Million Love Songs(105)

Usually such expletives are preceded by the smash of breaking crockery as one of Flo’s favourite cups or plates accidentally hits the decks.

‘It’s him,’ I hiss.

Charlie’s eyes go round. ‘Mason?’

‘No, no, no!’ I wouldn’t have heart palpitations like this if it were Mason Soames. ‘It’s Joe. He’s here with the kids. What shall I say? What shall I do?’

‘Nothing,’ Charlie says. ‘Be cool. Be calm.’

Hyperventilating, I shove my pad at her. ‘You go and take their order.’

‘No.’ She holds up a hand.

‘I can’t do it. I can’t.’

‘Grow some,’ she growls.

‘I’ll love you for ever.’ I’m not adverse to a bit of begging.

‘Get out there, Ruby Brown. Don’t be a wimp. He’s just a bloke.’

‘But he’s a bloke that I really, really liked once – maybe loved – and I blew it.’

‘Be lovely, then. Make him realise what he’s missing.’

I mutter, ‘Fuckfuckfuck’ again and then turn and go out into the café, pad poised in hand. This is excruciatingly painful. I glide over to the table and pin on my most friendly smile. ‘Now, what can I get for you?’

They reel off their order and I jot it down with shaky fingers. Then I hurry it back to the kitchen for Charlie to make up as I’m in total bits and can’t concentrate.





Chapter One Hundred and One





I stand over Charlie while she prepares their order so that she gets it absolutely right. Which kind of annoys her.

She waves her knife at me. ‘Sure you don’t want to do this yourself?’

‘No, no, no. I just need to know it’s perfect.’

She tuts at me, but doesn’t stab me, so she can’t be too cross. I watch her butter the bread, make sure the fillings are exactly right. I don’t want Joe and the kids to have found me in this café and then for the experience to come up wanting, do I? I don’t. Trust me on that.

They’re laughing together at the table when I deliver their sandwiches and jacket potatoes. I try not to make too much eye contact with Joe. I’ve found that it’s never a good idea to slaver all over your customers. However, he is looking particularly handsome today. I think I might have mentioned that already. Yet he can’t have got any more gorgeous in just a few months, can he?

Scuttling back to the counter, I try to make myself look busy while watching them all having a lovely time together. They’re a nice family and it would have been great to have been a part of that, but it wasn’t to be. I wonder if Gina is still with her new man. I’m guessing as she’s not here with them that perhaps she isn’t back at home again. Or maybe that’s blind hope. Was Joe wearing a wedding ring? I didn’t think to look.

Charlie comes and leans on the counter next to me. ‘Stop staring.’

‘I’m not staring.’

‘Yeah? And I’m not fat and nearly forty.’

‘Am I staring?’ I straighten up.

‘Yes, you’ve gone all googly-eyed and wistful.’

I make myself avert my eyes and lower my voice. ‘I think he might well be The One That Got Away.’

‘Really?’

I nod.

‘Boo,’ Charlie says. ‘That sucks.’

‘Big time.’ I don’t think that Charlie fully grasps the gravity of my situation. I feel that I might wander the earth for the rest of my days and never find another man like Joe.

She puts her arm round me and squeezes. ‘Do you want some cake to salve your broken heart?’

‘Nah. I’m good. We could drown my sorrows in wine later though.’

‘Sounds like a plan. Paul’s knocking together some Chinese food for dinner. We’ve got a film downloaded ready to roll. Can’t remember what. Want to come over?’

‘Please.’ Nice Paul cooks too. Charlie’s certainly hit the jackpot there.

Surreptitiously, we watch Joe for a bit longer. Then Charlie purses her lips and whispers, ‘He does keep looking over here at you, though.’

‘Does he?’ That makes me brighten up, before I think, ‘Maybe he simply wants more tea or something and is trying to catch my eye.’ This is a café and I am a waitress, after all. I nudge her in the ribs. ‘You go and check.’

‘Don’t make me do your dirty work. You should go.’

‘I can’t,’ I say. ‘My poor troubled heart couldn’t stand it.’

‘Drama queen,’ she mutters. Nevertheless, Charlie goes over to them and chats as she clears the plates.

She breezes past me into the kitchen. ‘No more drinks. But they’re coming to get some cake. Can you cope with that?’

‘No!’ I hiss. Yet before I can dive into the kitchen to escape, the three of them troop up to the counter where our dazzling range of cakes are displayed.

Our star cakes today include a lemon meringue pie with a white topping that looks like a fluffy duvet, our usual carrot cake that’s the talk of the town, a four-layered, rainbow-speckled sponge, layered with cream and blueberry jam and, my own personal favourite, lemon drizzle.