Page 11 of A Christmas Celebration
‘Well, if they don’t turn up soon,’ said Jemma, sounding miffed, ‘we’ll just have to cancel, won’t we? It won’t go down well with her regulars, but there’ll be no other option.’
Once she’d taken our order and gone back to the kitchen Archie told me about the café and its associated businesses. Lizzie, the woman with the glorious red hair, was Jemma’s business partner and a well-known sewing and crafting goddess.
‘She used to run classes in here along with some sort of knit and natter group,’ Archie told me. ‘But when her side of things really took off, she moved into the premises next door. It’s a popular craft centre now, as well as a gallery, and the pair also have a vintage caravan which they take to events all over the county to serve food and drinks from. They’ll be at the Winter Wonderland next month.’
I was amazed Dorothy tolerated that. I had assumed she was in sole charge of the catering, but if she was willing to welcome someone else on site, it went some way to giving me an idea as to just how big an event the Winter Wonderland must be.
‘Oh, and they have a themed market stall too, which sells more of their seasonal makes and bakes than they can stock in here and next door,’ Archie added for good measure.
‘Crikey,’ I said, letting out a breath and feeling rather in awe of the resourceful duo. ‘That’s surely the work of an entire team rather than just two women.’
‘There are more people working with them now,’ Archie conceded, ‘but Jemma and Lizzie are the brains behind the business. They put the rest of us to shame, managing to do the work of ten rather than two.’
He sounded almost disbelieving of what they were capable of and I could hardly blame him. It was an immense empire.
‘And what about Hayley?’ I asked. ‘What did Jemma mean about her designs?’
Archie reached behind him to a display shelf and picked up a mug which had a quirky and bolshy looking little robin painted on it.
‘This is one of Hayley’s,’ he said proudly. ‘She created the robin.’
‘Oh, wow,’ I gasped, taking the mug from him to look at it in more detail.
‘She’s an amazing artist,’ Archie further said. ‘And she specializes in painting species of birds and highlightingtheir different personalities. She’s created all sorts over the last couple of years and Jemma has them printed on mugs, cushions and stationery to sell on her behalf.’
‘What an incredible talent to have,’ I said, turning the mug around.
‘I know,’ said Archie, also looking at the design. ‘I can’t even manage a decent stick man.’
‘Me neither,’ I laughed.
‘Unfortunately, though,’ he sighed, ‘Hayley is as scatty as she is talented and she’s left the hall without submitting the designs for this Christmas or telling anyone where she’s put them. We’ve looked high and low, but we can’t find them and I know Jemma was hoping she’d have them finished and passed on weeks ago.’
What with it being mid-November, I imagined it was cutting it close to being able to benefit from Christmas present buying too.
‘What a thing to forget,’ I said, understanding Jemma’s frustration.
‘That’s Hayley for you.’ Archie shrugged. ‘Although to be fair, she and Gabe did leave in a bit of a rush after his sister’s change of plan so I can kind of see why it might have slipped her mind.’
‘And why is her phone switched off?’ I asked.
‘Goodness knows,’ said Archie, pulling out his own phone and trying her number for what I guessed was the umpteenth time. ‘Still no joy,’ he sighed, once the call connected and went straight to voicemail.
‘Let’s have another hunt for the designs when we get back,’ I suggested as a waitress came and filled our table with steaming mugs of coffee and two plates of huge swirled buns. ‘Perhaps I might be able to find them. Fresh eyes could be just what you need.’
Archie looked doubtful, but I thought it was worth a shot.
Once we’d eaten every last crumb of the delicious iced and spiced buns which, I had been informed while perusing the tempting menu, were something of a Cherry Tree festive tradition from November onwards, we made our way across the busy square to the library.
We were barely through the door before Archie was accosted.
‘Any joy?’ asked a woman with perfect grey curls and a neat, trim figure. ‘I’m still having more misses than hits, but I haven’t given up hope yet.’
The smart and efficient looking woman was probably in her early seventies, but exuded the energy of someone decades younger.
‘I am delighted to say I have the answer to your prayers, Kathleen,’ said Archie, puffing out his chest and looking peacock proud.
‘You have?’ she hopefully gasped, her eyes widening in surprise.
