Page 48 of Autumn at the Oak Leaf Café
On the inside was written a short note:So sorry not to make it over yesterday. Had something personal come up. I’ll tell you later. In the meantime, try these on. The final got moved to next Sunday. Last chance before the trophy gets shared. We need you! Dx
Madeline’s mind managed to process the message well enough, but she stared long and hard at the last two figures. It was handwritten, and was that little swirl at the end really an X? There wasn’t much else it could be, but she still didn’t want to believe it. And if it was supposed to be an X, how should she feel about that? Their relationship had barely gone beyond coffee, vaccinations, and standing each other up.
But if it was an X, it showed clear intent. And the fact that he had given her a present, even one as random as what looked like a set of cricket whites, was another statement. Someone in Australia had once told her you should never give a present to anyone unless you wanted to get involved with that person. Madeline, never a big one for presents, had followed it to the letter ever since.
Now, though, she found herself wanting to give him something back.
She collected Hazel from the lower branches of a tree and carried her back inside, then opened the bag again and had another look at the contents. A brand new set of cricket whites—a size too small for her, but it was a good effort, and Darren had likely gone on the side of caution—and in the box was a brand new shiny cricket ball. The one they had used in the last game had been an old one, battered and scuffed, but this thing of cork, leather, and shiny lacquer was a sporting work of art. She didn’t really want to get it dirty.
Such a gift couldn’t go unanswered. She cut up a couple of slices of pie, put them into a box, and added half a treacle tart for good measure. Not wanting to be so direct as to address the gift to Darren alone, she added a note that it was for him to share with his staff, then wrapped the box up in a clean tea towel with an oak tree design—one that he would hopefully feel compelled to return—and headed out, luckily catching a bus to speed her the couple of stops up to the clinic. The bus driver, perhaps remembering her from the time she had dived into the road to rescue Hazel, gave her a terse good morning, but when she asked if he had signed the petition to stop the privatisation of the car park, he brightened up and held up a sheet of paper scrawled with a couple of dozen signatures.
She walked back to the park after hanging the tea towel and its contents over the clinic’s door, arriving back at the café just in time for opening. Feeling a little better about herself, she took some leftover pie and delivered a slice each to Pete and Dan. Then, humming quietly, she got to work opening the café.
It was a fine morning, the sun breaking through the clouds around ten o’clock, and a cool autumn breeze sending showers of orange leaves cascading across the park. The café was busier than usual with several people dropping in just to try Madeline’s newly invented sweet potato and maple tart, which she was pleased to see went down well. Several customers asked if they could order whole tarts to take home. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, Madeline agreed, then made a note to train Ruby on tart making when they had a quiet afternoon.
Ruby arrived at one o’clock, face like a thundercloud, her mood not helped when a bus of theatre visitors appeared shortly after.
‘I had to dump him,’ Ruby said, as she stood making coffees beside Madeline.
‘Who?’
‘Jackson.’
‘Who’s Jackson?’
‘I met him last week. He bought me a Rubik’s Cube for our one week’s anniversary. He thought it was funny.’
Madeline smiled. ‘That’s … too bad.’
‘It was a lucky escape.’
‘You’re not going to give him another chance?’
Ruby looked at her and forced a smile. ‘No. But don’t worry. He has a younger brother.’
‘You’re going to go out with his younger brother?’
Ruby rolled her eyes. ‘No. To give the Rubik’s Cube to. After I threw it at his head.’
‘And I thought my life was complicated.’
Ruby shook her head. ‘It isn’t. It really isn’t. Youth these days is a total minefield.’
‘I’m starting to see that.’
The side benefit of having a crowd of customers was that they added another twenty or so names to the petition. A couple of customers recalled bad experiences with Snide and Company’s car parks, and even added personal notes of dissatisfaction. By the time the group headed over to the theatre for their matinee, Madeline and Ruby were both exhausted but satisfied with how the rush period had gone. The petition notebook had turned another page, and Ruby had picked up a phone number, courtesy of a tidy young man accompanying his elderly grandmother.
‘So,’ Ruby said, leaning on the doorframe as they watched the last of the customers wandering over to the theatre. ‘What’s that set of cricket whites in the kitchen about?’
Madeline found herself blushing. ‘A present from Darren.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes, seriously. He was planning to stop by last night, but never made it. Then this morning I found those in a bag on the door.’
‘Huh. I take it you didn’t know his grandmother died yesterday?’
Madeline, walking back through the tables to pick up a stray used cup, almost tripped. ‘What?’
