Page 60 of The Gingerbread Cafe
‘So step one of getting back to my old life begins today,’ Gretel now told little glass Nell, who stared back dispassionately from the bay window of the café. ‘I’m sorry I’ve let you down, but I’m seriously not cut out for this. And pretending that I am is bloody exhausting.’
Gretel let the words hang as though somebody might dispute them. How ridiculous. Because therewasnobody. As another wave of sadness hit, she swallowed her tears and spun towards the café’s front door.
She marched through it and locked it shut behind her. Even though it was Wednesday, the café’s sign saidclosed. As far as she was concerned, it would say so indefinitely. Pulling her shoulders back, she strode up Green Tree Lane with purpose, Angel Gabriel hopping along behind her on his lead.
‘Not long now, boy. Off we go.’
Angel Gabriel looked a picture in the dandy ferret waistcoat and gingerbread patterned bow tie that Zekia had made for him at one of the café’s craft nights. Not that there would be any more of those. Gretel took a deep, steadying breath. She’d break it to them at some point, but this morning there were more pressing matters. She’d booked an appointment at the offices of Duckman & Birdwhistle Solicitors on Bell Lane, which was a few streets away. She hadn’t told Lukas, not least because they still weren’t speaking. But if they had been, she wouldn’t want him to talk her out of this.
The last couple of days had brought one disaster after another, and it was more than she could bear. How much energy was one woman expected to have? It was easier when it had just been her and her memories. Her hand twitched to the old photoof herself, her mum and Rosa which was now in her pocket. She wasn’t going to keep forgetting their faces.
Anyway, this was absolutely the right thing to do. She pulled back her shoulders again, mildly annoyed they wouldn’t just stay in place. She’d done her best for the café and Green Tree Lane, and her new friends could take things forward from there. They didn’t need a condemned café dragging their reputation down. It was better off closed and off her hands for good.
‘Miss Rosenhart,’ said Mr Birdwhistle (Junior) with unnecessary gusto when she was finally sitting in his office. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance again. You’re here for an update with regard to the estate of Eleanor Ellbridge, I presume?’ He pushed his glasses up his nose and squinted at her from behind his large leather-top desk.
‘Not really.’ She shrugged, not caring if she came across as an immature grouch, because that was exactly how she felt. She was also over telling him her friend had called herselfNell. It wouldn’t be her problem soon enough. ‘I’m here to give my half of The Gingerbread Café back. I reject it, or whatever the fancy legal term might be. I don’t want to play any more.’
He raised his eyebrows.
‘You don’t want to play,’ he repeated. ‘Interesting. Well, if you mean you want to disclaim the gift, I’m afraid it’s altogether too late. You’ve already accepted the legacy and probate is well underway. It’s not possible to disclaim your share at this point.’
Gretel huffed. That sounded completely ridiculous, but she ought to have known these things would be complicated. ‘OK, so I’ll give my share away to a good cause or something. Are ferrets’ homes a thing?’
Angel Gabriel squeaked his approval from his perch on her knee and Mr Birdwhistle grimaced. He hadn’t been impressed when she’d insisted on bringing her pet into the office, but shehadn’t come here to impress him, even if Angel Gabriel was wearing his best bow tie.
‘If you give your share away, Miss Rosenhart, you will still be liable to pay inheritance tax, which will equate to a substantial sum. Do you have the funds?’
Gretel fiddled with the hem of Angel Gabriel’s waistcoat. ‘No,’ she muttered.
Mr Birdwhistle sighed, which was a sound Gretel was becoming accustomed to. ‘It’s not my place to advise you, of course. But if I were in your position, I’d be minded to sit tight for a short while longer. When the probate comes through and legal title for the property is transferred to yourself and Mr Lukas Knight, I understand he’s keen to sell. If you’re both now in agreement you want to move on, you can find a swift buyer, pay your dues, then donate the surplus to whichever charitable ferret establishment tickles your fancy.’
She gave him a tight nod, picked up Angel Gabriel and stood.
‘Although, Miss Rosenhart, my mother always used to say this.Charity begins at home.So before you steam ahead trying to avail yourself of the inheritance Mrs Ellbridge was so keen for you to benefit from, I would urge you to consider whatyouwant from life.’ He sniffed and rearranged his papers. ‘Use the funds to do whatever makes you truly happy. Scandal aside, I hear you did an outstanding job of orchestrating the February Fair and turning the café and the street around. I’d be surprised if anyone could excel at such projects if they didn’t find any joy in them. I’m sure Mrs Ellbridge saw that potential in you. Don’t go frittering your opportunities away.’
She didn’t know much about frittering things away, but if a fritter was something that had been battered and deep fried, that just about summed up how she felt. All she needed was for someone to stick a fork in her and wrap her in yesterday’s newspaper, then she was absolutely done. She brushed down herskirt, said her goodbyes and left the office, Angel Gabriel tucked under her arm.
As annoying as it seemed, some of Mr Birdwhistle’s words had rung true. But when she factored in the cruel words of theCotswold Crierand the downward spiral of events that proceeded, it was too late to claw her way back to joy. She would just have to take the solicitor’s advice on thesit tight for a short while longerplan.
Only she had no intention of sitting tight in or above the café. It would be too painful. It was time to cut the apron strings, whilst she still had a shred of dignity.
Chapter 49
Gretel’s old maisonette in Holly Road had always been a bit on the chilly side. That was why it was perfectly sensible to be wearing her elf jumper dress and candy-striped tights that cold March evening. Nobody liked to get goosebumps on their legs, after all.
Besides, who was going to see her? Precisely nobody. And Angel Gabriel couldn’t judge because he was wearing his little elf jumper too.
‘Life is officially cosier when you live inside Christmas,’ she explained to him, through a mouthful of apple strudel. Who knew it would still be at the bottom of her old freezer exactly where she’d left it, just a few months ago? Or that her landlord wouldn’t have managed to find another soul willing to rent the place whilst she’d been gone. It was clearly their loss.
It had been a busy few days. She’d spent them reclaiming her old, rented maisonette and then sneaking all of her stuff out of Nell’s old flat by the back door, so as not to cause a scene in the street. She’d ignored everyone’s frantic knocks on the café’s front door.
Gretel watched Angel Gabriel as he bounced around the threadbare carpet, careering into things. She’d set up his usual ferret playground of tubes and boxes, but somehow she had an overwhelming sensation that nothing seemed tofitany more.
‘Has somebody shrunk this place?’ Not that it had ever exactly been spacious. She shoved a box out of the way with her foot to make floor space for her empty plate.
She assessed the situation from her hollow in the sofa, which really did need new springs unless she’d eatena lotof gingerbread since she’d last sat here. Hmm. Perhaps it was all this extra stuff that was making her old maisonette look like it was bursting at the seams. Was her life fuller than it had been before? Even her plastic Christmas tree in the corner was sagging under the weight of all those additional decorations.Don’t worry, we’ll soon have everything exactly like it was, she’d reassured Angel Gabriel when she’d put it back up. For a ferret, he’d been surprisingly good at disbelieving looks.
Then once the tree was up, she’d made a big show of putting the decorations back on it, as though she needed to make a point. Not that anybody was watching. Though if she could just reconstruct the walls of her old life, perhaps she could forget all of the treacherous mistakes that existed beyond them.
