realising her mum would also have said always carry a tissue and don’t make such a mess of your jumper. She was usually quite good with the tissue part. Dear Nell would have said the same, though she would have pulled a fresh hanky from her candy-striped apron. It would have had a gingerbread man embroidered into the corner. Gretel wondered if Nell had taught Lukas to embroider as well as knit.
She was giggling softly at that thought as Lukas arrived again at her side.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, his voice low and gentle as though she was as fragile as one of her glass creations. For a long time she had been. But day by day, with the friendship and warmth from her new community, she felt her cracks trying to fuse. And didn’t they say you were stronger where your wounds had healed? Like the shards of glass she soldered together to make beautiful things. Phoebe even swore she could see rainbows in the cracks of her crystals. Maybe that was true.
‘Yes, I’m aiming for OK. Thank you.’ Gretel turned to him slowly, taking in every inch of him in the inky moonlight. His slate-grey hair and eyes looked like they were made for the glow of the moon. And that manly stubble … She shook her head. ‘I mean, being OK is an ongoing process. I’m not fixed just yet, if that’s even a thing. But right now I’m not wearing Christmas deely boppers or a single item of clothing featuring penguins. And call me wild, but I think I kind of like it.’
He laughed tenderly. ‘You’re right, you’re wild. Which is why I hope you won’t think this is too extreme. Listen.’ His eyes screwed shut for a moment as though he didn’t dare look at her reaction.
And then she heard it. A loud, mechanical rumbling coming towards them from just around the bend. Was this the surprise he’d been talking about? What was going on?
Chapter 33
‘Ihad no idea it was cherry season.’ Gretel laughed as the machine drove into view.
‘It isn’t,’ said Lukas. ‘That’s why all respectable cherry pickers are on standby for more pressing tasks, like helping local villagers put the perfect decoration on top of their non-Christmassy Christmas tree. Care for a ride?’
Gretel looked upwards to the end of the machine’s long arm where a stout man, who looked not unlike a Ribena berry in his purple overalls and straw hat, was up in the cradle controlling it. ‘With him?’ She didn’t realise you could drive the thing from up there, but he was doing an impressive job.
