Page 17 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
“Yes, I suppose I am.” Debbie glanced out of the window. “I’m so used to it that I don’t really notice it most of the time, but every now and then I look out and I have to smile. But it must be fun living in London. I went there once, on a schooltrip. We went to the British Museum, and an art gallery — I can’t remember which one.”
“Well, yes, I suppose it is quite fun. There are a lot of things to do. But it doesn’t compare to this. I’d swap all the theatres and museums for this any time.”
“I suppose . . . oh, sorry — excuse me.”
Her phone had buzzed, and she pulled it from the pocket of her apron as she hurried back behind the counter to answer the call. She was speaking quietly, but Vicky could hear the agitation in her voice.
“What do you mean, you can’t? Oh, please, Alan, it’ll only take a few minutes. You know I can’t leave the café, with Mum still poorly.” A pause as the other person spoke. “No, of course she can’t — the doctor said she has to stay in bed.” Another pause. “I know. I’m sorry. If you can’t, you can’t... Yes, I understand...”
Debbie had turned her back on the café but Vicky didn’t miss the movement of her hand, which seemed to brush over her eyes as she put the phone back in her pocket.
Vicky frowned thoughtfully as she sliced her scone in half and spread it with a generous layer of thick Devon cream, topping it with a smear of raspberry jam and biting into it. It really was delicious — the cream lush, the scone still warm, melting in her mouth.
Clearly Debbie had a problem. Could she ask? Maybe there was something she could do to help.
The café was still busy. Some of the tables had emptied but were quickly filled by newcomers. Debbie seemed to be rushed off her feet, though somehow she kept smiling. At last there was a lull, and she came over to Vicky’s table.
“It’s so nice to see you again. Are you staying at Molly’s cottage?”
Vicky nodded. “She’s left it to me.”
“Oh, lovely!” Debbie’s soft brown eyes lit up. “So you’ll be coming down to live here, then?”
Vicky shook her head. “I wish I could, but what with the repairs and the inheritance tax I’m not going to be able to afford it.”
“Oh, that’s a shame.” Her friend looked genuinely disappointed. “It would have been nice to have you here.”
“Yes...” Vicky paused. “Look... I didn’t mean to listen to your private phone call, but... well, I couldn’t help hearing. Is there something wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Oh... No, it’s all right, thank you.” But tears were brimming in Debbie’s eyes. “It’s just... my mother usually works with me in the café, but this bout of pneumonia has really laid her up, so I’m on my own. And one of us usually goes to fetch my daughter from school. My husband — my ex-husband — has picked her up for the past couple of days, but now he says he can’t.”
“Something more important than his own daughter has cropped up?”
That brought a crooked smile. “Yes. Not for the first time, either.”
“He sounds like a bit of a git — if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“Well, yes, he is.” Debbie sighed, then laughed. “At least he’s someone else’s problem now. Do you remember Kelly-Anne Wallis?”
Vicky thought for a moment. “Mousey hair, a bit of a bully? Always eating sweets but would never share them?”
Debbie nodded. “That’s her. She’s glammed up since then, bleached her hair blonde.”
“And now she’s with your ex-husband?”
“They got married three months after our divorce — they’d been carrying on for a couple of years. Me — idiot — I had no idea. There’s already a baby on the way.”
Vicky laughed. “Well, if she’s still the same as I remember, she’ll have him on a very short leash. He won’t dare step out of line.”
That made Debbie smile.
“How old is your daughter?”
“She’s five.”
“And there’s no one else who could pick her up?”
“Not really. I... I don’t really know any of the other parents very well.”
